“No.”
“But—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Fine, yes, I’ll get you two fifty.”
“What sorta content?”
“Oh, you’ll love it!” he says brightly, and I know he’s taking the piss. “The art of sliding into someone’s DMs. Why an eight-thousand-dollar TV is worth the spend.”
“How many pieces a week?”
“As many as you want,” he says impatiently. “You know what it’s like. They churn these things out in droves. Just remember—”
“A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T-A-L-L-Y,” I spell out before he can rib me again.
“Gold star for you.”
I rub my forehead, and he adds, “Oh yeah, don’t use your real name by the way…Or your other one.”
I don’t answer.
“Melanie?”
“Yeah,” I say finally. “I’ll take it.”
“Delighted to hear it.”
There’s a heavy air of expectation on the line. I think of the water. The missing people. Donny Granger. The darkness in this town. All of it rushing together like a wave about to crash.
I speak quickly. “Meet me at foura.m.”
His voice drops. “Where?”
Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. “The end of Soldiers’ Road. The woods.”
“…Why are we meeting there?”
I end the call.
THEN
He hates the ocean. Hates himself for loving it once.
God, he loved the water before that day. Just couldn’t get enough of it. Fishing, swimming, surfing, diving. Before school and after, rushing off the bus, throwing his bag on the sand, plunging straight into that blessed water until the sky grew dark. Sometimes Dad had to drag him out by the ankles, laughing the whole time.
He’s eight years old when it tries to take him. Waist-deep in the ocean, hot sun burning his shoulders.
A wave rose up so high it blocked out the sun. It looked like the entire ocean was folding in half. Panic swelled in his chest. His knees buckled as the wave dragged him toward its mouth. Loud. God, it was loud, that rising roar.
And then crashing down it came like a fist to the head.
The shock, the cold, the breathless panic as he’s slammed under. He kicks his legs, terrified and confused, which way is the surface? Cold, cold, can’t breathe. The wave, its cold angry hand plunges him down. Holds him there. Wants him to drown. Wants him dead.
Can’t breathe. He kicks hard, stops. He doesn’t know which way is up. Lungs ache. Can’t breathe.
Images.
Mum peeling potatoes at the sink.
