Six Billion
“How fancy!” Chantelle murmured at the sight of one of the family yachts, a bright smile blooming on her face. “Will you take a picture for me, darling?” She handed her phone to Jo.
“Of course.”
“Ooh la la! Is that yours?” Louis beamed at me. Well, that was a rhetorical question, really—the large letters embossed on the back, reading ‘Florence’ said it all.
“Impressive,” Miles mouthed at me from a few strides away.
Well, the truth was, it used to be mine. Now my mother was just rubbing it in my face, insisting we take her for a ride. Everything just to make me regret my life choices and decisions, viciously whispering, “You could have had it all.”
And, frankly, sometimes I did feel so tired of everything: my job, my life, my entire existence. Yet that was way better than living under my parents’ control. So yeah, I might not sail yachts every now and then, but I was happy with what I had. It was enough.
***
Setting up a yoga mat on the aft deck, Francine started with sun salutations then moved into what looked like mountain pose.
Then—ouch!—I nearly recoiled— that must have hurt—does she even have a spine?
Louis, Mark, and Blake were mixing drinks at the bar, Chantelle laughing and encouraging them to add more alcohol.
I made a mental note to be careful with those later.
I turned back, glancing at Miles over my shoulder. His eyes travelled down my body, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“Do you mind?” I mouthed at him.
Miles smirked, quickly whipped his head around then looked back at me, dramatically biting his lip.
“Stop it!” I shot him a warning glare.
“Can’t help it,” he mouthed back, not even trying to hide the smugness on his face. “And I’m not even sorry.”
I rolled my eyes at him, a small, uncontrollable smile forming on my lips.
“Come?” Miles nodded towards the stern.
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Seriously?” I stared at him, then swept my gaze over the people around us, reminding him we had to behave.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Please.” What was he, a child?
Miles pressed his lips together, shaking his head with a nonchalant, “No.”
I huffed a sigh. “Fine!”
***
“Two metres apart!” I muttered a warning at him as we found ourselves alone at the back of the yacht.
“Covid is over, Florence,” he said, deliberately taking a small step closer.
“Not funny!” I crossed my arms in front of my chest.
“Who’s laughing?” He cocked an eyebrow, looking dramatically amused.
“I’m serious, Miles. Stop it!” I hissed.
“Swim with me?” he asked, his eyes slowly travelling down my swimsuit. The see-through fabric of my beach cover-up danced against the sea breeze, his fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt.
“Miles!” I urged a plea.
“Or I’ll push you behind the boat myself.”
“Florence?” My sister called from the main deck. “You got a minute?”
“For fuck’s sake!” Miles mumbled under his breath.
“I’m right heeerrreeee!” I suddenly yelped. The next thing I knew, both Miles and I were engulfed by the cool, refreshing water, his hands looping around my waist, pulling me to the surface.
“Are you out of your mind?” I sputtered at him the moment we emerged from under the sea, my lungs taking a greedy gulp of air. “What is wrong with—mmmph…” His mouth was on mine before I could finish the sentence. And, despite my initial resistance, my mouth was on his too. Fuck!
Submerged under the water, legs wrapped around his hips, my hands cradled his nape, ran into his hair, then down his neck, his chest, down his abdomen, fingers curiously sliding under his waistband. Hello there! Miles kept us afloat.
Lips gently caressing each other, then, stealing another kiss, I pushed away, my lungs screaming for oxygen. We both swam to the surface, where the blurry figure of Jo stood at the back of the boat.
“Meet me at the bathroom,” I muttered at him, then headed for the ladder.
“What happened?” Jo stared at me with a concerned frown.
“Oh, I…I slipped and—” As I glanced at Miles climbing out right behind me, water dripping down the flat deck floor with each step, I blurted out, “—I was just trying to get a hold of him and, well…we fell.”
“Yep.” He pressed his lips together, nodding. “That’s how it was.”
“Um.” I squeezed the seawater from the heavy locks of my hair. “I suppose I need a bathroom.”
“Yeah, me too,” Miles said. “Can you show me where it is?” For God’s sake, Miles, not so obvious.
“Sure,” I breathed, then glanced at Jo. “I’ll be right back.”
“What’s going on?” Miles asked Louis, who stood tipsy at the bathroom door, holding a first aid kit in one hand and a Long Island iced tea cocktail in the other.
