I was the sand. I had always been without realizing it. All my life I had painted people and things without realizing some part of me had gone with them, too. Somewhere in Florida, a woman had hung a painting of her daughter I’d done last year. Another man in Georgia had taken home a memory I’d painted of a full moon with a howling coyote ghost superimposed over that yellow orb.
There were pieces of me everywhere. It was my body dying, not my soul. I threw sand into the wind and watched the grains scatter and dissipate in the air. I had been the sand, and Gary had been the earth.
A movement to my right caught my attention, and I spotted Larkin, darting in and out of the waves, barking at a gull flying close by. The gull lifted higher, and Larkin bounded into the air, snapping at it. When he came down, he landed in deeper water and quickly ran from the waves toward me. He stopped right in front of me, cocking his head to the side, and shook away the water dripping from his coat. It spilled all over me, and I lifted my hands as though that would keep me from getting wet.
After Larkin had finished, he sat and peered at me. “Thanks a lot,” I muttered, wiping droplets from my face. “Are you happy now?”
As if in response, Larkin lay down and closed his eyes. I reached out and touched his thick coat, stroking. I glanced at my watch and realized it was 11:55, and if I didn’t get a move on, I would be late for my first sailing lesson. I didn’t count my first experience on the catamaran as a lesson because the only thing I’d really learned was not to fall overboard, and I thought most people probably knew that wasn’t a wise idea.
Giving Larkin one last, soft scratch behind his right ear, I stood and said, “Sorry to break this up, boy, but I’m supposed to be somewhere.” As I jogged down the beach, Larkin followed, skirting in and out of the water’s path.
A breathless five minutes later I’d walked up Tyler’s stairs carrying the shoes I’d abandoned on the beach. I started to knock but noticed the patio door was open, so I wiped my feet on the mat and walked in. As I saw Tyler standing in the kitchen, my fingers quickly rose to my hair, probably wild from the wind. Dividing the wavy bulk into three thick strands, I quickly braided it, pulled the rubber band from around my wrist, and wrapped the end with it.
“Good afternoon,” Tyler said, setting a plate of sandwiches on the table, pausing as he watched me fooling with my hair. “You’ve got that down to a science,” he said, smiling.
“Yeah.”
He stood and walked toward me. With his left hand, he reached out and lifted a long strand from my back. “Except you sort of forgot some of it.” His fingers rested there, absently stroking the hair between his thumb and forefinger, moving downward and, reaching the end, moving upward again.
The world slowed to a numb speed, the hazy gauze which had always covered the world slipped away, and I saw with perfect clarity, just as I felt the blood pumping through my body. He stood so close that I could tell the top of my head would fit under his chin. Against the white t-shirt, his skin appeared golden. His calloused palms smelled of soap and pine. Veins rose on the top of his hands, mapping the life he had lived. Fine hair covered his tanned arms, and a light sheen of sweat glittered on his forehead. I visually traced the rise of his cheekbones across the broad face and the long curve of his blunt chin. Thick eyebrows and long eyelashes. And something stirring the blue eyes.
In that instant, I saw his face stroked onto the canvas. I saw the gentle frown and ocean eyes and myself mirrored in them. And I knew I had found homecoming in another soul. For a moment, I stared at him, watching as it seemed even his chest had stopped moving, ceasing to inhale and exhale. Then his fingers stopped and opened, and the illumination disappeared.
I peered at the strand still lying in his open hand. “Figures.” I took it, quickly undid the braid, and reworked it.
Tyler headed back to the table. “I thought we’d better eat something before we head out.” Around his neck, I saw the leather thong, but the sand dollar was buried under his shirt. “I’ve got a wet suit I think will fit you, Kelly, so if you fall in, it won’t be such a big deal this time.” He pointed at one of the chairs in the living room where a navy blue wetsuit lay. “At least this way you won’t be cold. Have a seat. How’s your head?” he asked while pouring water into my glass and then into his.
“Fine, thanks.” I sat where he’d pointed. “I certainly didn’t expect lunch out of the deal.”
Tyler chuckled and set the water in front of me. As he started to move away, I reached for a bag of chips, and our fingers collided. “Sorry,” we both said in unison.
Tyler pulled back, and I picked up the chips. He sat in the chair beside me. “One thing you learn about sailing, Kelly. Expect the unexpected.”
“Especially with someone as clumsy as I am, right?” I looked at him, arching my eyebrows as I waited for confirmation.
Tyler held up his hands as thought I’d pointed a gun at him and shook his head. “I didn’t say that. You did.” He picked up his sandwich and took a bite. “You’d better get eating, Kelly. We’ve got an ocean to brave.”
