Seven Tears at High Tide

by C. B. Lee

  “It was. I am not the most graceful.”

  Sally laughs, putting away the box now that Morgan’s picked something out.

  Morgan sets down his pelt and puts Kevin’s sweatshirt atop it, then pulls the orange thing up to his waist and keeps the sealskin in his sight. He’ll have to find a good hiding spot, somewhere he can—

  “Wait, you know Kevin? Kevin Luong?” Morgan asks.

  Sally raises her eyebrow. “Yeah, I went to high school with his sister. It’s not a big place, Piedras Blancas. You just move here?”

  “Yes! Where can I find Kevin? I met him yesterday and would love to see him again.”

  Sally considers Morgan, tilting her head and looking at him so seriously that Morgan thinks if she were a selkie, she’d be reading his heart and intentions. Maybe she is. Morgan smiles at her, hoping she finds him acceptable.

  Sally smiles back and points toward the town. “Follow this road till you get to Main Street, make a left on Arroyo Seco. The Luongs live in the blue house at the top of the hill.”

  “Thank you so much,” Morgan says, brimming with excitement and pleased with himself for figuring out this human thing. He even talked to someone and didn’t embarrass himself! Well, not too much.

  Morgan pulls on Kevin’s sweatshirt, reveling in the soft feel of the fabric, and clutches his pelt to his chest. He waves goodbye to Sally and heads down the beach, looking for a good place to hide the sealskin. It will have to be where few humans would go, or could go. Maybe someplace underwater, weighed down by a rock? Morgan considers this and then rejects the idea, not wanting to push his human form to hold a breath longer than needed. But the water idea is good. Maybe a place unreachable at high tide.

  Morgan follows the beach, noting on the cliff face the heights high tide will reach, and soon finds himself on a shore studded with rocks worn smooth by the surf. He smiles, looking at all the lovely shades and textures—earthy pinks studded with dark grains, mottled brown stones glistening wet, dark pieces striped with sharp contrasting white, and standing out every now and then, a piece of brilliant green. He already knows: Kevin would love this.

  Farther down the shore, Morgan finds a cave tucked into the cliff face that will be completely submerged at high tide. He steps inside and touches the cool stone wall. The cave is empty, and Morgan’s footprints are the only ones on the soft sand. He can hear the roar of the ocean behind him and the distant echo from the cave winding through the rock.

  He tucks his sealskin behind a boulder, secures it so it won’t drift away at high tide and stands up, satisfied with the way it seems to disappear into the shadows of the rocks around it. There will be plenty of time to find the perfect hiding place in this cave later. Morgan has a Request to fulfill and someone he has to meet.

  Three.

  “Obfuscate,” Kevin says, reading the flashcard. “Something… something difficult,” he mutters to himself, and then flips it over and reads the definition. “Close enough.”

  His parents are talking loudly in the kitchen. Kevin sighs, looking at them through the window from the backyard. It’s a lovely day, the kind that beckons for a trip to the beach. From here, Kevin can see beyond his blue two-story house down to the sparkling ocean, just a ten-minute walk away. So much for the backyard being a non-distracting study environment. He hasn’t gotten much done in his room, with his laptop and the endless temptations of the Internet. His rock collection could do with some reorganization and he does have some new specimens that need labeling, which seems infinitely more fun than studying.

  But Kevin is trying his best, taking one of the tips from his SAT study guide and sprawling out in the backyard in the grass with his flashcards. He forgot that his parents loved to open all the windows during the day, so their voices carry into the backyard.

  “I can’t believe Nate emailed you,” his dad grumbles.

  Kevin’s ears perk up in interest. Has someone been hitting on his mom?

  “Mike, it wasn’t like that.” his mom replies. “It wasn’t flirty at all. He was asking about you, actually, wondering how we were, how the kids were, whether you’ve mentioned him. He just seemed concerned that you hadn’t responded to his last email. Something important, from the sound of it.”

