Page 33 of The Last Sunrise

“What do you mean he’s refusing? That fucking—” She cuts herself off when her eyes meet mine.

Covering the microphone of her phone with her hand, she mouthsI’ll be right backand walks away from the table, out to the patio of the restaurant. Her body language tells me she’s furious. She paces, her hands flying through the air.

“She’s a bit uptight today because the seller is attempting to back out of the deal for not only his company, but the land and port it’s on, and if that happens…” Lena leans in to whisper to me, and her overwhelming Mojave Ghost perfume makes my nose itch.

“Don’t tell her I told you… but if it falls through, we’re all in deep shit. That’s the whole reason we came here. So it won’t be good. Really, really not good.” Lena wipes the literal sweat from her thin brow, and her face crinkles into a terrified, forced smile.

“Aren’t you exhausted?” I ask her. “Always having to deal with her moods and take on her stress?”

We’ve known each other half my life, so it’s a fair question, because I can’t imagine the pressure she’s constantly under to keep my mom at bay, make sure she’s fed, never late, crosses hert’s and dots heri’s. I would have quit or had a heart attack after six months of working under my mom. I could barely handle getting scolded by my dance academy instructor for missing cues and getting blood on the stage during a performance when I had a seizure mid-routine.

“I love my job,” Lena robotically responds.

“You’re a liar. And a bad one.” I laugh, plopping one of the brown sugar cubes into my frothy espresso.

“I value my life, so I know what to say.” Lena winks, nodding toward my mom outside. “And she pays me well.Besides, you should cut her some slack. She’s not a bad person. When my niece was sick, she gave me a whole month off with full pay and covered all my travel expenses. Even sent my family food. I’ll never forget that.”

I’ve never heard that story or expected my mom to do anything like that for someone, even Lena, who’s the closest person to her. I wonder if they talk about personal topics often, or if it was a one-off situation where Lena didn’t have a choice. I bet Lena knows much more about my mom’s life and personality than I do.

“She’s not all stone and curse words,” Lena tells me, sipping from her small porcelain espresso cup. It clinks as she puts it back onto the matching saucer.

“Maybe not to you,” I sigh as my mom approaches the table, standing over us in her high heels and work suit.

“Lena, we must go to the shipyard ASAP. Ry, sorry, but I can’t do the food tour thing with you today. I had a portable charger delivered to your room.” She downs her espresso in one gulp.

“Let’s go,” she commands Lena, who jumps up and calls for the check to be billed to her room.

“It was a boat tour,” I quietly say into my half-full cup as they disappear through the arched entryway.

Amara’s behind the desk, not making out with Prisha in the hallway, when I step out of the elevator and into the lobby.

“Soooo… Julián?” she calls out the moment she sees me.

I look around the quiet, empty lobby. A couple people are spread out, silently working on laptops. I recognize a few SetCorp faces and gesture for her to lower her voice.

“Are you guys a thing now?”

“No… Yeah… I don’t know? Casual. Stereotypical summer fling.” I struggle to respond. “I know you tried to warn me about him, but I’m fine, really. We’re just hanging out and seeing what happens. I’m not stupid enough to think it will be more. I only have one summer anyway,” I slip, looking down at the floor to brace myself for however she will take that.

I feel her hand on my arm and look up.

“I’m not judging you or questioning you for hanging out with him. Ghosting Master or not, Julián is kind, funny, and a hard worker, and you can handle yourself. I was shocked when he showed up here with food for you, but at a complete loss for words when he waited forhours. He must be really, really into you. And the sex must have been something else if he’s already whipped like this.” She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

“We didn’t sleep together,” I tell her, swatting at her like an embarrassed kid.

Her mouth falls open. I reach up and close it for her. “Seriously, we didn’t. Yet.”

“The woman was too stunned to speak,” Amara says in a robotic newscaster voice, and we share a laugh. The internet has made memes and viral clicks universally understood around the world, and I absolutely love that.

I give her a quick hug and head out of the hotel, finding my driver patiently waiting for me outside to take me on my boat—yacht tour—alone. Part of me is relieved I don’t have to hear my mom take five hundred work calls during it, but deep down, I had let my imagination create a scenario where we tread the water and she points to different areas along theshore, sharing stories of her upbringing and places she’s been. In this daydream, her shoulders would be relaxed, the breeze blowing through her thick dark hair as we laugh and sip wine, bonding over memories old and new. But instead, I’m climbing into a car with nothing but the vulnerable daydream fading and the taste of the bitter espresso still on my tongue.

The car smells brand-new and the air-conditioning is top-notch, a short relief from the sticky summer air. The driver, who hasn’t spoken since we pulled out of the hotel, gives me a friendly smile through the rearview. He must get tired of talking to people, so I don’t want to bore him or be another obnoxious tourist. I let us both have our peace. He also might not speak English, so I stare out the window at the view: the vast, expansive ocean; the white sand; the wooden fences; and endless paths leading down to the water. A few minutes later we arrive at a dock and I go back to my Google Calendar, read the instructions, and screenshot the name of the company I’m supposed to be looking for.

“Thank you,” I tell the driver as I climb out of the car, my tote bag around my shoulder.

The high sun kisses my shoulders, instantly warming them. Sticking one hand into my bag as I walk, I feel around for the extra sunscreen I brought and spray it on. With ease I find the man holding a sign for my tour, and with unease I board the massive yacht full of families and couples and not one person who’s alone, except me.

Story of my life.

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