I watched as she rolled her eyes, then she suddenly got excited. “Oh wow! It’s surfacing! Can you push my kayak a bit?”
Using my paddle, I gave her kayak a gentle shove; she closed the distance to the manatee. Even though I was farther away, I realized that it did indeed seem to be rising. The amorphous shape began to clarify, revealing its head and the wide, circular fluke as it rotated first in one direction, then the opposite. My eyes drifted from it to Morgan, who was busy taking pictures as I maneuvered my kayak.
“It keeps moving farther away!” she lamented.
I used my oar to push her again. After a few more photos, she lowered the camera.
“Do you think we’re bothering it?”
“I’m sure they see kayaks out here all the time.” From the corner of my eye, I noticed another shadow off to the right.
“I think we’re about to have company. There’s another one.”
It was slightly smaller than the first one, and Morgan squinted to make it out.
“Do you think they’re related? Like a mama and her baby?” she asked.
“I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Will there be more? Like, do they usually swim in pods or whatever they’re called?”
“Why do you keep asking me these questions? I’m a farmer from North Carolina. I know nothing about manatees.”
Her eyes flickered with mirth. “Would you mind taking off your glasses while I’ve got my phone out? And lifting the brim of your hat?”
“Why?”
“I want a photo of you in the kayak. You look all sporty.”
I complied and she took a photo, though the way her thumb was moving, it was probably closer to a dozen. She immediately scrolled through them. “Okay, perfect. There are some good ones here.”
We stayed with the manatees until they started migrating toward deeper water. Taking that as our cue to head back, I led the way to the opening.
“Do you want to go first or should I?”
“You lead this time. But like I told you before, don’t leave me behind.”
“What kind of guy do you think I am?”
“I’m still processing that question, but I promise to let you know the answer as soon as I do.”
I grinned, heading into the mangroves, paddling slowly and peeking over my shoulder regularly to make sure I wasn’t going too fast. Meanwhile, Morgan kept up a stream of unanswerable questions about manatees. Did I think the two manatees were going to mate? When was the mating season? Did they spend most of their time in places like this or in the open ocean? In response, I told her that I’d google the answers and get back to her. To which she said, “Stop for a second.”
I did, rotating in my kayak. She had her phone out and was tapping, then began to scroll. “Manatees can weigh up to twelve hundred pounds,” she read aloud, “and they breed year-round, but most are born in the spring and summer. They generally inhabit marshy, coastal areas like this and can be found as far north as Virginia. They demonstrate abilities similar to dolphins’, so they’re smart. From the pictures on the Web, it looks like a pudgy dolphin crossed with a miniature whale.”
“Look at you, helping the uninformed.”
“Glad I could be of service,” she said. “Lead on.”
We continued to backtrack, and about halfway we encountered two kayakers approaching from the opposite direction. We moved to the right while ducking our heads, the other kayakers veered left and ducked as well, but there were still only inches between us when they floated past.
We finally emerged into the wider channel again, then further retraced our journey, talking easily, both of us recounting some of our favorite childhood antics. As we approached the shore, the attendant spotted us and directed us in, pulling our kayaks onto the hard wet dirt. I felt a bit stiff getting out, but Morgan seemed perfectly limber as we walked back to the truck.
Reaching into the cab, Morgan pulled out her tote.
“Turn around and don’t peek,” she warned, stepping away and leaving a whiff of coconut oil in the air. “My bottoms are wet, and I want to change into my shorts.”
I did as she asked and, at her signal, turned around and saw that she had also pulled her halter over her top.
“My turn,” I said, and we traded places; I changed into my dry shorts and tossed my wet suit into the truck bed. Morgan chose to keep her bikini bottoms on the seat beside her, and I noted that they were so small, I could have hung them from the rearview mirror.
I asked the attendant for directions to a picnic area, which turned out to be only a few minutes away. As I drove, I saw Morgan scrolling through her photos.
“I’m not sure whether I like the photos of the manatees better or the ones of you.”
“Hmm,” I said, tilting my head. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“Neither. I can always get more pictures of you, but I doubt that I’ll see another manatee while I’m here.”
“Are you hungry?”
“A little,” she said. “I had breakfast, so it’s not like I’m starving.”
“What did you have?”
“A green tea before rehearsal and a green drink afterward.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t have the slightest idea of what a green drink was.
I slowed the truck when I saw the picnic tables, then pulled into the parking area. None of the tables were occupied, and I zeroed in on one in the shade of a tree I couldn’t name but assumed was some sort of oak. Climbing out, I retrieved the cooler from the bed of the truck and started toward it, Morgan beside me. I plunked the cooler on the table and slid open the lid before pulling out grapes, nuts, cheese, and crackers, along with two crisp apples.
“I wasn’t sure what you might want, so I picked stuff at random.”
She reached for an apple. “This will be perfect,” she said. “Did you bring anything to drink?”
“Iced teas and water.”
“Did you happen to get a tea that’s sugar-and caffeine-free?”
“Actually, I did.” I handed the appropriate bottle to her, and she glanced at the label.
“Pomegranate and hibiscus,” she read. “Well done.”
Taking a seat, I cracked open a bottle of water, then reached for the nuts and the cheese. After a quick debate, I took some of the grapes and the other apple, as well.
“Unlike you, I didn’t have breakfast. I’m starved.”
“Eat what you want. You brought it all. I just wish you would have brought cookies, too. I’d love a good homemade cookie. Or even a couple of Oreos.”
“You eat cookies?”
“Of course I eat cookies. Doesn’t everyone?”
“You don’t look like you eat cookies.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, yes, I generally try to eat nutritious food, but I also have a crazy metabolism, so if I want a cookie or two, I’m going to enjoy it. If you ask me, there’s way too much pressure on women to be thin instead of strong and healthy. I knew too many girls growing up who had eating disorders.”
Once again, I was struck by not only her self-assurance but her thoughtfulness—especially for someone not long out of her teenage years—and I thought about those things while I opened the nuts and peeled the wrapper from the cheese. Morgan sipped her tea and ate her apple while we settled into easy conversation. I asked her about her hobbies and interests outside of music; I also answered a few more questions about the farm. In time, we settled into silence. Other than the sound of birdcall, there was nothing, and I realized that I liked the fact that she didn’t feel the need to break the spell.
She took another sip of her tea, then I felt her eyes focus on me with renewed attention. “I have a question, but you don’t have to answer.”
“Ask whatever you’d like.”
“How did your mom die? I’m guessing it was cancer or an accident of some sort? Since she was obviously young?”
I said nothing right away. I’d known the question would come, because it almost always did. Usually I tried to deflect or give a vague answer, but I realized I wanted Morgan to know.
“My mom had always been a sad person, even as a teenager,” I began. “According to my aunt, anyway. She thinks it was depression, but from what I’ve been able to piece together since then, I’m pretty sure my mom was bipolar. I guess it doesn’t really matter, though. For whatever reason, when she was feeling particularly low, she slit her wrists in the bathtub. Paige was the one who found her.”
Morgan’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God. That’s awful! I’m so sorry….”
I nodded, momentarily flashing to the past, some memories vivid, other parts hazy to the point of disappearing. “We’d just come from school, and when we called for our mom, there was no answer. I guess Paige went to the bedroom to try to find her—I don’t really remember that part. But I do remember Paige grabbing me by the hand and dragging me over to the neighbor’s house. After that, I remember the police cars and the ambulance and all the neighbors standing outside. I don’t remember my aunt and uncle coming to get us, but I guess they had to have been there to take us to the farm.”
“Poor you,” she whispered, her face pale. “Poor Paige. I can’t imagine finding my mom like that. Or even seeing something like that.”