  Mike scoffs. “He’s sent me three emails in the last week. I can’t believe he has the nerve to tell me I should offer him a guest lecture for my summer class, like he’d be doing me a favor. And now he’s emailing you to bother me about it. Don’t believe those rumors that he’s on sabbatical, Rachel. I heard he lost his funding and now he’s paying for his research out of his own pocket, gone off and taken this bright young graduate student on a wild goose chase—”

  The doorbell rings, and Kevin can see his mother pat his father’s arm and then go to answer the door.

  “Why’d this Nate guy lose his funding?” Kevin calls. Academic gossip is more interesting than his flashcards.

  “Ethics violations,” Mike says.

  Kevin frowns in disapproval. He loves science. This guy deserved to lose his funding if he was doing something unethical. He’s about to ask why Nate would be allowed to continue his research independently when his mother comes back into the kitchen.

  “Kevin, your boyfriend is here!” Rachel says through the screen door, smiling warmly.

  Kevin drops the flashcards, and they scatter all over the grass. His boyfriend? Miles must have—he must be here to apologize, to ask Kevin to take him back. A memory of Miles staying for dinner one night, tugging up the collar of his shirt to hide a stray hickey, looking awkwardly at his feet and saying, “No, no, we’re just friends” to his parents immediately comes to mind. If Miles told his mom he’s Kevin’s boyfriend—Kevin’s heart beats rapidly, and he jumps up, nearly tripping over the pile of books at his feet. He tugs his hair into place and straightens his T-shirt, just in case.

  Kevin races into the house, past his mother, who pats him on the shoulder. “Remember sunblock, sweetie.”

  It’s not Miles standing in the hallway looking at the walls, but the pale boy from yesterday. He’s barefoot, wearing a wet pair of baggy orange swim trunks and Kevin’s violet-blue school sweatshirt. He’s got the hood pulled up and is yanking on the drawstrings until his face is framed.

  “Hey.” Kevin tries not to sound too disappointed for the boy’s sake, as the brief, fragile bubble of hope inside him shatters as quickly as it had formed.

  The boy turns, smiling shyly at Kevin.

  “I didn’t quite catch your name yesterday,” Kevin says. “Are you okay? How did you know where I live?”

  “Kevin Luong?” His voice has a pleasant, melodic lilt, and he enunciates the words carefully.

  “Yeah, that’s me.” Kevin is growing more curious by the minute. He doesn’t remember if he introduced himself yesterday, but it’s possible. “Who’re you?”

  The boy nods and does a funny little dip that might be con­strued as a bow. “I am Morgan,” he says, looking unwaveringly at Kevin. Morgan’s eyes are a bright, warm brown, flecked with gold and green.

  “It’s nice to meet you…?” Kevin is not sure what to do. Morgan stands in the hallway, alternating between smiling at him and looking at the faded peach wallpaper, the paintings on the walls done by Kevin’s sister and the shoes scattered in the entryway.

  Morgan must have asked around for his address to return the sweater. But he seems to be wearing the sweater quite happily and looks as if he has no intention of returning it.

  “Come, it is low tide by the coves now. We can go questing for the rocks you spoke of,” Morgan says, extending his hand.

  Kevin just stares at him. “Give me a second—I’ll be right back.” Kevin darts to the living room where his mother is settled on the couch with a stack of essays she has started to grade.

  “Mom, why did you say he was my boyfriend?”

  She raises her eyebrows.
“He was very polite and introduced himself with ‘I love Kevin Luong,’” she says, looking at Kevin over the papers in her hand. “I just thought you hadn’t introduced him to us yet, sweetie. I’m very happy for you.” She sighs. “Ah, young love.”

  “Mom, I don’t—we’re not—I only met him yesterday. He got pulled under in a current and I helped him out.” Did Morgan really tell his mother that he loved Kevin? “I don’t even know how he found out where we live.”

  “That’s not too difficult, especially with your name, you know.”

  Kevin must have introduced himself to Morgan.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. All anyone has to do is ask where Professor Luong lives,” Rachel says. “So the kid has a crush on you after you rescued him. I don’t blame him; you’re a great catch. What I don’t get is why you’re still here talking to me when a very cute boy is waiting for you in the hallway.”

  Okay, so she has a point. Morgan is very cute, even if a little weird. And going back to studying seems very unappealing.

