28
Helen
The sea seems to go on forever. After leaving Sardinia behind, the Marine IV sets out on a full day at sea toward Palma de Mallorca.
Normally, I love days like this. Or I used to, because days at sea have a different rhythm.
Life itself takes place inside the steel colossus.
The passengers don’t scatter across the mainland; they stay on board, ready to make the most of every corner, devouring the buffets and sweeping through the duty-free shops.
In my structured mind, fewer variables mean more control.
However, today I feel as though the ship’s more than one hundred thousand tons are floating on a question I don’t know how to answer: What the hell am I going to do about Maika?
The image of her in Cagliari hasn’t stopped haunting me for a single second.
I remember her face when she received that call, the way she pulled away from the table, the pale color of her cheeks, and her voice reduced to a fragile thread as she told me about her grandmother.
The nursing home, the fall, the need for physical therapy, and the damn forty-percent increase in the monthly fee.
Since then, I haven’t stopped crunching the numbers. And it’s not just a matter of money; it’s the consequences, the sacrifices, and the guilt that pile up in silence while the ship sails on.
Maika is going to need that promotion, because there’s an elderly woman in a nursing home who depends entirely on her.
Because that woman is the center of her universe.
And the poor woman has been carrying that weight on her shoulders while smiling, joking, and turning every unexpected event on board into a party.
I may have sweated blood for that promotion.
But since Sardinia, every time I think about the promotion, something inside me splits in two.
For the first time in my regimented life, I’m considering a possibility that would once have seemed absurd, unacceptable, and an insult to my career: quitting. Clearing the way for Maika.
“Fate hitting me right in the face…” I murmur.
Mid-morning, I head down to the central atrium with my tablet in hand and my head spinning.
Since it’s a day at sea, the entertainment team has put together a lineup worthy of the best parties: pool games, Latin dance classes, the charity bingo that drives the retirees wild, a trivia tournament, and kids’ activities. It’s crazy.
Maika is with Leo, Lara, and Nico, reviewing the afternoon program near the passenger service desk.
Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, she’s wearing her usual uniform pants, and her expression is far too calm.
Too neutral to be her. I stop a few feet away, hiding behind my tablet, trying to figure out what she’s hiding behind that “fun sergeant” facade.
“Leo, you’ll be in charge of coordinating the trivia game at four o’clock in the pub,” she tells him, shoving a blue folder into his hands. “Lara, you’ll supervise access to the family play area on the upper deck and do the initial headcount.”
Leo’s eyes widen as if he’d just seen Poseidon himself emerge from the water.
“Me, alone in the face of danger?”
“You have the written guidelines, and Nico is nearby in case the passengers get rowdy,” Maika replies.
Nico looks up from his phone at lightning speed.
“Me? What’s that about?”
“Because it’s about time you grew up and acted like an adult, kid,” she adds with a half-smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“That’s asking for miracles, boss,” Nico retorts.
Lara chuckles under her breath, but I don’t find it funny at all.
Because something’s fishy here. The 4 p.m. trivia game on a day at sea is packed to the brim, and while it might seem cute, the British and Spanish passengers competing for national pride turn into bloodthirsty creatures capable of arguing over a question about the Beatles as if their lives depended on it.
And the family area needs strict crowd control so the kids don’t end up jumping overboard.
These aren’t impossible tasks, but they are critical for the rookie left in charge. And Maika, who is the queen of improvisation, knows this all too well. I approach her immediately.
“Everything under control over here?” I ask, crossing my arms.
She turns around. When she sees me, she gives me a smile. But it’s not one of her mischievous smiles, the kind that make my heart race.
“Running like clockwork,” she replies without batting an eye.
“Are you going to leave the trivia game in Leo’s hands?” I press, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. The kid needs to get some experience,” she says.
“He’s only been on a couple of voyages, Maika,” I point out, glancing sideways at the boy in question, who suddenly seems very interested in his own hands.
