“I can’t,” I say, and I leave it to him to dissect all the possible meanings.
He nods, letting go of me. He scuffs at the sand, careful to avoid the sea turtle nests. “Then I’ll talk about it,” he says quietly. “There have been a few times in my life when I thought all the stars had aligned, and I was exactly where I was meant to be. Once, when Beatriz was born. Once when I was diving near Kicker Rock on San Cristóbal and saw fifty hammerhead sharks. Once when the volcano came alive under my feet.” He meets my gaze. “And once, with you.”
If only these were normal times. If only I were an ordinary tourist. If only I didn’t have a life and a love waiting for me at home. I draw in a breath. “Gabriel,” I begin, but he shakes his head.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
I reach out my hand and catch his. I let myself look down at my fingers, curled in his. “Swim with me?” I ask.
He nods, and we pick our way back down the beach. I shuck off my shirt and shorts and wade into the surf in my bathing suit. Gabriel runs past me, splashing on purpose, and making me laugh. He dives shallowly, comes up shaking droplets off his hair, and shears a spray of water my way to soak me.
“You’re gonna be sorry you did that,” I tell him, and I dive under the water.
It is a baptism, and we both know it. A way to clean the slate and start fresh as friends, because that’s the only path that’s open to us.
The water is just cool enough to be refreshing. My eyes burn from the salt and my hair tangles in ropes down my back. Every so often Gabriel free-dives to the bottom and brings up a sea star or a piece of coral for me to admire, before letting it settle again.
I’m not sure when I realize I’ve lost sight of Gabriel. One moment his head is bobbing, like a seal’s, and then he’s gone. I turn in a circle, and try to swim closer to shore, but realize I’m getting nowhere. No matter how hard I paddle my arms, I am being pulled further out to sea.
“Gabriel?” I call, and swallow water. “Gabriel!”
“Diana?” I hear him before I see him—a tiny pinprick, so distant I cannot imagine how he got that far away. Or maybe I’m the one who has.
“I can’t get back,” I yell out.
He cups his hands so his voice carries. “Swim with the current, on the diagonal,” he cries. “Don’t try to fight it.”
Somewhere in my consciousness I realize this must be a riptide—carrying me rapidly away from shore. I think of Gabriel’s friends, the fishermen who never came back. I think of his father, swept away in a racing current under the surface of the ocean. My heart starts pounding harder.
I take a deep breath and start windmilling my arms in a strong crawl stroke, but when I lift my head I’m no closer to the beach. The only difference is that Gabriel is speeding toward me, swimming with the riptide, in the middle of its current, seemingly approaching at superhuman speed.
He’s trying to save me.
It feels like forever, but in minutes, he reaches me. He grabs for me and snags his finger on the chain of the miraculous medal, but it snaps off and I drift further away from him. “Gabriel!” I scream, thrashing out as he floats closer. As soon as he is within reach I grab him and climb him like a vine, panicking. He shoves me under the water, and then jerks me back up.
I am sputtering, blinking. Now that he has my attention, Gabriel grabs my shoulders. “Hold on. Look at me. You are going to make it,” he commands.
He slings one arm around me, swimming for both of us, but I can feel his strokes slowing and his body getting heavier.
My God. This can’t happen to him again.
His fingers flex on my waist, trying to hike me closer to him. But I can tell he’s losing steam. Alone, he might be able to get himself out of this hellish current, but my additional weight is sapping him of energy. If he keeps trying to save me, we will both drown. So I do the only thing I can.
I slip out of his hold.
The current immediately yanks me away from him, so fast it makes me dizzy. He treads water, desperately calling my name.
The waves are so big this far out that they crash over my head. Every time I try to answer him, I swallow water.
I think of what he told me as he touched my throat. Of the airway humans have evolved, of the promises we can speak to each other, of the compromises we suffer for that.
I have heard that the hardest part of drowning is the moment just before—when your lungs seize, about to burst; when you gasp for oxygen and find only water.
Our bodies try to fight the inevitable.
I’ve heard that all you have to do to be at peace, is give in.
SEVEN
Help
EIGHT
Hold on. Look at me. You’re going to make it, Diana.
NINE
Do you know where you are?
Where is my voice.
TEN
Can you squeeze my hand? Wiggle your toes?
Do you know where you are?
Where is Gabriel
ELEVEN
“Blink once for yes,” I hear. “Twice for no. Don’t try to talk.”
It is so bright, I have to close my eyes.