Chapter Fifteen
Present: Day Four at Sea
“We are live on day four of our fabulous sailing trip to San Diego!”
Beth grips the dinette table with one hand to keep from falling out of her seat as she films Gigi. The seas were so rough that Beth gave up reading a few hours ago. I stand from the couch and stagger sideways on my way to the deck, nearly toppling onto the table in the middle of Gigi’s live stream.
Her heavily mascaraed eyes flick toward me. She returns her gaze to Beth’s phone when I recover my stance enough to stay upright.
Her nude-lipsticked mouth turns up into a smile. “The weather is insane. You guys can probably tell the boat is swaying. We’re in the middle of a storm!”
I hear Emma hurl into the toilet—again—as I climb the narrow stairway to the deck.
Knowing she spent so much time on her grandparents’ sailboat as a kid, I was surprised to hear her throwing up this morning.
When Beth said as much, Emma reminded her these open waters are much rougher than anything she experienced sailing around Sequim.
When I push open the door, it flies out of my hand from the wind and slams against the boat.
My hair swirls around my face as I close it behind me.
Yesterday’s sun is nowhere to be found. Instead, dark-gray clouds loom overhead, making it feel much later than five o’clock.
I pull my hood over my head. When a wave pummels the boat, I’m immediately sprayed with salt water.
The helm is unoccupied. I turn to the sound of Captain Nojan shouting orders at Adam from the middle of the boat.
“Hoist the storm jib,” the captain calls over the wind as he struggles to adjust one of the lines on the mainsail.
My gaze darts to the large swell rolling toward the boat and my heart leaps to my throat. I’m thrown onto the bench behind me as the wave hits the hull, spilling cold ocean water onto the deck and soaking my feet through my Converse. I pull myself up on the bench as thunder claps in the distance.
How the hell did I let Beth talk me into this?
Adam ducks low and moves from the foredeck to the cockpit, keeping one hand on the boat with each step. He unwraps a rope from a winch and tugs. “It’s not going, Captain.”
Nojan looks over his shoulder. “Release the furler line first,” he shouts, pointing behind Adam.
I watch Adam release the clamp on his left before he tugs again on the rope in his hand.
This time, the rope gives easily. As Adam pulls, a small sail unfurls at the bow.
A lump forms in my throat. His inexperience didn’t seem so worrisome yesterday when we weren’t in the bellows of gale winds. But now . . .
Fear stabs my chest at the thought of my girls, who are probably sitting down for dinner with my sister right now, while I imagine what it would be like for them if I never returned home.
Once the headsail is up, Adam starts to wrap the rope counterclockwise, then stops himself before wrapping the rope in a clockwise motion twice around the winch.
He gives it a tug. I haven’t said anything to the others about how I found Adam in Emma’s room yesterday, lying about replacing the towels.
At the front of the cockpit, the captain eyes our stormy surroundings with a grimace, squinting as wind beats against his face, then turns back toward Adam.
“Get below deck!”
I tear my gaze from Adam and see that the captain is pointing at me.
“It’s not safe for you out here now!”
Captain Nojan grabs the mast as the boat tilts. As we dip to the left from a rolling swell, I slide against the bench on the wet deck. I manage to pry open the companionway door, but it flies out of my hand, smacking against the wall of the cockpit.
When I get below, Emma is out of the bathroom, sitting beside Beth and Gigi at the table, her face a pale green.
“How was it up there?” Beth asks.
I pull off my hood and look down at my soaked shoes. “Wet. And scary as hell.”
“I think we should go home,” Emma says as I sink onto the couch.
Gigi, who sits across from Emma and Beth, shakes her head. “The weather will calm down. It’s just a squall. It will blow by tomorrow, I’m sure.”
“What are we doing out here?” Emma asks. “This is miserable.”
I spot fear beneath the attitude on Emma’s stricken face. She’s terrified. And so am I.
“It’s fine,” Gigi says. “Sailboats are made for this kind of weather. The captain warned me we would hit some rough weather, but he assured me it won’t last long. I thought you’d be used to this after all that sailing you did with your grandparents.”
Emma shakes her head. “It was never like this. I want to go back. I came here for a vacation, not to die out here.”
I can tell by her tone she’s only half serious about the dying part, but I’m worried too.
“I agree,” I say, looking at Gigi as the boat heels to the side, tilting the floor to a forty-five-degree angle.
Gigi rolls her eyes. “No one’s dying!”
Emma moans, resting her elbow atop the table and cradling her forehead in her palm. “I did not bring enough seasickness pills for this.”
Gigi stands from the table. “I should probably take one of the pills I brought. I’m starting to feel pretty queasy myself.”
Emma moans again as Gigi unsteadily makes for her stateroom.
She emerges a moment later, gripping a prescription bottle in her hand.
I sit up, surprised Gigi has prescription seasickness pills since you can buy them over the counter.
And she hasn’t seemed the slightest bit sick this whole time.
Although she is a diva, I think. Everything she does is over the top.
Gigi zigzags toward the fridge, grabbing the counter for support as she moves past. She reaches the fridge and withdraws a bottle of water just as the boat heels sharply to the side.
