THE ROWBOAT BUMPS THE DOCK, and I start to tie it off while Sam reaches to Costa and helps him out.
Costa immediately claps his hand repeatedly on Sam’s back. “It worked? Dude, no way. You are completely awesome.”
“I don’t know that I can stop all the voices I hear when I’m at the inn or somewhere else though. One person is probably easier. And I can’t exactly strap Stella to my back and cart her around with me all the time.” Sam smiles, trying to hide his mood from Costa. “This power is going to take work to live with.”
“Then, don’t live with it.” Costa backs up and reaches into the rowboat to pull out a small net. “Look! I caught two fish while you were busy being all death trippy and magical. Seems Stella is good luck for me, too.”
We head back to the house, and I kick off my shoes on the deck while Sam goes inside to get us drinks.
“It’s going to cool off soon,” Costa says. “You need a sweatshirt?”
“Yeah, probably. I’ll get one in a sec.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
I smile at him. “Thanks, CJ. There’s one on the couch in my living room.”
“You got it. Then, maybe we can see what else Sam can do. This is cool shit.” He trots down the stairs, yelling, “Fish for dinner! Fish for dinner!”
Alone, I lean over the railing and see that Sam’s garden is suffering now that his watering power is gone. I find something terribly sad about the dry plots, and I resolve to bring them back to good health. There’s enough death around us without losing the flowers.
Costa hangs my sweatshirt next to me.
I pat his arm. “Thanks.”
Silently, Costa takes the knife from his pocket and squats on the deck. Water from the netted bag runs over the wood and drips off the side. I can’t stop looking at it. The pattern it is making is thick and heavy and crawling toward me. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m nervous and edgy all of a sudden.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask him.
“Fine,” he says dryly. The net is tangled, and he rips the knife through it.
He’s not fine. That’s clear. He’s anything but, and I know from the way my stomach knots that something is urgently wrong.
Sam, get out here. Now, I think.
I wince when Costa slices open one of the fish and starts gutting it. “Do you have to do that here?”
“Can’t take a little blood, princess?” His hands are filthy, and he shoots me a cold expression. “I thought you’d like the head.”
“Hey!” Sam is at the door, three open beer bottles in his hand. “Watch your mouth.”
“Just a joke.” But Costa’s mood has changed. “Relax. This hearing thing is making you touchy. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this power is a bad idea.”
“I’ll figure it out.” His words are loaded with tension.
Costa takes the second fish and swipes the knife through its belly. “It’s pretty fucking simple, Sam. If you hate this hearing power, then trip. Poof! You’ll be all fixed.”
“I’m not tripping again, understand?” When Costa doesn’t say anything, Sam throws the bottles over the railing and takes a step closer. He’s angry now, and the tension between them is high. “I asked if you understood me, Costa. Enough is enough. No one is tripping anymore.”
“Christ, Sam! I heard you, okay?” Now, Costa stands up. He’s not as big as Sam, but he can definitely be intimidating when he wants to be. “You don’t want to trip. I get it. So, don’t. I’ll leave you alone. Everything’s cool.” He glances down to the yard. “Do you want to replace those perfectly good beers you trashed?”
“Sure.” Slowly, Sam backs up, keeping his eyes on Costa, until he’s inside.
“What’s going on with you, Costa?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He slices through the second fish head. “I just think Sam’s being a little goddamn thoughtless.”
“What do you mean?”
