Once the accommodation on the ship was all accounted for, Melissa and I prepared for departure.
Our guests had stored their cargo safely in the hold and knew which quarters they had been assigned to, and we had let each of them know about protocols, medical facilities and eating arrangements.
We departed mid-afternoon, after making sure everyone had what they needed. The first scheduled meal was in the evening at half past six. Melissa and I had a routine where we would start preparing at five o'clock to try to give us plenty of time to prepare something for everyone, including alternatives for those with special dietary requirements.
My eyes were watering slightly from chopping onions for the mushroom pasta, while Melissa was preparing the salads, when Amy turned up at around six o'clock.
Amy's unexpected appearance reminded me that I could feel her emotions when she boarded, and I wondered whether I'd feel them again.
Although nobody had spoken, I found myself focusing on her blurry form intently through the moisture that had formed across my eyeballs. Perhaps I thought that if I concentrated hard enough, I might feel something from her.
I don't know whether it was because I lost concentration on the food preparation or because of my distorted vision, but somehow, I managed to knock the nearby large bowl of grated cheese from the work surface. A loud crash echoed through the kitchen as it smashed into pieces near my feet and the cheese scattered in different directions like yellow confetti.
Nobody spoke for a few seconds as we all processed the sudden debris that littered the floor.
And then I felt it.
At first it was just frustration, quickly escalating to anger, but this time it was emanating from Melissa. I looked up at where she stood unmoving, with the knife she'd been using to chop the salad vegetables still in her hand. The expression on her face gave nothing away, but I could feel the anger rising.
I was fascinated. I'd assumed it was just Amy's emotions I could feel, but I was now receiving an emotion from Melissa. I took a second to consider why, now, I could feel Melissa's emotions but not Amy's. I pondered what the trigger might be.
Melissa, still outwardly composed, turned to Amy.
"Can we help you with something?" she asked politely, drawing me out of my thoughts. "Food won't be available until six thirty."
I turned my concentration back to Amy as well.
Amy's gaze moved away from the scattered cheese and onto Melissa.
"I just came to see whether I could help with anything," she replied tentatively.
[True.]
Her eyes flicked over to look at me, and then back to Melissa. That small gesture told me that she'd come to make good on her promise of helping out in exchange for me giving her a ride with no ID or paperwork. She felt like she owed me a debt and she wanted to repay it.
"We're good," I smiled at her before Melissa got a chance to respond. "But thanks for the offer. Why don't you find a table and make yourself comfortable? We shouldn't be too much longer."
"OK," she replied, facing me and returning the smile. "Let me know if you change your mind."
Amy did as I suggested and found a table in the far corner of the dining room. She took out an electronic device, which I assumed must be a book or a game, and started tapping buttons and swiping.
Melissa was still angry as I started sweeping up the cheese and pieces of broken crockery from the floor.
I couldn't understand why. Accidents happened sometimes. It wasn't like she'd never spilled anything before.
Still, I didn't look at her or speak as I cleaned up the mess I'd made.
"I wonder why she was offering to help us?" Melissa initiated a conversation with me in a low voice that ordinarily would not have given anything away about her foul mood. But today I could feel the suspicion that swirled around her like a cloud.
"Perhaps she's just grateful that she managed to get a space on board," I replied, knowing that if I told her the whole truth about the probable reason, she'd be even angrier. "Or maybe she's just a nice person who wanted to help out. Do you want to swap, and I'll do the salad?"
My deflection of the subject away from Amy seemed to help, and by the time we'd finished preparing food, Melissa was in a better mood and happily attending to our clients.
She introduced some of the guests to each other and, as often happened, helped to create an enjoyable atmosphere with amusing stories of some of our previous encounters. Melissa had an outgoing and lively personality which served us well in situations like this, and the informal dining room was soon alive with the sound of chatter and occasional laughter.
Meanwhile, Amy sat on her own and made no effort with anyone else. I couldn't blame her if she was in trouble. She occasionally glanced around the room nervously and I could feel the anxiety, recognising it was hers and not mine.
Apparently, I could feel her emotions again. Interesting.
I wondered what was bothering her. From the way she periodically scanned the room, perhaps she was concerned that there was someone who might hurt her in this small babbling crowd.
Melissa was busy entertaining, and, having finished with dessert preparations for now, I felt compelled to help Amy feel better if I could. I wiped down the work surfaces on the kitchen area, rinsed the cloth I was using and walked casually over to the table she'd claimed.
Amy smiled when she saw me approach, laying the electronic device down on the table next to her. Her trepidation was still present, and although it unsettled me, I tried not to let it show.
"Hey," I greeted her gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I knew in that moment that Melissa had spotted that I was talking to Amy from across the room. I endeavoured to ignore the rising tension I could feel from behind me, while noting that I could now feel the emotions from both women simultaneously.
"Talk about what?" asked Amy innocuously.
"This trouble you're in?" I replied. "The reason you're running?"
I assumed that her apprehension must be connected to the reason she was on my ship in the first place.
Amy shook her head.
"Thanks anyway, but it's better if you stay out of it."
[True.]
"OK, well, if you change your mind, I'm here, OK?"
Amy nodded, her gaze moving to the table.
"In the meantime, can I get you another drink?" I asked, gesturing to her empty glass. "On the house?"
