It’s been a torturously slow process to rebuild it.
This will completely ruin my parents’ anniversary—my family’s whole trip—and it’s because of me.
“Don’t panic,” I type. “But I missed the boat.”
I immediately get a FaceTime call. I accept it to see my entire family, all of them trying to talk into the phone. The noise is cacophonous.
“I’m okay,” I say loudly. “It’s going to be fine. Please, calm down.”
They do not calm down.
“Pear, can you give the phone to Dad?” I ask.
My father rarely gets riled about anything—at least not on the surface. This can be a fault, but under these circumstances, I’m hoping his chill will reassure my mother and sisters.
“Felix,” he says, stepping away from their noise. “You’re still in Nassau?”
“Yeah. I’m so sorry. My wallet was stolen and I wasn’t able to get back in time.”
“So you have no money?”
“Nor identification. But Hope is here. Between the two of us, we should be able to figure it out.”
“Fine, good,” he says. I’m very glad I did not tell my family what happened between the two of us this morning. It was going to be self-evident eventually, and I didn’t want to talk about it.
If they knew, they would be even more worried about me.
“It might take a couple of days to get the travel documents in order,” I say. “I’m really, really sorry.”
“I’ll call Lord Shanks,” Dad says crisply. “He’ll have a contact at the High Commission. Perhaps something can be expedited.”
I wince. Hope can hear all of this. I’m not excited to add to her impression that I’m a coddled rich boy.
But the sooner this is solved, the better.
“Thanks,” I say. “Also, can you wire some cash tomorrow when you get to St. Martin?”
“Of course,” he says.
“You’ll probably need to send it to Hope since I don’t have ID. I’ll get you the details in the morning.”
“Very good. Take care, son.”
“I will. Tell Mum not to worry.”
He gives me a wry smile. “Your mum will be apoplectic. Nothing to be done about that.”
No. Nothing to be done.
I hang up and hold my phone out to Hope. “Do you want to call Lauren?”
She looks at me blankly, like she hasn’t heard me.
“I forgot,” she whispers.
“To call Lauren?”
“The press release. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. What time is it?”
