Chapter 19 - The Trip I Took Alone
I waited fourteen months before booking another flight.
Then one Friday, I opened the airline app.
JFK to Maui.
One seat.
My finger hovered over purchase.
Then I laughed.
Of course.
I booked it.
Naomi drove me to the airport.
"You know normal people take rebound trips to Miami."
"I'm not normal."
"No argument."
At security, I passed the same corridor where I had turned around on my honeymoon.
On the plane, the seat beside me stayed empty.
I put my bag there.
Read half a novel.
Slept badly.
Ate terrible pasta.
Normal travel.
When I landed in Maui, I did not go to the honeymoon hotel.
I rented a small place near the water.
For three days, I did almost nothing.
Then Sienna texted me a photo.
Her father's name had been added to Hartwell's public history archive.
Alan Mercer, Controller, 2006-2011. Internal whistleblower later cleared of wrongdoing.
I stared at the screen.
I wrote back:
About time.
She replied:
My mom cried.
That mattered more than any verdict.
On my last evening, I sat on the beach with my phone turned off.
A woman nearby was arguing with her husband about sunscreen.
A child was burying someone's sandals.
I didn't need one.
I had spent a year untangling what was real from what had been staged.
The marriage.
The meeting.
The honeymoon.
The signatures.
The stories our fathers told themselves.
The only thing I trusted completely now was what people did when they thought nobody would stop them.
Julian expected me to follow him through security.
Charles expected me to sign.
Sienna expected me to hate her.
My father expected silence to buy time.
All of them were wrong in different ways.
Then my phone buzzed after I turned it back on.
Naomi.
One message.
CALL ME. WE FOUND THE FINAL HARTWELL ACCOUNT.
May you like
I looked at the ocean.
Even endings, apparently, had paperwork.
