Page 65 of That Birthday in Barbados
He’s wearing dark glasses, his eyes hidden behind them. His dark blonde hair is a little wild, as if the ocean breeze has had its way with it, and he hasn’t bothered to argue.
He’s shirtless,his bare chest shimmering tan in the sunlight. His skin is smooth, nearly hairless. The sight of him, the nearness of him, triggers vivid memories of what had almost happened between us, and I plant a hand at the center of his chest, pushing away from him.
He lets me go. My chin drops beneath the surface, and I inhale a gulp of salty sea-water, adding more mortification to my already too long list with Anders.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says in a quiet voice.
I kick back a yard or so, needing the distance to scramble for composure. “What are you doing out here?” I ask, making every effort to sound as if I am staring at any other stranger on the beach.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
I raise a hand. “There really is absolutely no need.”
“I think the way we ended things last night said everything that needed to be said.”
He reaches for my hand, pulls me toward the shore until we’re both standing in water to my waist. It is only then that he says, “No. I didn’t say what I needed to say.”
“Anders. I get it. There’s a whole list of credible reasons why last night would have been a stupid thing to do. Would you like to hear a few? Let’s see. Everyone I know will accuse me of robbing the cradle when they see your young, gorgeous self. You’ll think I have to have a commitment because I’m at the age of desperation. In ten years, I’ll look like your?”
“Stop,” he says, holding up a palm. He looks at me for several long moments before he finally says, “As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one reason it would be a bad idea.”
“So your reason is valid, but mine isn’t.”
“Four years ago, I was dying of cancer.”
The words drop into the air between us, heavy with the weight of boulders launched from an airplane flying overhead. I feel as if I willdrown in the tsunami wave they create. “What?” I say, barely able to hear my question.
“I’ve been okay for two years, but there are no guarantees.”
“But. . .you look so. . .”
“I’ve learned how to take care of myself. If there’s a rainbow in my experience, it’s that.”
“I’m sorry. I?”
“I’m not telling you this because I want your pity. I needed you to know that I’m not living my life like there’s a definite tomorrow. There’s today. For most people, that’s not enough.”
“Anders. I?”
He backsaway. “I just needed you to know it wasn’t you.”
I watch him turn and walk out of the water, back up the beach and up the stairs to the hotel, and then he’s out of sight, gone.
Chapter Thirty
“You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.”
?William Faulkner
Catherine
I WALK BACK to my chair and sit for a long time, staring out at the placid ocean before me while I wonder how Anders lived the life he’sdescribed to me.
He is the picture of health. His body a testament to self-care and wellness. I think of the night in his kitchen when we had talked about diet and juicing and the importance of good food and nutrition. I had felt then that there was more beneath the surface of our conversation but brushed it off. And now I know the why.
Cancer.
The word itself is terrifying.
