“It’s beautiful.”
The coins are from a Spanish galleon, Aiden says to me. He’s showing me old, rusty coins he retrieved on a dive. I’m giving one to Jacob for his birthday. Don’t tell him. So Aiden Finlay is a diver. He’s standing close to me, too close, his arm brushing mine. He’s in a turtleneck, and he gives off the faint scents of soap and pine. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. You like it? He scratches his chin. I’m growing a goatee. Do I look like an outlaw?
I laugh and say, Do outlaws have goatees?
He leans down toward me. This one does. He moves in closer. I catch the minty scent of his breath. Anticipation rises in my chest. Where are we? Not here on the island. I hear the distant rush of traffic, or is it the rush of the waves? The background fades into gray, indistinct shapes, but the details of his face come into focus. His bushy brows, the light flecks in his brown eyes, the wavy, deliberately unkempt hair descending into a perpetual five o’clock shadow. His intense gaze makes me feel like I’m his only concern on the planet. And then . . . he steals a kiss. So quickly, I don’t have time to pull away.
Am I surprised? Startled? Do I kiss him back? Did I? Or did I step away from him, putting distance between us? Maybe I said, I can’t do this, Aiden, I’m a married woman. Or did I kiss him back, pull him toward me? The truth is, I have no idea what happened next. The moments break apart and fly away in the wind.
“Earth to Kyra,” Nancy says, waving her hand in front of my face.
“Sorry. I was spacing out again.”
“More memories of an old boyfriend?”
“No,” I lie. “I was thinking I could use a walk. If you have time. I’ve been spending too much time alone with Jacob.”
“I was hoping you would say that.”
After she locks up the school, we head down to the beach, a quiet stretch of sand curving along a protected bay.
“Sorry about showing up unannounced like that,” I say.
“No apology necessary. I’m glad you stopped by. You’re a natural teacher.” The wind recedes, allowing us to hear each other talk. The smells of the sea, of salt and kelp, fill the air. We’ve been here before, walking along the southern shore. Why don’t you stay longer? Nancy says in my memory. It’s an early-September day, the sky bright with a last gasp of summer.
School is starting, and I need to straighten out a few things.
What things? Is this about you and Jake? Are you two in trouble? Do I detect a faint note of hope in her voice? You can talk to me. I won’t say a word to him.
I don’t trust her to keep a secret. Nancy is not like my best friend. While Linny remains steadfastly loyal, Nancy bends in the wind . . .
I’ve made hasty decisions, I say. Things are difficult.
I understand, she says. I should tell you something about Jake, about the way he is. He needs to have his own way. I’ve known him since we were kids . . .
“The kids were a little worried,” Nancy says to me now. “When you were zoned out, I mean.”
“How long was I in La La Land?” I say, shoving my hands into my coat pockets.
“Only a minute or so. But they’re not used to it. They handled it very well, though.”
“Are you going to tell them about my situation?”
“If they ask, I’ll say you get nervous talking in front of people. They’ll be able to relate to that.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, navigating around a small pile of kelp, like a wig stranded in the sand. “I was remembering teaching in a big lecture hall. And actually, I was nervous. So you’re not far off the mark.” Aiden gave me the thumbs-up. He stayed for the full hour. I was aware of him the whole time, as if I were addressing him and not two hundred sleepy students. His presence gave me confidence. But what about the kiss? Were we at the university? In the lecture hall?
“I felt that way when I first started teaching,” Nancy says. “I got my certification at City University in Seattle. But I didn’t feel ready at all. I was young. I met Van there, at a party.”
“Was he a student, too?” I say.
She gives me a curious look, searching my face. “You really don’t remember our conversations, do you?”
“Only bits and pieces.” I look down at my damp running shoes. I feel detached from my own body. I am made of bits and pieces.
“He was already working for Silver Marine Services in Seattle. He was a commercial diver. He practically lived in the water. Somebody invited him to a party in the dorm, and we binged on Sutter Home Moscato. We got pretty drunk that night . . .”
Aiden’s drunk, Jacob said, leading me into Café Presse in Seattle. I put him to bed. I see Jacob resting a gentle hand on the small of my back, steering me to a booth, ordering me a cup of tea at nearly midnight. The French ambience wraps around us; the buttery smell of pommes frites permeates the room.
Will he be all right? I say, worried.
Not the most mature response to life’s challenges, Jacob says.