“Clothing is rationed. You are allowed to pick out three, but pick carefully. You only receive a new one when the old’s completely worn out.”
I imagine fighting against the fabric to kick in the water. Sundresses will not work if I am going to meet Haku. “Is there anything besides dresses?” I point across the store to Jesse. “Can I choose shorts and a shirt?”
Sydney laughs. “Nope. After all these years, the stores are running low on clothes. We have to be real careful with it. The rule is three sundresses for each girl; the last of the shirts and shorts are saved for the male kin.”
“How do you swim with dresses on?” I ask finally.
Sydney giggles more. “That’s a whole different store.”
What? “There’s more than one?”
“There were hundreds across this island. Most of them are out of supplies by now, but this section of the island is hard to get to without a motor.”
Sydney helps me pick out my dresses, then quickly gathers up the other items on her list. She pulls me to the door. “Captain, I am taking Chey to the swim shop across the way.”
Outside, we walk down the street to another store. The pink and yellow exterior is pitted with salt. Sydney opens the double doors carefully, and we enter.
There are walls of empty shelves. Metal racks lie abandoned throughout the middle of the store. Sydney leads the way to the very back. A small wall of fabric pieces remain. They look only big enough to cover my most private areas.
“The one-pieces were used up long ago. There’re still two-pieces to choose from though.” Sydney picks out a bright orange one, covered in ruffles, and holds it up to me.
A teal two-piece catches my eye. The same hue as my old Skin, the color reminds me of my home. These bright splashes of color have no place in the ocean. The waters are the realm of one thousand blues.
Sydney shows me to a little rectangle, about the size of my sleeping capsule. She draws a hole-ridden curtain across the entrance. “Well, try it on. Make sure it fits. You only are allowed one suit.”
I feel absolutely and completely exposed. While the stretchy teal covers the important pieces, my stomach and legs remain completely bare. How I wish I had a suit like Jesse’s, which encloses his entire body.
At least I will be able to swim.
I can search for Haku. My heart soars at the thought of returning to the waters.
*
The truck rolls further down the hole-ridden road, the town long behind us. I sit in the cab now, between Captain and Sydney. The back is stuffed with supplies; each kin member has given a list of necessities, and the group found as many matching items as they could. Jesse and Danny ride atop the pile, checking to make sure nothing topples out.
From time to time, glimpses of the ocean can be seen on the left, making me more eager to arrive.
As we round a final corner, giant buildings appear—not the cute pastel stores of the town, but enormous structures that dwarf our truck as we pass by.
Captain pulls off the road and onto a large, paved square. Fading yellow lines mark the square, each the width of the truck. Like the town, this area is completely abandoned. I step out and look at the faded letters cut into a large wooden board: Whaleside.
Danny grabs a few items from the back. “We are heading in to set up camp.” Sydney fishes her backpack out and follows Danny.
Captain tosses Jesse the sunscreen bottle. “I
will
see you at dinner, li’l mermaid.” I can hear the unspoken question in his words:
will you return?
Jesse leads the way to the water. He pauses at the sand to remove his shoes, and I copy his movements. The sand sinks beneath my footsteps. The sun has warmed it, and as we walk toward the water, the grains crunch under my toes.
Gentle, rolling waves lap along the length of the beach. While the giant buildings form a row behind the beach, all I have eyes for is the water. I pull off my sundress, still wearing my two-piece, and run into the ocean. Warm water covers my feet, my legs, my waist, until I am far enough out to dive into the water.
“Wait for me.” Jesse grabs for me before I disappear. “Eager? I can barely keep up with you.”
His hands still wrap around my waist, and I am more aware than ever of the absence of my Skin. He lifts one hand to tuck my wet braids behind my ear, but keeps the other at my side. Jesse wears only his shorts, and tiny droplets of water run down his chest.
For a moment, I forget about Haku. I forget about our separation. I think only of Jesse and his closeness.
He rests his forehead against mine, his brown eyes boring into me. “I like you, Chey. Please don’t swim away from me.”
He fears I will return to the seas.
His lips brush mine, and I am not sure if I ever want the moment to stop.
A large wave douses us and pulls us beneath. We emerge, still holding one another, and laugh.
“Black Rock is at the far end of the beach.” He points out the giant lava rock overhanging the ocean. “Do you want to swim or walk?”
I have never gotten to choose before. Here, along this abandoned beach, the best of two worlds collide. The freedom of gliding through the waters and the joy of running across land; the wonders found within the ocean and the warmth of the sunshine.
“Both,” I decide. We could run down the long stretch of beach, soaking in the sun, then dive into the cool waters while I seek out Haku. Is it greedy to want it all?
“Can I help you ‘screen up so you don’t burn?” Jesse holds the sunscreen.
I nod, shy again. Touching is so commonplace above the waters. Hugs freely given, dancing and snuggles and handholding as plentiful as the fish in the seas. Isolation is not an easy thing to recover from, but I am trying.
Jesse rubs my shoulders with the warm lotion. He smoothes his hands down my arms and over my back. The aroma of coconut hovers. His fingertips swirl around and around my cheeks, along my nose.
When it feels as though I have forgotten how to lung-breathe, he closes the bottle and grabs my hand. “Now?”
I smile. “We run.”
Hand-in-hand, we run through the little waves licking at the shore. Water splashes against our ankles, and Black Rock grows near. When the rocky cliff faces us, I turn and pull Jesse into the waters.
Finally, I release his hand and dive.
The waters are still shallow here, but reefs line the bottom. The colorful reef fish swim all around. I dive closer to watch my favorites, but choke as I breathe in. I push my way to the Surface and cough again and again and again.
