“Good night, Tara. Try to get some rest, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
And I finally do.
Justine
September 30, 2005
My old roommate Ginny’s back. I swear, she’s like a little parasite that won’t let go. The games I play with her were entertaining at first, but now they just bore me.
She bores me. No…it’s more than that. She’s so damned empathetic, so incredibly, condescendingly understanding. And her friendship with Ethan… God, I don’t know how much more I can take.
Of course, we’re roommates again. Did I mention how parasitic she is? Daddy bought a great house for me in Palo Alto, which I pretend to rent along with my three housemates. Katie and May are good little housemates who mind their own business. But Ginny? No. She squirmed her way into my house by being kind and wonderful and such a “good friend.” (Gag.)
She’s always asking me questions, and they’re ridiculous ones, like
, “How did that make you feel?”
and
“What did you feel the need to do after that?”
I am always tempted to tell her I felt the need to snap her neck, but I know better. My life is good. I have Ethan. I’m not about to mess that up.
I wish I could just live with Ethan, but Daddy’s having none of that. Once I graduate, maybe I can talk him into it. I’ve got nine months more of this… I just have to endure till then.
I wish Ethan had asked me to marry him over the summer. He didn’t, and I know he probably wants to wait until I’m done with school, but he can’t know how anxious I am to marry him. To further tie us together, under God, under the law. It’s not an unbreakable tie, I know—in fact it’s probably not as meaningful as Ethan’s involvement in Triton… Well, maybe it’s just the idea. That once upon a time and happily ever after every little girl wants. Even me, I guess.
Anyhow, back to Ginny. I do not like how she is always around when Ethan’s over. It annoys the shit out of me. Worse, she and Ethan have become friends of sorts. They seem to share a common interest in the psychology of business, a topic I find ridiculously dull. I don’t like their easy camaraderie. I don’t like their joint interest. I really don’t like Ginny getting near him at all.
This is life. I know this. Ethan will have women friends throughout the rest of our lives, and I need to be okay with that. I’m trying to view this as a learning experience for the future, a way to learn to cope with inevitability. But I can’t let go of the rage, Dear Diary. It’s so damn hard. And every time I see Ginny and her petite little body and her russet-brown bouncing bob and that sickly sweet smile, the rage grows. I want to crush her like a bug.
But I won’t. I will control it, like I’ve learned to do. That’s the hardest thing in the world for me, Diary. But I’m doing a good job. I’m strong…stronger than anyone will ever know.
By the way, have I ever told you about Susanna? I don’t think I have.
Susanna was a girl in my elementary school. She was rich and smart and pretty and bossy, and everyone viewed her with a kind of reverent fear. She was the most controlling little bitch, and I hated her.
She showed up at my sleepaway camp when I was twelve. It was my camp! I’d been going there for three years already by then, but she showed up and began to try to control everyone and everything, including me, in her typical way.
All I could think about was how I had to get rid of her. I was young and not very smart, and I didn’t take the time to thoroughly think through the steps of getting rid of an annoying pest. Instead, I jumped on the first idea that came to mind.
I dared Susanna to come swimming in the lake with me at midnight. I intended to drown her—it seemed an easy enough method, given the convenient, large body of water. But the girl was stronger than I expected, and she had the lungs of a banshee. She screamed so loud before I got a good grip on her that people came running. By the time they arrived, I’d been holding her down for less than a minute, and they were able to resuscitate her.
And even though she was screechy and nasty and a complete bully, I was the one punished for trying to silence her. I spent the next year in and out of hospitals, seeing countless shrinks and doctors. The only thing they could come up with was that I’m bipolar. Sure, fine, bipolar, whatever. I’ve taken my meds like a good little girl. But the meds don’t take away my annoyance with humanity in general. And they don’t take away my rage.
In fact, I don’t even understand why I do take them. Originally it was to placate my “team” (stupid word for the people breathing down my neck to make sure I was being a good little psych patient). But I’m a big girl now. No point in continuing. I have nothing to prove to anyone. I will graduate magna cum laude from Stanford. I have the best father and the best boyfriend in the world.
Everything is going to be fine.
