Chapter 9
HOLLY
“You’re late,” I bark, turning abruptly and walking into the dive shop to tell Marco that we’re finally ready. Except we’re not ready because Zoe is still in the urn. “You weren’t supposed to bring the urn.” I don’t have to see Anna’s face to know she’s now pouting.
“I couldn’t do it, Holly. I couldn’t bring myself to put Zoe in that baggie. It feels so disrespectful. And…” I turn in time to see her shudder and put an arm around the urn as though to protect Zoe from hearing our conversation.
“For god’s sake, Anna, this is what Zoe wanted us to do.
” I’m grumpier than I should be with Anna, but I can’t help it.
I couldn’t sleep last night, which isn’t that surprising considering the way we left off after dinner.
I spent half the evening pacing the room with countless discarded thoughts about knocking on the adjoining door.
There’s so much to talk about, and as much as I hate it, she really is the person to talk to.
But five years of anger doesn’t disappear with the wave of a magic wand.
Jack hadn’t been any help either. He was so tired by the time he finally got Quinn to bed that he’d crashed early.
As wonderful of a husband and father as Jack is, I don’t think he ever fully appreciated how much work one small boy can be.
Which only adds fuel to my belief that I shouldn’t have left them alone.
Around 3:00 a.m. I finally dozed off only to wake up an hour later feeling seasick and in a panic about actually being seasick. Why would Zoe make us do the boat trip?
“No,” Anna says, “she wanted us to disperse her ashes from the urn. If we were supposed to parcel out her remains into baggies, she would have said something.” The emphasis on “baggies” makes me wince. We sound like drug dealers.
I exhale, trying to compose myself. “This is one of those situations, Anna, where we can take a bit of liberty.”
“Fine, but I don’t like it,” Anna mumbles in response.
I choose to ignore that pouting like I do with Quinn when he’s being irrational. Then again, Quinn is four.
“We’re ready. Sorry for the delay,” I tell Marco, who’s captaining our boat, the tour company’s smallest dive boat since it’s just Anna and me. Zoe has reserved the entire boat for us. At least for that I owe her a thanks.
He looks from me to Anna and at the tote she’s cradling. “That’s not going on the boat,” Marco says, nodding at the urn.
“THAT,” Anna says in horror, “is our friend, and the reason we’re taking this little side trip.”
I reach out and lay a hand on Anna’s arm, giving her an “it’s okay” look. She glares at me with an “it’s not okay” and yanks her arm away.
“Zoe, our friend who booked this trip, wanted us to scatter some of her ashes,” I explain, forcing a calm into my tone that I’m not feeling.
Because all of a sudden, the reason for this trip is real, like, really real.
We’re supposed to get on that boat, open the urn, and release some of our best friend’s ashes.
My stomach roils and I haven’t even stepped foot on the stupid boat yet.
“I understand, but we can’t take responsibility if you’re only dispersing part of the remains. You don’t want the urn to get damaged or dropped overboard by accident.”
Next to me Anna makes a strangled whimper and I reach out again. This time she laces her fingers through mine, and I give a gentle squeeze.
“Take out what you need and leave the urn here. It’ll be safe in the office.
We do quite a few of these trips,” Marco adds, his warm brown eyes reflecting a kindness that tugs at the knot cutting off air to my lungs.
Anna squeezes my hand, which I interpret as agreement.
At least, that’s what it means when Quinn does that.
“But the ashes—” I start, wondering how we’re supposed to get what we need out of the urn. Do we pour her into the baggie? A shudder goes through me at the mental image.
“I can’t,” Anna pleads.
“We’ll do it together.” Because I’m unsure if I can do it on my own. I won’t give Anna the satisfaction of admitting it out loud, but she’s right. This will not be easy.
We set the urn on the counter and Anna pulls out the little plastic zip bag I’d slipped under her door last night. Holding my breath, I reach for the dark wood cap and give it a gentle turn. It doesn’t budge. I turn again: nothing. I grip the base of the urn with my free hand to gain some leverage.
“Careful.” Anna’s hands hover around the urn. “You know how bottles seal when they’ve been on a plane then explode open.”
She’d laughed at me when I had trouble opening the metal water bottle I’d filled in the LA airport, only to end up splattered when the seal finally gave. “Don’t worry, she won’t explode.” Please don’t let her explode.
“Let me,” Marco says and before either of us can argue, he unscrews the cap on the urn, exposing Zoe.
Anna gasps and I feel the blood drain from my face. That’s our best friend in there. “Holly,” Anna whispers, more choke than word. I nod. It’s the only answer I’ve got. She holds up the bag. “How—” She doesn’t finish the question.
I shrug. How indeed? I can’t pour her out like coffee grounds.
“May I?” Marco asks, this time waiting for a response. Despite his easy demeanor, I can feel the impatience of his wanting to get this excursion out and over.
Anna and I both nod, then watch him take a measuring cup from a drawer and scoop a small amount of Zoe’s ashes into the bag before sealing it and handing it to Anna.
While Marco secures the urn in a locked cabinet in the office, Anna leans into me and whispers, “Do you think he cleans that cup each time?”
I’m not sure if it’s shock from the surreal absurdity of what we’ve just witnessed or the lack of sleep, but I stifle a giggle. “Hopefully,” I whisper back. “And if not, let’s hope the last person was hot.”
Marco motions for us to follow and we exit the safety of the dive shop. The closer to the end of the dock we get, the heavier my steps become. We haven’t gotten on the boat yet and my legs are already threatening to give out. A seagull divebombs us.
