I made this big deal about choosing the boat, but there was no choice to make. Let’s be honest: The other available boats were just as dinky and rotted as this one. This one is just a little bigger. So when Anand approached us with a deal and assured us he’d sail it himself (“top captain”), it was a no-brainer. Aubrey’s impressed. But we needed the boat that comes with Anand, that’s all. It’s wood-paneled and thatch-roofed, and the bottom level has a wraparound deck. A ladder near the bedroom leads to the upper deck, which is fully exposed to the sun. From where we stand on the lower deck, we can see the water lapping up against the sides. It’s fresh water, but probably just as toxic as the sea, and the whole time we’re standing out there I’m thinking, I’d love to push her in. I shoot her a grin and make a little shoving gesture with my hands, and she recoils. I’d never actually do it. But she doesn’t know that.
I try not to think about Charlie in Kerala, of the whole life he led here that I was never a part of. Three years. Three fucking years. I look at Aubrey’s short dark hair lifting in the breeze as the boat sets off and try not to think about her future with Adam, how she still has the promise of someone waiting for her. I don’t. Charlie was my world . . . and then he destroyed it. Objectively I try to think about what that does to a person. What it’s probably done to me. I can’t see myself clearly enough to know for sure. I’m jealous of Aubrey’s hope, her innocence, the way she’s leaning on me to make all the decisions on this trip and can lean on Adam when she gets home. The jealousy is so strong it nearly knocks me out. A wave of anger and hatred makes me gasp, and she trains her bright blue eyes on me, concern radiating from just under her knitted brow.
I should tell her the truth now. I can destroy her if I want to, right now.
I can see it in her face: Adam is everywhere. She still has that early-stage, just-in-love distracted glow. She’s pushed Charlie out, let this other guy claim a prominent space in her heart. I don’t know why it bothers me. It shouldn’t, but it does. Maybe because I feel like I’m sliding back while she’s pushing forward. Maybe because I’m protective of this person who deceived me.
Anand has retreated to the kitchen, where he’s frying up the fresh fish we’re having for dinner. Anand is handsome in a way I didn’t expect: young, muscular. Tall with appealing features and chin scruff. He has a gentle smile, crinkly eyes, a friendly way. He exudes confidence and ease, like he knows exactly what to expect from the world. Like nothing’s ever caught him off-guard.
I crack open one of the beers that Anand left for us on the picnic-style table and take a long pull, mostly to still my trembling hands. I have issues with what I’m about to do. Big ones. Moral ones. But my anger builds up under my skin, bleeding through my pores from the inside out. I know nothing will make it go away except revenge. I make my decision to tell Aubrey the truth right here, standing on deck while Anand works away at the fish, sliding a knife over their scales and gutting their putrid insides. I want to gut her the way he’s gutting them. It’s not rational. I want her to feel guilty about what she did to Charlie. I don’t even believe he’s dead; but I know she believes it, or she wants to. I can hurt her, so I decide I will. I want to do it right here, right now, while we’re trapped on this boat and there’s no way she can possibly escape.
“Look at this, Aubrey.” I say it in a falsely cheerful voice. My pulse thrums at my temples. Aubrey looks up expectantly, responding to the kindness in my voice. She moves toward me to stand at the entrance of the little cabin that houses the bedroom and the bathroom. The just-setting sun frames her figure in the doorway. “It’s so romantic!” I continue. “You and me, all curled up under mosquito netting. There’s only one person I can think of whom I’d rather do this with.” I turn to face her, pasting a huge grin on my face. “Can you think of anyone? Maybe our ex-boyfriend? The one whose heart you stole and skewered?” I fight to keep the grin on my face even though I’m quaking inside worse than Aubrey is quaking on her exterior. I imagine I must look manic, crazed. That mean, angry part of me wants Aubrey to be more than a little afraid. My heart accelerates and my hands turn cold.
“Lena,” she tries for the millionth time in the past twelve hours. “I’m so sorry.” But I can sense the weariness in her tone. Her explanations haven’t helped, haven’t done anything but piss me off further, even after a whole night of listening to her exhaustive pleading. I’m not letting her off. She seems like the kind of girl who gets off easily all the time—like all it takes is a sincere apology and a good-girl smile. Maybe Aubrey needs to learn that the world can be harsher than that. I glare at her and turn away, and this crazy surge of anger works its way up my chest and out through my temples. It’s time to tell her.
“Oh my god,” I hear her say. This is new; she actually sounds irritated. The smell of fried fish is in the air, the boat is coasting through an idyllic landscape, and the air between us is leaden with fury. “You do realize I didn’t ‘do’ anything to you, right? So what, you always get this angry on Charlie’s behalf?”