Chapter 7 Bohdan
Bohdan
There’s something a bit cathartic about sitting at a worn table on a too-crowded port street in a too-crowded city, teeming with tourists spilling onto the pedestrian-only cobblestone streets, while you drink too much beer with your two best friends you don’t usually let yourself see.
I’ve avoided everyone for the better part of the last year and a half since it ended with Sloan, and I wouldn’t let them come see me the year and a half before that after I got injured, but maybe my mom and my therapist were onto something about not trying to heal alone.
It’s been refreshing. Haven’t even had a single migraine.
But that’s about to come to a screeching halt.
“That doesn’t look like a fucking boat that’s going to take us down rivers for a week.
” Jay tugs on the gold chain hanging against his neck, visible through the too-many open buttons of his white linen shirt, before pointing a finger towards the port, the array of patchwork tattoos on his arm stark under the sunlight.
“River cruise rhymed better with retirement.” Talon’s grin splits wide when he kicks back in his chair, the legs teetering precariously on the uneven cobblestone.
One hand flexes, and he stretches out his arm, like maybe he’s admiring the stack of rope bracelets sitting around his wrist, or the deeper-than-usual bronze of his skin from the last few days we’ve spent following him all over Barcelona.
Jay groans into his hand before draining the rest of his beer.
“Talon, is it a river cruise or not? I was told river cruise. You know, a significantly smaller boat traversing significantly smaller bodies of water with significantly smaller numbers of guests. I didn’t sign up to get on a floating mall.
” He drops the empty pint glass on the table where it wobbles precariously before settling beside the steadily growing collection.
We’ve been sitting here all afternoon because Talon wanted to “watch the ship come in.”
I can see why now.
“What’s an ocean if not a really big river?” Talon holds up a hand before smacking his giant luggage where it sits beside him.
“One’s a vast body of saltwater encircling a continent, and the other is flowing fresh water that empties into said vast bodies of saltwater,” I answer dryly, eyeing the ship behind Jay, distaste curling my lip upwards.
It’s huge. You could probably fit four riverboats onto the deck alone.
“Rock boy.” Talon grins again, folding his arms and rocking back and forth in his chair. I imagine his eyes light up behind his Ray-Bans at the use of yet another dumb nickname he came up with in college.
“No,” I tell him, draining the rest of my beer. “Not a rock fact. You don’t need a degree in geological science to know the difference between a river and an ocean.”
Jay leans forward, banging his head on the sticky surface of the table. “Don’t tell me there’s skydiving on board.”
Talon pulls back, like it’s the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard, but I think I see three different waterparks dotting the deck of the ship from here. “No, but there is a skating rink.”
Jay lifts his head, making a show of rolling his eyes before he drinks the rest of Talon’s beer and slumps in his chair. “Oh, great. The thing we’re”—he gestures between us sharply, gold rings on his fingers glinting under the sun—“paid to do. That you just retired from, that we’re supposed to be—”
He cuts himself off before he can go any further, tossing me what’s supposed to be an apologetic look but really just makes him look uncomfortable.
“Shit.” He scrubs his face before pushing his sunglasses up, taking the strands of black hair hanging across his forehead with them. “Sorry, Bohdan. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, trying to force a smile, but I think it snags on something. Probably the shitty taste and heavy weight of the stupid word—retirement—hanging heavy in the air around us.
Talon retired because he wanted to.
I retired because my bleeding brain said I had to.
Talon smacks both hands against the table. “No. No. That’s not how we’re starting the Retirement River Cruise.”
“Not a river cruise,” I correct.
“It sounded better—” He pushes into the table, standing so he can lean closer, the rims of all the empty pint glasses brushing against the pale blue of his button-up shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care, because he shifts forward again, pointing at us.
“You know what? It’s becoming abundantly clear neither of you read the itinerary I sent you, and you just told me to book your travel for you.
If you had, you’d know, or at least Rock Boy with his infinite wisdom and knowledge of all things Mother Earth would know, that we weren’t going to places joined by rivers. ”
I shrug. “Well, some of them might be joined by rivers. I wouldn’t know, because as you’ve pointed out, I clearly didn’t read the itinerary.”
Talon says nothing, but his fingers tap against the table before a grin stretches across his face. Who knows what he’s about to say, but his phone starts buzzing against the table. His mouth moves as he reads whatever text lights up his screen.
Looking back up to Jay and me, he practically jumps backward, grabbing the handle of his luggage. “My sister just got here, and she says she has a surprise for me. We can go meet her down at the gangway.”
Jay pulls his wallet from the pocket of his shorts, tossing a stack of euros down on the table before standing and grabbing our bags from where they sat beside Talon’s. “What could possibly be a bigger surprise than an upgrade from a small boat to a giant-ass ship?”
Talon doesn’t bother to answer, and he doesn’t bother to wait for us, his eyes glued to his phone as he navigates his way to his sister.
“What’s the big deal? Worried someone in the significantly larger passenger count will recognize you?” I hoist my bag over my shoulder and pull my sunglasses from the neck of my shirt. “Maybe comment on Philadelphia’s abysmal run this year?”
Jay cuts me a sideways look, tipping his own sunglasses down before we start weaving after Talon through the throngs of photograph-taking tourists. He’s practically at the ship already.
“Yes.” Jay shakes his head, tugging on his chain again like it’s a nervous habit he’s developed since I last saw him.
“Philly fans can be mean, man. Passionate, sure, and that feels great when we’re winning.
But when we’re having a bad season . . .
someone told me I sucked in the grocery store the other day, and then their fucking ten-year-old kid repeated it. ”
“No one ever told me I sucked.”
He gives me a flat look. “That’s because Seattle fans are a bunch of New Age, crunchy hippies.”
“Maybe it’s because I didn’t suck.”
“Ha-ha.” Jay rolls his eyes before he stops to look at me—really look at me—and I know what he’s going to say next when his gaze flicks up to my temple, to the scar I’ve purposely tried to hide by letting my hair grow a bit longer.
“Aren’t you worried? That someone might recognize you? It hasn’t been that long.”
I give a noncommittal shrug, raising a hand in the air to let Talon know we see him where he’s standing by the gangway, like he’s the first kid in line waiting to be let onto a rollercoaster.
It’s a painful thought, that someone might recognize me for the person I used to be—who I was supposed to be—when it’s been nice to just try being the person I am now, whoever that is, for the last few days with Talon and Jay.
But it’s not as painful as it is to see Sloan again for the first time.