“Shoo,” Anna waves it away. “You can’t have her.”
Water slaps at the dock pylons, causing the wood to shudder under our feet. I gasp and grab at Anna. Why a boat? Why cliffs? Why?
“It’s fine. Just a little wave,” Anna says, tightening her hold on the clear tote bag with this portion of Zoe tucked safely next to a bottle of sunscreen.
At least one of us remembered sunscreen.
I force my eyes away as another “little wave” jostles the dock.
My arms flail and I know I look like one of those green inflatable things gyrating outside of a car dealership. Marco’s smirk confirms my fear.
When we reach the end of the dock, I exhale a “shit.”
“Did you take something?” Anna whispers.
I shake my head. I hadn’t packed for this, swimsuit yes but seasickness meds, no. After what happened last time, I never imagined Zoe would plan this for us.
“Oh!” Anna says.
I nod and release one more “shit” for good measure.
We climb aboard and sit as far from the face mask water bucket as possible, a bucket of fresh water divers use to rinse their masks before and after venturing into the ocean.
We both eye the bucket, but I can feel Anna vibrating next to me.
I look at her. Head bent, hand cupping her mouth, her shoulders shake as she fights a fit of giggles.
Memories flood me, and I’m mortified all over again.
Zoe had sold us on the idea of a boat trip to Pelican Rock.
She’d used all the right arguments—beautiful, calm blue water, once-in-a-lifetime experience.
What none of us had taken into account was the excessive number of rum drinks we’d had the previous night and the fact that I’d never been on a boat before.
Needless to say, my stomach rolled and cramped with the waves.
While the other tourists riding along with us were listening to the captain’s safety speech before our snorkeling session, I stumbled behind them to the railing to vomit.
Unfortunately, I didn’t make it over the side of the boat.
I deposited my breakfast, the previous night’s dinner, and every piece of rum-soaked fruit into the rinse bucket.
Thankfully, only Zoe and Anna had noticed my gaffe.
The three of us quickly retreated to the other side of the boat where we watched in stunned horror as every snorkeler dunked their face mask into the rinse bucket with my upchuck, then put on their masks.
With each dunk, I wanted to hurl all over again.
Anna and Zoe, though, couldn’t shut up, hunched over with uncontrollable giggles.
“Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything,” Zoe gasped, laughing.
“It’ll be our little secret.” Anna shushed us, giggling behind the finger pressed to her lips.
Then they both cackled as I sat there wishing a whale would swallow me whole.
“The letter?” Anna now asks, squeezing my knee.
I swallow hard and force my eyes away from the bucket of shame.
From my bag I pull out a letter with my name and “Cabo #2” written in Zoe’s careful script.
Will it get easier to see her handwriting on these letters, or will every single one gut me?
I close my eyes, wishing with everything I have that Jack was here with me.
I clear my throat and read: “‘Okay, gals, we’re on the boat, right? How is it? Did you both put on sunscreen? Holly, you doing okay, love? I know this brings up an unpleasant memory and you’re probably saying a few choice things about me under your breath.
’” I stop reading and shake my head to let Anna know I’m not doing any such thing. (I kinda was but nothing terribly bad.)
“‘We had so many fun excursions on that trip, and any of them would have been okay for this, but Pelican Rock was, I don’t even know how to explain it. Standing at the top with the wind in my hair, I felt more alive than I’d felt in a long time.
I was on vacation with my best friends, about to do something I never thought I’d have the chance to do.
The rush of jumping was insane. That’s the only word I can think to describe it.
’” I stop reading and stare into the distance at a rock that’s getting closer with every second.
“Please, no,” I mutter, scanning the letter before groaning and returning to where I’d stopped reading.
“‘Hols, you didn’t want to jump with us back then but this time, I’m hoping you will.
I want you both to experience the rush of freedom, of flying through the air before gravity brings you back to earth.
I want you to remember me as fearless and alive.
That’s my wish! Please don’t forget me. Kisses and hugs, Z. ’”
Anna claps her hands in excitement. “Pelican Rock. This is so perfect. Omigosh, Hols, it was epic last time. You have to do it.”
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head, the letter trembling in my hands as I attempt to fold it and slip it back into the envelope. Being massively hungover had been the perfect excuse to get me out of climbing that rock without having to explain the real reason.
“But Zoe.” There’s the Anna pout.
No, I won’t let it work on me this time. There’s too much at stake. “You’re kidding, right? I can’t. I have a family. I have responsibilities. I can’t believe she’d ask this of me.” Tears burn my eyes and my chest heaves as air refuses to enter my lungs. Zoe’s first ask, and I’m going to fail her.
“Hey, breathe.” Anna takes both of my hands in hers.
“Listen to me, Zoe wouldn’t have asked this of you, of us, if she didn’t think we could do it.
She picked Pelican Rock because it was a pivotal moment for her.
And me. It really was amazing, Hols. We were both so sorry you were seasick and didn’t jump with us that day.
Now we have another chance.” She gives me an awkward smile, encouraging, shy, hopeful. Anna playing the part of Zoe.
I close my eyes and picture Jack and Quinn. I can’t do this. I can’t put my life in jeopardy.
Then I open my eyes, ready to stand my ground and find myself looking not just into Anna’s eyes, but Zoe’s soul as well.
For her, for the life she wasn’t able to live, I can push past my phobias.
“Fine.” I choke down my fear. “I’ll do it.”