I dropped my luggage in the cabin I decided would be mine — claiming the bottom bunk, of course — before I bounded up the stairs and made my way to the bridge. It usually took me a few days to get the layout of a new boat, but the producers had provided all of us with a floor plan ofSinking Sun, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t study it like it was the key to the biggest test of my life.
From the hot tub on the sundeck to the crew mess in the bowels of the boat, I knewSinking Sunlike I’d already spent a full season aboard. The sundeck boasted loungers, a bar, and the all-important Jacuzzi for late-night drunk confessions and mid-day sunbathing. Below that, the bridge deck held the sky lounge and alfresco dining area — perfect for sunset cocktails. The main deck was all luxury, from the formal salon and dining room to the primary guest cabins, and of course, the galley. Beneath that, on the lower deck, were more guest cabins, storage, the laundry room, and crew quarters — where privacy was a luxury, and bunks were barely wide enough to turn over in. And all the way at the bottom, accessible only through a near-secret set of stairs, was the tender garage that doubled as a beach club, complete with a fold-down swim platform and lockers stockedwith snorkels, floaties, and the dreaded gargantuan inflatable slide.
I had every inch mapped in my head before I stepped foot on board.
If this was my one and only shot to prove I was meant for this role, for this career? I was going to grab every opportunity to go above and beyond my duties.
“Trouble aboard,” I called out with a rap of my knuckles on the open bridge door, smiling at the familiar bald head of our captain, Gary Parks. He whipped around, beaming at me with that toothy grin of his that was now framed by a neatly trimmed white beard. The man had tan, weathered skin from his earlobes to his toes, proof of his many years in the sun.
“Uh-oh, sound the alarm,” he teased in his thick Australian accent, and then his arms were open for a hug that felt like the one a father would give his daughter.
Not that I’d know. My dad didn’t do hugs — or feelings of any kind, for that matter. He was a man of few words, divvying out praise only when I did something to deserve it.
Which wasn’t often.
“It’s good to see you, Cap,” I said when he released me.
“Great to see you, Ember.” I always smiled at how my name sounded when he said it, theRdisappearing altogether.Em-bah. “Ready for your first season as chief stew?”
“Come on, now. You know I’ve been ready for years.”
He chuckled. “I do, indeed. This has been a long time coming. I’m keen to see you smash it.” He glanced at his watch. “The rest of the crew should be trickling in soon. Why don’t you go sort the crew mess and get started on provisions? We’ll have a team chat once everyone’s aboard.”
I saluted him with a smirk. “On it, Cap.”
“And Ember?”
“Mm?”
“Maybe don’t order all the lobster in Italy this time around, yeah?”
Biting back a smile at the memory of our first charter together years ago when I’d accidentally ordered twenty cases of lobster instead of two, I gave him a thumbs up. Those closest to me knew a thumbs up was my version of flipping the bird, and the gesture earned me a hearty laugh that followed me all the way back down the stairs to the crew quarters.
After that, I fell into a steady rhythm, a familiar one that left me smiling and singing to myself as I ticked through my mental checklist. Sure, this was my first timeofficiallyworking as chief stew, but I’d had enough experience that it felt like the job had been mine for years. From stepping up when other chiefs got sick to flying five hours to finish a season after one got let go, I had been thrown into the fire plenty of times.
And like a phoenix, I thrived in those flames. I rose from the ashes even better than before.
It was a product of my upbringing, the way this career suited me so well. Busy was my natural state of being. By the time I was five, my parents had thrown me into everything from swim lessons and soccer to piano lessons and Spanish as a second language. The praise my father gave me for achieving only encouraged me to continue to pack my schedule all the way through college. If I wasn’t juggling at least a half-dozen clubs, extracurricular activities, sports and a job — I was bored.
I didn’t know how to sit still for longer than what was absolutely necessary to get a decent amount of sleep to keep going.
And when it came to hard work, not only was I not afraid of it — Icravedit. Nothing lit me up like kicking my own ass for days and hearing anatta girlat the end of it all.
It was how my father raised me to be.Nothing in life comes easy, he always told me.You have to work hard for what youwant. With him, there was never a consolation prize. You were either the best or you had better keep trying. That was just one of the reasons I wanted to excel in this first season as chief stew. This was the highest position of the interior on a boat this size. That meant to be chief, you had to be the best. This was my chance to prove to him that what I did mattered, that it was a hard job with reward and recognition you had to earn.
What I lacked in affection for my father, I made up for with respect.
The man had always provided for me. He may not have been there when I had my heart broken or when I was crying in bed after a hard day, but he was a constant reminder that life kept going, that the effort I put into it was the one thing I could control.
And control I did.
In that moment of my life, standing in the crew quarters of a new boat at the start of a new season, I felt a monumental shift.
On camera, all a viewer would see was me on the phone with the provisioner barking out a list of everything we needed for the first charter. They’d see my golden hair pulled up into a loose ponytail, one hand scribbling in my notebook while the other checked items off on the laptop. They’d see a young, smiling, ambitious girl eager to start in a new role.
But on the inside, a storm brewed.
Lightning sizzled in every nerve, thunder crackling down my spine with every checkmark I made. I catalogued those sensations as excitement, as opportunity, as a new beginning. In my heart of hearts, I believed it was one of those moments that tattooed itself onto your very soul when it happened, the kind you always knew you’d reflect on asthat time when everything changed.