20
Maika
My body is urgently demanding that I return to the cabin.
I need to take off these clothes and rest for a while.
In fact, I fantasize about stepping into the hot water of the shower, letting the steam envelop me, letting my hair down, washing my face, and lying down on the bunk, even if only for five minutes, to pretend that fate hasn’t suddenly placed me in direct competition with the woman I love.
But I don’t. I walk away from the crew quarters, leaving behind the distant voices of my colleagues preparing for the night shift and that strange feeling of living a life that has suddenly fallen into disarray.
“Last time, there were also… unforeseen events. And today it almost cost us a tragedy.”
I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. No. I’m not going to cry in the middle of a hallway. I have limits—few, but I have them.
I head up to one of the upper outdoor decks.
The wind is blowing hard, and the navigation lights seem less welcoming than those in the recreational areas.
Here, the sea stretches out, painted in the leaden colors of sunset, swallowing the white, foamy wake left by the ship as it picks up speed toward Naples.
The salty air hits my face and ruffles my hair.
I walk over to the railing, rest my hands on the handrail, and finally, I breathe deeply. Or at least I try to.
“What an idiot I’ve been.”
When the meeting ended, I was hoping Helen would tell me I was wrong, that I’d done the right thing, and that we could move forward with our relationship.
But none of that happened. And now here I am, in the middle of the Mediterranean, with such a huge disappointment in my chest that I don’t know where to put it so it doesn’t drown me.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. The screen lights up with notifications from the crew’s internal app. I swipe my finger, connect to the data network using the ship’s Wi-Fi, and search for the contact I need.
The ringtone sounds once, twice, three times.
“My girl?” my grandmother answers after a moment, her voice filled with that tenderness that always manages to make me feel less alone in the world.
I close my eyes and rest my forehead on my forearm, against the cold metal.
“Hi, Grandma,” I murmur.
“Oh, what a miracle. But have you seen what time it is? Don’t you have clocks over there?”
A small, crooked, broken laugh escapes me, but it’s sincere.
“Honestly, today I’d throw all the clocks overboard without a second thought.”
“That sounds like you’ve had one of those days that can only be fixed with a good bowl of hot soup and someone to gently comb your hair,” she replies, as if she were seeing right through me across the nautical miles that separate us.
I bring a hand to my mouth to stifle the emotion. My grandmother has that magical ability to read me, even from thousands of miles away.
“It’s been a long day,” I reply.
“Sure, and since I was born yesterday, I’m going to believe it was just a long day. Come on, my girl, tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Grandma…”
“Is everything okay?”
There’s the key question. A question I wish someone else had asked. I look out at the sea. The glimmers of the deck lights shimmer on the surface of the dark water. I swallow, but my throat refuses to cooperate.
“Yes, Grandma,” I lie, because sometimes we keep lying even to those who know us best. “I just miss your hugs.”
There is a brief but eloquent silence on the other end. I know she knows. My grandmother knows everything.
“So not everything’s okay,” she says, drawing a small smile from me. “Because you only miss my hugs when the world feels too big for you to carry on your own.”
I don’t answer because I don’t want to cry. Although I end up doing it anyway. The first tear falls without asking permission, then another, and then comes that choppy, absurd breathing that I hate because it turns me back into little Maika, who used to run to hide her face in her lap.
“It’s just… the day has been absolute madness. In Rome, a passenger in my group fainted, and I had no way to contact the port until quite a while later. Then I had to drag twenty-four people to the station and make it to the pier with the last-call alarms blaring…”
“Oh my goodness,” she exclaims, and I can almost see her clutching her chest.
“Yeah. ‘My goodness’ doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I admit with a sad smile.
“And did you make it to the ship on time?”
“Yes… We barely escaped a hefty fine.”
“Then you did well, my girl. Very well.”
That phrase, so simple and so necessary, envelops me in warmth. It’s so different from everything I’ve heard from Helen that I need to cover my eyes with one hand to hold back the flood of emotions washing over me.
“That’s exactly what I needed to hear,” I confess.
“Well, I’ll say it again: you did well, my dear. I’m proud of you.” She hears me crying and I hear her sigh. “Breathe with me, like when you were little and you’d get upset because you couldn’t tie your shoes on the first try.”
