Page 3 of Second Tide's the Charm
“Not like I plan to work the ticket counter.” Besides, I worked at an aquarium for a time, while earning my master’s degree, and unlike my current—former, I guess—gig working for Zuri, there were no complaints on my job performance back then.
A warm breeze shifts off the lake, bringing with it the crisp, earthy scent of fresh water, so different from the briny tang of the Atlantic. Here, at least, memories of the man I used to love with my whole heart aren’t everywhere I look, but the call of gulls is enough to transport me back to a dock at sunrise. Adrian’s calloused palm against mine, our fingers laced together.
The first time he’d told me caught me by surprise.I love you.I’d looked up at him, backlit by pink and violet and tangerine hues of dawn, all broad-shouldered vulnerability, and when he spoke those three words, my whole world changed.
Before that, I loved how effortless it felt to be near him. I loved how we fit together, even when we were apart. But that morning, I realized I lovedhim. Loved Adrian with a fierceness that defied comprehension.
Even now, my lips part in memory of the kiss that followed those words, threaded through with want and promise, my fingers flexing at the phantom touch of his tight curls beneath my fingertips, his touch remembered by every cell of my body.
But all I want is to forget.
A volleyball lands nearby, splattering my shins with grains of sand, and the wisps of memory dissolve. I toss it back to the group of swimsuit-clad beachgoers by the net. “I just thought I’d be over him by now.”
“You’re really going to let a guy keep you away from sharks?” She grabs one end of a kayak and I stoop to lift the other. It sounds irrational because it is, even though she knows full well Adrian isn’t just any guy. He’stheguy, the one I never expected to find, never went looking for. The one who showed me a kind of love I didn’t think existed.
My feelings for him defy logic. No person should have that strong an effect on another. Love isn’t quantifiable, and yet here I am, still trying to fall out of love with a man I haven’t spoken to in years.
We hoist the kayak onto the rack, the fiberglass hull a reminder of the moments I spent with Adrian at sea, rushing to catch a glimpse of my first shark, pointing overboard at the dark shape below, his presence warm and solid against my shoulder, both of us breathless with excitement. Memories I can’t seem to leave in the past. “It just feels so daunting to start over.”
“Why don’t you reach out to some of your old contacts?” Zuri suggests, like I haven’t thought about that. But thinking is all I seem to do lately. The lack of action is unlike me. “They might have leads you’re not seeing online.”
Nothing I haven’t already considered and discarded. “I barely speak to anyone in the shark community.” Too painful without taking part. I don’t even have social media anymore to keep tabs on people. “Marissa is the only one who keeps in touch, and the last time we talked was her birthday.”
“Reach out. It’s worth a try.”
“Why, so she can tell Adrian I’m desperate?” She’s Adrian’s cousin, and while our friendship outlasted my relationship with him, I have no doubts of her ultimate loyalty.
“Aren’t you?” At my glare, she relents. “Is she that kind of person?”
“No.” Marissa’s not vindictive, or else she wouldn’t have spoken to me after I stopped dating Adrian. But family comes first, and distance has weakened our once strong friendship. “At least, I don’t think so, but—”
“Text her,” Zuri insists. “What have you got to lose?”
Good question. I’ve already lost the love of my life, my career, and as of five minutes ago, my day job. And I know Zuri won’t let up until I follow her advice. It’s impossible to bluff with a friend who’s known me since we both staged a walk-out—or maybe it was a crawl-out?—of tiny tot ballet class.
I squat by my backpack and dig out my phone, scrolling down to the thread with Marissa. Our last conversation was months ago, and I wince at the idea of breaking the silence with a request. But one thing that’s kept my friendship with Marissa intact is we always pick up right where we left off. Except this time, I’m going to raise the subject I haven’t broached in years.
Hope: Long story, but say I was looking to get back into shark research...
Marissa: I don’t care how long the story is, I need details! But first: are you really thinking of coming back??
Hope: Not just thinking about it.
Marissa: Please tell me you’re serious, because if so, your timing is perfection.
A thrill of anticipation runs through me. Another text appears, but the wind whips streaks of sand across my screen, obscuring the words. Hands unsteady, I swipe away the grains to reveal what might be my way back into shark research.
Marissa: Don’t get too excited. There’s a catch.
My mind instantly floods with potential issues. An unpaid position? Not ideal at this stage in my career, but I’ve got savings. Something that starts immediately? I could pack my bags and be gone tomorrow. A job outside the country? Logistical hurdles, but an exciting opportunity. I can only think of one deal-breaker. Working with Adrian.
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The distinctive dorsal fin of a shark protrudes above the waves, but unlike the sinister narration of the shark documentaries I used to binge as a kid, the only blood here is a carefully collected sample in a syringe. We’ve got a sandbar shark secured alongside the boat and I’m bent double over the railing, arms submerged up to the elbow in the warm water of the bay, holding the animal steady.
Acoustic tag placed and scientific work-up complete, I maneuver a pair of pliers toward the glint of metal beneath the surface. Our specially designed hook is already out, but before we release the shark, I’d like to remove the old fishhook we discovered embedded in the shark’s jaw. Just when I’m at the right angle to grasp it, the boat lurches upward on a wave, knocking against my arm, and my grip slips.
