CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND VACATIONS

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting the ocean in molten gold. Waves lapped against the shore, steady and unhurried, the brown noise punctuated by the distant laughter of children, the intermittent thud of a volleyball being passed around, and the occasional cry of seagulls circling overhead.

Contessa sat beneath a beach umbrella, watching.

Maggie lay sprawled on a towel beside her, sunglasses perched on her nose. “You know, normal people relax on vacation.”

“I am relaxed.”

Maggie lifted her sunglasses just enough to peer at her. Contessa sat perfectly straight in her chair, feet planted flat in the sand, arms resting rigidly on the armrests. Her gaze methodically scanned the beach as if she were waiting for an attack.

Maggie sighed. “Okay, no, that’s vigilance. Big difference.” She waved toward the ocean. “You could at least put your feet in the water.”

Contessa glanced at the waves rolling onto the shore. “The tide shifts unpredictably.”

“Yes, that’s how tides works.”

“It is also an unstable surface.”

Maggie pulled off her sunglasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Contessa. You agreed to this trip. The whole point of a vacation is to take a break.”

“A break from what?”

Maggie opened her mouth, then closed it. It was a fair question.

She tried again. “From… stress. From work. From—whatever it is you normally do.”

Contessa wore a thoughtful frown. “Vacations are an arbitrary ritual.”

“They’re a nice ritual.” Maggie sat up and grabbed her wrist, tugging. “Come on. Just try doing nothing for once.”

Contessa hesitated, then allowed herself to be pulled toward the water. The wet sand was cool against her feet, waves rolling up to her ankles before receding.

She stood there for a long moment, watching. The ocean pulled away, then returned. A pattern. Predictable in its own way, despite her earlier assessment.

Maggie grinned. “See? Not so bad.”

Contessa’s gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the endless stretch of sea and sky blurred together in an encompassing orange. Slowly, she exhaled.

“…Acceptable.”

Maggie groaned. “You cannot be this difficult.”

Contessa’s lips twitched. “It is… nice.”

Maggie huffed but smiled. “Better.”