“Chantelle,” he said, miming a gagging motion. “She says it’s seasickness, but I think it’s really the tequila shots.”
“Oh, God,” I sighed. “Chantelle, are you okay?” I knocked on the door.
“Mon Dieu!” Louis muttered, distressed. “Will you look after her?”
“Yeah,” I nodded at him. “Please go drink some water.”
A muffled choking sound came from the other side of the door, followed by a cough, then a few slurred words.
“Fuck!” Miles mumbled. “We are not doing it there.”
“Jesus, Miles!” I let out a frustrated chuckle. “Your friend is sick right there and your only concern is whether we—?” I stopped abruptly. Jo appeared from behind us.
The doors slid wide open. There was Chantelle, barely standing, smeared mascara and tear tracks on her cheeks, a few pieces of breakfast avocado on her chin.
“Gross.” Miles glanced at her with a wince.
She hiccupped, then mumbled, “I think I need to lie down.”
“Yeah, you really should,” he breathed, “but let’s wash your face first, shall we?” Miles looped his arm around her waist. “Florence.” He looked at me. “Where do you keep towels?”
“They’re just here,” I said, reaching for the lower cabinet. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Miles started the water running; after soaking the cloth, he began cleaning Chantelle’s face.
“Ouch!” She suddenly flinched.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“God, how did she get wasted so quickly?” my sister asked, reminding me she stood right behind us.
“Oh, Jo. What did you want to tell me?” I whipped to look at her. “Is it Mark?”
“It’s about Blake.”
“Um, okay?”
“Don’t be mad but…he’s going to ask you out. Today.”
“What!?” I found myself blinking rapidly a few times. “Why?”
“Just think about it. You might be surprised how much you two have in common.”
“Um.” Miles cleared his throat, acutely aware of every word of this conversation. “Sorry to interrupt, but could I have a hand over here?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure!” I quickly dipped under Chantelle’s other arm to help them out of the bathroom. “Josephine,” I let out a heavy sigh, the damp fabric clinging to my skin, instantly making me feel uncomfortable. “This really isn’t a good time.”
“Promise you’ll give him a chance at least,” she pleaded, following right on my heels.
“Over here.” I nodded at Miles as we pushed open the cabin doors; he helped Chantelle into the bed.
“Lore?” my sister persevered.
“Josephine!” I raised my tone, begging her to stop pestering me.
“Please?”
Great! First, my mother was playing matchmaking games and now my sister was trying to pair me up too.
Was I allowed to make any decisions of my own in this family?
She knew…she knew how I spent my life in that house.
She knew why I ran away; she knew why I wanted to be in charge of my choices.
She knew I didn’t need another mother; all I ever wanted was a sister who understood me. A friend.
Suddenly, the air thickened in my throat, too hot and heavy to breathe. A painful, overwhelming feeling washed over me. Another “please” echoed in the back of my mind, then intensified in my ears. Jo’s voice kept repeating in my head:
“He is really a nice guy.”
“So charming!”
“Just one date!”
“Please!”
“Josephine!” I snapped. “Stop it! Just stop talking!”
***
‘Six Billion’ by Nothing but Thieves played in my headphones as I sat, surrendering myself to the bow of the yacht.
The sea breeze gently caressed my messy curls, whipping them all over my head every which way—later my hairbrush would be truly in shock—the sun kissing my cheeks and my eyelids, slightly burning at the hill of my nose.
Breathe, Florence, breathe. As I whispered the lyrics, their meaning resonated with me more deeply than ever before.
I, too, felt like I had been pushed against the wall, forced to crawl, desperately struggling for love and acceptance for being just the way I was, just the way I wanted to be.
Why was I never enough for my mother? God, I just wanted a normal family relationship.
I wanted to choose how I live my life, what I wanted to do with it, who I wanted to date, and for my parents to be happy for me no matter the choice. I simply wanted to be loved.
I let out a heavy sigh; small tears rolled down my cheeks… “God, Florence, this isn’t like you?” I muttered with a soft chuckle and quickly wiped the wet traces off my face.
Slowly, we were sailing towards the shore, and while the rest were partying or whatever they all were doing downstairs, I preferred to stay here, in my bubble.
Jo hadn’t come up to talk to me again—that was probably best for her.
Mouthing, “You good?” and getting a faint nod back, Miles kept his distance too, and I was grateful he respected that.