Girl Out of Water(43)

A piercing scream comes from the backyard.

I throw my book to the side and jump to my feet. “Stay here,” I tell Parker. I’m not sure why. Instinct kicks in, and it just seems like the right thing to say.

I yank open the sliding glass door and rush outside into the beating rain. Heart pounding, throat thick, I scan the backyard for Nash but don’t see him in the downpour. Then another noise follows, this time more of a whimper. “Shit, shit, shit,” I mumble, my stomach knotting because the whimper comes from the empty pool. I run to the edge, push away my dread, and look inside. Nash is crouched in the middle of the concrete pit, helmet askew, holding his leg.

“Crap, fuck, crap, crap,” I curse, sitting down on the ledge of the pool and dropping in, my bare feet almost slipping on the rain-slicked surface. “Nash, are you okay?” I rush over and squat beside him in the stagnant half inch of sludgy water. “Let me see your leg.”

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers. His tears mix with the rain. “I wasn’t skating in the pool! I swear! I was bored, so I came out to skate, and it was wet, and I slipped and fell in—”

“It’s okay,” I say. “You’ll be all right. I’m not mad, I promise. Let me see your leg.”

Some relief sweeps through me as he removes his hands. There’s blood but not much. It’s all coming from a single laceration that doesn’t look very deep. And what’s even better, as I run my fingers over his leg, pressing lightly, he barely winces. Nothing seems to be broken. His scream was probably fear more than anything else.

“I’m sorry, Anise,” he says again.

“Don’t be sorry. It was an accident. Accidents happen.”

“I know, but they’re scary…like Mom’s.”

I’ve never seen Nash like this, so vulnerable, so somber. I guess Emery isn’t the only kid in this house who realizes Aunt Jackie’s car accident could have been much worse. “Your mom is okay now, and so are you. The accidents are over, and you’re both okay.” I hug him tightly.

“But bad things are infinite, right?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, just because Mom got into an accident it doesn’t mean she can’t get into another one, right? One bad thing doesn’t stop more from happening.”

My heart clenches, as my mind whirs for some kind of comfort to share. He’s right. Bad things are infinite. But I kiss his head and hug him tighter and say, “That’s true, but you know what else is true?”

“What?”

“Good things are infinite too.”

? ? ?

After further inspection inside and out of the rain, I’m relieved to find Nash’s injury is nothing worse than fright and a small cut, so after pouring on a ridiculous amount of rubbing alcohol to prevent infection, I bandage him up and expect everything to go back to normal.

But here’s the thing: Nash doesn’t want everything to go back to normal because apparently even the smallest wound for a nine-year-old equates to at least twenty-four hours of indulgence. “More ice cream!” he hollers, jumping up from the couch and hopping on one leg to the kitchen, even though both of his legs are totally fine.

“Me too!” Parker shouts. He climbs out of the armchair and follows Nash into the kitchen with his own bowl. Emery goes after them so Hurricane Ice Cream doesn’t destroy the kitchen again. She emerged from her room when Nash screamed and has stayed downstairs to help dote on him.

A few minutes later they’re back in the living room with an extra bowl for me. We bum around watching an old episode of Full House, the one where Stephanie accidentally drives a car through the kitchen, which feels a little too close to something Nash might do if he ever gets his hands on car keys, especially with the amount of sugar flooding his system right now.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Emery suddenly asks.

I turn to her. “For what?”

She gives me a weird look. “For the Fourth of July.”

The Fourth of July. Normally on the fourth, we throw a giant party on our back porch and a bonfire on the beach. Dad and I invite all of our friends, and we spend the day grilling and surfing and blasting music, and we spend the night roasting marshmallows and watching fireworks illuminate the sky and paint the ocean. Aunt Jackie and the cousins usually plan their trip around the celebration so they can join in on the fun.

Who will throw the party this year? Will Cassie find someone else to compete in the how-many-marshmallows-can-I-stuff-in-my-mouth-and-still-breathe competition? Will Spinner find someone else to late-night surf with despite being weighed down by burgers and hot dogs and guacamole? Will Eric—Eric… I never read his message from when I was at the river with Lincoln. I forgot about it, about him.

A little more than two weeks from home, and already my life and friends are slipping away. The thought churns my stomach. I put my ice cream on the side table. I have to FaceTime them tonight, or better yet, tomorrow to wish them all a happy holiday. I imagine all their tanned faces gathering around the screen so they can say hello and tell me they miss me and they love me and of course summer is boring without me, and they promise to not do a single exciting thing until I get back.

But what if no one picks up?

What if they’re too busy enjoying marshmallows and fireworks without me?