They say in the moments before death, significant events rise to the mind, the last bubble of memory. I see my seven-year-old self running through a South African warehouse full of spider plants, great blooming things that sucked up Mother’s scent with their powerful odor collectors. Their spiky fronds grabbed at me as I shouldered past them, sniffing desperately though my nose was so swollen from crying that I could barely breathe. At last, I picked up a filament of Mother’s black currant top note. WhenI finally found her, she was looking at her watch. “Impressive, dear. That only took you seven minutes. I thought it would take at least ten.”
Incredibly, the ocean shifts, and my head pops up again. Though I strain to keep it above water this time, another wave crashes above me, and I can’t draw a breath before going under. The currents pull me this way and that, and I’m not even sure which way is up anymore. I’m a single berry trapped in a shaking mold of Jell-O.
I’m sorry, Mother, I blew it. May the news fall gently.
TWENTY-ONE
“THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INFATUATION AND LOVE CAN BE
MEASURED BY THE DISTANCE BETWEEN TWO PAIRS OF LIPS.”
—Justicia, Aromateur, 1836
A HAND CATCHESmine, and then his strong arms snatch me from the grave and gather me to him. I suck in air, sweet air. Just as I seize a lungful, I start to sink back under. But Court’s arm tightens around me.
“Mim, grab the board! Listen to me, grab the board. You can do this.” His voice sounds different than I remember, tighter, and I can hear him panting.
Despite the hundred-pound barbell attached to my arm, I throw it over the surfboard.
“Catch your breath,” he murmurs from behind me, arm circled around my waist. “You’re doing great. Think you can get your legs over?”
“Sure,” I pant. “Right after I”—gasp—“finish running this marathon.”
His grip tightens, as if he thought I might be serious. Perhapsit’s against lifeguard protocol to joke while you’re on a rescue mission. I accidentally kick him and he lets out a soft gasp.
“Sorry.”
“Relax for a second. I’ll just hold you.”
I muse at my stomach’s ability to do somersaults, even after its owner has been starched and hung to dry.
I rest in Court’s warm embrace until I can catch my breath again.
“You ready?”
No. “Yes.” I push myself up over the surfboard, aided by Court who pops up on the other side to hold it steady. Then I’m once again lying on top of the wobbly mattress. Court grabs the flat end, and with more power than I thought he had left in his engine, kicks us back to shore.
We slide onto the sand, my mouth so parched and salty that my tongue feels like a piece of jerky. I’m vaguely aware of Court handing me a bottle, and then I’m glugging water down greedily. A searing sunset lights the ocean on fire.
We pull ourselves back up the cliff, though the going is slow, even with Court helping me. My head reels, and the giddiness in my stomach has spun into something more like nausea. Melanie’s steamer feels tight and clammy, like it’s eating me alive. My every movement causes the sand trapped inside to rub my already-raw skin. When Court finally unlocks the passenger door, I collapse in the seat with my legs hanging out, feeling dangerously close to throwing up. Court helps tug the suit off me. I don’t care thatthe towel covering me slips, exposing my white legs. I just want the steamer off.
Then Court’s back in the driver seat, somehow clothed again.
“You okay to drive home?” I murmur, too tired to move more than my head.
“Good as new.” He feeds me a sweet grin.
My saliva must be pretty potent. He should be in the hospital. I sniff for confirmation that he’s alert, but don’t catch much beyond salt, and more salt. My nose must be worn out, too. I search his neck for signs of the bee sting, but don’t see a single mark. “How?”
“I don’t know.”
His hands seem steady on the wheel, and his gaze, alert. I rub my eyes but the sand scratches my lids, so I shut them. Just a moment to recharge.
The next thing I know, we’re in my driveway and Court is opening the door to the Jeep. He offers his hand, but I shake my head.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” I croak, thirsty all over again.
“You needed it.”
