“Are you ready?” he asked, nearly out of breath.
“Go ahead, go, you promised Austin,” Channing said with an attempt at a smile.
I pulled off my T-shirt and shorts and handed them to Channing. Underneath I was wearing a swimsuit.
I tried to focus on the moment and tamp down my anger at Kent. Austin deserved my undivided attention. We jumped waves, my feet firmly landing on the sandy bottom after each leap upward, the green Atlantic smashing into my chin. To be honest, I was the one jumping, Austin was held afloat by my hand on his forearm. Didn’t take much effort because he was light, buoyant in that salty water, except when he tried to prove he didn’t need me. He kept pushing away, which immediately made him sink, and I kept yelling at him, “Don’t drink it, Austin.” Because that’s exactly what he was doing, as if taking in the salt water like a fish would give him gills. Austin coughed hard. I showed him how to hold his breath, but he kept opening his mouth.
“Come on, we’re going back, that’s it,” I said. I wasn’t a strong swimmer, so the whole experience was beginning to stress me out. The water seemed deeper even though we’d stayed in the same place. I wasn’t supposed to have to swim.
Wiggling his jaw from side to side, he sputtered, “Look at me,” and shook off my hand, plunging under the green water. I went after him and pulled him back up. He coughed harder after that, snot running out of his nose. His stark refusal made me shake his arm and start back to shore.
“Wait, Dahee,” his voice screeched as if I were hurting him. “Wait,” he repeated. I ignored him and kept pulling him along after me. “But you’ve got—” he said, and I stopped because at least he was saying something different and there was an edge to his voice, a warning, and he was kicking his way toward me rather than fighting for distance.
“Look,” he said, his lips darker at the corners. He was shivering. I flinched when he reached his hand toward me. He touched my neck, and I felt a slickness slip past my skin. A triumphant look lit up his face as he held a piece of narrow dark green seaweed. “Necklace,” he said, and twined it around himself.
“You’re gross.” I shook my head and gave him a wry smile.
“I know.” Austin emphasized his words by punching the surface of the water. I was too busy watching him to see a large swell rise on the horizon. It lifted my feet off the sand, and I had to kick to keep the waterline at my shoulders as the wave passed us, headed to shore. My hand was still firmly on his arm.
The sun was out and the ocean water was warmer than it should have been in late August. Austin was consumed with collecting seaweed now, a bracelet and crown. Since he wasn’t fighting to swim on his own, I loosened my grip and gave him a little more range of motion. He seemed thrilled by my permission. Why did I want to please him so much? Part of me remembered loving to explore, how I was before I got lost that day by the lake in the storm.
Time passed. I don’t know how long. I got caught up, I admit, in helping Austin find seaweed that would fit into his pattern of whatever he was creating, looping pieces with one free arm while keeping him tethered to me. The sky was the most beautiful blue, just as Minjae had said that first day he’d come to the house on Sandpiper Lane. And here it was again, a week of constant beauty. A sad last brilliant hue for Channing and Minjae before they would part.
Chapter 26
The chill in the air arrived first. I thought my skin was telling me an untruth, but then the icy draft widened, and I knew without looking up the sky was darkening. A smattering of mini rain droplets, like mist in a fog, touched my face and shoulders. Austin swiped at his cheek with the back of his hand. Ahead, there was still an azure sky behind the figures on a red blanket on the sand. Channing and Minjae were wrapped around each other, and Edison was reading his book. Later I couldn’t remember if I’d counted all three when I first sensed a storm on the horizon.
Austin protested but I didn’t give in. When my feet again left the ground, I flailed in a panic, but it was only a dip in the terrain and soon my toes found the sandy bottom. I focused on getting out of the water with Austin as fast as I could. He didn’t protest as much once it was shallow enough for him to stand on his own, and I was able to let go and called to him to hurry. I waited and ushered him ahead of me, to block him from the dark clouds barreling toward us, and he did, thrashing with his legs, pumping his arms, seaweed fleeing as if it had a life of its own and wanted to stay in the sea.
