“Of course not.”
He focused back on his book, turning each page with a jerk. My breath was fast and tight in my throat. I took a sip of my drink, but the lime was no longer refreshing, the acid curling in my stomach. I rubbed at my breastbone, but it didn’t ease the pressure.
Our meals arrived and the waiter asked if he could get us anything else, but Andrew wasn’t speaking to him and I was forced to answer for both of us while Andrew stared at me. I could feel his rage from across the chairs, hear the rant he was rehearsing.
Sophie was now making her way back. I leaned closer to Andrew. “Please don’t do this. Please don’t turn this into something. He touched my hand by accident.”
“I saw the way you looked at him, Lindsey.”
“No, you didn’t.” This was when I should’ve been reassuring him, telling him he was my one and only, but the margarita had made me brave. It made me stupid.
“You’re imagining things,” I said.
It was as though his entire face broke apart and then rearranged itself into someone else. The real Andrew. The man no one saw except me.
Sophie ran up to us, sat beside me on the beach chair. Her skin was cold and wet against mine. She reached for a french fry. “Did you see all my shells, Mommy?”
“Yes, baby.” I glanced at her castle. “They’re perfect.”
Andrew dumped ketchup onto his plate, smeared a french fry around. “Eat your lunch, darling.”
“I just need to go and wash my hands.” I could feel Andrew watching me all the way to the restrooms. I kept my head down and didn’t look at anyone.
I threw my paper towel into the garbage, slid my sunglasses on. I had to get back to the beach. Sophie would want to swim again and I didn’t want Andrew to let her when she’d just eaten. I thought of the Coronas he’d had. How many? I didn’t even know. I used to keep count.
They weren’t on the beach chairs. My salad was still on the side table, the lettuce wilting in the heat. My drink was empty. Andrew’s burger and fries were gone, Sophie’s half eaten. I looked around. They weren’t at her sand castle. Maybe they went back to our room? I walked closer to Sophie’s sand castle. Her towel was spread on the other side, her lime-green plastic sandals kicked off.
Her dolphin float was missing.
I took a few steps into the water, my hand covering my eyes. The waves rose and fell, an undulating mass of blue. Swimmers bobbed up and down. I squinted, tried to focus on their faces. Where was she? Where was Andrew? I spun around and scanned the people on the beach, the throngs of resort guests, clusters of kids running and chasing waves. I turned back and gazed out over the water again, looking for Sophie’s small head, her red bathing suit.
Then I saw her blow-up dolphin moving up and down in the waves—with no one on it. I walked through the water as fast as I could, the current tugging against my legs, my feet sinking into the soft sand. When I was in deeper water I swam hard strokes to the toy and latched on. They had to be out there. Sophie never let that dolphin out of her sight.
I couldn’t see her bright pink snorkel, but there were so many people in the water. I thought again of the food she had eaten, the beers Andrew had drunk. He was a strong swimmer, but Sophie was still learning, and tired easily. I plunged my head under the water.
I saw legs coming closer—masculine legs. I rose to the surface sucking in the air in big gasps. An older man a few feet away took his snorkel out of his mouth.
“You okay?” he yelled.
“I can’t find my daughter!” More people were swimming over. What’s she wearing? Did you see her go under? Someone get the lifeguard!
I was treading water, my torso supported by the dolphin. “I didn’t see her go in. She’s only six. She’s wearing a red bathing suit.” A speedboat roared past and fresh waves sent us all bobbing up and down, salt splashing in my face. The horizon appeared and disappeared.
Someone from the resort on a Jet Ski radioed in her description. People were diving down, then rising to the surface with wet hair and foggy goggles.
None of them found her. I kept sticking my head under the water, but all I saw now were pale thrashing legs that stirred up the sand and made the water murky. I popped back up, looked out over the breakwater. Could they have been swept out to sea?