21
Helen
The next day.
After my conversation with Gonzalo, I decide I need to be more human, more open, and more flexible.
I want to embody all those things emotionally balanced people seem to do naturally, without needing a meticulously detailed plan, three performance metrics, and an alarm on their phone to remind them to breathe.
One: say hello without making it seem like a health inspection.
Two: ask how Maika is doing and listen to the full answer, without interrupting her.
Three: don’t make excuses before apologizing.
Four: avoid phrases like “your unexpected events.”
Five: breathe before speaking.
Six: don’t stare at her mouth during work conversations.
I’m crossing out number six. Not because it isn’t important, but because it seems unrealistic to me at this point, to be honest.
“Perfect,” I mutter to myself. “We’re off to a great start today.”
Yes, that’s sarcasm.
I get up and look at myself in the bathroom mirror.
I practice a friendly expression, though the result is a strange combination of acute abdominal pain and the face I make when I threaten Gonzalo.
I try again, but it turns out even worse.
On the third try, I look like an officer in the middle of a drill explaining the ship-abandonment procedure.
If my best friend wants me to be more human, he could have been nice enough to pass me a manual with illustrations and practical examples.
I step out of the cabin in my impeccable day uniform, my hair pulled back into a tight bun, and an uncomfortable tightness in my chest that has nothing to do solely with the day ahead of us.
Naples is already visible, bathed in that early, golden light that makes the gulf shimmer with chaotic beauty.
The city seems to be waking up little by little, just like the thousands of passengers who are beginning to crowd the promenade decks.
I, on the other hand, am dragging a sleepless night and an apology that’s stuck in my throat like a poorly coiled rope.
As soon as I step into the crew mess hall, I come face to face with her.
Maika is sitting at a small table in the corner, a cup in her hands and her gaze lost in a porthole through which the horizon is barely visible.
She’s wearing the standard entertainment staff uniform, though today she seems different.
Her gaze doesn’t shine with that electric intensity she usually radiates; it’s as if she’s inhabiting her own world.
I walk over to her and smile.
“Good morning,” I say.
All right. Point one completed. I didn’t sound like a security inspector. I think.
Maika looks up. She doesn’t smile, nor does she throw a snide remark my way or hide behind one of her usual jokes. She just looks at me. It’s as if her brain has gone into a loop.
“Good morning, Helen.”
I stand there a second too long, my hands slightly tense at my sides. I should sit down. A normal person sits down and shares a table. A human being doesn’t just stand there in front of their colleague as if they’re about to confiscate their breakfast.
“Can I…?” I ask, pointing to the empty chair across from her.
“Sure.”
I sit down and silence settles between us. If there’s ever been a moment when I’ve wished a crack would open up beneath my feet and swallow me into the ocean, it’s right now. I clench my hands on the table and feel my pulse throbbing in my wrists.
“I wanted to know how you’re doing,” I continue, remembering point two.
Maika tilts her head, more surprised than suspicious.
“Tired,” she replies.
I nod and force myself to stay silent.
“And a little hurt,” she adds after a moment.
Of course, because there was no way she wouldn’t tell me.
My stomach clenches immediately. But right away, I take a deep breath, just as step five says.
“I’m sorry,” I reply bluntly.
Maika blinks, visibly shocked. I’m also surprised that I blurted it out like that, without preamble, without excuses, and without a PowerPoint presentation titled “Extenuating Circumstances for My Behavior.”
“About yesterday…” I continue, before losing what little courage I have left. “What I said to you… my tone… the way I turned a real crisis into something that seemed like it was all your fault. I’m truly sorry, Maika.”
She looks down at the cup she’s holding in her hands, running her fingers along the rim.
“Thank you,” she replies simply.
Is that it? “Thank you.” Well, what a shitty thing this is, being human. But as Emily Charlton would say: “May the bridges I burn light my way.”
“I… I don’t know how to do this very well, obviously,” I confess.
She looks at me again, analyzing every inch of my expression.
“Apologize?”
“No. Acting like a normal person,” I clarify, trying to force a smile that probably looks like a nervous tic.
The corner of her mouth twitches slightly, breaking her seriousness.
“Yeah… I’d already noticed a bit of that,” she reminds me.
“I’m working on it,” I reply, and for the first time I feel that it’s not a company goal, but something of my own.
