“Just having a nightmare.”

That’s the shit I’m saying out loud to myself this time.

Waking up naked on the beach, under the bright, warm midmorning sun, saying that wondrous name, I didn’t realize that shit was about to peak—that I was at the start of a honeymoon.

At the end of the week, I wake up naked, alone in the air-conditioned room, with the midmorning sun still there but hiding somewhere outside the window. I’m talking about nightmares—bad dreams and bad reality.

What a difference a few days can make.

At this point, it’s all about the obligations.

The obligation I have to pack up my shit and vacate this suite. The obligation I have to fly back home to return to work so I can pay off my stupid goddamn house in Riverdale.

After that, I have no fucking clue. I’m sure there’ll be something.

But it’s not for me anymore. I don’t care about any of it.

I don’t even care about myself.

One of those things that makes life worthwhile for me is the feeling of hunger gnawing away at me in the morning, along with the vestiges of sleep, knowing that I’m about to enjoy breakfast and coffee to make short work of all of it.

None of that this morning, though. I sit up on the oversized bedsheet draped over the sofa, my bare feet touching down on the scratchy carpet.

All I feel is this dumbass, churning, anxious nausea. I couldn’t picture eating anything anytime soon.

And fuck fucking coffee.

I throw on a black T-shirt and dark-blue jeans. It’s the type of approach to fashion I admire—comfortable and unassuming and who gives a shit what anyone else thinks—but it’s not something I’ve had the balls to try myself until now.

Fucking sandals—I packed them and unpacked them into the suite closet, but all week I’ve been getting a touch of nausea whenever I considered putting them on.

I’ve got bigger concerns right now. Or do I? I just put on the sandals for once.

I float like a half-there ghost down the hallway and down the elevator. The lobby seems quiet and peaceful today, saturated by the type of vibe Hawaii’s supposed to have all the time.

So do I feel at peace walking through there?

No, I don’t feel much of anything. It doesn’t bother me. I just don’t give a shit how I feel or what’s going to happen to me next.

The sky is totally cloudless when I step outside, just that classic shade of blue you only see on postcards in brochures. If I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes, I’d think it was photoshopped or something.

It looks nice. It looks like this past week. That steely gray overcast color of the sky when I took that photo—that’s more in line with what I’m accustomed to.

She’s a rarity in this world, bringing color and clarity that no one else can. It doesn’t matter if I ever see her again, but I can’t let that spirit fade.

I need to see her just one more time, to tell her that.

To make sure that she’s going to be okay.

To tell her not to let my ridiculous ass ruin what she has to offer the world.

To make sure that Maddie will always be Maddie, because right now that’s all I care about.

The sky’s so fucking blue as I shuffle across the beach in these goddamn sandals that it’s borderline fucking oppressive. I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat in close to twenty-four hours, but the bar just happens to be open.

I’m not thinking about too much right now, and I’m feeling even less, but the several empty barstools look plenty inviting at the moment, and the smiling barkeep, who already knows me well, will remain a pleasant memory.

That may be the one thing for me to latch onto from this whole honeymoon.

“Captain’s Dilemma?” the bartender questions as I climb onto the middle stool. “Or Lava Lava?”

“One of each.”

He doesn’t bat an eye and turns his back to get to work straightaway. Within a few seconds, the sound of the blender overpowers the vicinity, and my thoughts drift to the already furthering memories of the past few days.

I can’t keep myself from seeing Maddie’s face in the back wall of the bar, thinking about her laugh and the now-destroyed sundress, picturing her sly smile, her flirty smirk, her unapologetically elated grin and, of course, that one smile full of sweetness with the hint of surprising depths of feeling and thought.

That smile that I first noticed sitting in this very barstool...it seems like yesterday, since it practically was.

Her face now is nothing like that; it’s a faint redness of crushing emotional distress, and her mouth is molded into a resigned frown that looks like it’ll never leave...

And yes, she’s right here. Again. She’s taken a seat on the stool right next to mine.

I’d like to say that I’ve never been happier to see her, but I can’t feel anything close to happiness seeing her face right now. She was able to hold back her tears in the honeymoon suite, but she’s definitely been crying since then, and it makes me feel like my heart is being ripped in fucking half.

“Maddie,” I get out, but I stop there since I’m about to fucking break down myself.

Maddie sees this, and she registers it. She’s looking right at me, and the best I can say about her face is that there’s no anger—but that’s upset by the heaping portions of dejection and resignation inscribed all over her expression.

I did this to her. Fuck.

“Maddie,” I continue, determined to try again. I try my best to breathe slowly, gathering the words together.

“I’m listening.” Maddie’s signaling her change of approach from earlier, but she’s also telling me to just get the fuck on with it already.

“We never signed a marriage license. It’s not official, it’s not even unofficial at this point. She made it very clear that I’m not good enough for her, that my family’s not good enough for her. She moved out all her stuff and broke some of mine.”

“Why?”

“Because I come from a different social stratum, most likely. Some of her family, or friends, or some combination of those probably wore her down with complaints about me, and she happened to see the light—that all my success can’t wipe away my poor-ass origins—either during or after the ceremony.”

Maddie’s eyes are full of interest in what I’m saying, but I can see the weight of disappointment make itself clear at the word ceremony.

“We did have a wedding, Maddie.” I try to make things clearer. “She left immediately afterward, very definitively. Or so I thought.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

“I absolutely was not by the time I got to Hawaii. Even though this was supposed to be our honeymoon.”

“That seems like a fast change of heart...”

“That’s because I never was. I realize that now. It would’ve sounded crazy to me just a couple weeks ago, but that marriage would’ve been a disaster. There’s no way I’m going back, even if she’s serious about wanting that. Audra leaving was the second-best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What’s the first best?”

The bartender plops both drinks down, one in front of each of us. He doesn’t ask who has which drink, and I can’t tell the difference since my original plan was to drink them both.

“Maddie,” I start, somewhat gravely, causing the bartender to walk away quickly, “I don’t matter. I’m realizing that. At least, I’m not thinking about what I want, or what’s gonna happen to me. I’m thinking about you.”

“Why?” Maddie’s voice is cracking. Oh, please don’t cry. She takes a sip of the frozen cocktail and seems to be able to stop from breaking down.

“Because this was the best week of my life. I know I’ve said it, but I can’t stress that enough. That’s because of you. I know this situation is shitty, and... I just want you to be happy. Even if you need to forget about me, even if you never want to see me again. Just for the sake of the world, for the sake of you, Maddie, I need you to be happy. I need you to be Maddie.”

Maddie takes the cocktail napkin out from under her drink and wipes away the single tear rolling down her cheek. But now she’s smiling, and the sight fills me with warm cheerfulness.

“Don’t worry, Eth. You don’t quite have the power to take that away from the world.”

“You have no idea how glad that makes me.” I really fucking mean it.

“Well, Ethan...I’ve had an okay time myself, truth be told.”

“Okay.” I decide to just let this moment play out.

“I’m going home soon, but even after I do, it’s just a quick ride on the Acela down to Penn Station.”

That warm cheerfulness starts to evolve into pure euphoria, and I feel like I might float off my stool into the atmosphere like an unbound helium balloon, but I stay convincingly cool and calm.

“You can come visit me anytime, and I’ll show you the best time of your life.” Fuck, not too cool or calm, I suppose.

Maddie chuckles softly, but it’s the most welcome sound I can imagine right now.

“Why don’t we start with lunch and go from there?”

“I know the perfect place,” I respond quickly, trying to balance this cavalcade of shifting expectations on my part.

“Well, that sounds…perfect.”