At breakfast the following morning Penelope finds Emily sitting at a table clutching a cup of coffee. She slides into the seat next to her.
"Someone looks like they had a little too much fun last night," Penelope comments.
"I can't keep up with a twenty five year old," she admits.
"It's a fun idea to entertain, though, isn't it?"
"I did more than entertain it."
"Emily! You cannot hook up with a random stranger in the middle of the ocean. It's so unsafe."
"That ship has already sailed."
"The goal of this adventure was to keep you from spiraling out of control, not to encourage it."
She shrugs, "What can I say? I love to sabotage myself."
Penelope shakes her head, "Since you have that out of your system can we focus on our plans to relax?"
"Is this where you tell me that you've booked an excursion?"
"No. I was talking about going to the spa."
"Oh. That is perfectly acceptable."
"How many times have you texted J.J.?"
"None. I left my phone in your bag."
"I noticed."
"Why didn't you send out a search party, when I didn't come back last night?"
"There is a GPS tag adhered to your flip flop."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Can we not think about worst case scenarios here, Emily? Could we just have an average adventure?"
Emily sips her coffee, "I'm not sure that I'm capable of such a thing."
"You find all of this utterly mundane, don't you?"
"I worry that the things average people find exciting don't produce enough dopamine for me. Yesterday I saw a cute little family eating ice cream on one of the decks. A mom, and dad, and a couple of kids. They were probably six, and eight. They were beautiful, and well behaved."
Penelope nods, "And what did you think to yourself?"
"All of the years on the job have soured me. Picture prefect families make my stomach churn."
"Like in a family annihilator way?"
She shoots her a look, "In a, I want no part of that, way."
"Or are you just saying that, because you don't want to feel hurt that you have no part of it?"
Emily grimaces, "It's too early in the morning for such in depth conversations."
"We can talk about something completely vapid, if you would prefer."
"When did my life devolve into an entire series of moves based entirely around some strategic plan?"
Penelope's thumbs drum on the table for a few seconds as she contemplates this question. "When you died. You've never been the same since then. To me it seems as if you do everything in your power to keep from tipping your hand. Every move you make is aimed at keeping you from feeling vulnerable."
"Except that isn't possible."
"Are you leading a life worth living?"
"Are you?"
"I have developed healthy boundaries. I have friends, and hobbies outside of the deep, disgusting ick that plagues our working hours."
"You could be entirely separated from the deeply disturbing nature of our work."
"And let the scales of justice tip in the wrong direction? The darkness does not disappear just because I stop looking at it. Ultimately, I get to chose if I get to be consumed by it, or if I can be a flicker of light."
"I don't feel like a flicker of light, anymore."
"Because you don't do enough things that bring you joy anymore. You can capture the joy of an eight-year-old with a face smeared in ice cream if you want to."
"Most days I come home, and I feel absolute emptiness. Do you feel that way too?"
"No."
"It's so ridiculous, honestly. I go home to a quiet house, and it just feels like something is missing."
"You said that. Perhaps, it's time that you consider doing something about it."
"At this late stage in my life?"
"It's never too late to pursue what makes you happy."
"Right now, I need an aspirin, and a gallon of caffeine."
Penelope rolls her eyes, as she ushers Emily away from the table to get some food.
Later that afternoon they're walking in the hall on the way back to their cabin. Three doors before their destination a small child sits crumpled on the floor. The little one leans against the wall with their knees to their chest. The little girl has golden blonde hair separated into two French braids. Her face is buried in her knees, as she audibly cries. Emily lowers herself onto the ground.
"Is that Sophia?"
The crying lulls for a moment. "Do you remember me? I'm Emily. You were in front of me at lunch today. You told me that if I asked very politely they would give me an extra dollop of whipped cream with my fruit."
A pair of blue eyes meet her gaze. She takes a breath, and pushes her hair out of her face. "I can't find my mommy. I was supposed to follow her to the room to change my clothes. I was skipping, even though she told me not to. I stopped to pet a dog, and when I looked up she was gone."
Emily pats the back of her hand, "She is probably just in the room. Can you remember what numbers go with your room?"
"Yes. I love numbers." She points to the door in front of them. "That is our room. She isn't in there."
"Can my friend Penelope stay here with you for a second while I go look?"
"Emily?"
"Yes, Sophia?"
"Do you think something bad has happened to her?"
"Oh, sweetie, no. She's probably just looking for you."
"Why don't you tell me about all the numbers you've seen so far, while Emily checks in your room?" Penelope suggests.
"Okay," she nods reluctantly.
Emily pushes open the door to the suite with her elbow. She steps inside, and her heart sinks. She finds blood, skin, and some hair on the corner of the stand next to the bed. After a few moments she steps out of the room, and offers a subtle headshake to Penelope.
"Sophia, why don't we play some games on your tablet? Emily can go look for your mom."
"We can find her phone," Sophia points to an application on her tablet. She presses a button, and offers the tablet to Emily. Emily follows the tablet down the hall three hundred feet, and around a blind corner. She finds Sophia's mom leaning against the wall.
"Kelly, I'm Emily. I was behind you in line for lunch earlier. Sophia was looking for you. What happened to your head?"
"I tripped over a pair of shoes in the room, and I realized Sophia wasn't with me," she explains as she holds a washcloth to her forehead. "I came out of the room, but I felt disoriented, and I couldn't find her."
"Let's get you to the nurse, okay?"
She nods in agreement.