“You’ve made a list to figure out how to do it, haven’t you?” she asks, narrowing her eyes shrewdly.
I freeze. I feel a sudden heat rush to the back of my neck. Then Maika opens her eyes a little wider, astonished.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe it… You actually did it.”
“Actually, it’s not…” I protest weakly, feeling cornered.
“It’s not… what?”
“A list. It’s a framework for interpersonal improvement,” I admit, defending my ground with an absurd pride that doesn’t fit in my uniform.
For the first time in twenty-four hours, Maika lets out a laugh so pure and genuine that my heart races completely out of control, skipping a beat.
“You’re incredible, Helen,” she says, shaking her head, but with her eyes lighting up.
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment on your scale of values,” I reply, though I feel the tension in my shoulders melt away.
“Hmm… I’m still evaluating it,” she replies with that spark that’s so uniquely hers.
We stare at each other for a few seconds. This time she doesn’t avoid my eyes or hide behind her usual sarcasm.
“Seriously. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I assure her, and in one fell swoop, I let down all my defenses.
“But you did,” she replies.
“I know.”
“And I don’t want to take your place, Helen.”
I don’t know why, but the sincerity in those words hurts my heart.
“You shouldn’t put your career at the shipping company on hold because of me,” I add.
“I didn’t say I’m going to retire. I said I don’t want to take it away from you,” she clarifies.
So, she’s going to compete with everything she’s got. Screw the humanity plan.
Before I can come up with a corporate response, the radio on my belt roars with a high-priority beep. Immediately after, the pager in her pocket starts beeping. We both look at the devices at the same time.
The truce on board lasts exactly as long as it takes for a cup of coffee to go cold.
· · ·
Half an hour later we’re in the ground operations office, with Arturo and Julianne standing before us. The atmosphere has that uncomfortable vibe of bad news being kept under wraps. Gonzalo is leaning against the partition, frowning as he checks a tablet. Maika stands by my side, calm but tense.
Julianne speaks up, direct and to the point.
“We have a complex situation at the port of Naples. There’s an unexpected strike by local transport and taxis that’s blocking the main access roads to the terminal and affecting half of the scheduled tours.”
I close my eyes for a moment. Of course. The universe has decided that yesterday’s crisis in Rome was just a rehearsal.
Arturo continues with the briefing:
“Some passengers who had booked private tours won’t be able to leave as planned. The shipping company is going to increase the number of shuttle buses, but we need to coordinate the departure flow, address complaints, and negotiate with port authorities regarding the waiting area.”
“How many affected passengers do we have on the lists right now?” I ask.
“Off the top of my head, about two hundred thirty,” Julianne replies. “But if the traffic gridlock worsens in the city, that number will double in the next two hours.”
Maika lets out a low whistle.
“Naples never disappoints when it decides to get dramatic,” she remarks with a resigned smile.
Arturo looks at both of us, fixing his gaze first on me and then on her.
“We want you to handle this together.”
The word “together” echoes strangely through the room. Maika doesn’t move, but I can tell she’s focusing.
“Together under what organizational structure?” she asks.
“Helen will handle the security perimeter, access control, and the flow at the pier. You’ll be in charge of direct passenger management, deploying the entertainment team to keep spirits up, and relocating people to the vehicles.”
My mind protests immediately.
“I usually coordinate ground incidents from headquarters.”
“We know that, Helen,” Julianne interjects. “But for this evaluation to be effective, we need to see you outside your usual environment. Away from the control screens.”
Gonzalo coughs suspiciously behind his tablet. I’d bet my rank that he’s stifling a laugh. I glare at him before turning back to the team.
“We need your leadership down there on the dock,” Arturo insists. “Face to face with port authorities and managing the crowd. The Naples dock is a hornet’s nest on normal days; today it’s going to be a pressure cooker.”
Great. A live, in-person lesson in humanity, stuffed into a reflective vest and with a real risk of a riot right at the ship’s side. If Gonzalo wanted me to be more empathetic, he should be the one going down there to swallow this shit.
Maika glances at me out of the corner of her eye, clearly amused by my internal debate.
“Any specific guidelines from headquarters?” she asks Julianne.
“Maintain order and transparency. Don’t promise any services that haven’t been confirmed by the local agency. And above all, we want to see how you resolve a conflict by working in parallel, without stepping on each other’s toes.”
Without stepping on each other’s toes. What an idyllic concept.