“And a twelve-page manual that you yourself approved at the safety committee meeting. If he survives the cheating retirees at Trivial Pursuit, he’ll survive any shipwreck,” she replies, though I notice her voice lacks its usual playful sparkle.
“The family activities on Deck Twelve also tend to get out of hand,” I continue my attack.
“Lara has the temperament to rein them in.”
“I’m not saying she doesn’t. But maybe it would be wiser for Nico to back her up for the first half hour to keep the crowd from getting out of hand,” I suggest.
“Nico is coming with me to Deck Eleven. I need him to set up the cooking demonstration, and then he’s going to supervise things with Leo,” she explains, finally locking her eyes on mine.
“You need your best asset just to set up four tables?” I ask sarcastically.
Maika holds my gaze, and a spark of stubbornness glints in her eyes.
“Helen, I know exactly how to do the job.”
“I didn’t say otherwise,” I reply, taking a small step forward.
“You didn’t need to,” she retorts.
Lara looks at Nico as if they were watching a soap opera from the front row; Nico focuses on the radiant floor, and Leo flips through the folder as if it were the manuscript of a bestseller. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I don’t want a fight right in the middle of the hallway.
“Just make sure the guys have backup if things heat up,” I ask her in a whisper.
Maika nods, cold as an iceberg.
“No problem.”
A chill runs down my spine. Something’s going on here.
The morning goes on and my suspicions are confirmed, putting me in a monumental bad mood.
In the Latin dance class at the pool, Maika lets Leo take the heat of leading a hundred people while she stays on the sidelines teaching the basic steps to four older gentlemen.
She wants to sabotage her own bid for the job!
“Don’t mess with me,” I mutter under my breath.
In the play area, a kid spills a chocolate milkshake right in the middle of the floor.
Lara gets distracted and forgets to call for cleaning service.
And I, already anticipating the disaster of parents slipping on the chocolate, sound the alarm right away.
And every time I fix one of her “oversights,” I feel less pride and more of an urge to scream.
At noon, fed up with worrying, I corner Gonzalo next to the water dispensers in the crew-only area.
“Have you noticed Maika acting weird, or am I just being paranoid?” I snap at him, leaning in so no waiter can hear us.
Gonzalo raises an eyebrow.
“Define ‘weird’ in Maika’s dictionary.”
“She’s dumping the dirty work on the newbies. Tasks she’d normally have to supervise herself.”
“Well, I think she wants to see if they’ll get their act together now that we’re nearing the end of the voyage,” he replies with a shrug.
“Don’t give me that, Gonzalo, you know her…”
“Maybe she’s just feeling down, I don’t know,” he adds.
He sighs, sets down the thermos, and looks back at me. There it is. He’s noticed too.
“Don’t drag me into your drama, Helen. I’ve got enough on my plate.”
“Need I remind you that you’re in it up to your neck, Cupid?” I retort.
“No way. I’m on the sidelines, enjoying the show of watching two gorgeous, brilliant women try to sacrifice their careers for love while pretending to play chess. It’s a Greek tragedy, but the view is fantastic,” he says with a mischievous smile.
I’m stunned. Gonzalo screws the cap back on.
“Come on, Helen, please. Neither you nor she needs to sabotage yourselves.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Not yet. But you’re one step away. And you know it.”
I hate it when he’s so right.
Later, during the shift change, I run into Maika in the crew lounge. Maika is sitting on the sofa, holding a bottle of water and staring at the floor tiles.
“Can I sit here?” I ask.
She looks up.
“Go ahead. The couch is public,” she replies.
I sit down next to her, but I leave a safe distance between us. It’s utterly stupid, considering we’ve been making out in the hot tub and in my own cabin. But today, that small distance feels like an unbridgeable chasm.
“You’re acting weird,” I say after a while.
Maika lets out a laugh.
“Wow, thanks. Straight to the point.”
“I’m not joking, Maika,” I insist, turning toward her.
“I know.”
“You’ve left the boys with the biggest mess to clean up.”
She takes a long swig of water, buying time so she doesn’t tell me to fuck off.
“They have to learn to fly on their own, Helen. I can’t hover over them the whole damn cruise.”