Jesse wraps his arms around me, supporting me as I keep coughing. “What’s wrong?”
“My gills,” I whisper. “They are not working.”
Jesse looks at my neck, then runs his finger along the sensitive skin surrounding each gill. “They don’t look damaged. Maybe they’re like one of Sammy’s motors. Sometimes after they sit for too long, he needs to prep them to get them going.”
I know I cannot return to my sector, but to be denied the ocean entirely? I would be devastated. I worked
so
hard to keep my gills intact—battling the despair and fighting away thoughts of the Unmentionable.
“Let’s try something.” He holds me sideways in the water; one side of my neck is completely submerged.
After a few minutes, he lowers me more, so just the oval of my face peeks above the Surface. “Now try to dip below and take a breath—your gill way, that is.”
With Jesse’s arms beneath me, I sink entirely beneath the Surface. I tentatively allow the water to flow over my gills, and the moments extend to minutes. They work! I relax into the familiar old breathing pattern.
Keeping my head below the waters, I reach up and drag Jesse’s face down. I press my lips firmly to his, watch his eyes open wide in surprise, then dash off into the waters.
I swim away from Jesse, away from the beach, into the deeper waters of the lagoon. A trio of sea turtles circles around me. Their shells are bigger than my torso, and their flippers the length of my arms. “Honu,” I click, as I bow my head in honor. They spin three more times before swimming toward the open seas.
I wish I had my whistle. I wore that whistle every day since I was paired with Haku. My neck feels empty. In the waters, the absence of the chain is even more noticeable. Closing my eyes, I purse my lips and sound out every call I can think of. None comes close to the noise that will call Haku. I circle around and around. Reef fish swim everywhere, but no dolphin appears.
I have forgotten how good the cushion of the water feels. My body yearns to swim—not paddle around this small lagoon, but
swim
—while my heart aches for Haku.
“I forgive you! Please come to me!” I whistle more, until my lips ache.
The ocean, teeming with life, remains devoid of the one I want to see: my Pairing, my dolphin. My Haku.
When the indigo has spread its inky fingers through the seas, Jesse comes for me. He reaches out his hand and pulls me up to the Surface. The sky is streaked with lavender, the color of dusk. Jesse slowly swims with me back to the sands. He waited for me the entire time.
“I’m sorry.” He wraps both arms around me, holds me close.
As we head away from the beach, I cannot resist peeking one last time. Waves crash against the sands, again and again, nature’s percussion, but the sea remains empty.
17
We stand in front of that odd building, Whaleside. Hundreds of windows line the front. Who knew buildings could be so large or contain so many windows? Jesse has grabbed our backpacks and now heads to an odd cylinder set in the front of the building. He guides me inside the cylinder.
I touch the glass wall in front of me. It seems to be some sort of strange entrance. “What is this?”
“One of those old-fashioned revolving doors.” Jesse pushes against the glass, and we spin until the outside has disappeared.
As I step into the building, I gasp. This place resembles nothing from Maluhia, nothing from the beachside village on the island. The ceilings reach high above my head; they dangle with glittering glass prisms. The biggest staircase I have ever seen faces me: wide steps carved from a fancy stone that swirls with pink. “What
is
this place?”
“I want to show you.” Jesse grabs my hand and pulls me up the staircase. The rose-swirled steps wrap around in a spiral, much like the auger shell. Numbered landings appear at every level, but Jesse ignores them and ascends even higher. “The top floors are the very best.”
When the staircase finally ends, Jesse guides me to the right. Doors with small numbered plaques line the hallway. Some plaques are missing altogether; others dangle from the doorways.
Jesse stops in front of an intact door, cracked open. The plate reads, “Executive Suite.”
“What is an… ‘executive’?”
He shrugs. “No idea. We all have favorites when we camp here. This is mine.”
We enter.
The room is enormous. Giant windows reach from the ceiling to the floor.
Jesse slides the windows open, and the scent of the ocean wafts in. As I approach him, the ocean itself appears, dark waters churning under the red and purple sky.
A cheery yellow couch sits in front of a glass table. Woven chairs, with yellow-and-white-checkered cushions, rest on each side. Across from the couch, a large blank screen hangs, wires and cords dangling from it. The materials are so unusual: glass for a table, fabric for a couch. I sit upon the couch and sink into pillowed softness.
I cannot help but explore more. Another door reveals a toilet. An entire room for a toilet? I open a different door and find the largest bed I have ever laid eyes on. The bed is the size of three sleeping capsules.
“What is this place?” I ask again.
“A hotel. People used to visit the island and stay in these buildings. They line the beaches.”
“How many families would live in this room?” It is odd that there is so much space, but only one bed. Did they have to take turns sleeping?
“One. Sometimes one family, but at times, one person would stay by themselves.”
The room is as large as my entire floor at the children’s residence. For one family to have such a massive sleeping space, to have the luxury of a personal couch and table and a toilet room, all of their own… I cannot decide whether it is wasteful or tempting.
“Can I see more?”
Jesse guides me back to the hallway. As the last of the light fades, we run from room to room. Some lay empty, furniture and décor gone. Others have been used; dirty linens and age-worn furniture sit, abandoned.
The last room on the floor also faces the ocean. I step out onto a balcony that overlooks the sea. I can hear the ocean, but it has grown too dark to see it.
“Your dolphin didn’t come?”
All I can do is shake my head. Where are you, Haku?
Jesse searches through his backpack until he finds a small, wrapped bundle. “I have something for you.”
I look at the tiny item. “What is it?”
“A gift.”
We did not give presents under the water. Necessities were allocated, and luxuries were restricted. My first gift.