She rubbed against the goosebumps on her arm as she looked around the room. The walls were a plain cream color with heavy gray curtains covering the windows. A blue loveseat filled the wall opposite of the bed. It was nothing special, but also not as weird as she’d expected it to be on a container ship.
She still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact they were really leaving Israel under fake passports on a cargo ship. After sleeping for a solid eight hours in an actual bed, everything that had happened up till now seemed distant, like a bad dream. Maybe she would be able to wrap her mind around it all while on the ship. It would take a day and a half for them to reach Athens, so she had plenty of time.
Soft snores came from beside her, drawing her out of her thoughts. She glanced down at Xander, still on his side, facing the other direction, the blanket covering his torso as it rose and fell. Other than breathing, he hadn’t moved since he’d collapsed into bed the evening before. She couldn’t blame him either. She’d gone straight to sleep as well.
Slowly, she slid from the crisp, white covers, stopping whenever her movements were too loud. The foghorn blasted again, rattling the windows. Xander didn’t move. Leila shook her head, unable to understand how he could sleep through that. A glance out the window revealed only an impenetrable white fog.
She changed her clothes and washed up in the tiny bathroom. Not wanting Xander to worry about her being gone when he woke up, she scribbled a note and left it on her pillow, then slipped out of the cabin and made her way to the dining room to see what was available for breakfast. She didn’t meet anyone as she took the elevator down two floors and walked through the hall. The dining room wasn’t busy. She suspected most sailors were at work as they made their way out of the harbor and sailed toward the open sea. If she remembered correctly, there were only twenty-two crew members.
The galley was decorated in the same fashion as her room—blue covers on the chairs, cream walls, gray curtains. Three seamen sat at the table, taking bites of toast and sipping coffee. Fully aware of the curious glances that shot her way, she said a friendly hello, then scrounged up a cup of coffee, a cup of black tea, a bowl of fruit salad, and a couple croissants, then headed back to the cabin.
Xander was sitting up in bed when she returned.
“I brought you tea,” she said, closing the door with her back.
“Oh. Ta.” He rubbed his eyes.
Holding the tray, she stood against the door and watched him for a moment. Even with his hair standing on end and his eyes squinting from grogginess, he was devastatingly handsome in the morning.
He stood and shuffled to the bathroom.
Alrighty, then. She set the tray down, grabbed a croissant, and took a sip of her coffee. Xander’s tea was cold by the time he walked out of the bathroom again.
“You feeling all right?” he asked, still sounding groggy.
“I’m fine.” Leila set down the travel magazine she’d found in the nightstand drawer. It was all in Greek, so she’d just been looking at the pictures. “How are you?”
“Rubbish.”
“Do you feel seasick? You should drink your tea. Maybe that will help.”
“Yeah. I’ll try that.” He stood next to the windows and looked out, took a sip, scowled at the mug, then drank it all down.
“Maybe we should walk around outside and get some fresh air,” Leila suggested. She was eager to get out of the room herself. If he didn’t want to, she’d probably leave. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand the awkwardness between them. There was still so much unspoken, but where, how, to start?
“A walk sounds nice,” Xander said and put his empty cup on the tray.
Donning their hardhats and neon vests, they wandered the decks. They tried to stay out of the workers’ way but were eventually invited by the crew to tour the engine room.
Leila found it helped to keep her mind off the sea, which grew rougher the farther they sailed. The fleet manager had been right—the weather was unpleasant. A stinging rain began to pelt down on the ship around noon, so they remained indoors. They found the recreation room and started a game of ping pong. Four sailors joined them, challenging Leila and Xander to a doubles tournament.
The weather worsened as the afternoon went on and the ship dipped and rocked harder. After their fifth round of table tennis, Xander grabbed the edge of the table.
“Are you okay?” Leila placed a hand on his arm. His skin was cool and damp.
“Enough ping pong for today.” Xander straightened, his face pale. He tipped his paddle at the seamen and gave them a tight-lipped smile, then he left.
Leila followed him back to their room. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t have my sea legs yet,” he said, his voice strained. After they got back to their room, he locked himself inside the bathroom.
Lying on her back, head propped up on her pillow, Leila picked up that magazine from the nightstand and flipped through it, landing on a page with two women laughing, each holding a cup of coffee, and a brilliant blue sky filled the background.
Her heart twisted as the memory of her last cup of coffee with her mother buzzed in her mind. Why did she have to yell and storm off like she did?
I hope they’re okay. She longed to wrap her arms around her mother again. Ruffle Sami’s hair. Feel the rough pressure from Soliman’s handshake.
Needing a different distraction, she tossed the magazine to the side and sat up. The wooden box from the archive. She could finally take a closer look at that.
She retrieved the box from its pocket in the backpack, opened the freezer bag, and slipped it out. Taking a seat at the desk, she found a pad of paper and a pen in the drawer and held the box with her fingertips.
How she missed digging—getting her hands dirty, trowel in one and brush in the other. Her life seemed so far away, and the only way back was to push through the storm.
With a soft sigh, she focused on the hieroglyphics carved into the top of the box.
For whom the sun shines, she translated.
A smile tugged at her lips as she wrote down the line. The ancient words of a lover. After thousands of years, the physical world had changed drastically, but human nature hadn’t.
She then examined the hieroglyphics carved into the sides of the box, jotting down the meanings, rearranging the words until the verses flowed.
As the darkness fades,
I go to the river’s edge.
The dove’s voice calls forth,
It sings, “What is your path?”
