by Katie Cross
What if the one-night stand with Mom was just an accident? Did cheating get to be an accident? They’d likely been drunk at the time—Mom once swore that the last time she ever let alcohol cross her lips was when I was conceived—but did that make them less responsible for the outcome?
No.
Except Alison wasn’t “responsible” for my existence either. Yet, she’d have, or even already had, a burden to bear in the scenario. Perhaps that was just life. The cumulative result of choices made out of our control, but that still affected us. Sometimes drastically.
All this time I’d been motivated by a self-righteous indignation against the decision Anthony made for me. He decided for me that I wouldn’t get him as a father, and his absent legacy and cold reception to the pregnancy led to a natural wariness of men for my mother.
Why did I get set aside?
Why wasn’t I worth the truth?
But now I couldn’t help but wonder if Anthony had so much to lose, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not over a child that would only make everything fall apart. Didn’t the Dunkin name have generations of wealth behind them? With that kind of family came expectations and pressure, which could have all crashed because of a rash decision made while drunk.
No, he didn’t get off the hook because of family privilege. No one forced alcohol down his throat. Perhaps his decision to let me go and sign over all parental rights hadn’t felt personal to him at the time, but it had been personal to me.
My thoughts agitated like the water because I could, unfortunately, see both sides of the situation. As a child, it had never added up. How could a parent ignore a part of them walking in the world? Weren’t children just portions of the soul embodied in different people? As an adult, I saw the shadows and shades of gray in the issue. It still didn’t sit right, but maybe it didn’t ache as much these days.
Amidst all of it was the ringing hollow of the question: why?
A storm swept closer to the sun, while the rest of the world remained a bright, endless blue behind me. Like a reminder that storms occupied or darkened some—but not all—of our space.
A voice interrupted my dark reveries.
“Hey.”
I turned to find Jayson there, and the warm smile on his expression swept the angst out from under me. He sat on the sand next to me. I smiled, relieved to have someone whisk me away from such a depressing back-and-forth.
“Hey.”
“How was yoga?”
He wiggled a little as he situated himself in the sand, then put his arms on his bent knees. Wind whipped by from the inward-bound storm, churning the waves into higher peaks. The first tendrils of the cloud bank slid in front of the sun and sent a shadow across the sand. The burning prickle of sunshine on my skin faded for a moment, and I enjoyed relief from the intense warmth.
“Ff-fine. It’s been a w-while since I’ve t-tried it.” I lifted an arm and rubbed the back of it, where the muscles felt more stretched than sore now. In the aftermath, it really did feel good.
“Vik swears by it,” he said idly, “because men rarely attend yoga classes and women tend to love a yogi, I guess, but I could never get into it.”
“Did you tell B-bastian to do it with me?”
“Not guard you, or anything. He wanted to see if he could stretch out his forearms because they fall asleep at night after all his saw work. I told him to keep an eye out for you if Victoria was around.” He met my gaze. “I know you can take care of yourself. I’ve seen you at gunpoint and you were cool as a cucumber.”
The reminder sent a little barb into my chest. I’d spent years of my life picturing Jayson rescuing me from various terrible situations, like a true hero coming to life. Of all of them, that was the one I’d never imagined. Now he’d always remember it and I wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
“N-not that c-cool,” I said.
“I spoke with Victoria while you were at yoga.” He leaned back, palms pressed into the sand. He wore a pair of board shorts and no shirt. It took all my considerable mental strength and concentration not to stare at the muscles that moved across his back with each breath, or gently pat away the grains of sand on his shoulder. Only his chosen topic took me away, and I kept a heavy gulp at bay.
Was he still in love with her?
Did he want to reunite?
Maybe I’d been hasty in my suggestion that we act like we were dating. Now maybe he wanted an out and my vacation was about to crash and—I forced my mental spiral to halt. Several moments had passed and it would be awkwardly quiet soon.
“Oh?”
“I think she’ll leave us alone.”
