wondering if he can use the bathroom,” said Sarah.
“Aren’t you polite! Go ahead.” The man handed Owen the clipboard with the pricing folder. “I’ll leave you to think about this as a family. Just drop the info packet back at the office before you go.”
Once he was gone, Sarah turned to Owen, expecting the same conspiratorial smile as before, but instead he seemed thoughtful.
“Your son is a lovely little boy, isn’t he?” he said. “Very sweet.”
“Yes. I think sometimes we forget that boys can be sweet.”
Owen nodded, his eyes still lingering on the door of the bathroom. “Aren’t you afraid for him?”
“Of course I am.” A lump formed in her throat almost immediately. “But our lives can’t just come to a grinding halt because there’s a virus on the loose.”
“But that’s exactly what will happen. Don’t you see?” His voice was curt, or maybe only urgent, but Sarah’s temper flared even as her eyes brimmed.
“I do, yes. I do.” She tried not to blink, which would only send the tears spilling down her cheeks. The energy she was already putting into dampening her worry could power a small car. All she wanted when she closed her eyes at night was to pick up her son in her arms and retreat to some high mountain cave—free, alone, and safe at last.
Owen was giving her a hard look, and Sarah was surprised as he ran his fingers up through his greying blond hair, his palms slowing as they crossed his face. “It’s strange,” he said, “being treated like a prophet. As though I could actually save anybody.”
Sarah considered the strain of his position, the burden of a kind of imposter expertise. “You will,” she said. “All the press you’ve been doing…people are really listening. You’re doing amazing things with the platform you have.”
“Right,” he said. “Maybe. I hope so.” He put his hands in his pockets. “You know my ex and her little boy? Henry? I’ve been trying to convince them to leave, either with me or by some other means, but she’s cut me off completely.”
Sarah nodded, unsure of what to say. She had put Owen in contact with an estate lawyer to set up a trust for Henry, but as far as she knew, Rachel hadn’t responded to any communications. Sarah and Owen spent the next few minutes in silence, watching Noah as he climbed into every cubbyhole he could find.
“Hey,” said Noah, clambering into the furthest corner of one of the berths. “Hey, look at me, Owen, I’m sleeping.” He closed his eyes, but he was grinning.
“I see you,” said Owen, “but I think you’re awake.” Noah giggled.
“That’s impressive,” said Sarah. “Not everyone can make out what he says.” They slid into seats across from one another at the central salon table. “I’m worried about you being out there, alone on the ocean.”
“I’ve been taking sailing lessons,” said Owen. “For almost two months now.”
“Good,” she said, relieved. “On a real boat?”
“Yes, a real boat. Though there’s also an autopilot.” His eyes were still on Noah, who was giggling as he pretended to snore. “I’m worried about your boy. I’m serious about keeping him out of school. Think about it, okay?”
“I will, I promise.” She put a hand on the table to push her seat back and realized all the furniture was bolted down. “Won’t you be lonely? Or afraid?” She could picture herself in the dark of the open water. A sky full of stars. She wondered if there were people who were meant to be apart from the world, and if she might be one of them. And she knew, in the next instant, what she wanted.
“I’ve never been lonely in my life.” Owen swung his legs out from under the table, stood up, and offered her a gloved hand to help her out. “It’s partly why my ex-wife divorced me.” His laugh was not exactly bitter, but it was not self-deprecating either. “I suppose I’ll probably be afraid, though. That seems to be the human condition.”
Sarah took a deep breath. “So let us come with you. Me and Noah.” She summoned a confidence she didn’t feel. “Sailing classes are one thing, but experience is what will save your life out there.”
Owen said nothing for a long minute.
“If you just leave, I’ll lose my job, anyway.” She meant to say this as though it were a joke, but it did not even remotely sound like one. She wondered what molecular messages might be rising off the surface of