The moment she lay down, her little eyes drooped.

I couldn’t blame her.

The past few days had been immensely tiring. For everyone. I hadn’t been to sleep yet (neither had Estelle from talking all night) and the antibiotics had boosted my system so fast I forgot I was knocking on death’s front gate only a week ago.

I felt okay, but my energy levels were at half capacity and the temptation to nap with my daughter rather than dress in clothing (heaven forbid) and make polite conversation (kill me now) was not appealing.

But this woman was Estelle’s friend. She was a part of my wife’s life.

So I made the effort. I dressed. I closed the door on my sleeping infant and sat through the necessary introductions before fading into the background and indulging in watching Estelle interact with someone she loved.

It was a novelty, especially seeing her act younger than I’d seen. It was also a great way of peeking into her past and learning more about the woman I loved.

At some point, I raided the kitchen for food. The hiss of the refrigerator and blast of cold air shocked me until I remembered how modern conveniences worked.

For the first few days on the cruise ship, lights had been magical, carpet fantastical, and wallpaper so much smoother than palm tree bark on the walls. However, the oddity wore off after a while.

We’d been raised with this stuff. Almost four years away wasn’t long enough to erase such imprinted memories, and I hated how easily I fell back into opening drawers for utensils and grabbing plates to eat off rather than a carved coconut bowl.

For an hour or so, Estelle and Madeline gossiped, catching up on years’ worth of intrigue. They nibbled on grapes (holy hell, I’d forgotten how amazing they were) and drank coconut water from a bottle (rather than monkey up a tree and carve into a fresh one).

I sat back as a spectator, letting the wash of feminine voices crash over me as they discussed what Madi had done after Estelle’s ‘death.’ How she’d cleaned Estelle’s apartment and removed the furniture for the new owners. How she’d contacted the morgue and ran the necessary wake and send-off.

Apparently, she also took custody of a cat called Shovel Face (even though she was mildly allergic) and gave him a loving home until he passed away in his sleep a year ago.

Estelle sniffed with sadness that her pet had gone but squeezed Madi’s hand in gratitude for giving him a good life.

For a while, I couldn’t understand how these two women ever became such great friends. Estelle was quiet, serious, with the occasional hilarious quip that showed wit, charm, and selflessness. Madi on the other hand was loud, vivacious, and wore every emotion as if they were a decoration.

Halfway through the never-ending conversation, I investigated the fridge again and uncapped the first ice-cold beer I’d had in almost four years.

Nothing else mattered after that first sip.

I reclined in manmade comfort and drank perfect tangy beer. Which was good because Madi had a lot to say.

I must’ve dozed at some point because my eyes shot open as Estelle jolted upright, slapping a hand over her mouth. “That—that can’t be right.”

Madi nodded solemnly. “It is. Once your funeral was over—you would’ve loved the coffin I chose, by the way—the paperwork all flowed to me. You, sneaky miss, didn’t tell me you’d put me as your emergency contact.”

Estelle’s gaze flickered to mine.

The energy around the room changed.

I pushed upright in my chair, pinching my eyes to banish sleepy cobwebs. Once again, the craving for glasses reminded me I was no longer stranded. I could go out right now and order a prescription.

But something told me I needed to hear this.

Whatever this was.

Estelle twirled her fingers. “Well, after my parents and sister died...who else did I have?”

Madi nodded sadly. “I know. And I was honoured when the lawyer called me. He said as I was the only one listed on your personal documents and the responsibility of dividing your estate fell on my shoulders. I’d already dealt with your landlord and sold off what I could of your possessions.

“You’ll be pleased to know the money went to the animal shelter in Blacktown you support and I kept your jewellery.” She waved her hands. “Anyway, that’s off-topic. What you really need to know is the deal you signed before stupidly boarding that helicopter took control of your artistic material. They bought your previous songs off YouTube, and your written lyrics not yet recorded. They released the ones completed but sold the remaining unrecorded rights to other artists.”

Estelle gasped, shaking a little. “Wow, I didn’t know they could do that.”

“Well, you should’ve read the fine print.” Madi patted Estelle’s knee. “Don’t worry. I did, and I made sure I got everything you were owed, even if you were dead.”

“But...Madi...that means...” She pressed her hand against her cheek. “Oh, wow.”

“Yes, wow.”

I placed my empty beer bottle on the side table, sitting forward with my hands steepled between my legs. “Anyone want to tell me what this gibberish means? Why the hell has my wife gone white?”

“Wait, wife?” Madi gaped.

Estelle flinched. “Oh, yeah. Um...surprise?”

“Surprise?” Madi’s eyes narrowed. “First, I find you chose death over me. Now, I find out you got married and I wasn’t your maid of honour.” She clutched her heart. “You’ve wounded me. For life, I tell you. Life!”