19
Helen
When I step out of the conference room, I’m not quite sure where my feet are taking me.
And for me, that’s a red flag. Because I always know where I’m going.
Yet now my feet are moving on their own through the crew’s inner corridors, as if my body had decided to get me away from the officers’ deck before my mind could finish processing what just happened.
“Arturo Valdés. Julianne Ferguson. Supervisors sent in from Marseille. Maika and I, candidates for the same position. Maika leaving the meeting without even looking at me.” Everything is spinning violently inside me, turning each of those certainties into a knot tightening around my ribs.
“Damn it.”
The ship has already set sail from Civitavecchia. Outside, the Tyrrhenian Sea opens up again, indifferent to the chaos we’ve left behind in Rome. A dark, deep, eternal sea, completely unaware that I’ve just lost another battle I didn’t even know I was fighting.
I end up in the crew lounge, a discreet corner hidden deep within the lower decks, far from the passengers’ gaze.
There are a couple of tables bolted to the floor, a bulletin board crammed with shift schedules, and notes scribbled in a hurry in three different languages.
At this hour, with almost the entire crew deployed at their posts, there’s no one around.
“Perfect. If I’m going to pass out, at least I can do it without witnesses.”
I collapse onto one of the sofas, set the folder with the reports down beside me, and rest my elbows on my knees. My hands are shaking.
I can’t get Maika out of my head. I close my eyes tightly.
The last time we sailed together ended in disaster, though for a long time I’ve allowed myself to call only the part that was convenient for me a “disaster.” There were mistakes, of course.
Bad decisions, information that didn’t arrive on time, unforeseen events that snowballed until I was left exposed in front of our superiors.
But there was also our relationship—the one that erupted suddenly on the high seas, with intensity, and turned into disappointment when Maika chose to remain silent.
I needed someone to blame. And she was right there, within reach.
It was so easy to pin my frustration on her.
It was so convenient to convince myself that if I didn’t get that promotion, it was because Maika didn’t measure up, because she didn’t back me up, and because she hid when I needed someone to stand up for me the most. Maybe some of that was true.
Maybe she was afraid of jeopardizing her own career.
Maybe she didn’t act the way I expected.
But I did something much worse: I turned her silence into a condemnation.
And today, my mind has returned to that same dark place: if Maika is around and something goes wrong, I’ll end up losing.
“I’m an idiot. An idiot with an amazing knack for hurting exactly the person who deserves it the least.”
I get up, unable to sit still for more than two seconds, and walk over to the coffee machine. I press a random button and the machine spits out a dark liquid.
I grab the plastic cup and take a sip.
“Ugh, gross. This tastes like oil.”
I lean against the counter and let the heat from the cup seep through my fingers. The tension is pooled in my shoulders, and I have a throbbing headache. I should have hugged her, kissed her until the exhaustion faded from her face after the hell of Rome, but I chose the exact opposite.
The universe has a particularly cruel sense of humor.
It corners me against the wall, snatches the procedure manuals from me, and forces me to face two truths I’ve been dodging for miles.
The first: I need stability. The second: I’m still hopelessly in love with Maika.
Even though our days on this ship are numbered.
Because yes, things get magnified here, too.
Maybe I shouldn’t even be forming those words in my head.
But they’re there, taking up a space that used to be filled with excuses.
I’m in love with that laugh that turns chaos into an anecdote, with that humanity that doesn’t fit into any report and that, precisely, is what makes her a different kind of leader than me.
It pains me to admit it, but Maika is far better prepared, as a person, for leadership.
I am calculating, efficient, and resilient; I know how to anticipate security breaches, draw up contingency plans, and keep structures standing when everything is shaking around me.
But Maika retains something I’ve been losing contract after contract: the ability not to lose sight of people while saving the plan.
The door bursts open, and I’m so startled I almost spill my coffee as Gonzalo appears in the doorway with the look of someone who’s scoured every deck looking for me.
