“Where I’m from, people get into a kayak and risk being eaten by gators. You basically turn yourself into a taco.”
“No alligators here.Orata, maybe. Sometimes an aggressiveacciuga.” He straightened out the car and pulled onto the road down to the sea.
“What’s anacciuga?”
“Anchovy.”
“The thing you put on pizza?”
“Yes, but we have attack anchovies here.” He shifted gears, then clawed his fingers like they were about to bite.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, brutal.” He smiled, not taking his eyes off the road. He could feel her smiling back at him, like sunlight through the window.
The descent to the cove was a steep and rocky road that then opened out to a flat, sandy area where they could park. Beyond the parking area and along the coast, one of the town beaches stretched out toward the sea. It was a public space—no pristine lines of multicolored beach club chaise longues and umbrellas here, only small clusters of people sunbathing on towels or reading in sand chairs. At this late-afternoon hour, the tide lapped at the shore, and giant seagullspecked at invisible snacks on the sand. He pulled the car into a corner, and they both stepped out.
“Just untie the front there,” he said, moving to the back of the car.
“Am I going to be able to lift this?” Lora asked, running her hand along the side of the kayak.
“It’s light, you’ll see. But you don’t look like you would struggle.”
“It’s boxing. I like to box. But it’s been a while, you know?” She set her tote bag down on the sand and hunched down to unclasp the bungee cords.
“Ah, really? Too busy lately?”
“You might say that,” she said, standing and brushing off her fingers.
He picked up her tote and slid it onto his shoulder, then stood toward the back wheel of the car and placed his hands on the side wall of the kayak.
“Are you ready? We’ll slide it over and pull it up over our heads.”
“Got it,” she said, matching her hand position to his.
He counted one, two, three, and they hoisted the boat up and over their heads. He checked to see if she was OK, got a “yup” in return, and walked the back end of the kayak around. They marched down to the water silently, as if they’d made this trip together dozens of times before.
“Let’s bring it down to the right,” he called back to her.
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
They flipped the boat down to their right on the soft sand; then he pulled off his T-shirt and sandals, tucking them into the stern pocket.
“You probably want to take off anything you don’t want to get wet,” he said, though it took every ounce of self-control he had not to watch Lora pull off her tank top and slide her shorts down. “And I’m going to put your things in this dry bag, if that’s OK.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said, folding up her clothing. She handed the neat pile to him while his head was down, and he pushed everything into the heavy rubber sack. When he finally looked up, the sight of her in a black bikini made him swallow. He reached in his pocket for the blister pack of Biochetasi tablets and slipped one into his mouth.
“I probably overdid the coffee today,” he said, pulling two bottles of water out of the stern pocket. “Do you want one?”
“I’m fine for now, thanks,” she said, blocking the sun out of her eyes with her hand.
They pulled the kayak into the water, and he had her sit first; then he gave it a shove and jumped in himself. Within two minutes, they were paddling out into the cove formed by a wall of rocks that served as a protective break for the shoreline. The sun was right in their faces as they made their way northwest along the coast, and a warm breeze drew across the water. He pulled hard, enjoying the feeling of the work, but also noticed her contribution immediately. Lora paddled ahead of him, the muscles in her back and shoulders working as she alternated dipping the blades into the water. They cruised, falling into a cadence, and finally he felt his thoughts relax. In New York, he’d found that not all activities had lasting benefits when it came to stress relief. Running put him too much in his head, team sports were too complicated, cycling was asking for trouble in the city. When he’d discoveredrock-climbing, he immediately knew that he’d found the right fit. He could lose himself for hours on a rock-climbing wall, only thinking about technique, breathing, footwork. When he finally put two feet on the ground, it was very difficult to remember what drove him into the gym in the first place. But it always came back eventually. Here, with her, he could feel the pleasant hum in his head he used to feel climbing, where thoughts fell away and this very second was all that mattered.
“Do you ever miss the city?” Lora asked, turning her head slightly back to him.
“I miss certain things.”
“Like what?”
