Where the Stars Still Shine(61)

“Thank you for bringing me.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He positions his mask over his eyes again. “We’re just getting started.”

I move my own mask back into place and lower my face into the water again. We swim together over the colorful reef, silently pointing out brown stingrays as they ruffle along the bottom, wings dancing like a dress on a clothesline. Alex dives down and brings back a crab that tucks itself up into the shell on its back, refusing to come out until it’s returned to its home beneath one of the ledges. On his next trip to the bottom, he returns with a sand dollar.

“Do you want to keep it?” he asks, when we break the surface.

I shake my head as I hand it back. I don’t tell him that I won’t need any souvenirs to remember this trip. “It might have a family that would miss it.”

He laughs. “You might be right.”

The sand dollar tumbles end over end through the water until it lands on the sand, and we continue along the reef.

Alex catches my arm and points at a brown shark moving at a lazy pace near the bottom. He submerges and swims toward the fish and I feel my heart slide up into my throat. Although the fact that Alex is swimming after it should be reassuring, I’ve never seen a shark anywhere but on television. It jets away, and when Alex comes up from the bottom, we surface again.

“How do you do that?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“Swim down like that.”

“You just hold your breath as if you’re in a swimming pool,” he says. “It’s exactly the same.”

“I’m afraid I’ll accidentally take a breath through the snorkel and drown myself.”

“It’s pretty unlikely,” he says. “When you’ve already got lungs full of air, there’s not really room for more.”

“I never thought about it like that.”

“Maybe start slow,” he suggests. “Draw in a breath, hold it, and just swim down until your snorkel is completely submerged.”

I try it once, then again, and it is exactly like holding your breath in a swimming pool. On my third attempt, Alex takes a picture of me underwater, my hair fanning out around me like sea grass.

“See?” he says. “Easy. Next time try to go a little deeper, until you’re able to gauge how long you can stay down. And with practice you’ll be able to stay down longer.”

We snorkel until the sun is high and warms my back through the neoprene skin, and I ache in places I never knew I had muscles. The swim back to the shore is easier with the waves pushing us from behind, but by the time we reach water shallow enough to stand, I’m trembling from exertion. Alex removes his mask and fins and walks the rest of the way to shore, shaking his head like a wet dog. Water sprays out in every direction as his curls spring back to life. I swim until my belly scrapes the sand, then flop on my back, letting the waves lap at my legs.

Alex laughs as he brings me a bottle of water from the cooler. “You look like a mermaid.”

“A tired mermaid.” The first sip is brackish from the salt on my lips, but the next is cold and clear, and I can almost feel it moving through my veins. “How do you say ‘mermaid’ in Greek?”

“Gorgóna. Or maybe, for you, seirína would be better.” I’ve never heard him speak the language before. “Deleázontas tous naftikoús stin katadíki tous.” The words flow easily, warmly. I love how it sounds.

“What does that mean?”

“Luring sailors to their doom.” He sits down on the sand beside me. “And then, in Greek mythology, there are nymfes.”

“Nymphs.”

“Right.” He nods. “But they are more like sea goddesses.”

“I think I like the idea of being a sea goddess rather than someone who lures sailors to their doom,” I say.

“I can see that about you.” He shoulder-bumps me. His skin is warm against mine. “You don’t strike me as a vengeful mermaid.”

“Could I lure you into taking me to lunch?”

Alex laughs. “Den tha íthela na apogoitéfso tin theá.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint the goddess.” He ignores the sand on my skin as he kisses my temple, then moves into the water at my feet and removes my fins. “One of your more wrathful family members might try to smite me.” Alex lifts my leg and kisses the inside of my knee. Heat flashes through me like summer lightning. Remembering. He grins and I know we’re remembering the same thing.

“I’d never let anyone smite you,” I say.

He winks at me as he peels off my boots and helps me to my feet. “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that.”

“And here I thought I was your first mermaid.”

“Goddess,” he says. “You are my first goddess.”

As I follow him up the sand to the truck, warmth rises up in my chest. It’s silly, I know. Just a joke. But I kind of like the idea of being someone’s goddess.





Chapter 19


My shirt doubles as a cover-up, and my hair is knotted and thick with salt, but I’m not out of place among the sandy feet and dripping swimsuits on the patio of the beachfront snack bar. We order baskets of fried clams and shrimp at a pass-through window, and eat them at a plastic picnic table beside a group of tourists speaking a language neither of us can identify. Alex squirts ketchup on his french fries, oblivious to the trio of teenage girls who stare at him as they walk past. His bare foot rests lightly on top of mine beneath the table and he offers me a fried shrimp in exchange for one of my bigger clam strips. When we finish lunch, we return the borrowed gear to Dave at the dive shop and head back toward Tarpon Springs.