The easy way us rolled off his lips caught me by surprise, and my stomach smoldered with it. As if we were a unit. A pair. Meant to be instead of just pretending to be to get Victoria off his back. In those moments when it was easier to pretend, it was also easier to get lost in the dream.
Relief followed quickly. If nothing else, he didn’t want to chase her. Jayson had never been much of a ladies’ man through the years. He seemed too busy doing other things—most of them dangerous—that he didn’t pay much attention to dating. Such an attitude had made things tolerable for me. I wasn’t sure I could sit by and watch him ogle someone like Victoria.
“G-good. She d-doesn’t frighten me.”
Why I insisted on him knowing that, I wasn’t sure, but it felt important enough to emphasize. Did I want him to see me as courageous the way I saw him? Yes. Like I still wanted to fit into the special Merry Idiots club, or something.
“I know.”
There seemed to be nothing left to say, so we both fell quiet. I closed my eyes and tried to soak up the sounds, the grit of sand, the brush of wind. Then I felt a gentle, warm touch on my arm and my eyes fluttered back open. I looked up to see Jayson grinning at me, his palm on my arm, just above my elbow.
“Want to go swimming?”
I hesitated, glanced at the water, then back to him. A slight blush crept up my cheeks as I swallowed.
“I c-c-can’t s-s-swim,” I whispered. Mom had a thing against the reservoir water and swore that amoebas lived in it, so we never went near the lake. Pineville didn’t have a swimming pool—at best a few knee-deep creeks with winter snowfall—so water hadn’t ever been a big part of my life.
“Stay with me and I’ll keep you safe. Deal?”
I sucked in a sharp breath, stuck on the precipice of don’t you dare get closer to him and take this opportunity right now! Serafina would kill me if I didn’t go with him and I could mentally hear her excited squeal when I told her. Finally, my heart won out over common sense, even though the battle was gory.
I smiled.
“Let’s d-d-do it.”
Ten seconds later, I seriously regretted my hasty excitement.
Jayson tugged me down the beach, a kid-like haste apparent through his whole body as we headed to the water. I wore a tank top and loose shorts over a tankini, an outfit Serafina had picked out because the turquoise color made my skin pop. But I hadn’t bought any of this with the intent to swim in it.
Now, we plowed right toward the ocean.
“I-I-I r-really d-don’t know the w-water all that w-w-well.”
The surf splashed his ankles and splattered my legs. His fingers interlaced with mine, tightening his grip.
“I got you, Dagny.”
The words, so simply spoken, nearly gave me a heart attack. How many years had I dreamed of those words? How many times when I was lonely, the world was dark, and my quiet heart wanted a hero, had I thought of him saying those things? He threw them out so carelessly now, as if the sentiment cost him nothing.
When, to me, it was everything.
“B-b-but—”
My protestation slowed when we slipped into the warm waves. They played around my calves and slid back, taking sand away from under my feet. The water was deliciously perfect and a silky caress on my bare skin. Humidity lay thick on the air as the sun slipped behin
d the storm cloud. Wind danced past me, a gentle breath on my cheeks.
Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad in the water.
“It is n-nice,” I said with a sigh.
“It’s better when you’re all the way in it.”
So many thoughts spiraled around me. The massive ocean, ready to drown me. The way the waves tugged and pulled. Undertows. Sinking and not being able to get back to the top. But it wasn’t as scary as it could have been, because he held onto my hand. He gently pulled me closer, keeping me near his overly-capable strength. Jayson was oblivious to the mental screaming in my head. He kept going into the water with a steady chatter that eased some of my tension. Hearing his voice, feeling his hand in mine? Yes, I’d head toward one of my greatest fears if he were at my side.
“See?”
The water lapped around my shoulders now. Unlike the reservoir, which was chilly in the summer, this felt like the perfect bath. I eyed the waves, but they were mostly gentle roars as they hurried by. He still hadn’t let go of my hand, which I’d locked into mine with a tight grip. I barely managed to keep from clutching him as close as possible.