She looked back up at me a little sceptically.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
It was a good question, and one I didn't know how to answer. Why did I care about Amy so much already? It was as much a mystery to me as it was to her, so I shrugged.
"Just thought you might want a refill," I replied blandly.
She smiled and shook her head as she stood up.
"Thanks anyway, but I think I'm just going to go back to my room for the night."
[True.]
"No dessert?" I prompted, nodding to where a selection of sweet treats lay on the table nearest the kitchen.
"Maybe another night," she said, excusing herself and meandering through the tables to the exit.
I could tell she felt a little more at ease, at least. Satisfied that I appeared to have helped even a small amount, I continued hosting dinner without further incident.
I thought Melissa had forgotten all about the events of the evening until I had brushed my teeth and I was tucked under the cosy blanket, ready to go to sleep.
Melissa had her own sleeping quarters, but tonight she was spending the night in mine, as she often did. In fact, the only times we generally slept apart any more was if one of us was feeling poorly.
"Why are you being so friendly to that girl, Amy?" Melissa asked as she slid into bed next to me.
Resentment was not only present in her tone, but her emotional state. It occurred to me then, that perhaps her earlier anger had stemmed from envy, rather than from the spillage.
But I didn't feel that way about Amy, and I didn't want to be having this conversation.
"I just think she's had a rough time of it," I answered, shuffling closer to Melissa under the blanket.
"She told you that?"
"No, I just get that impression. Do we have to talk about Amy? I don't really want to focus on her." I rolled over to face Melissa so that our mouths were only about a centimetre apart and slid my arm round her waist. "I want to focus on you."
She smiled and I felt her relax as I kissed her lips, and then moved my mouth down her chin and under her smooth jaw.
"That sounds nice," she whispered.
"Yeah?" I whispered back between the kisses I was planting on her neck.
My mouth returned to hers and I felt her envy dissipate while my hands slowly started doing the things that I knew she liked.
Half an hour later we were both sated, and Melissa fell asleep with her head resting peacefully on my bare chest and my arms wrapped round her soft shoulders. It was familiar and comfortable, and as sleep consumed me with her nestled into my side, I started to dream.
The green rubber ball bounced easily on the hard, wooden floor where I sat cross-legged. Between each bounce, I picked up a silver six-pointed jack before catching the ball, ready to bounce it again. I loved the shape of the jacks, regular and even. I made the ball bounce again and reached for another jack.
I heard the doorbell ring, but kept playing, deep in the rhythm of my solitary game, almost hypnotised by the regular bouncing of the ball. The door opened and I heard a woman speak.
"Hi, can I help you?" she asked the stranger that stood in the doorway.
"Hi," said the man at the door. "I'd like to view some of your merchandise. We can pay cash."
[True.]
"You'd better come in then," said the woman. "Can I get you a drink?"
I continued playing my game, bouncing my ball and picking up the jacks. Two men entered the house. The second man looked over at me, but I ignored him.
"No, we're in a bit of a hurry," the man said. "My sister is sick, and I need to get back to her."
[Lie.]
"That's not true," I said between bounces.
The first man looked over at me, suddenly seeming interested. He approached me and knelt next to where I'd just finished picking up all my jacks. I threw them back down gently and started the game again.
"What did you say, boy?" he asked me.
"I said that's not true," I repeated for him.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Ethan," I replied, not looking up.
The ball bounced and I picked up another jack.
"My name's James," said the man.
[Lie.]
"That's not true either," I responded.
"You're right," he drawled. "It's Nick. And over there is Jason."
[True.]
I nodded. Nick looked over at Jason.
"We've found a Truthseeker," Nick smirked.
[True.]
"A much better prize than what we came here for," he turned his head back to me as he spoke.
[True.]
I stopped bouncing the ball and looked up. Nick looked back at me with shadowy brown eyes.
"Please don't hurt him!" the woman implored, another man joining her in my peripheral vision. This new man wrapped his arms around her, possibly comforting her. The woman released a sob.
"I won't," said Nick. "He's far too valuable."
[True.]
"You know that's the truth, don't you Ethan?" he cocked his head as he spoke again, and I nodded. "I'm going to take you with me," he continued, standing up and walking towards the woman.
[True.]
My pulse started racing as I watched him cross the room. I didn't want to go anywhere with Nick. The woman was still sobbing.
"But first I'm going to kill your parents," he said, unsheathing a large knife that had been held by his belt. "And you're going to watch, right?"
[True.]
My heart started pounding against my chest as he caught the wailing woman that had just tried to run from him by the hair, pulling her hard into his grasp and lifting the sharp knife to her throat.
I stood up and released an ear-piercing scream as the knife drew across her throat and her blood spilled to the floor.
I sat up in bed, screaming. The sudden noise and movement must have woken Melissa, who propped herself up and put her free hand softly on my arm.
"Are you OK?" she asked sleepily.
"Yeah," I replied, a little breathlessly. "Bad dream."
I lay back down and got comfortable with Melissa in my arms again.
While what I'd told her was true, it wasn't the whole story. It wasn't just a bad dream. That was the most realistic dream I'd ever had. In fact, it felt more like a memory than a dream. But it couldn't possibly be a memory because I didn't remember that ever happening to me.
Still, it felt real enough for me to be shaken by it. I spent the rest of the night unable to get back to sleep, haunted by the images of Nick with a knife pressed up against that woman's throat, and unable to shake the feeling that those images weren't conjured up by my imagination.