Gigi yelps, reaching for the counter as the pill bottle slips from her hand.
White pills spill across the floor along with the contents from the fridge.
“Oh no,” she shrieks, dropping to her hands and knees, scrambling to recover her splayed pills on the moving floor.
I slide off the couch and crawl toward her to help, grabbing a few white pills as I go.
“Here.” I open my palm to give Gigi the pills I’ve recovered, noting the two capital letters imprinted on the round tablets.
“Thanks.” Gigi’s fake nails scratch my palm as she snatches them.
She swiftly plucks the rest from the floor and returns them to the bottle as I pick up the drinks and put them back in the fridge.
I watch Gigi take two before she screws on the lid. Those weren’t seasickness pills. Those were opiates. Prescription opiates.
“Did you guys bring the pocketknives?” Gigi asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Yeah.” I look at Beth, not sure how I feel about Gigi’s idea to throw our engraved pocketknives from Courtney into the ocean.
Gigi’s request had come via an email from her assistant before the trip, which added to the strangeness of the whole thing.
The email said Gigi thought it would be akin to spreading Courtney’s ashes, since the pocketknives were all we had left from her.
Beth nods, and I can tell she’s trying not to roll her eyes.
She’s convinced Gigi wants to do it only for content to help build her platform.
But now that we’re all together, I’m starting to come around to the idea.
In their search for Courtney, rescue divers had recovered my knife from the bottom of the Sol Duc.
Maybe tossing the pocketknives overboard will help me let go.
Without a word, Emma pulls hers out of her pants pocket.
I swallow, staring at the shiny red pocketknife, identical to the one Courtney gave me before we set out on our rafting trip.
It was morbid to think back on that now, how Courtney thought she was so tough, so prepared, yet the knives did nothing to save her.
Emma remains quiet as she stares at the knife, holding it over the table.
I wonder if she’s too nauseated to speak, or if she’s thinking the same thing I am.
“I didn’t actually hurt my knee on that trip,” Emma says, still staring at the knife. “I faked it.”
I gape at Emma, stunned by her confession.
“What?” Gigi asks. “Why?”
Emma shifts her gaze to the floor beside the dinette.
“This sounds crazy, but after Courtney fell in, I thought she’d done it on purpose.
For attention. She always had to make everything about her, even if that meant she had to be the victim.
” Her voice wobbles, and she lifts her gaze to mine.
“I was sick of it. So, I pretended to hurt myself on that rock so I wouldn’t have to keep looking for her.
” She turns toward Beth. “It was so stupid, I know, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.
I had no idea we’d never find her.” Emma shakes her head slowly, her eyes distant.
“I’m sure you all saw the video of me screaming at the contractor that went viral on social media.
I’ve been seeing a therapist about it, and she thinks a lot of my anger stems from my guilt from that trip. ”
Gigi puts a hand on her heart, looking wounded. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? I can’t believe you kept it a secret for so long.”
Emma’s eyes brim with tears as she twists in her seat. “Because she died.” She heaves an exasperated sigh and turns back around. “This isn’t about you, Gigi. I swear, sometimes you’re just as bad as Courtney.”
Beth slides me a glance, and I know what she’s thinking: Can’t argue with that.
I put a hand on Emma’s arm. “What happened to Courtney isn’t your fault.” It’s mine. I try to push down the guilt welling up in my chest before it swallows me whole—something I’ve had a lot of practice with over the years.
“I think we should throw the pocketknives into the sea tonight,” Gigi says, seemingly unaffected by Emma’s slight. “It’s time that we all let go.” Gigi widens her stance to keep her balance as the bow pitches over a swell, her gaze turning to the stairs.
“The captain said it wasn’t safe for us to be on deck right now,” I say.
She cocks her head. “But you were just up there.”
“I know, and that’s why I came down.”
“Oh, please. It’ll be fine. We won’t be up there for long.”
Emma twists in her seat at the dinette to face Gigi. “We’ve got over a week left in this trip. Why don’t we wait until the seas are calmer?”
Gigi puts her hands on her hips, pursing her lips as if Emma just doesn’t get it. “I already announced to my following that we’d be doing it live tonight.”
Beth’s gaze meets mine, her eyes widening as if to say I told you so. She turns toward Gigi. “I’m not risking my life for your live stream, Gigi.”
Gigi’s face falls, seemingly stunned by Beth’s refusal, making me wonder when the last time was that she didn’t get her way. “We have to. It’s the whole reason we’re here.”
I study Gigi. Is she referring to honoring Courtney’s memory or posting “content”?
“This might be a vacation for you, Beth, but I actually have to work.”
I shake my head for giving Gigi’s intentions the benefit of the doubt. Of course that’s all she’s concerned about: her following.
Gigi glances at Emma, then me. “I’ll meet you all on deck. I just need to grab my pocketknife and touch up my lipstick.”
Beth looks between Emma and me after Gigi disappears into her stateroom, the door slamming closed behind her as the floor heels to an angle.
“Did she not hear me?” Beth asks. “I said I’m not going up there. Not toni—”
A scream erupts from inside Gigi’s stateroom.