“I’ve been wandering around the ship for an hour,” he says as he enters and lets the door close behind him. “What are you doing down here?”
I look at him in silence. Then I lower my gaze to the plastic cup and fix my eyes on him again.
“I’m trying to hide from fate before it gets the brilliant idea to throw me overboard to make me disappear,” I reply with a touch of irony.
Gonzalo stands still for a second, processing my words.
“Okay. That was dramatic, even for you.”
“It’s been quite the trip, that’s for sure,” I murmur as I rub the back of my neck.
“I can imagine,” he replies with a sigh. “When the security officer disappears off the radar, it usually means things are going very badly.”
Gonzalo steps closer to me, setting aside the usual on-board banter.
“Tell me.”
I slump back onto the sofa. Gonzalo takes a chair across from me, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
“The inspectors from headquarters were infiltrated among the passengers,” I blurt out.
Gonzalo blinks, completely taken aback.
“What do you mean?”
“Arturo Valdés and Julianne Ferguson. They’ve been traveling as regular passengers on the Marine IV since we set sail from Marseille. They’ve been watching our every move.”
“So, we had two corporate sharks dining in the main restaurant,” he remarks incredulously.
“More or less, yes,” I reply, then let out a sigh.
“And as soon as the group from Rome boarded, they called us both in. They evaluated the entire incident: the emergency response, the train delay, the coordination between departments… They said Maika improvised brilliantly and that I kept my cool by adapting the security protocols to her plan on the fly.”
“That sounds good so far,” Gonzalo observes.
“But now it turns out that the position I was aiming for has changed somewhat, and they’re going to do a kind of merger. A position they’ve offered us, and we have to compete for it.”
My best friend exhales deeply and runs a hand over his face.
“What a predicament, Helen…”
I rub my forehead wearily.
“After that, the inspectors left us alone in the office and we argued a lot. I said some horrible things to her, Gonzalo…” I confess.
“Define ‘horrible.’”
“I reminded her, rather cruelly, of what happened when we met on the previous cruise and…”
Gonzalo closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head.
“Helen…”
“I know, don’t tell me.”
“No, I don’t think you do. Put yourself in Maika’s shoes for a moment.”
I jump up from the sofa because the walls are closing in on me, and I pace nervously around the small room.
“I don’t need you to lecture me. I’m already beating myself up enough.”
“It’s not a lecture. I’m just trying to help you see things clearly.”
“I’m tired, Gonzalo. Tired of the fact that every time I’m about to achieve stability, something unexpected happens, she shows up, reopens the past, and everything starts to crumble again.”
“Maika has never liked offices on land,” he replies, looking at me. “She’s always told me she’s happy sailing, feeling the sea.”
“Well, everyone could use an executive position with a steady salary and weekends off,” I retort bitterly.
“I’m not saying she couldn’t. But Maika knows full well how many years you’ve been burning yourself out to get that position, so I doubt she’d try to step on you just because headquarters threw her into the mix.”
“That’s not the problem, Gonzalo,” I admit. “The problem is that she’s perfect for the job. And the idea of seeing her win again terrifies me.”
Gonzalo holds my gaze for a few seconds.
“You know as well as I do that Maika never meant to hurt you back then,” he reminds me. “You just needed to pin the blame on someone, and you chose the worst possible person. Because you didn’t just lose the promotion, Helen. And now you’re doing exactly the same thing, thinking only of yourself.”
I freeze, as if he’d slapped me. Maybe he did, just using the right words.
“That’s unfair.”
“Maybe. But it’s the truth of what happened on that ship.”
“I’m not just thinking about myself,” I protest.
Gonzalo stands up and walks over to where I’m standing, closing the small distance between us.
“Then tell me what was the first thing you felt when you saw Maika come on board an hour ago.”
