Aud shakes her head, biting her lip to hide a smile. “You can never be serious, can you?”
“Sure I can.” I make a churlish face and tickle Janie. She giggles and squirms, scattering cookie crumbs over her tutu, flaunting the dimple she inherited from my brother. I help her brush the crumbs from her lap before movement out the window catches my eye, and all the merriment’s knocked clean out of me.
The boy from the beach.
The tall, dark boy I hauled from the ocean a few hours ago, walking down the sidewalk in jeans and a burgundy T-shirt. His hair’s dry now, short on the sides, longer on top, and his eyes reflect the sun’s light as he speaks to the woman he’s with. She’s old enough to be his mother, wearing loose-fitting khaki pants and an indigo blouse, her hair tucked under a silky scarf. They’re carrying two grocery bags apiece.
It’s difficult to tear my attention from the boy’s angular face, his graceful gait, his scrupulous half smile. His presence tugs at me, like there’s an invisible thread spanning the space between us. The same thread that kept me from turning my back when he walked into the waves this morning.
“What are you staring at?” Audrey asks. She leans forward to follow my gaze, then groans with unmistakable disgust—ugghhh. I turn away from the strangers outside to focus on my sister-in-law. Her eyes hurl daggers through the window, and she’s crumbling her madeleine to pieces.
“You okay?” I ask.
She looks resentful, jarringly so, but she shakes it off like it’s nothing—like I don’t know exactly what she’s thinking about the tawny-skinned boy and his scarfed companion.
“I’m fine,” she says. She kisses the top of Janie’s head, as if the contact tethers her to the here and now.
When I look out the window again, the boy and the woman have disappeared.
MATI
The people of Cypress Beach stare.
Like they are curious.
Like my parents and I unnerve them.
Like we are doing something wrong.
They stare like they are wishing us away.
I hate their stares.
It is worst when I go out with Mama,
because she does not pass.
A silken hijab, blue or pink or soft green,
hides her hair and proclaims herother.
I am other, too.
The girl from the beach thought so.
Her expression roared loud as the rolling waves.…
Stupid boy, battling the sea with his hands.
Stupid boy, swimming alone in biting water.
Stupid boy, clamming up when questioned.
I’ll wither if I ever see her again.
I’ll wither if Ineversee her again.
Mama prefers that I escort her to the market.