Chapter Thirteen
In the morning, the alarm wakes me for my eight o’clock watch. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and throw on a pair of jeans and a fitted cotton tee before pulling my hair back into a ponytail. Still groggy, I head up to the cabin to start my watch. Kyle is asleep on the sofa, a loud and clear signal that he and Nalani didn’t patch things up.
I shouldn’t be surprised. What he did to Nalani was unforgivable.
I tiptoe past him, not wanting to wake him, not having any idea what to say to him if he does wake up.
I exit from the cabin and close the door as quietly as I can behind me. Mick is up on the bridge, and as I make my way toward him, he greets me with the same friendly smile he gives me every morning.
“It’s a great day, isn’t it? Amazing how quick the weather can change out here.”
“It is.” I look around and, for the first time, pay attention to the weather. The sky is bright and sunny and speckled with puffy white clouds. A light breeze powers the
Temptation
through long, rolling waves.
“Well, we’d better enjoy it while it lasts. I checked the forecast this morning, and we’re going to have a day of this, then more stormy weather is on the way.”
“Great,” I say dryly.
He shrugs and pats the navigation station fondly, the radar display scrolling emptily beneath his palm. “The silver lining is that we’ll get there faster. Two weeks into a voyage, most crew on a sailboat are ready to be back on land. Seems to me everyone here wouldn’t mind a hot freshwater shower and a nice sit-down meal at a restaurant.”
“I’m guessing we’re all ready to be back on land.” Last night, I was ambivalent about getting to Hawaii, but today I really need to get some distance from Kyle and Nalani.
Mick and I discuss headings, wind direction, and sail trim for a moment before I clip myself into the harness and head out to the bow to check the lines and fittings. As I crouch down refitting one of the connections to a lifeline, a fin peeks out of the water, and then two more.
I grab the wire forestay that extends from the top of the mast to the very front of the boat at the center edge of the trampoline and lean out over the water. Fins cut through the ocean’s surface all around the
Temptation
’s two hulls. My heart leaps. I turn and call back, “Mick! Dolphins!”
Mick hurries forward to join me at the bow, and we watch the dolphins frolic at the front of the boat, leaping out of the water, making eye contact and seeming to smile at Mick and me before gracefully diving back in.
A splash just off to the side of the bow of the
Temptation
draws my attention, and a laugh of delight bursts out of me. It’s a mother and her little baby swimming gracefully along at her side. I sink down, sitting at the edge of the bow. Letting my legs dangle, I lean forward, gripping the lifeline to watch.
“So cute,” Mick says, grinning at the pair before they disappear into a wave.
The dolphins keep pace with the speed of the
Temptation
, jumping, frolicking, and simply playing for several minutes.
Eventually, they drift away. My eyes never stray from them as the distance between us grows, and I sigh. “I wish they’d stay all day. How many do you think that was?”
“It was a pretty big pod. Maybe twenty?”
“They’re so amazing.”
I’ve always loved dolphins. I still remember the first time I saw one—when my parents took Em and me to Sea World a few months before they died. They’d had to drag me away from the dolphin tank.
“They are incredible,” Mick agrees.
The dolphins’ splashes grow smaller in the distance, and I watch until they disappear completely. Mick stays near me, and we make small talk for a while, and then he suddenly says, “Hey, I knew something was missing when I saw you this morning. You don’t have a coffee cup glued to your hand.”
My eyes go wide. “You’re right.” I was so focused on getting out of the cabin without waking Kyle, I completely forgot. “I’m going to go get some right now. You okay up here?”
“Sure.” He glances up at the mainsail, which is luffing a little bit near the mast. Mick shrugs at me. “No big deal. I’ll adjust it while you’re down below.”
“Thanks,” I say. “You want me to grab you a cup?”
“Nope. Just the light stuff for me.” He holds up his water bottle. “Go get your hit.” It’s an ongoing joke between us. I’ve always wondered how plain water can sustain him; he’s always laughing at my coffee addiction, saying when I don’t have my morning coffee, I’m like a drug addict in need of a fix. He’s right—I can already feel the withdrawal headache forming behind my eyes. But honestly, if I had to choose my drug—coffee or Ethan—Ethan would be a clear winner.
