The charter guests round off the dock, and the crew deflates. Their all-whites, ironed to perfection, crinkle as they bend over, relaxing shoulders, lungs empty of air from their collective sigh. The sea is even and calm, lapping against the dock but it is nearly enough to cause their collapse. Even Shelly, who doesn't have a peg leg but might have a wooden spine.
"We'll do the tip meeting in an hour," she says before anyone can slip away. Not that any of them could realistically sneak off. Their bodies are too rigid for such fluid movements. Besides, on a fifty-two-metre yacht, there aren't many places to hide. "I want all of deck crew in the bridge in thirty."
Shelly doesn't give them the opportunity to argue. She walks off the deck, heading into the interior of the ship.
Like Shelly, the interior crew doesn't stick around. They've got work to do. The cabin sheets need to be washed again, though they just were run through the machines the previous evening. Make up will be caked through the sink again. There were no children on the cruise, but you might have imagined one was playing with her mother's palaette the way orange and blue were splattered in the porcelain sink.
The engineers also leave to do work, although Lina doesn't make a move to go. Of course, all of them have a list of tasks longer than they did this morning, but the deck crew stands outside. It's warm for the middle of May. People bustle on the dock, carrying heavy cargo and sweating through their clothes. None of them would run around in their all-whites. The heat may not blister, but it clings. Everyone else around the deckcrew moves and yet they linger.
Finn looks up at the ship, toward the bridge.
Joy pats a hand on his back. She rubs the spot between his shoulder blades, "you're fine. It was an honest mistake."
"Shelly likes being liked too much to fire you," Lina offers as well.
Finn puts a smile on his face. He laughs, then ruffles Joy's hair. She shoves him off, grinning ear to ear.
They're too optimistic. August is sure of that much. He sits down on the ground, crossing his legs. His curly hair is sticking to his head already. It's been six weeks since his last cut, six weeks since they arrived. Vic offered to cut it yesterday, and she didn't look surprised when August said no. The curls are getting in his eyes. Maybe if Finn isn't fired, they can find a barber nearby.
Shelly is the only one who speaks Greek, but enough people in Corfu know English that they can get by.
"Come on, Auggie," Finn bends over and grabs August by the arm, hauling him up. "They're not sending me packing yet."
He's not smiling with his eyes though. Finn hopes they can't all see it. Or if they can, maybe they'll mistake it for a squint in the sharp rays of the sun. It was a small error and Shelly won't send him home. Still, he's going to have to sit in front of her, and she's going to say she's disappointed in him. He'd rather be sliced apart by the heat.
"We've got twenty minutes," Joy looks down at the watch on her wrist. She's broken out in a rash twice from it, but as bosun she has to keep the time. It shouldn't have been her, but between August and Finn, well... it had to be someone. "Keep on your all-whites, but we should grab some snacks and go sit on the sundeck until it's time."
"In our all-whites?" Finn grimaces.
"Let's pretend to be serious, Finn," Lina says.
She looks to Joy, who nods as well.
They start to head down to their cabins. Joy takes up the rear to watch her crew slip down. She tries to think of saying it like she would say the word her family, not to denote possession but something thicker, harder to remove. Like the feeling of shame she'll get tomorrow when she thinks of all that went wrong.
