Jamaica Sunsets

But her other instinct - stubborn, exhausted, kind of angry - kept showing up too. She’d waited too long for time off. She’d spent too many months pretending her own joy was optional. And somewhere between the voicemail and the silence that followed, Talia had texted again, a softer, more careful message that made Simone’s throat tighten.

Please don’t hate me. I know it’s last minute. I talked to the concierge. They’ll handle your transfer. Just - go. I’ll make it up to you when you come back. I promise.

Simone’s phone screen lit again. Another notification, another reminder that her flight was real even if her best friend wasn’t. She swallowed and moved to the living room, where her suitcase sat half-open like a confession. A sundress lay on top, the color a warm sunset orange that made her feel like she could be glowing even without trying. She’d picked it because Talia always said Simone looked like sunshine when she wore color.

Simone touched the fabric, then pulled her hand away like it burned.

“Okay,” she said aloud, to the empty room, to the kettle, to the version of herself that still believed she could be brave. Her voice sounded too flat in the air-conditioning hum. “Okay. Think.”

Her laptop was still open on the counter, airline site ready, and Simone clicked to her itinerary. The numbers were unforgiving. Refund: partial. Change fee: ridiculous. Canceling would cost her money she didn’t want to part with, and it would also cost her something worse - momentum. The kind you don’t get back once you let it go.

She sat on the edge of her couch, knees tucked in, and pulled up her email chain with the resort. She’d booked a great place - one Talia had sent her links for, one that promised shade and calm and a pool she could sink into without negotiating with her own mind. The resort’s confirmation email was warm and polished, full of phrases meant to soothe. Simone scrolled until she found the part about transfers and check-in times, the little practical details that made her feel like the trip had a spine.

She could do this. She could follow instructions like they were a life raft.

Her phone buzzed again. A call this time. Talia’s name filled the screen like a dare.

Simone stared until the screen dimmed, then she answered on the second ring, because she wasn’t trying to be cruel - even when cruelty would be easier.

“Talia,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Talia blurted immediately, like she couldn’t afford to ease in. The sound of her voice came through slightly tinny, but it still carried that familiar rhythm - quick, apologetic, and determined to make Simone feel better even when it was impossible.

Simone leaned her head back against the couch cushion. The fabric smelled faintly like detergent and old books. “You already said that.”

“I know.” Talia exhaled, and Simone could hear the kind of movement that meant she was pacing. “Listen. I didn’t cancel because I don’t want you to go. I canceled because I can’t be there for you the way you deserve right now.”

Simone’s fingers tightened around her tote handle. “So you want me to go alone.”

“I want you to go,” Talia corrected, softer. “And I want you to stop talking to yourself like you don’t deserve fun.”

Simone blinked hard. The words landed too close to the bone. “I didn’t cancel. You did.”

“I know.” Talia’s voice cracked on the edge of another sentence, and Simone could picture her - hair twisted up, makeup smudged from crying or stress, biting her lip like she could keep the truth behind it. “But if you cancel too, I’m not just losing a trip. I’m losing you to that… to that quiet part of you that thinks it’s safer to stay home.”

Simone’s stomach turned. She didn’t like being seen that clearly, not by anyone - including her best friend. “You don’t get to psychoanalyze me, Talia.”

“I’m not,” Talia said quickly. “I’m trying to protect you from feeling punished. From feeling like you’re the one who got left behind.”

Simone closed her eyes. Her mind flashed to the last time Talia had canceled something - something smaller, earlier in their friendship - and how Simone had swallowed her disappointment like it was polite. She’d told herself it didn’t matter. It always mattered.

“Have you even looked at my email?” Simone asked, because she needed something concrete. “The flights. The - ”

“I talked to the concierge,” Talia said again, like she could keep saying it until Simone believed. “They’ll handle your transfer from the airport. You’ll have a driver. You’ll have someone to greet you. I don’t want you wandering around Jamaica looking lost.”

