Page 191 of 72 Hours of You

I swallow. Our faces are so close together, and his eyes are just on me. “I want to feel it.”

Peter’s eyes go wide.

“The water, I mean. The water. I want to see how cold it is. Jesus, obviously I mean the water.”

Peter laughs. “Okay.”

We peel off our socks and stick our feet in the clear water, scattering tiny fish. “I thought it’d be colder.”

“Global warming,” we say at the same time.

We sit there, next to each other, our feet in the clear water, listening to the falls and a few distant birds. And then a thought hits me, clear and strong: Caroline would like it here.

I’ve been pushing her face out of my mind, trying to forget for so long. But now it’s like … maybe I can let her in again. Maybe she doesn’t have to be all the way gone.

I can almost picture it. Her face backlit by the sun, smiling and dipping her fingers in the pond. Hell, she’d probably be halfway in the water by now. Charles would’ve protested but eventually given in, telling her to be careful on the slippery rocks. He couldn’t resist the things that made her small face light up. I wonder if he’d even be able to sit here now. If he’d be able to find anything good in this place.

Would Mom have let Jules and me go in, if we came together? Would she have taken videos? Would there have been a holiday card of the four of us in the water, huddled close, getting sprayed by the foam? Did Mom like waterfalls or lighthouses? I don’t remember.

If Liam was here, would he be tugging Cameron in with him? Laughing and trying to touch her under the water?

Would Ms. Jegstrup be sitting awkwardly on a rock, her knee-high socks still on, grading papers? Or was she a totally different person when students weren’t around?

For a second, they’re all here with me. Even Gordon and Ronnie and the baguette woman.

“Let’s get in,” I say.

Peter’s eyebrows go up. “Like all the way into the water?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Remember your whole ‘We’re alive. Let’s act like it’ sermon?” I stand up.

Peter stands up too. And then we’re looking at each other. Waiting. Peter takes his shirt off and I can feel my face get hot. And then he takes his pants off and he’s standing there in his boxers. I mean, I know guys walk around like this all the time. But everything feels different and I have no idea where to look or what to do with my arms or even how to breathe in a normal way.

And then I guess it’s my turn. But I can’t bring myself to move. Suddenly this feels insane and my heart is racing and I feel like maybe I’ll just stand here, not moving, until the earth gets swallowed up by the sun and everything ceases to exist.

“Here.” Peter holds out his shirt to me. “I don’t think you’ll want to walk back in wet stuff. Why don’t you wear this into the water?”

I take it, an immense rush of gratitude flooding my system, because holy shit I did not actually think I had it in me to stand here in my underwear. Peter turns around and lets me change. His shirt is huge.

“Done,” I say.

He turns back around and his face goes completely still, his neck getting slightly pink. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Peter gets in first and then holds his hand out to me. “You sure you want to come in? It’s not freezing but it’s not exactly warm either.”

I nod. I’m doing this.

Because the rest of them can’t.

The shirt fills with air and billows up around me, and I tug it down while Peter focuses really hard on a tree or something, pretending not to notice, thank god. But he doesn’t let go of my hand.

The water is cold, and Peter pulls me into him. I kind of thought we’d float around and make it awkward but he’s holding me. Pressing me against him, warming me up just by being close.

I put my arms around his neck, and we’re hugging each other, holding on with nothing but water and trees circling us.

I lean back and Peter brushes a wet strand of hair out of my face. And there’s this space between us, between our faces, but neither of us moves to close it.