“Hey, Felix?” I say.
He looks up. “Yeah?”
“The idea of you rotting away in this dank room alone is depressing me.”
“No worries. I like Paradise Fun. Especially when I don’t have to sleep on the floor.”
“No, I feel guilty. Why don’t you come with me?”
He looks at me long and hard, like he’s not sure what to make of this.
“You really want to keep sharing a room?”
“No. But I really want access to an iPhone.”
“Ah, I see how it is.”
“Lauren said it’s a suite. I’m sure we can get one with two beds.”
He gives me a sad smile. “Look, Hope, you don’t have to be nice now. You don’t owe me anything. I’m fine.”
“I’d really be more comfortable if you came,” I say. “I kept getting lost yesterday and my phone doesn’t get very good signal. We don’t have to hang out, I’d just feel safer knowing you’re… around.”
He nods carefully, like he’s taking pains to maintain a neutral expression. “Okay. Sure. I’ll call a cab.”
Felix
As we drive through the gates to Atlantis, it becomes clear this place is less a hotel than its own city. There’s a theme park, a casino, a golf course, restaurants, shops, and multiple accommodations. It’s essentially a stationary cruise ship.
I almost wish I had stayed at Paradise Fun.
It wouldn’t have been right to leave Hope anxious about being alone with no phone, but every fiber of my being is radiating caution.
It seems my anger at her was providing me with a layer of protection. Without it, I feel acutely aware of what I ruined, and the unhealed darkness in me that sabotaged it so easily.
It’s not healthy, but my impulse is to be alone. To stew in the company of my own demons.
We check in and take the lifts to the thirteenth floor, where we’re greeted by a huge room with two queen-sized beds, a sitting area, and a balcony overlooking the ocean.
“Wow, what a shithole,” Hope says, deadpan.
“Dreadful. I miss Paradise Fun,” I say.
“I know. Those cinder blocks. I’m definitely giving it five stars on Tripadvisor.”
She looks out the window, surveying the complex.
“We have to start at the water park,” she says. “Put on your suit.”
I don’t want to be rude, but I was not anticipating spending the day with her. Especially not at a water park.
“Children’s water attractions make me worry about fecal matter,” I say. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Oh, come on. I’m sure there’s enough chlorine in the water to peel off a layer of skin.”
“Not a winning argument.”
“Let’s get changed.”