Simone almost laughed. The idea of her being “lost” on a trip she’d paid for felt ridiculous. She’d lived in New York long enough to navigate subway delays and crowded sidewalks without breaking. Still, the thought of arriving alone - no familiar voice, no shared jokes, no person to grab her elbow when she stepped into a new place - made the air in her lungs feel thin.

“Why are you making this sound like a rescue mission?” Simone asked.

“Because I don’t know what else to do.” Talia’s voice went quieter. “Because I feel horrible, and I can’t undo it. But I can at least give you a chance to have what we planned.”

Simone sat up, the couch cushion shifting under her. “I don’t want a chance. I want you.”

Silence filled the line. Somewhere in it, Simone heard Talia’s breath, uneven, honest. When Talia spoke again, her tone was different - less rehearsed.

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “And I didn’t want to say it on the first call, because it sounds dramatic. But Simone, I’m not okay. I’m dealing with something that’s bigger than a canceled vacation.”

Simone’s throat tightened. The emotional conflict shifted in her chest - less about the logistics now, more about the truth behind the cancellation. She hadn’t known what kind of trouble Talia meant, only that it existed.

“Are you safe?” Simone asked, the question coming out sharper than she intended.

“Yes,” Talia said immediately, and the speed of it eased something. “I’m safe. I just can’t leave right now.”

Simone rubbed her thumb over the edge of her phone case. “Then why tell me to go like it’s a solution?”

“Because you’re the only person who makes me feel like I can still be myself,” Talia said. “And I need you to go be yourself somewhere beautiful. Without me. For once.”

Simone swallowed. She could feel anger trying to stand up again - anger at being asked to carry the disappointment alone - but beneath it was something else. A softer kind of hurt. Not just betrayal, but abandonment of a plan. Of a shared version of the future.

“Okay,” Simone said, and hated how small it sounded.

“Okay?” Talia echoed, hopeful.

Simone looked at her suitcase again. The sundress. The lotion. The little things she’d packed without thinking too hard about who’d be there to laugh with her when she tried on a new outfit. She imagined herself on that resort balcony, watching the sky turn gold, and then imagined it - just Simone. No Talia to point out a sunset like it was a secret.

“I’m thinking,” Simone said instead, because she needed time to decide without saying yes too fast.

“Simone,” Talia warned, gentle but firm. “Don’t punish yourself. If you cancel, you’ll spiral. I know you.”

Simone’s eyes stung. She hated that Talia could predict her. She hated that Talia might be right. Simone’s default response to disappointment was to tighten up and retreat. It was safer to stay in familiar rooms where nothing surprised you.

Jamaica would surprise her. Jamaica would demand she step outside herself.

Simone stood, slow, and walked to the kitchen where the kettle sat like a forgotten prop. She poured water into her mug even though she wasn’t sure she wanted tea. The steam rose anyway, warm against her face.

“What do I do if I don’t know who to be there?” Simone asked, and the words surprised her with their honesty. “What if I feel stupid? Like I’m pretending I’m having fun while I’m actually… lonely?”

Talia’s voice softened so much Simone could barely hear it through the phone. “Then be lonely for a minute. And then - go to the pool. Sit in the sun. Order something you wouldn’t order here. You’ll meet people. You always do.”

Simone almost argued - no, she didn’t always. She just knew how to be polite and quiet. She knew how to stay on the edge.

But she also remembered her last birthday dinner, how a stranger had complimented her smile and Simone had let herself accept it. She’d been surprised by that kindness, by how easy it felt to receive.

“Fine,” Simone said, and the word tasted like commitment. “I’ll think about it. I’m not canceling yet.”

Relief rushed through Talia’s voice. “Thank you.”

Simone stared out the window at the street, the late afternoon light fading into gray. She felt the weight of the decision settling in her body like a second heartbeat. “Text me the concierge contact again.”

