10 Things I Can See from Here

“Not if it means that I have to be responsible for the safe and correct handling of a one-ton death machine.”

“You won’t kill someone.”

“I might,” I said. “I almost killed a deer.”

“But you missed it?”

“Barely.”

“So you didn’t kill it. Imagine being able to get up and go whenever you want. That is definitely worth the risk. The risk is small.”

But it wasn’t small. So many car crashes. So many mechanical failures. So many slippery roads and blizzards and moments where one wrong move could kill. I would not start reciting facts again. I would not. Focus on the girl, Maeve. You are on a date with a very cute girl, and she is taking you somewhere, so don’t do the fact thing. Just don’t do it. Think about something else. Anything.

In about a year, Salix could be in New York. Or Thailand. In five months and twenty-one days, I was going home. So why were we even pretending that this could be a thing? Or maybe it was just me. Maybe this was no big deal to her.

Not what I had in mind when I told myself to think of something else.

This thing that hadn’t started? It was going to end, no matter what happened between now and the end of the five months. Goodbyes. Last moments. Hopeless.

The bus shuddered to a stop, and I bumped against Salix.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Honestly.”

A large woman with a rolling cart full of groceries squished into the seat on the other side of me, so I ended up pinned against Salix, our bodies pressed together from shoulder to knee. The two of us sat very still. I liked being that close, and maybe she did too, because when the woman got off, we didn’t move apart. We stayed pressed together on purpose, slowly relaxing into it until it felt completely natural, as if we’d sat like that a million times before.

“This is our stop,” Salix said. I could hear the reluctance in her voice. I wanted to stay sitting against each other like that too. But we both got up, our sides warm from where we’d touched. When we stepped off the bus, I realized that we’d traveled clear across the city. I’d never gone that far alone on the bus.

“Ta-da!” Salix pointed to the beach across the street. “Welcome to my office. I make good money on this beach. And I promise you there won’t be anyone trying to slip a brick of cocaine into your backpack.”

“What?”

“The girl on the beach in Thailand? My life, wasting away in a foreign jail? Tourist sex?”

I cringed. “You had to remind me?”

“Come on.” Salix took my hand. “I’ll play for a bit and then I’ll buy you an ice cream cone.”

“I have to tell you that I have pretty sophisticated taste in ice cream. I only like the ones that come in boxes. The expensive ones.”

“No problem, princess.” Salix did a little bow. “Your wish is my command.”



The beach was full of Beautiful People, like the girls on the beach at Alice Lake, except this beach was packed with them and their boyfriends. Sinewy teenagers who played beach volleyball like they were in a commercial, leaping high without breaking a sweat or dislodging their expensive sunglasses or perfect ponytails. And adults who still had their adolescent bodies, chiseled and tight and smooth. I could hardly see the sand for all the lithe sunbathers posed just so on their blankets and towels, sunglasses on every single one of them.

“We’re definitely not in East Van,” I said.

I felt frumpy in my tank top and capris. My flip-flops were two years old and had been purchased at a gas station after I lost my sandals at the beach. The capris were a hand-me-down from Ruthie’s cousin and had a paper clip instead of a proper zipper pull.

“Definitely not in East Van.” Salix swept an arm in front of her. “Behold, the land of the lotus-eaters.”

“Lotus-eaters?”

“It’s from that poem by Tennyson. About a ship that ends up at an island where all they eat are enchanted lotuses, which make them dreamy and happy and they forget all their troubles. So much so that the captain has to drag his men back to the boat against their will because they want to stay there forever. People call Vancouver the land of the lotus-eaters. But I think they mean people like this, more specifically.”

I blinked. “I love that you know that.”

“Thanks.” Salix lifted her sunglasses and grinned at me. “I love that you don’t think that knowing that is completely dorky.”

A trio of glisteningly tanned girls with rolled-up yoga mats under their arms hurried past, followed by a few women jogging, again with the perfect ponytails bouncing along in unison. A wide circle of guys tossed a Frisbee on a section of sand roped off for sports.

“I feel like I should be running or jumping or rolling. Or doing yoga.”

“Let’s find some shade instead.”

We wandered along the path while cyclists and in-line skaters sliced by on the side designated for wheels, and joggers nudged past them, clearly impatient, on the pedestrian side.

“Doesn’t anyone just walk?”

“They do.” Salix pointed to an elderly couple strolling ahead of us, a big old dog creaking along behind them.

Trees lined the path, but all the shade had been claimed by the few people who wanted it. “Up there,” she said, pointing. “Shade! I think those people are leaving.”

She ran ahead to stake our claim, and by the time I caught up, she already had her violin out.

She played something classical while I took out my sketchbook and tried to do quick drawings of the people going by. Really, though, I just wanted to draw Salix. Over and over and over again. Just Salix. I chewed on the end of my pencil while I watched her. Salix played the violin with her whole body. Small sways and bows, shuffling her feet now and then, her eyes closing briefly and then opening to find me, still watching. The curve of her jaw, her slender fingers on the strings, the ruby pendant at her throat, one foot in front of the other, her strong calves, the spot where her tanned legs disappeared into her baggy shorts.

I pretended that she was the only one on the whole beach, and that the music was just for me. I drew her, starting with the long, fluid line of her torso.

After about half an hour, she tucked her violin under her arm and sat beside me, pulling her case onto her lap and counting. “Almost thirty bucks.” She grinned. “I can easily buy you a princess ice cream.”

“I’m impressed. Totally impressed.” The wind picked up off the ocean. I pushed the hair off my face. “You’re an amazing musician. Absolutely amazing.”

“Thanks.” She set her violin in the case and shoved the money into her pack. “What were you drawing? Can I see?”

“Nope.” I closed my sketchbook. “Sorry.”

“Someday you’ll show me. I know it.” She stood and offered me a hand. “Let’s go?”

Salix helped me up, and we kept holding hands for a second, until I started to pull away. But Salix held on. “The snack stand is over this way.”

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