Page 77 of Pick-Up
“Yeah, fine. I think I tripped on a rock and then stepped on a shell.”
“You should keep your hands up when you walk,” I say. “To protect yourself. In case you eat it.”
“Good point. See? Some peoplecantake constructive criticism.”
“Yes. People who need it.”
He doesn’t respond, but I know he’s shooting daggers at me.
“Want to turn on that lantern until we get to the water, so we don’t kill ourselves?”
“Oh, sure,” I say. “Ifyouneed it.”
I switch on the light. It radiates only a soft glow. I hold it up toward our faces. Ethan is indeed rolling his eyes at me. “Do you want to look at your foot to see if there’s a cut? I think I have aFrozen 2Band-Aid in my bag back at the room.”
“No. We’ve come this far. If there’s a cut, I’ll just risk sepsis.”
“Wow. True heroism.”
I hold the lantern low and in front of us to avoid further mishaps. We are so busy watching our step that when we reach the edge of the water, our destination, we’re both surprised. The tide laps at my feet.
“This is it, I guess.”
“Wait!” Ethan says, grabbing my forearm. The flesh to flesh contact sparks its own celestial event in my body. “Don’t look up yet.”
In the lantern light, it’s like we’re telling fireside ghost stories. And Ethan has a good one.
“Why?”
“Because we need to turn off the lantern first to get the full effect. And then we need to look up at the exact same time. To maximize impact.”
He is dead serious. This game is no game. I sense I am seeing a glimpse of him as a kid and I am positive he is an older brother. No younger child was ever that bossy.
“Fine,” I agree, as he drops his hand. I fight the urge to grab his palm and put it back on my arm. “Ready?”
“Born ready.”
I switch off the lantern, and we are invisible to each other again. Somewhere not too far off, a frog croaks. I am tempted to remind it to say “Excuse me,” but I can tell Ethan will not be amused if I ruin his moment.
“Okay,” he says. “Should we sit?”
“Sure?”
We make our way down onto the drier sand. At least I do and I assume he does. I hear him moving.
“Are you looking up?” he checks.
“No.”
“Are you lying?”
“Oh my God! You’re like the stargazing nazi!”
“Okay, okay. But are you? Be honest.”
“No!”
Then, suddenly, I can feel him settle in next to me and it’s like we’re seated side by side at the planetarium. The edge of his T-shirt sleeve brushes my bare arm, his elbow bumps my knee, and a shiver pulses through me despite the warm air. Is there such a thing as a warm chill? Maybe that idea about one sense being heightened in the absence of others is real. ’Cause I can feeleverything.