“I already did,” Talia said. “It’s in the email. I also sent your transfer details.”

Simone’s stomach fluttered. Talia had already been doing the things Simone couldn’t. That was what friendship was - showing up, even when you couldn’t show up in the way you wanted.

After Simone hung up, she sat at her counter and opened the airline app again. The refund window blinked like a threat. Her thumb hovered over “Cancel Trip” until her skin tingled from how hard she was gripping her phone.

She forced herself to scroll to the resort confirmation. Transfer details. Check-in. Breakfast hours. A number for guest services, and another for “special requests.”

Simone exhaled and let her shoulders drop. “No,” she whispered, not to the app, but to the version of herself that wanted to hide. “I’m going.”

She clicked “Change Flight,” even though there wasn’t a change to make. The site asked for payment adjustments and then, when she tried to back out, it showed her a new option - keep the current flight, no penalty. Like the system had been waiting for her to choose.

The act of booking felt less like clicking buttons and more like stepping off a ledge. Her card information was already saved. She entered the last confirmation code, and the app spun for a moment before displaying: Trip Confirmed.

The screen went calm. The world didn’t explode. Simone’s apartment didn’t turn into Jamaica. Yet her chest loosened in a way it hadn’t all day.

She let out a shaky laugh that sounded almost like relief and almost like grief.

Her phone buzzed again - this time a text from Talia with a string of emojis and one sentence: I’m proud of you.

Simone stared at it, the letters blurring. Proud felt strange. She didn’t feel proud yet. She felt like someone about to walk into a room where everyone else knew the rules.

She grabbed her tote and moved around her apartment with purpose, folding her sundress into the suitcase like she was packing for a future that didn’t require anyone’s permission. She tucked in her swimsuit. She added a light cover-up, then hesitated, fingers hovering over the fabric as if it might be too much for someone traveling alone.

Her mind offered up a series of what-ifs - what if she arrived and felt out of place, what if she didn’t have anyone to share the first drink with, what if she spent the whole week watching other people laugh in pairs.

She shoved the cover-up deeper into the bag anyway. The zipper caught for a second on a loose thread, and Simone pulled it free, smoothing the fabric with her palm. It was such a small moment, but it felt like practice for the bigger ones.

When she was done, she went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her skin had that New York dryness, her hair still in its everyday shape. She lifted her chin, meeting her own eyes like she was daring herself to believe she could be different in a different place.

“Simone,” she said, testing the name in her mouth like it belonged to a brave person. “You’re going.”

The words didn’t erase the doubt. They just made room for a new kind of fear - fear with direction.

Later, when she sat at her dining table with her phone propped beside her reservation details, her thumb traced the resort name again and again. Jamaica waited. The pool waited. The sun waited, indifferent to her nerves.

She imagined the moment she would step off the shuttle into that hotel lobby, hearing the air conditioning rush cool over her cheeks, smelling something tropical - flowers, maybe citrus, maybe salt carried in on the breeze. She imagined the greeting desk attendant smiling at her like she was expected, like she belonged there.

And then she imagined the silence that would follow, the empty space where Talia should have been.

Simone’s stomach tightened, but she didn’t cancel. She didn’t hit “refund.” She didn’t call her best friend back to ask her to change her mind.

Instead, she opened a new message thread and typed a single line to Talia, then stared at it until she added another.

I’m booked. I’m going. Call me when you can.

She sent it before she could overthink it.

Her apartment stayed the same - same street noise, same dim light, same half-sorted laundry in the corner. But Simone felt something shift. Not the end of loneliness, not the guarantee of happiness. Just a decision made with her own hands.

The question that followed her into the quiet was simple and sharp: How would she be okay in Jamaica when the only person who knew her softness wasn’t there to witness it?

She set her phone face down and listened to the hum of the refrigerator, letting the uncertainty stay alive in her chest - because it meant she was still moving toward something.

End of chapter one. 11 more chapters in the full book.