It had been the brightest part of Joey’s day when she’d gotten to chitchat with the mail guy Salvador—about his mother, Jasmine, who was going through chemo, about the controversial new sculpture installed in the elevator bank. Then Salvador would reach for the door. Okay, Josephine, he always said to signal his exit, sheepish in his keeping her from her Very Important Work. He pronounced the first part of her name Joss and enunciated each syllable so fully it was like even her name itself was a thing he cared for. She was always sad as he slipped out the door, the click behind him practiced in its softness. She hadn’t thought about Salvador all this time, and somehow his memory made her feel sad.

All this had filtered through the sieve of Joey’s mind by the time the Florida sun again kissed her shoulders. Sometimes she wondered about it—how big were the things that jangled around in her head. Not just big as in numerous, but big as in important. Salvador was important, and she didn’t think she’d ever told a soul about him.

“You know, I once had a friend named Salvador,” she said to Leo, without realizing he was talking to someone on land. “Oh, sorry.”

Leo turned to her with a look of distracted curiosity. He unscrewed a handle of vodka and poured some into the two red Solo cups that had materialized. “That’s Lucas. He’s responsible for the upkeep of this beaut until I officially take over.”

From down below, Lucas lifted a hand from the hose he was spraying on the pavement and waved.

“So how about it, Jonesey?”

“How about what?” She eased herself into the chair across from the captain’s seat.

“A little spin? I’ll have you back for your lunch.”

“Oh. Well, okay. Might as well have some fun on the side of our not-fun.”

Leo handed her a Solo cup, then he pulled a lever, and the boat rumbled to life. “Exactly.”

As Leo maneuvered them out of the harbor, baby waves lapped at the side of the boat and then crashed in pools of white froth.

“So Jonesey?” said Leo as they sped toward open water.

“Yeah?”

“How about you tell me about your friend Salvador?”

*  *  *

They anchored far out, the waves knocking periodic love taps against the yacht, having opted for a level of intensity to complement Bob Marley crooning aboard.

“I love that you already have a plant on the boat,” said Joey, touching the glossy leaves sprouting from the gray concrete pottery on the floor. “It’s so you.”

Leo was applying sunscreen to his chest in lazy swipes, employing no obvious method at achieving full coverage. “It’s the first thing I did to christen it. Buy a ficus. Plant and sea. All you need in the world. Blue and green are the best colors.”

“Is that a fact?”