  “Fine.” Kevin runs to his room and changes into his swim trunks, rubs on some sunscreen and darts back to the front door, where Morgan is crouched, staring at the shoes.

  “My family has a thing about shoes in the house.”

  “So many different adornments.” Morgan seems fascinated by the pile of shoes and pokes at the haphazard knots on the laces of Kevin’s hiking boots.

  “Yeah, we do have a lot of shoes. I should put some of these away; I don’t even wear this pair anymore.” Kevin shoves aside a pair of old tennis shoes.

  Morgan holds his hand out to Kevin as though he’s expecting a handshake, so Kevin takes it to be polite, but then Morgan just holds on. His skin is cool to the touch, an unexpected pleasant contrast to the heat of the day.

  Kevin blushes and lets Morgan lead him out the door.

  “Look, I hope you don’t think this is a date, or anything,” Kevin says as they walk toward the shore.

  Morgan gives him a strange look. His brown hair looks a lot lighter in the sun, as if it’s drying. Was it wet earlier?

  He doesn’t respond to Kevin’s statement, just stares back. Kevin keeps the eye contact, waiting for an answer.

  Morgan’s round cheeks are starting to pink in the sun; his freckles stand out prominently, scattered generously like stars.

  Kevin catches himself staring and decides to break the silence before it gets weird. “All right, I guess not. Why did you tell my mom you loved me? You only met me yesterday.”

  Morgan shrugs.

  “Not really a talker, huh?” Kevin waits for a response, but Morgan is staring at the sky, breathlessly watching a cloud unfurl. It’s pretty awesome looking, all light and fluffy, and Kevin doesn’t remember the exact name of this type of cloud or he’d try to be impressive. They watch the cloud stretch a little on the wind, until Morgan smiles and looks expectantly at Kevin. Kevin finds himself smiling back and jerks his head toward the trail, and they keep heading forward.

  Morgan walks as though he’s unsure of his feet, unsteadily making his way down the trail to the shore. Morgan seems fit; his limbs are compact and thick with muscle, but he seems uncoor­dinated. He gets better as they continue, and Kevin remembers that when his older sister broke her leg she had a similar stride when she started to get back on her feet.

  Morgan is wide-eyed at everything; he pauses to watch a file of ants walk across the trail, plucks a piece of sage and strokes the velvet leaf. Kevin laughs, picks his own piece of sage and breathes in the clean, bright scent. He waves it at Morgan, who steps for­ward and sniffs cautiously and then inhales deeply.

  They get to the shore in good time. It is low tide; the water has receded enough that the various cliffside caves are accessible. The trail is steep, but Kevin knows every step by heart. He grabs Morgan once, twice, a few times to stop him from tripping. Sea­gulls caw overhead, and the sound startles Morgan, but when he finds the source he laughs and throws his head back; his whole body shakes. The joy is infectious, and Kevin has no idea why the seagulls are so funny, but he finds himself laughing too, especially when Morgan scrunches up his nose and tries to imitate the noise.

  They comb the shore side by side. Kevin keeps an eye out for bits of sea glass in addition to any pieces of jade. They’re more likely to be found at Jade Cove, but that’s an hour north and Kevin doesn’t have a car. He hopes they’ll find a few good pieces here.

  Morgan is good company; he avidly watches Kevin test a rock’s hardness by scratching it against his steel pocketknife. “Quartz,” Kevin announces happily, showing Morgan the pinkish white stone. Kevin knew it was quartz before he tested it, but never­theless he feels a thrill of pride when Morgan’s eyes widen and he scratches Kevin’s knife with the rock until the blade is covered in marks.

  “All right, it’s not gonna turn into something else while we’re holding it,” Kevin says, grinning.

  Morgan seems to think the test is fun. He picks up every stone and tries to scratch his knife with it. Kevin laughs, surprised at how much fun he’s having. Kevin’s never had a good time col­lecting rocks with anyone. His own parents both love hiking and the outdoors, but his dad prefers to spend hours by the tide pools, watching all the creatures within them, while his mom likes to stop to read aloud and would be happy to find a spot to sit and journal. His older sister, Ann, does not like hiking; any nature exploration she does is in her video­games. And Kevin doesn’t have any friends his own age to go hiking with. He once tried to take Miles, but Miles complained about Kevin’s “stupid little rock collection,” and never wanted to come back.