“Now I know how to tie them perfectly,” I joke through my tears.
“Yes, but you’re still just as stubborn.”
“I got that from you.”
“And I’m proud of it,” she replies with a little laugh.
I burst out laughing through my tears. I need her so much that it physically hurts not to have her with me right now.
“Grandma, I’m tired,” I finally admit.
“I know.”
“Not just because of today. I’m tired of everything.
Of constantly having to prove that I’m good enough for the job, that I can handle any crisis, that I’m not just the funny one on the entertainment team.
Sometimes I wish someone would look me in the eye and say, ‘That’s it, you can let it all go, I’ve got this. ’”
“And does that person have a name?” she asks with that sharp intuition of hers.
The wind slips between us, whistling against the ship’s structures.
“Helen,” I murmur, almost snatching the word from the air.
“Ah,” she says simply.
“Don’t say ‘ah’ like that, Grandma.”
“How do you want me to say it, then?”
Now, I can’t help but burst out laughing.
“She’s an unbearable woman, but I love her…”
I rest my hip against the railing and gaze toward the dark horizon, where the sea and the sky merge into a single line that isn’t quite black.
“The truth is, we’re really drawn to each other…
” I add, almost smiling. “We understand each other perfectly when we work together in an emergency, but we also hurt each other. It’s like dancing with someone who’s constantly stepping on your toes, but just when you decide to let go, you realize that no one else keeps the same rhythm as you. ”
“That’s really beautiful, you know?” she remarks.
“Well, living it on board is torture.”
“The important things aren’t usually easy, honey.”
I sigh deeply.
“Today we were told that we’re both being considered for the same senior management position at the shipping company, because they want to do some kind of merger, and now it turns out I have to compete with her. And I don’t like that one bit.”
My grandmother is silent for a few seconds.
“Because you might lose it?” she asks.
“No. Because she might lose it,” I reply before I even think about it. “It’s just that Helen has been fighting for that promotion for a long time. A very long time. I know what it means to her.”
“I see…”
I stare at my hands. I can still feel the exhaustion in my fingers.
“The last contract we sailed together…” I continue, but the words get stuck in my throat.
“There were several serious problems on board. I was new to the team, I was scared, and when things got complicated, I didn’t support her as I should have.
I didn’t lie about her or try to harm her, but I stayed silent when I should have stepped up and defended her safety management. ”
The water beats against the hull of the ship in a hypnotic rhythm, many meters below.
“And you’ve blamed yourself all this time.”
“Yes. But not as much as she blamed me.”
“And why didn’t you take that step?” my grandmother wants to know. “The one to tell what really happened.”
I press the phone against my ear.
“Because I was terrified they’d fire me. And if I lost this job, I wouldn’t be able to keep paying the monthly fees for your nursing home.”
That statement carries a responsibility I took upon myself.
That was the real reason I kept quiet. Out of fear of losing my income, my stability, and my ability to support the place where my grandmother receives the care she needs.
Out of terror that a bad decision would affect her, that the greatest love of my life would pay the price for my courage.
“My girl…” my grandmother whispers, visibly moved.
“Don’t tell me I didn’t have to worry about that.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you that. I understand your reasons, sweetheart.”
“You needed that place, the daily therapies. And I… I couldn’t let you down.”
“You’ve never let me down, Maika.”
“Not you, but Helen.”
“Maybe,” she admits honestly. And I can already picture her smiling. “But it’s one thing to make a mistake out of fear, and quite another to become a bad person forever. You were young, you were scared, and you were carrying more responsibility than you should have.”
“That doesn’t erase what happened.”
“No. But maybe it explains why it happened. And explanations, sometimes, are the first step toward healing.”
I lean against the railing again. The tears have subsided, but they leave my face tight, my nose irritated, and my chest strangely open and calm.
“Helen thinks everything bad that happened with that contract was my fault.”
“And what do you think, deep down?”
It takes me a few seconds to answer, staring at the distant lights of a merchant ship on the horizon.
