Page 78 of People We Meet on Vacation

He laughs. “Yeah, honestly it’s not that good. But that’s not Vanilla as a Flavor’s fault.”

After we’ve polished off our milkshakes and tossed the cups, I decide we should ride the Endangered Species Carousel.

But when we get there, we find it’s closed due to heat.

“Global warming’s really hitting the endangered species when they’re down,” Alex muses. He wipes his forearm up his head, catching the sweat gathering there.

“You need some water?” I ask. “You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe.”

We go buy a couple bottles and sit on a bench in the shade. A few sips in, though, Alex looks worse. “Shit,” he says. “I’m pretty dizzy.” He hunches over his knees and hangs his head.

“Can I get you something?” I ask. “Maybe you need real food?”

“Maybe,” he agrees.

“Here. Stay here and I’ll get you, like, a sandwich, okay?”

I know he must be feeling awful because he doesn’t argue. I walk back to the last café we passed. There’s a long line by now—it’s almost lunchtime.

I check my phone. Eleven oh three. Just under thirty minutes left to feed the giraffes.

I stand in line for ten minutes to get the premade turkey club, then jog back to find Alex sitting where I left him, his head resting in his hands.

“Hey,” I say, and his glass eyes rise. “Feeling any better?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, and accepts the sandwich, unwrapping it. “Want some?”

He gives me half, and I take a couple bites, trying my best not to time him as he slowly munches on his half. At eleven twenty-two, I ask, “Is it helping?”

“I think so. I feel less dizzy anyway.”

“Do you think you’re okay to walk?”

“Are we... in a hurry?” he asks.

“No, of course not,” I say. “There’s just this thing. Your surprise. It ends pretty soon.”

He nods, but he looks queasy, so I’m torn between pushing him to rally or insisting he stay put. “I’m okay,” he says, climbing to his feet. “Just need to remember to drink more water.”

We make it to the giraffes at eleven thirty-five.

“Sorry,” a teenage employee tells me. “Giraffe feeding is over for the day.”

As she walks away, Alex looks at me hazily. “Sorry, Pop. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Of course not,” I insist. I don’t care about feeding giraffes (at least not much). What I care about is making this tripgood. Proving we should keep taking them. That we can salvage our friendship.

That’s why I’m disappointed. Because it’s the first strike of the day.

My phone buzzes with a message, and at least it’s some good news.

Nikolai writes,Got all of you[sic]messages. I’ll see what I can do.

Okay, I write back.Just keep us updated.

“Come on,” I say, “let’s go somewhere air-conditioned until our next stop.”

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