Page 41 of Nutcracker with Benefits
“He’s waiting in Exmouth. Could not convince him to get on that seaplane.”
“Figures. Dad has always been a little nervous about planes. If he hasn’t gotten used to it by now, I doubt he ever will.”
Uncle D opens the door for me, and the sea breeze rushes in. “The time you flew in a glider is still the only video of yours he’s never seen.”
I roll my eyes and lead the way down the ladder. “Where are you and Dad going next?”
“Sydney. While I’m in the country, I’ve been asked to stop by the office there. And I promised your dad I would take him to the opera house for a show.”
We find Uncle D’s pilot hanging out with the ship’s crew. The guests have spread out over the boat, napping or sunbathing until our lunch settles and we get to dive again.
“So,” Uncle D says, turning to me. “Should I say anything to Nash?”
I gaze off into the distance and consider my answer. “No,” I finally say. “I think I have a presentation to put together.”
15
Nash
Why haven’t I been doing this all along?
The neon blue water of the Caribbean laps at my feet. It’s actually chilly, though with the sun beating down as strongly as it is today, I’m warm enough that the cold water feels good.
I’m sitting in a lounge chair, my feet in a few inches of crystal-clear water, and aside from the gentle swell of the sea, there’s hardly any sounds. The resort I’m staying at is popular but spacious enough to give me alone time, which means that I’ve crossed three items off my bucket list today:
-Visit the Caribbean
-Enjoy some alone time
-Don’t use technology for 24 hours
The last one is obviously the hardest, but the resort is having a technology-free weekend. The Wi-Fi is off, my laptop is back in New York, and my phone, without an international plan and Wi-Fi, is essentially a brick, so I readily handed it over at the front desk, which offers to “confiscate” technology to keep you honest for the weekend.
This first trip was surprisingly easy to plan. I picked a place Clara had been to, a place she’d written about. It was stupid of me because I spent too long studying the pictures of the resort. Most of them didn’t have her in the shot, but a few did, and now I’m seeing these places in person and thinking of Clara.
There’s the hammock in the over-water palapa that Clara lazed about in one afternoon.
This is the shrimp mofongo she raved about.
I wonder if this is the bungalow she stayed in.
I did it because there was no one I trusted more to plan my first fun vacation than Clara.
I’ve been thinking about her a lot. The suggestions Whitney, Fritz, and I came up with are pretty good, but the idea of talking to Clara without testing my ideas out felt hollow.
So here I am, on a real-world user-experience test. It’s a chance to prove to myself that I can do the kinds of things Clara would need me to do. I can travel with her, occupy myself while she works, and spend time away from my job.
And explore. Now I’m in the Caribbean. Next is a week in Italy, and after that, Cape Town. A whole month to see how I like traveling by myself, planning my trips, and starting to understand what Clara’s life is like.
“Mr. Darwish?” a voice calls from behind me.
I slide my sunglasses down my nose and twist around in the chair. Standing at the water’s edge is one of the resort staff, wearing khaki board shorts, flip flops, and a polo with the Wanderlust Resort logo on the breast pocket. He’s holding a black tray, the kind he used to bring me a sky juice—my new favorite drink—earlier.
“Sir, you have a call.” He holds up the cordless phone from the nearby bar.
My eyebrows draw together in confusion and then worry. Only a few people know how to get a hold of me, and I’m fairly certain they would not be breaking the no-technology rule unless there was good cause.
I haul myself out of the chair and start to drag it up the beach.
