Dean gazes out to sea as well. “It’s nicer in the summer. But it's still cool, even now.”
“It’s absolutely terrifying,” I remark, shivering, even though my body is appropriately warm. “The ice. The slippery rocks. The water blasting in your face. The whole thing is nightmare inducing.”
“I thought you’d like it,” Dean laughs.
“It’s refreshing to be afraid of something new,” I admit. “But I think you have a death wish.”
“This is one of the only places I really liked as a kid. I guess I was always kind of looking for a thrill, like in my adventure novels. I couldn’t jump off a building, or fly a spaceship or fightwith a sword, so this is as close as I could get to it.” Dean thinks. “But it’s not for everyone. It’s natural to be afraid of things that are unfamiliar or unknown.”
“I rode my bicycle without holding onto the handlebars once,” I offer.
Dean laughs. “I think that’s worse than this.”
“Water is fucking scary,” I say, looking out at the vastness in front of me. “One misplaced wave, and you’re swept away for good.”
“I think you could say the same about a bicycle. One swipe of a car door, and you’re out,” Dean counters. “I think you’re more likely to die in a bicycle accident than getting eaten by a wave.”
“Which way would you rather go?” I ask.
“The water.”
“Agreed.”
We stare at the sea in silence for a moment. My nose is burning from the cold, but it’s peaceful to listen to the water and have my hand squeezed by the friendly giant standing next to me. Bicycle accidents, wave calamities, car crashes, freak illnesses… Did it ever matter which one causes your death?
I turn to look at Dean, who is already looking at me. His eyes, encrusted with ice too, beam at me. I’m tempted to ask him a ridiculous question.
“If I jumped in the water, right now, what would you do?” I imagine myself bolting down the stairs, climbing over the railing and falling face first into the icy water.
He pulls me into a fierce hug, and in his embrace, I know he’d let his shoes fill up with water, soak his pants and coat, drench and freeze his body in order to pull me out of the water and return me to solid land.
“I’d jump in after you.” He confirms my suspicions.
“That’s a suicide mission. I don’t want you coming after me.”
“Then I’d call the Coast Guard. And cry bloody murder from above.”
“You know, I won’t actually do it.” I remind him— I’m finally comfortable on land.
“I know.” He looks at me sincerely.
“Do you?” I ask.
“I know, I swear.” Dean laughs. “You’ve never really been to this park before?”
“I haven’t. But you used to come here all the time as a kid, right?” I recall from earlier.
“Yeah. With my grandfather.”
“What about your father?” I ask. “Where’s he these days?”
“My father died in a boating accident when I was 13.” Dean confesses, staring out at the water. “Just after Sierra was born.”
I never really know what to say when it comes to other people’s losses after experiencing Andy dying. There’s just never anything good to say— “I’m sorry for your loss” often doesn’t even begin to cover it or cut it, and “Fuck, that’s so sad” is impersonal as hell and never feels genuine enough.
“Do you miss him?” I ask.
“Only all the time,” Dean replies.
