“Or that the cat you’re walking is going to change your life.”
There’s a shift in the way Hazel looks at me. I don’t know if it’s the way the sun slants against her face or the glow of the vibrant trees behind her, but she seems more relaxed.
We float under the iconic Bow Bridge that spans the lake, passing rocks on the other side of it. Hazel points to one with five turtles lounging. “Look! They’re part of today’s operation. Turtles are supposed to protect you from evil and are good luck.”
I pull the left oar harder against the water. “Great, grab one. Check it off the list!”
“I was kidding, but sure. Let’s steal a turtle,” she says. “The onlydownside is that I’ve heard that turtles being low maintenance is a marketing ploy. And they’ll probably outlive you.”
“Before I die, I’ll make sure to drop it off here,” I say. “On this very rock, where these turtles will still be sunbathing.”
“Don’t say that!” Hazel says. “Take it back. You’re not going to die.”
“Ooookay, I’m not going to die?” Hazel glares at me, and I say it again without a lift at the end of my sentence.
“Thank you. It’s a Chinese superstition. We don’t like to talk about… that.” She waves her hands in front of her. “Not that I’m superstitious. But it’s better to be safe.”
“Not touching that one.”
She looks down, remembering the wishbone. “You have one more chance.”
I make a dramatic show of stretching out my neck, arms, and fingers in preparation.
“Put your thumb up closer to the top, okay?” Hazel instructs, holding the wishbone up to the sky to analyze it. “Take this side. It’s bigger.”
“Does the wish count if it’s rigged in my favor?” I ask, reaching for the bigger side of the bone. As I do, a bird swoops down and plucks it out of Hazel’s fingers.
“No!” she calls after it.
I stand to reach for the wishbone, but the bird is faster. It’s got the wishbone in its beak, hovering in the air before it flies past my head. I lean back to avoid getting struck, the boat wobbling with my movements.
I wave my arms around to steady myself, but it’s a useless attempt. I’ve leaned too far back.
And then everything goes dark green.
The lake isn’t as cold as I thought it would be. Or I’m in shock.
When I emerge from the water, Hazel’s hand is clasped over her mouth.
“Can you swim?” she shouts.
I rub my hand down my face as I tread water. “I’m rethinking the yearlong cruise!”
“I’m coming in.” Hazel quickly sheds her coat and starts to unzip one of her boots.
As much as I’d like to see where this goes, she can’t jump in after me. This lake is filthy.
I swim over to the side of the boat and wrap my arms over the edge. “Were you really going to save me?” I ask, grinning up at her.
Hazel zips her boot back up and lets out a mock-irritated sigh, but there’s a playfulness in her eyes. “Just get back in here, will you?”
“Sure, but steer clear,” I say. “There’s a chance I’m waking up tomorrow with the ability to glow.”
And that’s when Hazel’s whole face brightens. Her laugh feels like the exact moment when slats of wood that have taken hours to measure, cut, and chisel end up fitting perfectly. The sound of it is so satisfying, so rewarding.
I swish around in the water. “I think a fish just swam up my pant leg.”
She laughs more. I let the sound of it wash over me before slowly climbing into the boat, taking extra care not to tip it. I ring out my shirt, ditch my hat, and push the wet strands of hair off my face.
