For a moment, warmth spread through me.
Then anger followed it.
“You couldn’t let me do one thing without planning it, could you?”
I placed the bottle inside the closet and shut the door.
I didn’t open it.
Then anger followed.
***
The next morning, I ordered two coffees at breakfast.
The mistake slipped out before I could stop it.
The server placed two cups down.
Steam curled above Frank’s empty chair.
An older couple nearby noticed.
The woman smiled.
I ordered two coffees at breakfast.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
“No.”
I looked at the second cup.
“My husband died three months ago. It’s an old habit to order two.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Her husband asked, “How long were you married?”
“It’s an old habit to order two.”
“Forty years.”
“He must’ve been a good man.”
I almost gave him the simple answer.
“He was a good man who sometimes did the wrong thing.”
They went quiet.
I finished one coffee and left the other untouched.
“He was a good man.”
***
That afternoon, I joined a walking tour because Mikayla had made me promise to leave the ship.
At an outdoor market, I passed painted bowls and bright metal tins.
Then I saw a blue one.
My hand froze above it.
***
Twenty-five years earlier, I’d found our cruise tin empty.
Frank came home while I was holding it.
My hand froze above it.
“Where’s the money?”
His pause told me everything.
His brother’s hardware store had been failing for months. Frank had asked whether we could help.
I’d said no.
He helped anyway.
“You gave him all of it?”
His pause told me everything.
“He said he could save the store.”
“You mean you decided you could save it.”
“It was a loan.”
“You didn’t loan him your money. You gave him ours.”
“Pam, please.”
“No. Don’t say my name like I’m the one who broke something.”
The store closed months later.
“Pam, please.”
The money never came back.
Frank apologized to me in private.
But when his family called me selfish for being angry, he stayed quiet.
I forgave him enough to remain his wife.
I never forgot what it felt like to be blamed for noticing the wound.
The money never came back.
***
That evening, women near the pool pulled me into a dance contest.
“I don’t dance.”
One glanced at my feet. “They appear functional.”
“My husband was the dancer.”
“Then you’ve had years of practice avoiding his shoes.”
I laughed.
It surprised me enough that I joined them.
“I don’t dance.”
I danced badly, but I also won.
Mikayla called while I was carrying a cheap plastic trophy back to my cabin.
“You sound happy,” she said.
“I think I am.”
I heard Daniel moving in the background.
“Is your brother there?”
“He is.”
“Tell him I danced badly and survived.”