A prickling sensation skitters over the back of my shoulders. Mick’s gaze is on me as I limp toward the cockpit, careful as always, gripping on to the lifelines as I make my way down the length of the boat and unclip myself from the harness once I’m in the cockpit.
Kyle is still blessedly asleep, so I open a new package of coffee as quietly as I can. When it’s about half done brewing, Nalani comes up from her cabin.
“Morning,” I say quietly as she enters the galley. She ignores me and walks past me to the fridge. Her steps are heavier than usual, as if she’s deliberately trying to wake Kyle up. She withdraws a bottle of milk and pours herself some, not paying any attention to it sloshing over the lip of the glass.
She puts the milk away, slams the door to the fridge, then turns and heads toward the chart table, where she angrily snaps open one of the charts.
Oooookay
.
The noise wakes Kyle, of course, and he groans, rolls over, and presses the pillow over his head. I turn back to the coffeemaker, not wanting to deal with either of them, when Ethan emerges from his cabin, which is across from mine on the port side.
He comes up behind me and slips his arms around me.
“Morning,” he murmurs and kisses me softly on the cheek.
I freeze.
We didn’t talk about this last night, but I guess it’s clear there’s no point to keeping what’s going on between us a secret anymore. And there’s a reason Ethan’s doing this. He rarely does anything without purpose. Glancing at him, I realize he’s not gazing at me but at Kyle, his eyes narrowed in challenge. And the pillow is off Kyle’s face, he’s sitting up on the sofa, and his upper lip is curled into a snarl as he stares at Ethan.
Oh shit.
And all of a sudden, I get why Ethan came up and kissed me like he did. He was staking his claim. Great. Apparently, we’re going to continue on from where we left off last night. I’m evidently going to be playing the part of the prey—
again
—in some animalistic primordial male pissing contest.
And before my morning coffee too. Damn it.
I wiggle out of Ethan’s grasp and grab the handle of the coffeepot. The coffee, thankfully, has finished brewing, which gives me something to do.
“Good morning,” I say. About twenty decibels too loudly and way too cheerily.
There’s a long silence. Behind me, the charged gazes of Ethan, Kyle, and Nalani buzz through my awareness. My heart pounds as I pour in the half-and-half and mix the sugar into my mug.
“So you’re up early,” I say to Ethan, still trying desperately to keep things light. He usually doesn’t wake up for another couple of hours, thanks to his late-night watch. And Kyle, whose watch doesn’t end until five a.m., is usually fast asleep until noon. Great. Not only am I facing two men in a pissing contest, but I’m facing two
exhausted
men in a pissing contest.
“I am,” Ethan says mildly. He grabs a cup from his shelf and takes the pot from me. He likes his coffee black, so he raises his cup to his lips at the same time I do. We both take a sip, gazing at each other over the tops of our cups. Looking at him—I can’t help it. It melts me every time. And as the coffee reaches my lips, they’re curving into a smile.
I feel it instantly. Even before the coffee’s gone all the way down.
The oddest sensation explodes in the back of my throat—like it’s just been crammed with a hundred hairy, squirming caterpillars. I start to gag, trying to cough it up, but it’s too late to stop the swallowing reflex. The coffee’s gone down whether I wanted it to or not. I turn away and spit into the sink, but it’s too late.
Immediately, Ethan’s hands are on my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
My hand goes up to clutch my throat. My voice sounds strangled. “Peanuts…or something. ”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“In the…coffee.” Already, it’s getting hard to breathe. I suck in air, imagining my lungs constricting and my windpipe narrowing to nothing and refusing to take in any oxygen, and the panic attack starts.
People suddenly surround me: Nalani, Kyle, Ethan. They all know about my peanut allergy. There is concern—
fear
—on their faces as they swarm around me, talking to me in urgent tones. I claw at my throat. It itches like crazy, but I can’t reach the itch so I can scratch it. I can’t find any relief. My face blooms in heat, and it’s itchy too.
“Peanuts,” I keep saying, the words growing hoarser by the second. “Peanuts. I’m very…allergic…”
Then Kyle is shaking me. “T,” he says loudly, as if I’m across the room, not two inches from his face, “where’s your EpiPen?”
EpiPen—that’s right. I have an EpiPen—I have four of them. Epinephrine will fix this.