I looked at the clock and thought of Gary, halfway through his flight home. For an insane moment, fear wrapped its fingers around my body and started to strangle me. I drummed my fingers on the table, fighting the urge to call him and tell him I’d changed my mind. I gritted my teeth and railed at myself.
What had I done? I was still dying. Now I was doing it alone.
“Kelly?” Tyler leaned toward me and waved his hand in front of my face, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Something bothering you?” He stilled my fingers. His skin rested against mine for a few seconds before he pulled away and peered down at his lunch.
“No, nothing,” I replied, forcing a smile. I stared down at my plate and picked up the sandwich. Even though Tyler didn’t appear to be looking at me, I still felt his gaze, as though he were peering at me using his peripheral vision.
“You sure you still want to go?” he asked, picking up his water glass. He took a sip. “If something is bothering you, we don’t have to.”
“Yes, I want to,” I nodded, knowing I had never been more sure of anything in my life. I thought of the cold water and the bright spring sunshine and knew I’d found the closest thing to heaven on earth.
Chapter Six
After lunch, we changed into the wetsuits and walked down the beach. Overhead, gulls circled lazily in the sky, crying to each other. One landed on the ground and pecked at a piece of paper lodged in the sand. The tide washed ashore, and the gull jerked into flight.
I chuckled, shaking my head.
“They are pretty amusing, aren’t they?” Tyler bent, picked up a rock, and tossed it into the ocean.
“Yeah, they are.” I watched him stand. “But since you live on the beach, they’re probably pretty boring.”
Larkin darted past, dashing into the tide until it came to his belly before he retreated. Turning my attention from the dog, I spotted a small shell half-buried in Larkin’s tracks. I squatted and picked it up.
“Just because I live on the beach doesn’t mean I get tired of it. To me, it seems like a different beach every day. The wind changes it. People change it. The ocean changes it. It’s got to be the most beautiful place to be.” As he leaned toward me, his hand rested on my shoulder. Through the wetsuit, I felt his fingers lightly press upon my skin. “What have you got there?” he asked. Our faces were inches apart.
I held up the shell and offered it to him. “Another one to add to your collection.”
“Don’t you want it?” he asked. A soft breeze lifted his hair away from his face.
I shook my head and placed it in his open palm. “I have the one you gave me. That’s enough.”
As I pulled away, Tyler’s fingers closed around the shell. “You’re a hard woman to please.”
I looked up at the perfect azure sky spread to infinity like a soft blue blanket and thought,
Just give me more time.
I stared at the heavens as though the sky would ripple in response to my one last wish. Stillness basted the small scattering of clouds in place.
The answer is still no, isn’t it?
Unable to bear the weight of perfection canopied over our heads, I turned my attention toward the sailboat sitting in the sand in the distance. The rainbow-colored sail flapped in the soft breeze.
“What time do you need to be back?” Tyler asked as we approached the catamaran.
I reached out and touched the sail, tracing three rectangles of color—blue, green, red. With each new color I half-expected my fingers to feel something different and distinct. Instead, it all felt the same—coarse and hardened from the wind and water.
Tyler grabbed the life-jacket I’d worn the previous day and handed it to me. “It should still fit right. What time do you need to be back?” Tyler asked again, pushing the boat toward the water.
With slightly trembling fingers, I accepted the jacket and put it on. “It doesn’t matter.” I looked down at the tracks the catamaran hulls had left in the sand.
Tyler straightened from pushing as the bow touched water. Frowning, he stared at my face as though trying to read a book in a foreign language. His hands rested on the edge of the tramp as he stood in shin-deep water. “Is everything all right?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“It’s fine. Are you ready to start sailing?”
“I guess that is what we came here to do, isn’t it?” Tyler pushed the boat farther out. When the water came to his knees, he said, “Now climb on the front of the left side.”
I stepped on the hull and climbed onto the tramp, sitting in the place he had suggested. After a moment or two more pushing us into deeper water, he climbed on and grabbed the rudder stick, shifting our direction slightly. Although the sail had only been half full of wind before, the moment we changed directions, the sail billowed outward, full. As the wind filled the sail, he pulled the line tighter, and the boat sped up as the wind hummed off the hulls.
From the shore, Larkin barked at us, running toward the waves and then away. More than once, he cocked his head to the side as though expecting one of us to answer him. Both of us stared at him. A moment later, he turned and walked down the beach toward Tyler’s.
“That was quite a show,” I said, staring at the empty beach.
