When Megan woke up, she didn’t check to see what she was wearing or whether she’d washed off her mascara. She didn’t get annoyed when her mother beeped into the room and fluttered around in a panic that evolved into anger at her daughter for just lying there. Ignoring her.
Megan was in an emotional vegetative state. Staying in bed for the rest of the day wasn’t a plan—it was all she could do.
She’d tried to leave the island last night and there was Tom, looking crumpled with his hair mussed from however many hours he’d been hiding in that airport. His familiarity intertwined with the ache she now felt whenever she saw him. They’d spent the first loops trying to be together and the last loops apart trying to hurt each other.
And none of their actions seemed to bring them any relief.
Even so, seeing him sitting at that gate, alone, had made her unbelievably sad. After their bittersweet moment, a tap to the nose that said everything and nothing, she’d boarded her flight. Stowed her luggage. Fastened her seat belt. Looked out the window at the lights on the runway. She sat for a long time. The pilot’s garbled voice came on to alert passengers they needed to stay on the tarmac while some technical glitch was looked at.
They sat for hours until babies cried, claustrophobia took hold, and passengers started to revolt in small if polite ways: taking off their seat belts and wandering the cabin, passive-aggressively bellowing about their hunger and thirst until the flight attendants tossed them packages of pretzels and water bottles.
Eventually the airline gave them all hotel vouchers and Megan ended her night crawling into the sheets of a bed in a nearby Marriott.
She was trapped not only in this day but also in the Pacific Northwest.
Donna started ripping Megan’s covers off, yelling as loudly as she dared in a nice hotel. Megan ignored her and stared at the ceiling as though in a trance. For how long, she didn’t know. But when she finally sat up, Donna was furiously texting on her phone, mumbling about her daughter’s selfishness.
Megan’s breathing sped up. She felt herself reviving, coming back to life—perhaps only to murder her needy mother—when another figure appeared at the doorway.
“Hey, Donna. Mind if I have some time alone with my fiancée?” In Tom’s hands was a tray with two large coffees and a pastry bag. He had his luggage with him.
Was Tom not in the loop with her anymore? He’d called her his fiancée and brought her breakfast. That wasn’t what they did. Not now. Not anymore.
Donna delicately touched her hair and carefully put it all back in place before giving Tom the once-over. “Breakfast in bed? That’s Husband Number One behavior. Good for you.”
She swept out of the room. It wasn’t until the door clicked shut that Megan sat up. “Please tell me you’re on day six too and you can’t take it anymore and you’re seriously thinking about putting rocks in your pockets and wading into the sea.”
“We could do that, definitely.” Tom handed her a coffee, which she gratefully accepted. “There’s raw sugar and a splash of almond milk in there.”
“Thanks.” She took a sip. Perfectly prepared. Why was Tom being so nice?
“But instead of walking into the ocean with rocks in our pockets, why not make the most of today?”
Megan groaned. “It’s the return of Optimist Tom.”
Optimist Tom was the nickname she’d given him in college when he’d take her by the shoulders before an exam and say things like “You’re going to nail this. You’re the academic assassinator. Feel those good grades buzzing!” It made her laugh and relaxed her, which usually resulted in a good grade. He continued doing it occasionally after they’d graduated, like when she was up for a promotion (“Hear that sound? I think it was something cracking. You’re about to shatter the glass ceiling!”) and when her mother started seeing someone new (“This guy’s actually going to be nice to her. I can feel his good nature all the way across four states and two Great Lakes!”).
Tom tried a bite of blackberry Danish, set it down, and took her by the shoulders. “Today we’re going to experience a different day. Yes, it’ll technically be the same day, but we’re going to make it different and therefore better.”
“We’re spending the day together?” Megan asked, her voice thick with doubt.
It was particularly cruel that her only ally in this never-ending loop was also the person with whom she shared the most baggage. Baggage she was not keen on carrying around all day.
“As friends,” Tom clarified. “I don’t know about you, but the only thing I want to do today is shake it up. Screw golf and the salon and the rehearsal dinner. The hell with our families.”
Megan raised her coffee cup in a cheers motion. “The hell with our families.”
“Let’s avoid it all today. Try to actually experience a bit of joy.”
“Mmm…that word sounds familiar.”
It wasn’t a terrible idea. She wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the day with Tom, but it was better than shopping with Donna and Brianna again. And there was no way she was even considering walking into that rehearsal dinner.
She eyed the man who had been her best friend for over a decade. Certainly she could tolerate one day with him. “All right,” she conceded. “As long as we can get off this damn island.”
“Deal.” Tom’s smile was too wide at her acquiescence. She was suspicious of that smile.
“What are we doing, Optimist Tom? Where are we going?”