“N-not bad.”
He grinned. “You don’t like water?”
“I d-d-do.”
“You never swam in the reservoir?”
My mom has a deathly fear of amoebas and dark water, I thought, but lightly said, “N-not much.”
A fastidious wave crashed over my shoulders and slopped around my neck unexpectedly. I gasped as water filled my ears. Drops dotted my lip with a salty tang. Jayson tilted his head back and laughed. Spray decorated his hair with a few sparkling glimmers, and all levity fell out of me like a bottom dropping out.
He was so beautiful.
He moved closer to me, no doubt in an attempt to help me feel safer, but it only made everything worse. My gaze darted to the empty beach and back. We weren’t far from the bungalow, and far enough out that people wouldn’t recognize us unless they walked into the surf. Based on the empty beach, I didn’t think that would happen.
There was no reason to pretend here, but I had a feeling he wasn’t pretending. And that was more frightening than anything else. Another wave slapped the side of my face and I gasped again.
He laughed again, but pulled me closer. Something in the pillar of his body next to mine stabilized me in the water, but it also set my heart to racing. One of his hands lingered near my waist under the water, and I felt an occasional brush from his fingertips. Chills skimmed my back everytime.
“They often come in three,” he said. “So there will be—”
His words drown in another crash of ocean water into my left ear, this one bigger than the others. Shocked by the sudden, wet slap, I sucked in a sharp breath. Water filled my nose as the wave swept me down. He tightened his hold and pulled me out of the water seconds after I dropped, but it still felt like a frightening eternity passed before I found air again.
“You good?”
Sputtering, I hold onto his forearms to regain my breath. My nostrils burned from sea water as the waves slid away until it was only waist deep again. The storm that had agitated the waves passed steadily through, but the ocean carried the rage from it now.
I tried to answer, but only coughed.
“Hold on,” he called.
His arms came around me as he braced his legs and put his back to the sea. Seconds after, another wave crashed into us, but he was immobile as a rock against it. We swayed in the movement together. He pulled away, soaked, but sparkling. A wide smile covered his face, and I thought the raw touch of his skin on mine would burn marks into me.
“You good?” he asked again.
“F-fine.” I nodded, even though my face and throat burned. “Th-thanks.”
“You get used to the feeling of salt in your throat, I promise. C’mon, I’ll show you how to body surf now that you’re already soaking wet.”
I stopped to peel off my tank top, then chuck it back to shore. He glanced back, then quickly away, without saying anything. I kept a wary eye on the water as we stepped back into the deeper area, closer to the waves. Maybe I could pretend like I was scared and get his arms back around me again.
“D-don’t you have B-best Man d-duties or something?”
He shrugged. “I’d rather be out here with you.”
Part of me wanted to slap him for saying the exact right thing. For stretching my heart out to a size bigger when it was already too big for him. But the greater part of me wanted to tackle him into the water and really give my lungs a reason to burn. The idea of kissing the breath out of him swept me into a short fantasy that I forced myself out of.
No, I shouldn’t go there.
Couldn’t.
Wouldn’t go there.
This vacation had an expiration date. When we returned to Pineville, would I be the same Dagny as before? Probably. Normal life and routines had a habit of sucking the fun and adventure out of life. I’d be the barista in jeans and a sloppy bun again.
And to what end?
Why did that have to be my future?
Ever since graduating high school, I’d made myself the promise of tracking down Anthony Dunkin. It was the only promise I’d ever made myself, even though I had other focuses, like college. The promise to find the man responsible for me, even though he’d put a price tag on my worth and turned his back without another word, had kept me going. When I hadn’t battled for survival the past few years, I worked hard for that promise.
Now, I’d found him.
When I returned to Pineville, there’d be an empty loft and an empty purpose. Even the pallet furniture had been a means to save money to finally meet him, so what was there to save for now? Something. But I didn’t know what yet. Like a buoy set adrift on tempestuous waters.