“But you don’t have to do that by throwing them to the lions to be eaten alive.”
“Are you going to lecture me on how to manage entertainment now?” she asks. It’s clear she doesn’t feel like fighting.
“I don’t want to argue with you,” I admit.
“Well, you’re doing a lousy job of hiding it,” she replies with a touch of irony.
“Maika…”
She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as if she’s running out of oxygen.
“I’m tired, Helen. Exhausted.”
“So am I,” I confess.
“Well, that’s just great. Now we have something else in common besides off-the-charts sexual tension and a knack for ruining the good moments,” she says sarcastically, flashing a small smile that vanishes instantly.
A silly laugh escapes me, but my stomach clenches again.
“You don’t have to do that, you know?”
Maika avoids looking at me.
“Do what?”
“Subtly sabotaging your own work so I look like Employee of the Month in front of the bosses.”
Her jaw tightens.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, honestly.”
“Of course you know what I mean,” I insist, moving a millimeter closer. “You’re handing me this promotion on a silver platter, Maika. And I don’t want it. I don’t need you to save my ass in front of them.”
Maika turns her head and locks her eyes on mine. There’s a glint of exhaustion mixed with a rage that takes my breath away.
“I’m not doing that,” she denies, stubbornly.
“Maika, please…”
She looks away, and that gesture hurts me more than any slap.
“I don’t want to win this competition like this, Maika. It doesn’t make me happy,” I admit with complete sincerity.
“Then how do you want to win?”
My mind goes blank. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have said on my own merits.
A week ago, I wouldn’t have cared as long as I got promoted.
But now… now I haven’t a damn idea. My mind is overwhelmed by the story of her grandmother, by the nursing home bills, by the future, by her hearty laugh in Cagliari, and by this love that has run me over without warning.
I’m caught between the choice of quitting myself or both of us throwing our careers away out of fear of losing each other.
I want to tell her that I’ve seriously considered withdrawing my application.
That she should take the job—she needs it a million times more than I do.
That I’ll make a life for myself on another ship, or on land, or wherever, as long as her grandmother gets the treatment she deserves.
That I don’t want to see her choose between her future and her family.
That I love her so much it scares me, but that I’m even more scared of a future where she doesn’t look at me the way she used to.
I open my mouth… but I’m a coward, and I go silent. Trapped in my own schemes. If I tell her this now, with how proud she is, she’s going to have a massive meltdown. She’ll think I pity her, that I’m acting all high and mighty, and we’ll break this thin thread that binds us.
So I stay silent. And the silence grows darker and heavier.
Maika sets the bottle down on the coffee table with exasperating slowness.
“Do you realize? This is what we always do.”
“Do what?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
“We get to the edge of the cliff, to what really matters, and neither of us has the guts to speak plainly,” she says with a sadness that chills me to the bone.
I look at her, unable to speak.
“Because I’m struggling to figure out how to handle this, Maika… Love isn’t taught in protocols.”
She smiles wryly, her eyes glazed over.
“They didn’t teach me that in the entertainment course either.”
That confession should break the ice, but today it only widens the distance.
I stare at her hands, those hands that have driven me wild in our intimacy.
I’m dying to take them and squeeze them.
To tell her to stop this madness, that I don’t want her to give me anything.
That now I’m the one who wants to be the shield, even if that turns me into what I’ve always hated: someone who makes decisions for others, believing they’re doing good.
“Maika…”
“I have to go,” she says, standing up before I can stop her. “The cooking demonstration at the theater starts in a minute, and if I don’t keep an eye on Nico, he’ll probably crack a dirty joke at the chef’s expense right in the middle of the show,” she adds, forcing a cheerful tone.
I try to imitate her and smile, but I end up with a hideous grimace.
“Don’t ever leave all the responsibility to the new guys again,” I ask, fixing my eyes on her back.
Maika pauses for a second by the doorframe and glances at me out of the corner of her eye.
“And you, don’t ever think again that you’re the only one who can save everyone.”