When We Collided(24)

“See?” I present Jonah like he’s a prize on The Price Is Right. “Normal. And cute! Good job, me. Let’s go.”

I grab his hand and try to tug, but his feet stay planted.

“Nice to meet you.” He reaches his other hand out to my mom. “Sorry—Vivi just told me outside that I had to be normal. I haven’t had adequate time to prepare for this role.”

My mom smiles genuinely at this, amused as she shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m Carrie. Vivi tells me that she’s been spending time with your five brothers and sisters.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He glances at me, almost sympathetically, as if I do not adore every moment with them. “There are a lot of us.”

“And where do you fall in the lineup?”

Is this really more important than me walking on the beach with this very cute boy?! I ask my mom in an attempt at telepathy. What are you doing to me?!

But Jonah’s already answering the question, perfectly comfortable standing here while I am clenching his hand like, Let’s go. “In the middle. We separate it into three oldest and three youngest, bigs and littles. I’m the youngest big.”

“Sounds like fun. I’m glad Vivi found you all. Okay.” She smiles at Jonah, then at me, dismissing us. “Thank you for indulging me. Not too late, Viv. Just a walk.”

“Hmph,” I say, my back already to my mom, while Jonah calls, “Nice to meet you!”

There’s a path of worn wooden steps down to the ocean, and we take it. Jonah tells me about working at the restaurant, about the bustle and the customers and the funny line cooks who work with him. When we reach the part of the beach that is littered with driftwood debris, he bends his knees, offering himself for a piggyback, and I climb on. He hitches me up and steers us until we hit the shoreline, and I clamber down from his back and press my feet into the sand.

A single yellow flag beats against the ocean wind, and the sky stretches for every mile of ocean, and then longer and farther. We’re the only people as far as the eye can see, and all the world feels like a private show, screened on the endless black sky. The universe is unfurling its whole self to us, arms wide and beckoning.

My feet veer toward the water. “I just have to touch it, you know? It’s the former dolphin in me.”

“Careful.” His voice is soft, a warning in the warm air. He’s such a dad, I swear to God; it’s like he can’t stop himself. “The riptide can be really strong.”

I know this, of course. That’s what the yellow flag is for—to notify vacationers that the water at night can be grasping and ironfisted.

“I’ve always loved that the tides are caused by the moon,” I explain. I give him my most enticing grin, trying to melt him into a more relaxed version of himself. “So far away, but so beautiful. So powerful. I can always feel it tugging at me, too.”

“Umm . . .” He laughs, but he’s not mocking me. No, I’m not sure if Jonah could ever really mock someone, not the way that other people do.

“Maybe you don’t feel it yet because you weigh more than me. But I feel it, as real as a lasso around my waist.” I hold my arms up, as though a rope has a hold on my midsection, and I follow it toward the water, toward the moon. It’s cold, the water, but I’m up to my calves before Jonah speaks up.

“Don’t go too far . . .” he warns. “It’s not like Verona Cove has lifeguards.”

I throw my sweater onto the sand so it will be dry for the walk home. “Oh, Jonah. Lifeguards are such a myth.”

“What? Lifeguards are not a myth. We just don’t have them here.”

My knees are wet now, and I spin to look at him, talking louder so he can hear. “Do you really think that a lifeguard—one single person—could stop the universe from taking you if it really wanted you?”

“I mean, I think that’s why they have mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.” He emphasizes the last word like he’s making his point with a five-syllable fancy word that he clearly misunderstands.

“Well, sometimes the universe gives you back, when it doesn’t want to take you yet—it just wants to remind you that it could, if it wanted to.” The water hits the hem of my nightgown, and now my whole lower half feels supported. Ah yes, my soul knows this feel of submersion, of fluidity and bottomless freedom.

“Vivi, you’re getting soaked. And you can get in serious trouble for being in the water after the beach closes.”

He has waded in ankle-deep, but I’m up to my waist, and we have to raise our voices to hear each other. It’s freezing cold, but I can’t even really feel it because I’m loving this way too much.

“Jonah, for God’s sake, you used to be an otter. Give in to that instinct.” I fling my arms out, and they reflect pale moonlight, with dark freckles like pinholes on my skin. “Give in, Jonah Daniels!”

He makes it up to his knees, and I am so confused by his reluctance. I’m telling you, these beach townies, they simply do not appreciate the majesty that sidles up to their backyards. I can practically see Jonah’s brain clicking away: Must. Calculate. Risk. But I want him to shed the grown-up parts that he needs to care for the littles, and, just for tonight, do what makes him feel something.

But I like the way his dark hair whips in the summer wind, so I’ll forgive him for his pragmatism. I move toward him so I’m only thigh-high in the water, and I press my wet palm against his dry forehead. A drop of salt water slips down his nose, and I say, “Jonah Daniels, I baptize you in the name of the God of Midnight Swimming, may he—”