Russ and I can’t go anywhere or do anything; he doesn’t even want to risk a trip back to Miss Vie’s on Hansen Bay. I visit him in room 718 at Caneel, which requires me to sneak in the back way from the parking lot, or, if Russ has the yacht to himself, I visit him there.

I show him pictures of Maia. He wants to meet her but I’m not allowing that. Every time he leaves, I know I might never see him again.

Once you prove to me you’re staying here, I said, you can meet her.

June 24, 2015

Russ is leaving right before Carnival and he says he won’t be back again this summer, which means the earliest I’ll see him is September, but September is hurricane season and Caneel is closed, so it’ll most likely be October or possibly even November.

I considered traveling to the States for the summer. Lots of people here do it. But Russ says that he has some meetings with clients in Grand Cayman and Miami and then he and Irene are spending two weeks in Door County, Wisconsin.

I had never heard of Door County, Wisconsin, so I looked it up on my computer and what I found were photographs of lakes and barns and orchards and cute little towns with church steeples, ice cream parlors, and antiques stores. It looks like America in the 1950s. When I asked Russ what he and Irene did there, he said they hung out on the lake—fishing, water skiing, swimming. And then in the evenings they played cards, attended fish boils, listened to the loons.

He asked me how I would spend the summer and I tried to explain about Carnival—it’s a week of music, food, and dancing when nobody sleeps—and then the entire island needs a week to recover. I explained that Huck fished for blue and white marlin in the summer, which brought in a different kind of fisherman. And then in September, Maia would go back to school and everyone would pray there were no storms.

I told him four months was a long time to be apart. He said he knew that. Then he took me in his arms and kissed me and said that he realized our “arrangement” was unfair to me and he would understand if I wanted to find someone who could give me all the things I deserved—an engagement ring, a home, a future.

I said, “Yes, I should find someone else.” But I knew I wouldn’t. Because I love Russ. I didn’t tell him that. I want him to say it first. He didn’t say it, however, and what could I think but that he only loved Irene?

I kissed him goodbye and told him to have a wonderful summer. Enjoy the fish boils in Door County, Wisconsin, and the sound of the loons. I did slip another postcard into his duffel bag saying I would miss him. I didn’t warn him about it. If Irene happened to discover it, oh, well. Russ would have to explain or lie about who M.L. was.