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I choose to be brave.
I choose it for one heartbeat, then another. And another. My feet sinking into the sand, still warm from the day’s sun, Luke moving steadily beside me in long, even strides.
I feel a weight start to lift off my chest. It’s still there. Not entirely gone. But it’s not as heavy as it was when the night started.
Not nearly as heavy as it was when I ran into Luke that afternoon outside The Pearl.
The roar of the ocean is loud. Sky enormous and speckled with stars. Breeze stronger here, coming off the water with salt-scented intensity.
I feel full and achy everywhere. Sticky, too, between my legs and along my ribcage, where my tank top clings to the sweat on my skin.
I need to wash it all off. The sweat. The cum. My fear.
I need to step into the water—step into my life—and begin again. Not knowing how it will go. If it will blow up in my face like it did before.
But going in faith nonetheless.
I head toward the ocean, Luke still beside me. He swipes his thumb along the side of my neck. I close my eyes, allowing myself to revel in the feel of his touch.
I love the way this man touches me. Easy and thoughtful and thorough. Always reaching for me. Wanting me. Like he needs to have me within arm’s reach at all times.
Like he wants to be with me, right beside me, all the damn time.
Tide is out. Leaving a wide swath of gently sloping beach. The sand is wet here. Cooler than the sand up by the dunes, but still warm.
I look over my shoulder. No one is around—not at this time of night.
I look back out over the water. A three quarter moon is reflected in a blue-white lane across the ocean’s surface. It narrows toward a dark horizon.
The ocean rises and falls. Rises and falls. Calmly. Patiently.
Waiting for me.
Ducking out of Luke’s grasp, I tug my tank top over my head.
“Whoa,” Luke says. “You’re actually going in?”
I turn to look at him. “You don’t have to come.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m lettin’ you swim at night alone,” he says, crossing his arms to reach for the hem of his shirt.
I shuck off my shorts.
I don’t wait for Luke to start wading into the water. Not because I’m trying to be rude. But because I need a minute alone.
I need a minute.
The water is warm. It hits my ankles. The middle of my shins. I feel a thousand tiny seashells pressing into the soles of my feet. I wince when I step on an especially sharp one.
Otherwise, the sand is soft.
I’m up to my knees. Then my thighs.
“Gracie,” Luke calls from behind me. An admonishment to wait.
I keep going.
There could be sharks. Rip currents. Crabs with pincers poised, eager to clip off a toe.
But I keep moving forward. The sound of the ocean calming my thoughts, my body. Only the beating of my heart loud enough to be heard above it.
I’m up to my waist when I stop. Holding my arms against my chest.
I look at the ocean. I look up at the sky.
Then I close my eyes and I bend my knees and I go under the water. Head and everything.
My first thought is ohmigod I really hope there are no sharks it is so dark down here.
But then my second thought is okay it’s okay.
The water crashes into my body as a wave passes, and I imagine it crashing into the guard I’ve had up. I imagine myself lowering it, inch by inch. The water sloshing over the top and into my chest.
I can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.
It’s terrifying.
Seriously, there better not be sharks.
The urge to jump up and run back to shore overwhelms me. But I resist it. Stay under. Unfurl my arms.
For a second, I just float.
I surrender.
And you know what? A shark doesn’t eat me. I’m not swept away by any tides or currents. Once I get past those fears it’s kind of…
Peaceful.
Warm.
Okay.
Maybe this is just me claiming what was mine all along. Maybe I’m finally claiming my own damn life from the lists and the shoulds and the perfectionism that tried to take it from me.
Maybe I’m finally showing up for myself in a way I should’ve been doing all along. I can have good sex and a good man, too.
I can be myself and be loved for it, too.
I feel a sensation in my chest. The kind you get after a good cry, when the worst has passed and you’re able to breathe again.
A relief, almost. The relief that comes when the emotions running roughshod over your heart move on. Leaving tire marks in their wake.
Marks that have already started to heal.
Told you so, a voice inside me says.
In the darkness I hear my name. Gracie. Gracie, you okay?
