“So where are we headed this evening?” she asks, crossing one foot over the other.
“Richard—"
“Bird man?”
“Mia…” I warn.
“He is technically our resident bird man. He summons a seagull like he’s a hot dog on a beach.”
If only she knew how accurate that statement was.
“He’s working on his fear of seagulls, and I want to make sure he gets on okay. Tonight he’ll be going down to Coral Cove to walk along the beach.”
“All alone?”
“Yes, he seemed confident he could do it. Apparently, seagulls are less active at night.”
She turns toward the window, biting her lip as she does, and I fight the tug at my lips too.
We’re silent for the remainder of the drive, and when I pull up to the cove, the rest of the parking lot is empty save for one car. I recognize it as Richard’s from when I pushed him into it as the seagulls descended after our first session.
We step out into the cool night air, and I hand Mia a spare wooly hat. Her eyes twinkle as she nods in approval. “You’re leaning into it! Next week you’ll be giving me a balaclava and a pair of black leather gloves so I don’t leave fingerprints.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
The gloves are hidden in the glove box, and I had just been about to pull them out to keep her warm, not so she wouldn’t leave fingerprints. We’re at a beach, for God's sake.
We begin our descent down the sandy steps, the old wooden banister weather-worn with only flecks of paint remaining. Before the top of the final set of stairs, a small platform offers a view of the entire cove. We wait there, and I pull out some binoculars, scanning the beach until I can see one man and a dog.
“I see him,” I breathe, holding the near-useless instruments against my eyes.
“Let me see.”
Before allowing me to pull the binoculars over my head, she presses her cheek against mine and pulls the binoculars to her eyes.
The cord is definitely not long enough for this. It’s digging into the side of my neck, and knowing her propensity to yank items where they shouldn’t go, including underwear, I’m slightly concerned she could use the binoculars as a weapon too.
“Cute doggo. Do you think we can go and pet it?”
“Mia, we’re incognito. We’re not going anywhere near him. Only observing.”
She nods, like she’s just remembered, and then returns the binoculars before descending the stairs.
“Mia, we’re not going down there.”
“Come on, we’re here, may as well commit. We’ll keep in the shadows.”
I take a look around, confirming there isn’t anyone else that can see us, and I follow her down to the beach.
The sun has fully set now, the waves lapping the shoreline like slick oil drifting over the sand. Coral Cove is a perfect beach. It’s quiet, a little harder to access due to the stairs, so the crowds avoid it. Even in the daytime, it’s usually not too busy unless it’sthe height of summer. It’s a part of the world where the forest almost meets the sea. A collision of varying elements sometimes blends the two. On another beach north of here, a tree the size of a train carriage beached itself and has become somewhat of a tourist destination. Craggy rocks descend out of the ocean as if the land and sea were fighting one another for dominance.
Mia’s feet sink into the sand as she walks down to the shoreline, the salty air whipping around her until she pulls her arms tight around her middle. The urge to pull her close and keep her warm is tempting me like nothing else.
“Come on, let’s get a little closer. We can kneel behind that rock,” I say.
She follows me, tucking her loose hair into her jacket so it stops whipping around in the wind.
We hide behind a large granite rock covered in moss and seaweed from the higher tides and watch Richard as he paces along the beach, his bulldog following closely behind him.