“Yeah,” Tyler agreed. “I guess he wanted to come, too.” Glancing at the sail, he cinched the line tighter, and our side of the boat rose. My fingers snapped down on the metal rail, and I clenched my teeth, trying not to panic despite the awkward feeling washing over me.
Tyler looked from the sail to my face and then to my white-knuckled fists. “Nice death grip you’ve got there.”
I looked down at my hand and blushed. “I keep thinking we’re going to tip over. It sure feels like we might.”
He reached out and rubbed the top of my hands until my grip slackened. “Don’t worry. If we’re going to turn over, you’ll know well in advance. The rising of the hull is normal. It’s the way to build up speed in a cat.”
“You forget,” I said, smiling weakly, “You have a clumsy person on board.”
“Don’t worry. You keep reminding me.” Tyler glanced up at the sail. “What a perfect day to go sailing. There’s enough wind to keep us moving, and the water’s not choppy.”
I closed my eyes and savored the feel of the air caressing my skin. The momentum of the catamaran was smooth, reassuring in a gentle sway as it cut through the small waves. Always before, I’d felt nauseated when I closed my eyes while moving. I couldn’t sleep in cars when someone else drove. But this time my body gave into the peace afforded by the ocean. “There’s nothing else like this,” I said softly.
Silence filled the air, and once I realized a reply wasn’t coming, I opened my eyes and peered at Tyler. Immediately I blushed as I realized he had been staring at me. His eyes were narrowed, hooded by his eyebrows, and his mouth twisted into a concentrated frown, as though examining each line and shadow crossing my face.
When I looked at him, he smiled and looked at the ocean. “You finally look relaxed, Kelly. I might make a sailor of you yet.”
I laughed and pulled my legs closer to my body. “If you say so.” Rubbing my fingers against the wetsuit, I asked, “So what’s a diaper? You did promise you’d explain that one, you know.”
“So I did.” He pulled in the sail slightly and we sped up. For just a second, my fingers locked upon the rail before loosening to their normal grip.
“Well?”
“A diaper is a small piece of tough fabric that is designed to fit around your bottom side like a diaper.”
I snorted. “And why would anyone want to wear this?”
Tyler pointed to the side of the cat we both sat upon. “You said that it felt pretty uneven when the hull lifts out of the water. Most people who sail cats like to really get the hull out of the water. In order to counter-balance that rising motion, the sailors have to lean out from the hull.”
My mouth dropped open. Then I closed it and frowned at him. I was about to speak when he waved me into silence. “Now just a minute. Let me finish. The diaper is fastened to one of those steel wires,” he said, pointing upward. “That way the sailor doesn’t have as many problems with balance. It’s called flying the hulls, Kelly.”
“Not if I did it, it wouldn’t.” I replied, pushing a strand of hair from my eyes. “I hope you left the diapers at home. Sorry, but I don’t think you want to see how much trouble I can get into with that one.”
Tyler tilted his head back and started laughing. “Yeah, I gave you a break. I didn’t think you were quite ready for that extreme yet, but next time is a different story.”
Tyler cinched down on the sail again, and the hull lifted even higher. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine me standing on the hull. The picture never came, but something else surfaced, an image of the two of us. With Tyler I had no past. I had no disease. I didn’t have to think about the future. Just now.
That was all I had.
“Come here, Kelly. I want to show you something.” I opened my eyes as Tyler patted a spot on the tramp next to him. I frowned, and he shrugged. “Look, no diapers. You’re perfectly safe.”
“With you that’s a relative concept.” I scooted next to him. Once I had settled, Tyler placed the rudder stick into my hands. “Oh, no. No, no. I’m not driving.” I tried to give it back to him, but he moved his hands away so I couldn’t let go.
“Yes, you are. Move it to the left a little.” In trying to respond, I moved it to the right. “No, the other left, Kelly. That’s it.” He looked at the sail. “See, you’re even keeping us at the right angle to the wind.”
“How long have you been sailing?” I asked, gripping the stick tightly as though I were afraid the boat would take off.
“Four years.” Tyler touched my hand, stroking gently. “Loosen up. This boat isn’t going anywhere.”
“Then why am I steering?”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, this boat isn’t going anywhere you don’t want it to go.”
“Fair enough.” I peered at his neck, searching for the leather strap he usually wore.
After a few seconds of feeling my gaze, he finally said, “What are you looking at?” He leveled his eyes and smiled at me. “You should be paying attention to where we’re going.” He patted my knee.
“I was just wondering if you were wearing the sand dollar.”
His shoulders sti