I wish I did that.
Maybe I should go there now. But I can’t leave, not until I see the man back on the shore.
Now, I’m waiting for two people.
The water starts feeling cold against my skin. I look down–– my backpack’s soaked.
I hold the kite with one hand and tug at the beach towel with the other, pulling it out of my backpack.
It’s still dry, but it won’t be for long as I wrap it around my shoulders. The brief warmth feels good against my skin, but as I look down at my legs, all I see is blotches of dark blue and veins screaming from under my pale skin.
Most cars are gone except for my ride and a truck. That must be him–– the man I can no longer see in the water.
Straining my eyes, I try to find the slightest indication that he’s out there, swimming, that he knows–– like I do–– that Frankie must’ve pulled out of that mayhem.
My eyes are wet like the shore, sky, and the trail, the footprints of that man washed away, my thoughts starting to spin frantically.
Something bad happened to her.
The thought sears my brain, all the talks and words, and strings of events that put us on this beach today under this merciless sky, making a twisted, dark sense.
It all leads to this moment of quiet desperation when I stand on the beach, wet, flogged by the wind and rain and specks of sand, looking at a vast ocean that has turned on me just like that. As if I made it mad at me that I immortalized its beauty, lodging it into my camera’s memory.
I slide down to my knees, water dripping from my hair, one hand clutching the kite, the other holding my towel closed around my body.
I’m probably past the moment of doing anything useful here.
I should collect our things, walk up that cliff, reach out to someone, and ask for help.
I don’t know what help would do to us.
It can’t make the bad weather go away or dry my tears, the sand, or the towel on my back.
It can’t turn back time and find the inspiration to ask Frankie to stay with me on the towel, maybe have a piece of fruit and talk more about Florence, the Italian sunsets, the city explored from a rooftop, or the mysterious man watching me play my violin.
Hope slips out of me as the seconds tick by, and no resolution presents itself to me.
I shift, my knees sinking into the wet sand when my eyes leave the stretch of water in front of me and go north where the shore and the ocean seem to have reached some sort of truce, the water gliding smoothly across the ground.
The ocean floor must be flatter there, more forgiving.
I spot a man and woman walking from the water, and I don’t need to take a second look at them to know that it’s them. Who else can be there if not them?
He holds a protective arm around her tiny shoulders while I feel the tears of joy lodging into my throat.
She seems okay. And he sure is okay too, although a wave breaks across his torso. The ocean has less might there.
And she did the right thing swimming with the stream, not getting sucked into the hell in front of me.
The dark-haired man must’ve known it too. That’s why he surfed over there from the beginning.
Only, I didn’t know it, but I promise myself I will never let Frankie go in the water under this kind of weather conditions ever again.
She waves at me while I push up and straighten.
It’s still raining, and the wind is still blowing but to me, if feels like sunshine again.
I can still make plans on spending the night with her and the rest of the summer and my life until we’re older, like Sasha and Olivia.
Forget about eating out.
All I want is to get home, have dry clothes on my back again, and eat in my kitchen.
Smiling, I exhale a long sigh of relief.
I have to thank that stranger.
6
LUNA RAE
I turn the key in the ignition for the second time. Nothing. Frankie shudders in her seat at my right.
“Are you serious?” she mutters, her lips blue.
“We’ll get home as soon as possible,” I say, stubbornly trying to start our ride.
Water trickles from my hair and chin, and my lips taste like sand and algae.
“Has it done this before?”
“No. It hasn’t been driven much.”
“Maybe, that’s why.”
“Of all days... Come on.”
I flick my hand. The board is dead.
“Maybe it’s the battery,” she suggests.
“Maybe.”
“You can call someone.”
“Yes, I can, but I want to be able to leave right now.”
The rain covers the windshield, making it impossible to see outside, the wet gray blending into the headlights in front of us.
“He’s still here,” Frankie notices. “Maybe he has a jumper cable.”
“He’s probably in the bathroom, changing himself, which we should’ve done if we had dry clothes.”
Frustrated, I crash my fist into the steering wheel.
“This is the worst day ever.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her stare.
I flick my eyes at her, offering her a faltering smile.
“I’m sorry. It’s not that I’m not grateful or anything. I just wish we could get home, have some hot soup or something and laugh our asses off.”
I break my gaze away from her.
“You have to admit it. It wasn’t the best start of our vacation.”
“Talk about yourself,” she mutters, drawing my eyes back to her.
A trembling grin lights up her face.
“I was saved by a hot guy. I don’t know about your vacation, but mine started just fine. Plus, I wasn’t drowning or anything.”
I give her a pointed stare.
“What? I wasn’t,” she says. “It’s just that the water sucked me away.”
“Seriously?” I ask, sick with worry.
“No. It wasn’t that. I figured it was better if I floated away and get to a place where it was easier to swim to the shore.”
We share a stare in silence, her grin fading.
“It helped that he grabbed me and dragged me to the shore.”
“I told you you’ll never get into the water without me.”
“Relax, I’m fine. I’d be way better if your fancy car would work.”
A knock on the window at my side makes me jolt in my seat. My hearts flutter in my throat.
“Shit. He scared me.”
I crack the door open–– the kind stranger who helped us get back to our car pins his eyes on me.
The sky lights up somewhat, tossing a glow over his features.
Damn... He is handsome.
With his steely gaze, full lips, and strong jawline, he makes you stare at him for days.
He traded the wet suit for a rain jacket and tracksuit pants, but his hair is still wet.
“Is everything okay?”
Drops of rain fall on my lips.
“Okay...? Yes, we’re okay,” I say, springing back to reality. “My car doesn’t start. Do you happen to have a jumper cable? It might be the battery.”
He looks at me and my wet T-shirt that’s stuck on my soaked swimsuit before he moves his eyes to Frankie, who looks like a wet dog, shivering next to me.
He swings his gaze to his truck.