her.
Two young boys skim-board along the shoreline. They leap onto flat boards at the water's edge and ride them, sometimes for surprisingly long stretches. Sydney knows, from personal experience and the memory of a long, painful bruise, that it's not as easy as it looks.
"Want to go to the knees?" Sydney asks.
She expects Julie to demur, but the girl, in a moment of bravery, lets go of Sydney's hand and ventures farther out on her own. In a few steps, the knees are reached. When a wave comes, the water touches the tops of her thighs. Sydney watches Julie go rigid, and then relax as it recedes.
"How do you feel?" she asks when she is at Julie's side.
"GOOD!" Julie shouts, as if Sydney were a hundred feet away. "I'M OKAY."
"GREAT!"
"SHOULD WE GO OUT FURTHER?" Julie asks.
"NO. THIS IS FINE."
Julie and Sydney stand in the water, looking out to sea. Julie dips once into a wave and shoots up like a rocket, the water sloughing off her like booster debris. An ultralight passes overhead. Sydney cannot see the pilot, even though the machine is low to the ground. There was a time, not so long ago, when she'd have said to herself, What a kick, but those days are gone now. She has a momentary thought of her aviator. The sight of any flying machine, large or small, brings on thoughts of Andrew. (The day she met him at the Boston Marathon, which on a whim she had decided to enter. She stopped just at the point where he had veered off the track. He was bent at the waist, panting for breath. Sydney offered him her water bottle, and he staged a physical comeback right before her eyes, as if his sudden life's goal was to impress her.) Sydney suspects it will be this way all her life. She wonders what could possibly trigger reciprocal memories on Andrew's part. A psychology textbook? Hair that is no color anyone can describe?
Sydney's legs are so numb she's lost communication with her feet. "So, what do you think?" she asks Julie, whose attention is on a young woman in a wet suit surfing fifty feet away from them.
"She's good," Julie says.
"No, I mean about heading back."
"Oh," Julie says. "Sure." She watches the woman catch a wave. She puts her hands to her mouth like a megaphone. "GOOD ONE!" she shouts.
When Julie and Sydney turn to head for shore, which appears in the interval to have come to greet them, Sydney sees Jeff, still in tennis whites, standing at the water's edge. In his hand is an empty bottle of Poland Spring, which he waves in greeting.
Sydney remembers with dismay her sagging tank suit with its sprung legs, more visible now in the bright sunshine than it was the night before. Julie leaps out of the water to tell her brother her good news--a lifelong fear conquered. Well, almost conquered. Sydney watches as Jeff hugs his sister, allowing her to soak his shirtfront.
"Who won?" Sydney asks when she emerges from the water.
"They did," Jeff says. "Ben is something else."
"I hope it was fun."
Jeff's hair is darker now, pasted to his head with sweat. "Vicki's changing into her suit. We thought we'd go for a swim. How's the water?"
"Ice," Sydney says, wiping her hair from her forehead.
"Sounds good."
"I'll get some towels," Julie offers, running ahead. Sydney decides, watching her, A child in a woman's body.
"That's a great thing you just did," Jeff says. "No one's been able to get her to go near the water in years."
Sydney thinks to herself: You can't have been trying very hard.
"Were you there?" Sydney asks. "The day of the riptide?"
"It was awful." Jeff flips the empty plastic bottle between the second and third fingers of his right hand. "Did Julie tell you what she said to my father?"
"No."
"When my father reached her, Julie was holding on to the boogie board. She looked right at him and said--amazingly calmly, given the situation--We're going to die, aren't we?"
"Was your father frightened?"
"Yeah, I think he was. He was pretty sure he could get himself back to shore, but he was afraid Julie would
Two young boys skim-board along the shoreline. They leap onto flat boards at the water's edge and ride them, sometimes for surprisingly long stretches. Sydney knows, from personal experience and the memory of a long, painful bruise, that it's not as easy as it looks.
"Want to go to the knees?" Sydney asks.
She expects Julie to demur, but the girl, in a moment of bravery, lets go of Sydney's hand and ventures farther out on her own. In a few steps, the knees are reached. When a wave comes, the water touches the tops of her thighs. Sydney watches Julie go rigid, and then relax as it recedes.
"How do you feel?" she asks when she is at Julie's side.
"GOOD!" Julie shouts, as if Sydney were a hundred feet away. "I'M OKAY."
"GREAT!"
"SHOULD WE GO OUT FURTHER?" Julie asks.
"NO. THIS IS FINE."
Julie and Sydney stand in the water, looking out to sea. Julie dips once into a wave and shoots up like a rocket, the water sloughing off her like booster debris. An ultralight passes overhead. Sydney cannot see the pilot, even though the machine is low to the ground. There was a time, not so long ago, when she'd have said to herself, What a kick, but those days are gone now. She has a momentary thought of her aviator. The sight of any flying machine, large or small, brings on thoughts of Andrew. (The day she met him at the Boston Marathon, which on a whim she had decided to enter. She stopped just at the point where he had veered off the track. He was bent at the waist, panting for breath. Sydney offered him her water bottle, and he staged a physical comeback right before her eyes, as if his sudden life's goal was to impress her.) Sydney suspects it will be this way all her life. She wonders what could possibly trigger reciprocal memories on Andrew's part. A psychology textbook? Hair that is no color anyone can describe?
Sydney's legs are so numb she's lost communication with her feet. "So, what do you think?" she asks Julie, whose attention is on a young woman in a wet suit surfing fifty feet away from them.
"She's good," Julie says.
"No, I mean about heading back."
"Oh," Julie says. "Sure." She watches the woman catch a wave. She puts her hands to her mouth like a megaphone. "GOOD ONE!" she shouts.
When Julie and Sydney turn to head for shore, which appears in the interval to have come to greet them, Sydney sees Jeff, still in tennis whites, standing at the water's edge. In his hand is an empty bottle of Poland Spring, which he waves in greeting.
Sydney remembers with dismay her sagging tank suit with its sprung legs, more visible now in the bright sunshine than it was the night before. Julie leaps out of the water to tell her brother her good news--a lifelong fear conquered. Well, almost conquered. Sydney watches as Jeff hugs his sister, allowing her to soak his shirtfront.
"Who won?" Sydney asks when she emerges from the water.
"They did," Jeff says. "Ben is something else."
"I hope it was fun."
Jeff's hair is darker now, pasted to his head with sweat. "Vicki's changing into her suit. We thought we'd go for a swim. How's the water?"
"Ice," Sydney says, wiping her hair from her forehead.
"Sounds good."
"I'll get some towels," Julie offers, running ahead. Sydney decides, watching her, A child in a woman's body.
"That's a great thing you just did," Jeff says. "No one's been able to get her to go near the water in years."
Sydney thinks to herself: You can't have been trying very hard.
"Were you there?" Sydney asks. "The day of the riptide?"
"It was awful." Jeff flips the empty plastic bottle between the second and third fingers of his right hand. "Did Julie tell you what she said to my father?"
"No."
"When my father reached her, Julie was holding on to the boogie board. She looked right at him and said--amazingly calmly, given the situation--We're going to die, aren't we?"
"Was your father frightened?"
"Yeah, I think he was. He was pretty sure he could get himself back to shore, but he was afraid Julie would
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