Second Chance on Honeymoon Island

I thought of the first day of freshman year, when Sebastian carried my luggage up to the fifth floor.

He'd hoisted the heaviest box onto his shoulder and looked back at me. From now on, anything heavy, you give it to me.

I thought of the night he failed to get into grad school, sitting out on the field saying nothing, and how I stayed with him from dark until dawn.

The next day he ran a fever, and I skipped three days of classes to keep watch outside his dorm.

I thought of graduation day, his arm around my shoulders as he said, our story is just beginning.

Tears slid back into my hair.

I closed my eyes.

I don't know how long I slept.

When I woke, there was warmth clenched in my palm.

Sebastian was sitting beside me.

His fingers were laced through mine, holding on tight.

I blinked, thinking I was dreaming.

He saw that I was awake and reached out to feel my forehead.

“Looks like it's come down a little.”

His voice was hoarse.

His clothes carried the salt smell of sun and sea, and his hair was a little messy.

He bent down to tuck the blanket around me, still murmuring.

“Look at you, always trying to tough it out. You had a fever and didn't even say anything, had to carry it all by yourself.”

I looked at him.

He said again “Why block me? So petty. Katherine sent you a bunch of messages and you didn't reply to any of them. She's worried about you too.”

I looked away.

“Is a little thing like this really worth it?” He squeezed my hand. “I know you feel hurt, but you can't just block people over every little thing. Katherine and I grew up together. It's not like you don't know that.”

When he spoke, there was a soothing patience in his tone.

Just like countless times before.

First he blames me, then he moves closer, using his warmth to smother my anger down bit by bit.

I looked at our joined hands.

This used to work.

“Add me back first.”

He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine.

“Hm?”

I pulled my head a little farther away.

He sighed.

“Fine, you rest first. I'll go get you some hot water.”

He let go of my hand and stood up.

At the door he glanced back at me.

“Don't go wandering off.”

The door closed.

I waited ten minutes.

Twenty minutes.

Forty minutes.

The hot water dispenser was right at the end of the hall.

I pulled out the needle, pressed the cotton ball down, and walked slowly to the triage desk.

The nurse looked up at me.

I asked in the bit of Thai Eunice had taught me.

The nurse couldn't quite understand, and a volunteer who spoke Chinese came over to help translate.

“That boy you're asking about,” the volunteer thought for a moment, “about half an hour ago, a young girl came looking for him, and he left with her.”

I stood in the middle of the hallway.

The lights overhead were still buzzing.

An IV stand was wheeled past, its wheels squeaking against the floor.

I went back to the room and folded the blanket.

The porridge Eunice bought was still on the nightstand, gone cold.

I picked it up and took two sips.

Then I gathered my things and went to the payment window to settle the bill.

Outside the hospital, the noon sun came crashing down, blinding and white.

I stood at the curb and opened my phone to book an Uber to the airport.

It was only after I got in the car that I realized I hadn't cried, not once, from start to finish.

There was only an emptiness in my chest.

Like someone had taken something from me, but I couldn't even remember what that thing had looked like.

When the plane took off, Maui shrank smaller and smaller outside the window. The coastline became a thin line, the hotel a matchbox.

I leaned against the window and finally closed my eyes.

No more waiting.