Page 52 of Teach Me Your Ways

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Yeah, it is. The sand is kind of a bitch, but you get used it.”

“It’s the logical option,” she said.

We were back to talking about our non-relationship. We were both academics. Logic was how we lived our lives. Getting derailed by a sexual relationship would be bad for both of us. We both made big plans. We were two parallel lines but never meant to meet.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the waves crash against the shore. The ocean had always been my sanctuary, but tonight it felt different with her sitting beside me.

“So where did you learn to dive like that?” I asked, genuinely curious. “You move like you have webbed feet.”

She smiled, and for the first time tonight, it reached her eyes. “My dad. He was a boat repairman—did underwater maintenance on hulls, propellers, that kind of thing. The moment they could get a mask to fit on my face, he had me down there with him.”

“How old were you?”

“Six, maybe seven? Most kids that age are afraid of putting their face underwater. I was begging him to take me deeper.” She took a sip of beer, her expression softening with the memory. “He used to say I was part seal.”

“And your mom was okay with that?”

Cece laughed. “Mom loved the sky—always had her head in the clouds, literally. She’s a pilot. Dad loved the sea. They used to joke that between the two of them, they had the whole world covered.”

“Which parent did you take after?”

“Definitely Dad.” Her voice grew quieter. “I think that’s why I fell in love with underwater archeology. It combined everything he taught me with something that was entirely my own.”

The way she talked about her father, past tense, told me everything I needed to know. “He would be proud of what you’re doing.”

She looked at me, and I saw a flicker of vulnerability she usually kept locked away. “I hope so. He always said the ocean had stories to tell if you knew how to listen.”

“Sounds like a smart man.”

“The smartest.” She turned back to the water. “He would have loved this view.”

I nodded to give her time.

She shut her eyes. “He died when I was seventeen. Heart attack. He never got to see me get this far.” A single tear slipped down her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s been six years.”

“It could be a hundred years,” I said. “Grief never goes away. And it sounds like you were close to your dad.”

“I was.” She smiled.

“And your mother?”

“She’s here with me,” she answered. “We’re close.”

“Good. Where are you from?”

“Virginia,” she said.

“How’d you choose the Zoo for your grad program?”

“Good archeology department,” she said. “And I know there are lots of ships out there.”

I laughed. “Yes and I would guess a lot more buried treasure is still to be found.”