How to Honeymoon Alone

He raps his fingers softly against the steering wheel. The car is larger than we needed, but it was the only one with an automatic transmission they had at the rental company. Driving stick and on the left side of the road was more gambling than Phillip was willing to do.

“I’d say going to an abandoned beach to watch turtles hatch in the middle of the night was moderately wild,” he says. “Not to mention that van ride to the fish market.”

I glance over at Phillip, wondering if he’s remembering the same thing I am. Me, sitting on his lap. He glances my way, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Well, it was good in some ways,” I say.

“Definitely. I have no complaints.”

I trace my fingers along my bare thigh. My sundress of choice is pretty short today; a light-blue thing with ruffled sleeves.

We haven’t kissed since the pool two days ago. It’s like he gave me all the pleasure and decided to take none for himself, and I can’t quite work out why.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

Phillip clears his throat. “Wildlife center first?”

“Yes. Should only be a twenty-minute drive.”

“Awesome.”

I rest my head against the seat and watch the landscape unfurl around us. It doesn’t take long for the scenery to turn into a golf course and then fields of sugarcane. The winding road takes us through villages in quick succession. The island really is small, and beautiful, and so different from anywhere I’ve ever been.

I cross my ankles in the roomy passenger space. “Let’s play a fun facts game.”

“Let’s not,” Phillip says.

“My students love this one.”

“I’m sure they do, but we’re not five.”

“Are you telling me you’re not a fun facts person? Because I don’t believe you. I think you watch a lot of documentaries and movies about wars and dead presidents in your spare time. Don’t you?”

He taps his fingers along the steering wheel again. “I might have watched a documentary or two about JFK.”

“Which means you love useless facts.”

“The history of our political establishment is not useless.”

I grin in triumph. “And now you’re defending your useless facts, which means you think they’re fun. See? I knew this would appeal to you. It’s the right amount of brainy and silly.”

He shakes his head but relents. “Fine. Hit me with your first one.”

“All right,” I say and cross my arms over my chest. This needs to be a good one to start the game off strong. I run through all kinds of possibilities.

“Well?” he asks.

“I’m thinking! I have to make the first one really good.”

“You do?”

“Yes, if I’m going to win.”

“You can win at this game?” he asks. “Now I’m interested.”

“I knew you would be. Okay, did you know that forty-eight different piglets played the role of Babe in the movie?”

There’s complete silence from the driver’s seat.

“Come on,” I say. “The movie about the little pig who herds sheep?”

“I remember it. Vaguely. I think my sister and I watched that like two decades ago,” he says and shakes his head. “Forty-eight piglets? That seems… excessive.”

“Well, the piglets grew so fast they were too big for the role after like a week.”

He snorts. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Your turn.”

“I don’t have random pig facts up my sleeve,” says the thirty-two-year-old serious lawyer from Chicago. “Just so you know.”

“I promise I’ll hide my disappointment.”

“Thank you,” he says. “Fine. So, you know the moon landing?”

“I have heard of it,” I say.

“Glad to hear our education system didn’t fail you. Right, well, two men went down to the moon. The third stayed in orbit.”

“Michael Collins?”

Phillip shoots me a look. “Yeah, that’s right. You know this?”

“Maybe? But keep going. Also, you’re definitely a science documentary nerd.”

“He spent hours alone in orbit. And every time he flew around the far side of the moon, his radio contact with Earth was cut off. He couldn’t even see it. He was later called the ‘loneliest man in history’ because for forty-seven minutes of each lunar rotation, he was the farthest person from Earth and more alone than anyone who has ever lived. It was just him and outer space.”

I shiver. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think about that a lot?”

“What’s a lot?” Phillip asks with a half laugh. “That level of complete solitude sounds appealing, sometimes.”

“I can’t even picture it.”

“Very few of us can, I think. Your turn.”

“Well… the King of England owns all swans in the country.”