The rain struck our heads, sheets of tiny glass shards, in the exact same moment we reached Channing and Minjae. They got to their feet and shouted at us as if we were responsible for the change in weather. Whenyou’re busy grabbing towels and bags and running for the car, you can only see that there were small legs and arms. I thought they belonged to both children. Someone else picked up the book Edison was reading—later I’d learn it was Channing—but at the time, seeing the book in the corner of my eye dropped into a bag, I assumed it was Edison packing it away.
We ran to the car. The sudden quiet, along with the warmth and the softness of the cushions of the car seat, enveloped us. We were safe. I could fall asleep, I was so relieved. We escaped the worst that could happen to us, I thought.
With the car doors shut and the sound of our breaths being drawn in and released, we realized there were only four of us. Which should have been fine except not when one of them was Minjae.
“Where’s Edison?” Austin said.
Even then I expected the bigger boy to pop up at any moment. Edison was quick in his criticism of adults, but he followed the rules.
“Where is he?” his brother said in a voice I wished I could unhear. It was impossible that Edison wouldn’t be with us. As if he had vanished. Channing and I looked at each other, her hair and face still dripping wet from the rain. Her eyes were wide with fear, and I knew she could see I was stunned. She reached out a hand to me in the back seat. Outside the storm raged. I flung open the car door and ran out into it, calling Edison’s name.
This time the rain was colder because of the brief respite in the car. I went directly toward the ocean. Out here on the beach was where a child would be in the most trouble. He could be stuck in a hole filling up with storm water, the way I was once by a lake.
The beach was huge. Many football fields long. Bigger than I remembered thinking it was when we’d first arrived. The line between ocean and land blurred. A vastness I could feel more than see since the rain was like a thousand darts landing on my skin. The wind lashed the rain, and I couldhardly see past it. I sprinted toward the white surf. All the scenarios hurled into me as I ran. He could be out in the water, dragged in by the undertow. He could be running away from us like I had done once when I was a child, unaware that I was running toward danger instead of away from it. Someone could find him before I did. Would they help him find us?
I searched for any sign of a little boy.
“Edison! Edison!”
I called and called his name and then hushed so I could hear if he was calling for me. All I heard was the surf crashing into land, enraged. I knew it was angry, but the boy…Save the boy, I pleaded with the rain. The rain had multiplied now exponentially, pummeling me. The hurricane air was worse than the wind over a lake. I crouched down to protect my face.Stay here in case he’s searching for you, I told myself.
When I was Edison’s age, impatience got the better of me. I decided to strike out on my own. I didn’t wait for my parents and Harabeoji to finish lunch. Instead, I went outside by myself in the afternoon to collect specimens for a science project: a leaf and moss and dirt. I remember thinking I could do this by myself. I was capable enough.
I had small plastic resealable sandwich bags for each item that I would label. We lived down the road from a lake, and I knew my way. The assignment was easy. I had dreams of becoming a botanist, so I had to go for extra credit. After a half hour, the only specimen I was missing was water star grass. It should have been easy to find, but I had to get closer to the lake to collect its yellow buds. I was afraid I’d get my feet stuck in the sucking mud. When you stepped in the mud it made a squelch that made it sound as if it were a creature that would eat you.
I kept picking green long-stemmed grass instead of what I wanted. How long did I search? It felt like hours, but it was only a few minutes. And then out of the corner of my eye I saw one yellow long strand on the shore of thelake in the mud, so I walked sideways toward it, lifting my sneakers up and out, the mud squished into the space between my sneaker and my socks on the side, the grossest feeling. In seconds, I was close to victory. I bent down and it was right there, easy. But then my plastic bag blew away, and I tried to catch it before it was out of reach. I had three other bags in my other hand. I stumbled but I held on. And then I was on my knees, and the one I needed landed on the surface of the lake, flipped over and then flipped again by the wind, only to float away. My hair blew in front of my eyes.
The rain came down hard at once, but I thought I could stand it. I had three sandwich bags with my specimens and the water star grass without its bag in my other hand. If I could just get myself back to the house, I could put it into the supply of resealable bags I had there.