This trip was about more than helping Hernandez and my slapping eyes on my biological father. This trip closed a door when I didn’t have another one to open. An ending with no new beginning.
Which made it feel a bit like a betrayal when Jayson Hernandez and his warm arms, thick shoulders, and boyish smile trapped me in sweet affection that wasn’t even fake. No one watched from the beach. No one was here to impress or frighten away. What he gave to me today was sincere. The gift I had always wanted. And I felt like I couldn’t take it, because where could we go from here? If it was right back to normal life, my heart would crush in new ways it never had before.
“You want to learn how to body surf?” he asked, and reached out for my arm when another round of waves moved past us. This time, he’d taken us out farther. The water lapped round my neck, but the waves didn’t break on top of my head here. Instead, they lifted us higher and I floated in a stomach-lightening sensation that I could get used to. They broke closer to shore, so I felt safer here.
“Wh-what is b-body surfing?” I asked.
He nodded toward the waves. “Some people get small boards, smaller than surfboards, and ride these waves on their stomach. You don’t need one. You can just ride these waves in toward the shore with your body.”
“Sh-show me?”
“My pleasure.”
He winked and shook his head, clearing the water droplets that had collected at the end of his hair, which curled slightly. A second later, I thanked my instinct to have him go first as he drifted by, muscular back flashing, and attempted to ride in on a wave that deposited him underneath a curl of white foam instead. He came up sputtering and laughing, which made me giggle.
The storm over the sun cleared as I attempted to body surf for the first time and the second. Light glimmered its way from under the clouds while I sometimes surfed successfully, but mostly tried to not die. A few people appeared here and there on the beach, but no one came into the water with us. We laughed, splashed, and he saved me more than once. His touch felt like fire against the temperate water and silky sea foam.
Finally, drenched from playing, I sat on the shoreline to catch my breath. How long had passed? Hours? Water crashed around my
toes and drifted past, then slipped back by. Hernandez settled at my side, breathless from laughing.
“Thanks.” His white teeth flashed for a moment with a quick smile. “It’s been awhile since I’ve just . . . had fun.”
“W-without risking your l-l-life, you m-mean?” I quipped.
He snorted and rubbed a hand through his hair to clear the water out of it. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, that’s fun, but it’s also something else. It’s intensity more than fun. Challenge, maybe?”
I made a sound in my throat. Many had been the times that I questioned his idiocy, particularly after watching glimpses of the C-tape with Bastian and his other friends. I thought climbing into a stove-sized cardboard box with a helmet on and pushing it down the stairs was the most cringe-worthy one.
Even more times I had wondered if Hernandez just wouldn’t come back to school one day because they’d taken things too far. My fragile heart with spun-sugar-strength hadn’t been able to take it then, and it seemed even scarier now. Like the stakes had increased, and though he wasn’t mine, there was suddenly more to lose.
Which is why my heart nearly stopped when he put a hand under my chin and quietly asked, “What are you thinking so hard about, Dagny?”
The ocean waves rolled around us, warm at my waist like a hug before it slipped away. When had we gotten so close to shore? I forced my mind back to his question. I didn't want to answer it. I couldn’t have lied to him if I wanted to, and my voice slipped into the melodic timber on its own.
“I’m thinking about you.”
Water dotted his thick eyelashes. His arm found my waist, hooked it, and pulled me closer. I slipped into him without resistance.
“What about me?” he asked, voice husky and low.
There was no space to answer. I didn’t know who moved first, but all of a sudden his lips crashed to mine. The surf must have slammed into my back, but I felt only the pressure of his hand on my neck as he stabilized us in the waves. The slant of his lips competed with mine. The grit of sand beneath my palm as I braced myself against his gentle, loving attack. Awareness came back into me all at once when he pulled away. Only a breath apart, we stared at each other.