“When I look at the ocean, I don’t feel alone,” Hina said. “It’s not just water, you know. The sea is alive, just like you and I.”
“You feel alone?” Lee said, turning to face Hina.
Hina hummed in thought, digging her toes into the sand. “Not so much these days,” she said. “But before I met your father, I’d been alone for a very long time.”
Lee tried to picture Hina alone but couldn’t quite fathom it. She’d always seemed like a constellation tethered to other stars, whether it was Lee’s father or her parents or Lee himself. Her light drew other people in.
“I’m glad you’re here now,” Lee said. He didn’t know how he would have gone to college if Hina hadn’t been there to take care of his father.
Hina smiled. “For as long as you’ll have me,” she said. Then she rose to her feet and stretched. “It’s about time for dinner, isn’t it?” she said. “How does seafood fried udon sound?”
Lee smiled, because he knew that was the right answer, even though he couldn’t remember how food was supposed to taste. “You should sit here longer if you want to,” Lee said. “I didn’t mean to drag you away.”
Hina shook her head. “I was going to go soon anyway. The water is retreating, see?” She pointed to the ocean, which had lapped at their feet when Lee sat down but was now a few feet away. “Low tide comes in fast. The sea runs away every morning and night. I think it’s had enough of me.”
Hina laughed at her joke, but Lee was too busy staring at the water to respond. He imagined the sea peeling back like a blanket, stripping away the water all the way to the horizon, showing the pale sand and all its secrets. “How far out does the tide go?” he asked.
“Too far,” Hina said. “You don’t want to be out here for low tide, Lee, trust me.”
He tore his gaze from the horizon, turning to her. “Why not?”
“The sea retreats quickly, but it also returns quickly,” she said. “You could find yourself miles out at sea, too tired to swim back.”
“You could sit on the rocks,” Lee said, glancing at the rock formation behind them. “The sea doesn’t reach that far even at high tide.”
“No,” Hina said. A breeze tore across the shore, her hair fluttering around her face, sand stinging Lee’s eyes. As clouds rolled overhead, Hina’s shadow grew gray and faint, melting into the sand.
“You need to be home at low tide,” she said. “It’s dangerous out here, Lee. People drown.Your mothermight have drowned.”
Lee tensed, fingers curling in the sand. The wind rose in pitch, a cloud of white sand blurring the space between them.
“My mother didn’t drown,” Lee said. He knew this to be true, no matter how much the police had tried to argue otherwise.
Once they learned about his mom’s history, they argued that she’d probably hallucinated and walked off into the sea, or thrown herself off a cliff, or cuddled up with a panther, or met another end of her own making, her own fault.
But Lee’s mother was not crazy. Even in her worst moments, she’d never tried to leave Lee behind.
The wind on the beach died down, a gray silence falling over the shore.
“You wouldn’t want to worry your father, with his heart condition,” Hina said quietly. “That’s all I mean.”
Lee unclenched his jaw, then his fists. “Right,” he said quietly. “Of course.” He rose to his feet and headed back to the house, not waiting for Hina to follow.
He hid in his own room and shut the door, then sat on his futon. His empty suitcase glared from the corner as if mocking him.
Let me out, Lee.
Lee swallowed and lay down in bed as he heard Hina return and start to prepare dinner. That night, he ate across from his father in silence, clenching his teeth against the incessant ticking of his broken watch, and said nothing at all to Hina, who stared mournfully into her soup.
When he returned to his room, light illuminated the closet. Shadows carved the shape of a young woman in darkness on the other side.
Finally, Lee thought as the door slid open and the moonlight illuminated the glint of a sharpened sword.
Chapter Thirteen
Sen
This time, Sen drew her sword before she opened the door.