“I think I was wrong. I think she was, too. I think neither of us knew how to ask for help when we really needed it. I think we both got hurt, and instead of healing together, we decided to use those wounds as weapons against each other. Just like we’re doing now.”
“You’re both very proud women.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m charming,” I joke weakly.
“You’re a ray of sunshine, yes. But even the sun burns if you get too close.”
I smile despite everything.
“I love her, Grandma,” I confess, without jokes or excuses.
“A lot. I love that woman who drives me crazy, who hurts me when she hides behind her walls, who looks at me as if I were a constant threat to her order, and who, even so, makes me the happiest person in the world when she smiles at me. I don’t understand it, but I can’t help feeling it. ”
On the other end, my grandmother sighs.
“Oh, my girl.”
“Don’t say it like it’s a nice thing. She’s a walking disaster.”
“Disasters don’t make you change your voice when you say her name.”
“I haven’t changed my voice.”
She bursts out laughing.
“Of course you have, and don’t try to fool your grandmother…” she insists affectionately.
I laugh, defeated by her irrefutable logic.
“Well, your powers should tell me what to do with all this now.”
“First, rest in your cabin. Second, don’t let a position at the company turn your heart into a trench. Compete as yourself, Maika, without silencing her. And, above all, without silencing yourself.”
“That sounds very poetic and very impractical for the corporate world.”
“Practicality has led you out onto this deck to cry with me at this hour. Perhaps the poetic has something important to contribute to this whole mess.”
I look up at the sky, now completely dark. Few stars are visible because of the glare from the ship’s lights, but a few shine brightly against the dark backdrop.
“What if Helen really does hate me?”
“I don’t think she hates you. Sometimes people speak out of fear and are then surprised by the cruelty of their own words.”
I think of Helen’s eyes. Of that moment before the meeting when she stepped in and asked that they let me rest. Of her face when she heard that I, too, acknowledged her work in front of Julianne. I know for certain that indifference doesn’t look at you with that intensity.
“I’m tired of fighting,” I admit.
“Then stop fighting for a moment. Make room for silence.”
“She doesn’t know how to stop fighting. She’s a security officer, Grandma; she’s on high alert all the time.”
“Maybe you’ll have to teach her how to let her guard down.”
The words leave me breathless for a few seconds. My grandmother has always known what to say when I feel as lost as I do now.
“I don’t know if I can,” I whisper.
“Of course you can. But you don’t have to figure it out tonight.”
The headwind picks up again. I hug myself, missing the feel of her arms around me.
“I miss you so much, Grandma.”
“And I miss you, my girl. But I’m always there, in that little piece of your heart that you carry with you to every port. And I’m sure you’ll be able to visit me soon.”
I think about the nursing home, the monthly transfers, the calls from every port of call, the messages I send her when I have a good signal or can use the Wi-Fi like today, the guilt I carry because the time I spend with her never seems enough.
My grandmother isn’t an obligation. She never has been.
She is my home. My deepest roots. The woman who taught me to dance in the kitchen, to respond with grace when the world turned ugly, and not to let anyone mistake my laughter for a lack of character.
“Promise me something,” she says suddenly.
“Whatever you want.”
“Don’t let anyone take away that light you have, my girl. Not Helen, not a promotion, not the mistakes of the past. You shine because you’ve learned to stay afloat in the biggest storms. Don’t let fear drag you down now.”
I wipe away my last tear with the back of my hand and smile.
“Don’t worry, Grandma, I shine brighter than the entire lighting crew.”
My grandmother lets out a little chuckle.
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
We chat for a few more minutes about everyday nonsense that gradually brings me back to the reality of dry land, and when we hang up, I hold the phone pressed against my chest for a long while.
The ship moves forward while I remain exhausted, but something inside me has stopped trembling.
I don’t know what’s going to happen with Helen.
I don’t know how you compete for a spot against someone you want to protect even when she hurts you.
I don’t know if she’ll be able to accept me without the ghosts of the past constantly haunting us.
But I do know that I’m not going to shut myself off just to make this hurt less.
Tomorrow I may have to face Helen, Julianne, Arturo, the selection process, and everything else. But at least, for tonight, I’ll stay up here shining.