Page 8 of The Castaway

February in Florida is always preferable to February up north. No question. Coming back to D.C. has left Athena questioning all of her life choices up until this point. All except for one, that is: Diego, a man she has recently decided is the one that she’s spent all twenty-three years of her life waiting for.

Diego Santana is the Romeo to her Juliet. He is the Clyde to her Bonnie. The John Lennon to her Yoko. Okay, none of those are fabulous examples, but essentially he is the other piece of the puzzle that completes her, and she desperately wants him to feel the same way. She knows deep in her soul that he’s the man for her without ever even going on a date with Diego. Instead, she watches him every day as he enters the Library of Congress, his dark and wavy hair combed carefully into place, his suit usually navy and cut just so. He is a Lead Contract Specialist, and while Athena isn’t one hundred percent sure what he actually does, she knows that he is the most beautiful and soulful man she’s ever seen.

The truth about Athena that she likes to keep to herself (becausejudgment, duh) is that she’s a virgin. A twenty-three-year-old woman with no experience to speak of. In college she’d been kissed by exactly two boys and one girl (that last one had been confusing and sort of an accident, because she hadn’t realized that a lacrosse player named Shar wasn’t just inviting her out for Thai food and a movie, but she doesn’t really count that kiss because she pulled away so quickly). So discounting women, two boring guys had kissed her and found her not interesting enough to push for more.

Athena sighs and clicks from one computer screen to another. She’s mid-project and has a deadline, but she can’t keep her mind from conjuring images of Diego. Outside it’s spitting cold sleet against the window of her third floor office, but inside her mind, she and Diego are walking along the beach of Shipwreck Key together, holding hands. She likes to do this when work gets boring, to daydream and turn an image over in her brain like a shiny penny. She makes a movie with a full soundtrack, a plot, and a resolution, and enjoys it over and over and over until—

“Athena?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin, then turns in her chair to face the door. Against all odds, it’s Diego. Six-foot tall, smooth-skinned, eyes the color of fizzy root beer,Diego Santana. Diego, who, until now, hasnevershown up in the doorway of her office.

“Quick question,” he says, looking serious and glancing down at a folder in his hands. “I have several pdf documents that I need to have compiled into one database. It pertains to this particular Supreme Court case,” he says, taking a step into her office with his long legs and thrusting the folder in her direction. “And if you don’t mind, I’d really like to be able to send out the link to the appropriate parties by this afternoon. Do you think you could set that up?”

Athena flips through the papers in the folder. Her heart is thumping so hard and so loud that his voice actually gets quieter in her ears. She can feel her face redden, and for some reason, she keeps her eyes trained on the paper in a sort ofif I can’t see you, then you can’t see megame. As if this will somehow make it so that Diego can’t see her cheeks flamed up and turning a violent shade of red. As if somehow it will mask the sweat that’s instantly forming in the shallow valley of her cleavage under her black Anne Klein sweater.

Athena glances up at Diego. She just has to accept that she looks like an idiot with her red face and sweaty chest and move on with it.

“Yes, Diego,” she says, trying out his name on her tongue. It’s delicious, so she does it again after clearing her throat. “Diego, I can do this for you.” Athena glances at the watch on her wrist. “If you give me until two-thirty, I can have it done.”

A slow, pleased smile spreads across the most handsome face Athena has ever seen in person. He steps back and pats her doorframe with one perfect hand. Fingers: long and tapered. Nails: short and perfectly filed. Wrists: strong and square. Athena’s eyes linger on his hand longer than they should, and another wave of heat washes over her as she imagines his hands on her.

“Thanks a lot,” Diego says, watching her face. “I owe you a cup of coffee, Athena.” He walks away and leaves her staring dumbly at the spot where he was just standing.

“Oh god,” Athena whispers to herself, using the folder in her hand to fan herself. She pulls her sweater away from her body and unsuccessfully tries to push some cool air down the front of her body. Walking around all afternoon with a sweat-dampened bra is not the move. She wonders if Diego could smell the pheromones seeping from her every pore.

Athena tosses the file folder onto her desk and quickly picks up her phone. In an instant, she realizes that she has no girlfriend to call so that she can dissect this interaction between her and Diego. No confidante, no college bestie, no coworker/friend who knows her secrets. Instead, Athena quickly finds her mom in her phone.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Ruby’s smooth voice fills her ear and her heart rate instantly slows. “What’s going on?”

“Hey, Mom.” Athena smiles. “Not too much. I was just thinking about how beautiful it must be on Shipwreck Key right now.” Her eyes cut to her window and she watches again as the gray sky pours cold, frozen droplets of rain all over the city. “It’s horrible here.”

Ruby laughs. “Yeah, it’s pretty fabulous here. Seventy-nine and sunny. I’m wearing sunglasses and drinking coffee on the front step of the bookstore while the painters do their thing inside. But tell me about you.”

Athena sits back in her chair and folds one arm across her stomach, using her other hand to hold the desk phone to her ear. “I’m just working on a couple of projects here—nothing exciting.” She decides to keep her interaction with Delectable Diego to herself just a little longer, though telling her mom that she has a crush on a coworker isn’t totally out of the question. She just isn’t quite ready for advice or input. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Bean. You know you can come back down for a visit anytime, right?”

“I know,” Athena says. The prickling sweat that had covered her body the second Diego entered her airspace has cooled and left behind a chill. “I know, Mom.”

“Okay, then let me tell you all about the bookstore,” Ruby says, launching into a series of stories and little details about her progress at Marooned With a Book.

Athena smiles and laughs in all the right places, missing her mom a little bit less as they talk and talk. She’ll get started on Diego’s Supreme Court project soon enough, but right now what she needs is less rain, less emotional upheaval, less gray sky.

What shereallyneeds is a dose of her mother’s sunshine.

Ruby

How do you distill a woman’s entire life down to one single moment? How do you sift through it all: marriage, motherhood, success—and come up with a clip of the moment that perfectly encapsulates who she is?

For Ruby, it’s not Jack’s inauguration. It isn’t her on the set of her first big commercial, shaking with nerves as someone touches up her hair and makeup. And it isn’t even the birth of her beloved children. It’s the opening night of Marooned With a Book that happens at the beginning of April, and all that it represents. For Ruby, this night is a culmination of her dreams, her plans, and her hard work. It is also the crossroads of the life she’s had so far, and the one she’s embarking upon. Excitement flutters around inside of her like fireflies caught in a glass jar as she stands in the middle of the bookshop, which still smells of fresh paint masked by the rich, sweet scent of cardamom and vetiver candles that burn around the store.

“Mom,” Harlow says, appearing at her elbow and looping her arm through her mother’s. “You did it.” Ruby’s younger daughter looks proud, and maybe even a little surprised at her mother’s competence.Ruby smiles at her indulgently.

“Yes, Lolo, I did it.”

Ruby always calls her daughters by their nicknames: Lolo and Bean. Bean and Lolo. To her, her babies are the perfect girl-women; the human embodiments of every joy and amazement she can possibly imagine. Harlow leans into her now, putting her head on Ruby’s shoulder for a moment.

Unhooking their arms, Ruby snakes an arm around the shoulders of her youngest child and pulls her closer. As always, she fights the urge to run her fingers through Harlow’s wild hair to tame it, or to hand her a tissue and discreetly tell her to blot her overly bright lipstick. At this point, Ruby knows exactly who Harlow is, and she loves her for her stubbornness and fierce independence.

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