Once I was making actual headway, it wasn't long before the coastline flickered to life in front of me. It was easy to tell which starry constellation on the horizon was downtown Rio, and I adjusted my course northward to aim straight for it.

I remembered how the high-rise buildings had crested the skyline as I peered through the taxi windshield with Edward's icy hand cooling the sweat as it beaded from my palm. We'd arrived at the docks shortly after those skyscrapers began towering over us in a thicket of dim light, and I supposed that wherever Edward and I had cast off from then was still nestled beneath their glow. A flickering light which now seemed awfully brighter from out here on an ocean that seemed to take the light and swallow it deeper than I could see.

Once I was close enough to make out individual towers and suggestions of the landscape, however, of course things got more difficult. Where was I going to park this thing? I couldn't exactly pull it up on the beach. Well, I guessed I could try but I couldn't imagine it going well. But then, even if I were to find a dock, would it be so simple to parallel park this behemoth? I guessed not.

My chest started to tighten if I pictured this too much so I put the thought out of my head. One step at a time.

I noticed another boat that looked kind of like mine heading up along the northern tip of the coast and I decided to follow suit and play it cool. His was also sleek, small and fast, and I hoped there were only so many fancy yacht dealers in Rio. Ideally, there would be just one. I followed him into a cove around to the left of the thin strip of land that jutted into the bay. There, I spotted what must have been his, and hopefully my, destination. A snazzy looking yacht club with pristine docks dotted with other yachts like ours. Did I remember it? I wasn't sure.

I held back as I watched him slow to a drift into the dock. Several crew jumped out and roped it in like an old, ornery cow. Maybe I could get them to help me?

I approached the dock space next to him at a literal crawl, hoping the momentum would just carry me in. It mostly did. But I quickly realized that the window of opportunity to cheerily shout "hey give me a hand!" was maybe over?

I was a few feet away and decided I'd have to jump for it. Thinking fast, I grabbed a rope attached to the side of the boat like I'd seen the crew do and made a leap for it.

I made it to the dock, definitely. My feet thudded onto it, but then my knees buckled and slammed into it too, and then my hands came forward and skidded along it. Ow.

At this point the men working on the other boat were running toward me, and someone was helping me to my feet, and guiding me to a bench. Feeling a little woozy, I watched two of them jump on and off my boat and secure it to the dock. One of them cut the engine too. I idly thought that they did end up being very helpful.

"Você está bem?" The voice sitting next to me asked.

"Huh?" was all I could answer.

"Você está bem? Are you okay?" The man replied.

"Yes, uh, si. Sorry I don't speak Portuguese."

"That's okay, I speak English. Are you sure you're not hurt? Your hands are bleeding."

"Hm?" I looked down and saw my grazed hands. Seeing them, I realized how much they stung. "Oh. I guess I am a bit hurt."

He took me into a little office and turned the lights on, sitting me down at one of the plush leather armchairs in the lobby.

"Wait here," he said, heading back into a closed room and returning with bandages and creams. While he fixed me up, he eyed me warily, but he only asked if I needed water. With that prompting, I was suddenly parched.

"Yes, please."

He handed me the water and sat by me as I drank it. Another of his crew-mates came in and they exchanged a few words in Portuguese.

"Am I in trouble?" the paranoia slipped out before I could stop it.

"No, not unless that boat is stolen, which given how you were driving it might not be that big of a surprise."

"No, it's not stolen. It," I choked on my own spit, coughing and gulping down the rest of my water, "it belongs to my husband. Or he rented it, I'm not sure. We were staying out on one of the islands off the coast."

"And where is your husband then?" He prompted. His tone was confused, not accusatory.

"He is, um, still there I think. I left in a bit of a hurry," I admitted.''

"Ah," he said simply, and didn't ask any more.

I felt him eying my clothes, my damp sweatshirt and the cotton shorts that showcased my shivering legs and banged up knees. The silence was suddenly heavy.

"Um, this might be a dumb question but can I just leave the boat here?" I asked slowly, tripping over my words a bit, "I wasn't exactly sure where to go with it."

"Well the boat is registered with this marina so it looks like you found the right place. I'll let the Commodore know in the morning that you've returned. I can leave the details out if you'd prefer?"

Something about his question tugged at my nerves. Was he trying to see if I was hiding something? Was I? I tried to think it through.

"No, you can tell the whole story, no need to spare me the embarrassment. Trust me, I'm used to it."

"And your husband, he will have another way to get back?" Definitely, he was suspicious of my solo arrival.

"I'm sure he will. He's very capable, and anyway it's not my concern," I put steel into my words, warning him not to push the subject, "Or yours."

I stood up then, deciding that accepting more help from him was not on the table for tonight.

"Thank you, for everything," I said, taking out the wallet from my sweatshirt pocket and opening it to reach for a bill. I found one, and looked up to hand it to him, only to find his gaze locked on Edward's driver's license displayed within the wallet. I snapped it closed, fixing a cold stare on him as his startled eyes met mine.

I said nothing as I wheeled on my heel, slapped the money on the front desk and strode out as confidently as I could.