  Kevin’s used to hiking alone, but having another person here, breathing in the salty air, admiring the view, going at his pace, marveling at the various rocks with him—it’s really nice.

  Morgan turns rocks over, follows behind Kevin companionably, and even listens to him talk about the difference between the Obispo and Paso Robles formations in the bluffs they hike past. When Kevin points out the soft ashy white streaks of volcanic ash embedded in the Obispo siltstone standing out from the younger Paso Robles sediments of earthy clays and sand, Morgan’s eyes widen and he says, “Wow.”

  “Can you imagine what it was like? Volcanoes spewing fire and ash in the air, and all that’s left are these memories in the shape of cliffs crumbling slowly to the sea.”

  Morgan nods.

  Kevin has to stop himself when he realizes he’s talking a mile a minute, especially when he says, “Looking at a spectacular cliff face is like time travel, to see what the Earth was like millions of years ago, and to touch a stone that has transformed through the ages—it’s like magic.”

  He said as much to Ann when he got really excited on their family vacation to the Grand Canyon, and she just raised her eyebrows and laughed, called him a time-travelling wizard.

  “Sorry, you probably think that’s weird.”

  “Oh, not at all.” Morgan grins broadly at him and dimples form in his round cheeks. The sun is high in the sky and it looks as though low tide will be over soon. Kevin’s bucket is empty; the pickings are slim today, and he’s about to ask if Morgan wants to head back to town and get lunch when Morgan finds a piece of jade, wet and shining in a lovely dark green, smooth and worn. He presents the stone to Kevin. “That’s a nice one for your collection,” Kevin says. “Good eye. Maybe sometime we can head up to Jade Cove sometime; there are a lot of bigger pieces.”

  Kevin tries to hand the rock back, but Morgan shakes his head. “For you.” He presses the stone into Kevin’s hand and closes his fingers over it, resting his hand atop Kevin’s. The touch is slight but warm, and Kevin hopes he isn’t blushing when Morgan moves his hands away. “Thank you,” Kevin says, turning over the stone, admiring the color of the embedded jade. He looks up at Morgan, thinking about the gesture and Morgan’s invitation to come out here. “How did you know I liked collecting rocks?�
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  Morgan smiles. “I heard.”

  “What do you mean, you heard? I’d never met or talked to you before yesterday. Do you know someone from the high school or something?”

  There’s that smile again.

  “What were you doing out in the water, anyway?”

  “Swimming.”

  “Swimming,” Kevin repeats. “Is it a habit of yours to swim naked early in the morning?”

  Morgan picks up another rock and turns it over in his hands; his long, pale fingers run over the smooth surface. It’s another lovely piece, a darker stone with a white vein of quartz running through it. He hands it to Kevin with a smile, then bends to look at more rocks.

  “Thank you.” Kevin drops the stone in his bucket. “You didn’t answer my question. I’m not judging you or anything, if you do like to, um, swim naked.” Kevin’s cheeks heat up—oh no, he just looked over at Morgan’s backside again. Kevin forces himself to stare at the stratifications on the cliff face and tries to push all thoughts about bare wet skin from his mind.

  Morgan laughs and he turns and gives Kevin a look that Kevin interprets as, “Yes, I do. So what?”

  All right, well, that’s answer enough. Kevin gets uncomfortable when people make fun of his hobbies. Kevin still reorganizes his rock collection based on whether or not two specimens would get along, a habit from when he was a kid and imagined all rocks had secret, silent conversations with one another. Kevin has no intention of making fun of Morgan’s hobbies. So Morgan’s an endurance swimmer in training. And a naturist. Maybe. “But you are new in town,” Kevin says, hoping to get some information.

  “Yes, my family just moved to the area.”

  Kevin nods, satisfied. “Hey, do you wanna check out that cave?” An opening in the cliff face farther up the shore fills up at high tide, but right now would be a perfect time to explore it. He hasn’t made it this far on his own, has never felt brave enough to venture in alone, but right now seems like a good time.