Page 58 of The Sailor in Polynesia
Fiiiiine. Night.
Night.
Twenty-Two
In the morning, James said he had to go to the grocery store, and I jumped at the chance to go with him.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been to a real, proper grocery store?”
James grunted as we pulled into the parking lot.
“Three months, James. Three months of picking through older, imported vegetables. Three months of spearfishing. Three months of figuring out when the supply ship would come so I could get first dibs on stuff.”
Inside, I was like a kid in a candy store. “Look at these beautiful strawberries. I can’t get these in Polynesia. And look at these beets; they would keep forever on the boat.”
My eyes grew big when I spotted rows and rows of chocolate bars.
In the meantime, James was grumbling on every aisle.
“They don’t have the kombucha I like. Where are the organic eggs? They have free-range, grass-fed, and cage-free, but where are the goddamn organic ones?”
I couldn’t help snarking at him. “I think all the eggs in Kauehi are organic.”
James sighed and rolled his eyes at me.
I added another item into the cart and James eyed the massive pile of groceries accumulating. “Why are you shopping so much? Am I paying for your groceries? We’re eating with the family every day.”
I picked up a jar of peanut butter and hugged it to my chest. “This one is coming back to the boat with me.”
“You have organic eggs but not peanut butter?”
“Well, maybe they do. I haven’t been to the store yet in Tahiti. But yeah, usually these islands don’t have peanut butter. And when they do, it’s in the international section.”
“Heaven forbid you go without a peanut butter and honey sandwich.”
“Oh! Sandwich bread.”
“I have some at home.”
“You have gluten-free sliced cardboard is what you have.”
Several aisles later, I was dillydallying, picking things up and putting them down in the candy aisle. I wondered what I could bring back to Tahiti with me, something that Jonas would like, something that would be a treat. My mind was completely blank. How much time had I spent with him over the past few weeks, and why was it so hard to think of something to bring him?
Did I really know him at all?
“What are you doing?” James interrupted my thoughts.
“Nothing.” I sighed.
“You were mooning over more ‘American’ stuff, weren’t you?” He made a face at me. “What’s missing from your life in Tahiti again?”
We spent the rest of the trip bickering at each other until we were loading the car and James’s phone rang.
“It’s Mom,” he said. “Hello? Yeah, she’s here with me.” James pressed the phone to his chest. “Mom wants to know why you aren’t answering your phone.”
I frowned. “I don’t have my phone with me.”
“Mom, Mia doesn’t have her phone with her.” Before he’d even gotten a response from Mom, he tilted the phone down. “Why don’t you have your phone with you?”