He stood up, put his breakfast on the nightstand, and began unbuttoning his shirt.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Megan raised her hands. “I think you might be feeling a little too optimistic. That is not on the table.”
“Relax.” He slipped his shirt off, and despite herself, she admired the familiar grooves beneath his white undershirt. “I’m just going to get in the shower while you figure out what’ll make you happy today.”
Once the water was running, Megan took a final gulp of coffee and got out of bed. This morning she chose a different outfit: high-waisted shorts and a fitted top she’d bought for their honeymoon. She put on a little mascara, to define her eyes, and a swipe of bold lipstick. She shook out her hair and finger-combed the dry shampoo through, opting for wild humidity-induced waves.
The shower turned off just as she was picking out some accessories. Her fingers grazed the filigree chain and heart pendant. But she left it on the dresser.
What did she want today? In an instant she knew.
“I want to go on a boat today,” she called to Tom through the bathroom door. She grabbed them both sweaters since it could get chilly out on the water.
“We can do whatever you want,” he called back before opening the door a crack. “But can I request please no more ferries?”
“Deal. I’ve got a better idea.”
There was the destructive anarchy she’d succumbed to on day four of this mess and then there was gentler mischief. And that gentle mischief was precisely where her heart was landing today.
Tom came out of the bathroom, hair wet and curling endearingly around his ears. He looked so comfortable, so sweet, in his shorts and white V-necked T-shirt. For the briefest of moments, he looked exactly like the boy she’d fallen for at eighteen.
Just as quickly, the list of ways he’d hurt her and she’d hurt him replaced that vision. Megan resolved to have fun today—without falling into old habits or letting her veneer crack. “Grab your passport, you’re going to need it.”
“Where are we going?” he asked, sitting down to put on his shoes.
Megan winked. “Where they keep the boats. To the docks.”
“How much do you remember from that sailing course we took a couple of summers ago?” Megan was unhooking the electrical and water lines from Happy Accident, invigorated with the anticipation of setting out on the water. Sure, it’d been a while since she’d docked solo. Gran and Granddad’s sailboat might not have bow thrusters, but it was only a twenty-five-footer, which helped.
“I remember some charting stuff. Not a lot of the knots.” Tom was beginning to look panicked. “Aren’t your grandparents going to be upset when they come back from brunch with Paulina and find their boat gone?”
“You’re right.” Megan pulled out her phone and shot a text off to Paulina. Tell Gran and Granddad we’re taking their boat for a spin!
She’d never actually taken Happy Accident out by herself before and knew this would make her grandparents nervous. And of course, there wouldn’t be an afternoon sail with Paulina and Hamza.
But Megan’s guilt was tamped down by the knowledge that none of her actions mattered. She might as well indulge this small act of rebellion.
When the three dots indicating Paulina was responding appeared, blinking as though the response were a lengthy one, Megan flashed the screen to Tom. “Think this is a bad sign?”
Their eyes connected, reminding Megan of the times they’d broken into buildings on their college campus as students and spontaneously ditched stiff parties as adults. On a whim, she tossed the phone over her shoulder and smiled when she heard the ensuing—not to mention satisfying—splash.
“That is a great idea.” Tom pulled out his phone and tossed it over his shoulder. Instead of landing in the water, it plonked onto the dock. They burst out laughing at the same time before catching themselves.
Megan wasn’t sure she wanted to laugh with Tom right now. She just wanted to feel something less complicated than the turmoil she’d been feeling over the past week.
More than a week, when she thought of it. She hadn’t really been happy for a long time. That was a thought to be folded and tucked away for later. For now, she had a boat to hijack.
“Unwrap the stern line and hand it to me,” she directed Tom while starting up the engine. “Then take the bowline, push us off from the dock just a little, and hop on.”
“Aye, aye.” Tom saluted her.
The marina at Roche was a moderate size, making their escape manageable. Had the boat been docked at the sprawling slips in Friday Harbor, she might not have been such a confident captain.
They charted their course, decided that trying to put up the sails was pushing their luck, and found an easy pace to motor. It’d take a few hours to get to their destination, but Megan was already feeling better than she had in days.
It reminded her of the last time she’d been on the island with Tom, three years ago, when he’d reluctantly agreed to take that sailing course. They’d studied together for the tests, rewarding each other’s right answers by removing articles of clothing and penalizing wrong answers by making each other eat the sourest candies they could find at the corner store.
Out on the water, they’d navigated the stresses of passing their night-sailing course by doing what they did best: Tom was the optimist and Megan kept their spirits up with pep talks.
It was, to date, one of her favorite memories.
Despite her unruly wants and emotions, she was more than a little excited about getting back on a boat with him.
Today was definitely going to be different. And different was good.