“Then we have to tell him!” He dug his phone out of his pocket.
Adrienne took his phone from his hand. “Hmm, not yet. Maybe when the thought of him no longer hurts.”
“Do you think you’ll get there?”
They arrived at the dock. A cluster of people crowded around the gangplank. Nick pulled his wallet from his pocket and went to purchase the tickets.
“You’re helping ,” she told him as soon as he returned. “Before you showed up, I was just hanging out at Aubrey’s watering the plants—not with my tears, but a watering can—okay, sometimes with my tears… I was beginning to hate myself. No, stop. If I’m honest, I’ll admit that I’ve been hating myself for a while.”
As if to argue, the ferry blew its horn. The sound struck a chord in Nick’s chest. He wanted to help Adrienne, but he also didn’t want to get seasick. “I can’t imagine anyone, even or especially you, hating you.”
The crowd surged up the gangplank and Nick and Adrienne moved with the tide of people.
“You’re sweet,” Adrienne said. “And you’re only saying that because you’re such a good person you can’t hate anyone.”
“Right now, I’m hating S—Mr. Bean for making you feel that way.”
She lifted a shoulder in a defeated shrug. “He fell in love with Therese.”
Everything that sprang to Nick’s mind couldn’t be said. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I can only think of profanities right now.”
They made their way to the deck and Adrienne pressed against the railing. “Would it be wrong if I just shouted out a whole bunch of naughty words at Mr. Bean?”
“Right now?”
She nodded.
“I’m not sure if it would be wrong, but I don’t know if it would help. Not really.”
“Then what would you suggest?”
“Not thinking about him. Let’s pretend he no longer exists.” He held up his finger. “I have an idea. I’ll be right back.” He went back into the cabin, pulled a napkin from the dispenser near the snack bar, and returned to the deck just as the boat pulled away from the dock. The horn sounded again. Nick took a deep breath. For the moment, the boat held steady, but he knew that soon it would leave the harbor’s protection and the rolling tide would be more pronounced. Could he travel without getting ill? He would try, for Adrienne.
“Here,” he said as he handed Adrienne the napkin and a pen from his pocket.
“What’s this?”
“Write down Mr. Bean’s real name—and any other names you want to call him.”
She looked at the napkin in her hand and hesitated.
Nick turned his back to her. “Use me as your hard surface.”
“What if the ink leaks through onto your shirt?”
“Then I’ll take off my shirt and toss it into the sea as well,” he said without looking at her.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
She held the napkin against his back and scribbled for a few minutes. When she stopped, he turned and asked, “Are you done?”
She gazed at him with tear-filled eyes. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be really done.”
He placed a finger under her chin. “You will. I promise. Now, throw him away.”
She tossed the napkin into the air. The wind picked it up and carried it toward the Argentine coast. It fluttered and swooped before hitting the water, then disappeared in the boat’s churning, foamy wake. Nick swallowed the bile rising in his throat.
