Page 24 of Home to Christmas Island
But the rush has me feeling exhilarated, wild, free. I feel grateful that the weather hasn’t been cold enough to fully freeze the salt water yet. I haven’t felt this way in a long, long time—and despite how truly cold I am, I find myself grinning.
I turn in the water, and see that Rose has already run back to shore and is wrapped up in a big, pink towel. Alba, of course, is also competitive, and won’t get out until I do. We have a silent conversation. You cold yet, Cousin? I snort and roll my eyes, Not a chance, Albs.
The ends of her short, blunt bob have dipped into the water, and I shiver, glad that I’ve wrapped my hair in a messy bun on the top of my head so it wouldn’t get wet.
Wow, Alba says, looking back towards the beach. Is Alistair actually going to come in this year? Sure looks like it.
What, he hasn’t done a polar bear dip before? I ask, trying not to seem too interested.
He comes every year, she says, her teeth chattering. But he’s never actually gotten in the water. He says he only comes in case there’s a medical emergency and he has to drive someone to the hospital.
Even from here, I can tell he seems unsure of himself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this and if my brain wasn’t currently frozen with shock, I would probably have a reaction to the way his eyes are darting around, looking almost self-conscious.
When we first pulled up to the sandbar this morning, I saw him right away, his giant frame noticeable from a mile away. I instantly felt my hackles rise. He saw me crying my eyes out yesterday, and I don’t think anyone who isn’t family has ever seen me cry like that. He let me bite his head off, all while staying perfectly calm and asking me to be his friend.
And today, it’s like none of it fazed him—he simply waved in our direction when the three of us got out of the car, as if what happened at the cemetery was nothing.
He’s still standing on the beach, shifting on the balls of his feet, clearly trying to fire himself up to get into the water. For the first time, I let myself really think about how I’ve been treating Alistair. I’m not ready to admit that he’s probably right—I made a snap judgment about him and now I’m digging my heels in—but I do feel a twinge of guilt.
We lock eyes and a look of steely determination passes over him. I wonder what that’s about, since he doesn’t strike me as super competitive. He takes one last, deep inhale and then runs into the water. He’s so tall it’s really only a few steps for him to be where Alba and I are currently standing in the lake. His eyes are wide with shock.
Jesus Christ you two, don’t you think it’s time you got the hell out of the water? It’s freezing. He rubs his hands over his upper arms, and I can’t help but track the movement. If I put my bullheadedness aside, I can begrudgingly accept the truth of what I’m seeing here, which is that this guy is gorgeous. His biceps ripple with muscle, and I definitely noticed (against my will, I might add) his toned upper thighs when he was standing on the beach. I assume it’s all because he has to stay fit for his job. But a girl wouldn’t be cold wrapped in those arms, that’s for sure.
I thought it was a polar bear dip, he says, pulling me from my treacherous thoughts and looking a little panicked. As in, dip in and get the hell out.
Alba smirks. Too cold for you, Al?
Christ, it’s just a wee bit brisk, his voice is dripping with sarcasm, and he glares desperately at us both. Hypothermia’s already setting in, he grinds out. I did it, I’m in, now I’m leaving. And you’re both turning blue, so don’t you think it’s time for you two to be getting out as well?
No, we say in identically sweet voices, both smiling through our shivering.
He sighs, shaking his head. Please tell me this is not some kind of contest between the two of you.
To be honest, I’m so cold I would happily get back on dry land any time now. But I’ll never admit that to Alba—or to Alistair.
I-I’ll g-get out w-w-when sh-she d-does, Alba can barely get the words out she’s shaking so hard. I feel a maniacal laugh escape me.
I’m not even cold y-yet, I lie, trying my best not to stutter on the last word, but failing miserably.
Alistair looks at us both, and I can see that his skin is covered in goosebumps. I feel grateful that I’m freezing, so neither my body nor my mind can react to seeing him so exposed. I try not to notice the permanent tan on his forearms, all the freckles littered there like stars, beads of water dripping down his arms…
You two are off your heads, he says, snapping me again from my thoughts, before walking quickly back to shore. My brain really must be defaulting back to its primal settings.
A minute later Alba finally concedes, Let’s g-g-get out, she says.
Y-you can get out, I tell her, trying to stop my teeth from clacking together. I notice we are, of course, the last two in the water. I can feel everyone on the shore watching us. I’m not backing down now.
Someone calls out from the beach, Come on girls, you’ll catch a cold! Rose’s usually soft voice is amplified with a touch of worry, which makes me feel rotten. And actually, the thought of ending in a tie doesn’t bother me. I think my brain cells are dying off from the cold.
T-t-truce? I ask my cousin.
Thank f-fuck, Alba says and we both run back to shore. My arms are burning with the cold, and I can’t even feel my legs.
Rose wraps Alba in a towel and I use my shaking hands to grab mine from the beach. Alistair appears, somehow already fully dressed. I feel a slight twinge of disappointment that he’s got his shirt back on. He had on these black swim trunks that went about mid-thigh, but had hiked up ever so slightly when he ran into the water.
Here, he says, coming over to hand me a dry blanket that I assume he grabbed from his car. I try to pretend my thoughts hadn’t just been on his thighs. What is happening to my brain right now?
See? I say to him, attempting to keep my voice steady, Wasn’t that fun?