I open my mouth to retort, but close it again. Because it wasn’t anger I felt when I saw her appear safe. It was relief. A wild, fierce relief, so intense it almost split my ribs in two.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, reading my silence perfectly. “Now tell me what was the first thing you let her see in you.”
The coffee from the machine has gone completely cold in my hands.
“Reproaches and more reproaches,” I whisper.
“There you have it,” Gonzalo concludes.
I lean against the wall and close my eyes, listening to the background hum. I feel small in a way I hate.
“I need that job, Gonzalo,” I say, and this time my voice comes out broken.
“Not on a whim. I’m tired of living in constant transit, of my whole life fitting into a suitcase.
Of not having even a measly plant on a windowsill because it would dry out before my next vacation.
” I’ve been telling myself for years that sailing sets me free, but lately I don’t feel free.
I feel suspended, as if the ship were constantly moving toward the next port while I remain stuck in exactly the same spot.
Gonzalo listens to me without interrupting, letting the hum of the engines fill the space.
“I need to feel like my life has solid ground. That I can build something that lasts longer than a six-month contract. I want to wake up one morning without having to look out the porthole to know where I am, to have a stable team in an office and make real decisions. Not just spend my watches putting out fires or cleaning up other people’s messes.
” I want to stop being someone who drifts through other people’s lives from stop to stop, without really belonging anywhere.
The confession hangs in the air. God, my throat even feels like it’s on fire.
“That position means my permanent landing,” I continue. “A future that doesn’t depend on the next Atlantic route or whether I renew my contract next season. And now Maika appears as the ideal candidate. How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?”
Gonzalo softens his gaze, losing all his stiffness.
“You don’t compete against that by putting on airs and being tougher, Helen. That’s for sure.”
“I don’t know how to be any other way.”
“That’s a lie. You do know how. It’s just that you’re terrified of opening your heart again.”
I laugh without a shred of humor, staring at the plastic cup.
“Everything scares me lately. The sea included.”
“Welcome to the human club. Something you should be a little more of.”
I look at him with annoyance, trying to regain my composure.
“I’m not in the mood for self-help clichés, Gonzalo.”
“Well, then stop punishing Maika for the mistakes you can’t forgive yourself for.”
I bring a hand to my chest, as if I could stop something from breaking inside me.
I don’t just blame her for the mess of our past. I blame her because watching her work, seeing the impact she has on the crew and the passengers, reminds me exactly of the version of myself that failed.
The Helen who didn’t measure up. The one who stayed on deck watching the opportunity of a lifetime sail away without her.
The one who decided to become stricter, more perfect, and colder so she’d never feel so vulnerable in front of anyone again.
“I screwed up,” I admit, looking at the floor.
Gonzalo nods gravely.
“Yeah, pretty badly.”
“And yet, she had my back and stood up for me in front of them.”
“Because Maika is that kind of person.”
“I kind of hate her for that.”
“No, Helen. You don’t hate her at all. You’re not even good at lying when you’re exhausted.”
“So what am I supposed to do now?” I ask.
Gonzalo shrugs and heads for the door.
“For starters, you could stop looking at the shipping company’s organizational chart as if she were the obstacle in your career and start seeing her for what she really is.”
“And what is that, according to you?”
“A brilliant professional. A woman who keeps you up at night. And, perhaps, the only person on board you work best with.”
“That complicates things quite a bit. Especially with the inspectors on board.”
“Well, you’ve always liked a challenge.” He winks at me, takes the coffee cup from my hands to toss it in the trash, and looks at me with absolute seriousness before leaving.
“Helen, the position matters, I know. But if to get that office you have to become an officer who doesn’t recognize the people who save your skin, then maybe the price of the return ticket is too high. ”
“Maybe it’s the price I deserve to pay,” I murmur to myself.
But I know that’s not true. I know perfectly well that if I keep letting fear of the past dictate my responses, I’m going to lose much more than an office. I’m going to lose Maika before I’ve even had the courage to ask her to stay with me.