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I keep it close.
And I whisper his name.
Over. And over. And over.
Minutes go by, and the last cries of the witches fade into the night. Magic rolls into the water, heavy and thick like oil, damaging instead of healing.
I stare into the distance, beg for Wolfe to appear, but hedoesn’t. The witches begin their march out of the water, shoulders slumped and heads hanging, exhausted from another rush.
I slowly turn and make my way up the beach. My parents find me, and we walk toward the road, waiting for all the other witches to leave before we go. No one says anything, too ashamed to speak to one another even though we have all gone through the same thing.
Finally, it’s just the three of us. Mom leans into Dad. “Ready?” she asks.
He nods and we start the walk home.
I’m already on the street when I think I hear my name, though it could just be the wind rushing off the waves. It could be nothing at all. Still, I turn.
And there he is.
Standing in the water, bathed in moonlight, whispering my name.
I don’t think, I don’t hesitate, I don’t fear.
I run.
“Tana!” my mother calls behind me, her voice weak from the rush but urgent. Scared. “Tana!”
I don’t look back. Wolfe is no longer facing the shore; he’s getting ready to dive back into his current. He didn’t see me in time.
“Wolfe!” I scream his name as my mother screams mine, chasing after me. “Wolfe!” I scream again.
He stops and turns, his mouth falling open and his eyes growing wide.
I sprint into the water, pushing through it as fast as I can,trying to ignore the sounds of my mother behind me. I can’t turn around because if I do, I might shatter.
I push off the ocean floor and launch myself toward Wolfe. He catches me in his arms, and I wrap myself around him, holding on tight, holding on for my life.
“Go!” I shout.
My father is in the water now, swimming toward us, thrashing through the waves even though he’s weak from the rush—too weak, and yet he expends every last ounce of what he has left coming after me. He slows, unable to keep up, bobbing helplessly several yards away. I hold on to Wolfe tightly to keep myself from swimming to my father, but I watch him the whole time, and I know this image will stick with me for the rest of my life, no matter how hard I try to erase it. He shouts my name and begins to choke, the sound tearing me in two. My mother finally reaches him and pulls him toward the shore. Tears roll down my face as I tuck my head into Wolfe’s shoulder and take a deep breath. He dives into the current, and the image of my father is replaced by dark water rolling over my head, erasing all the light.
Erasing all the love.
Erasing everything.
Wolfe’s arms are wrapped tightly around me as we’re swept out to sea, but I’m not sure it’s the ocean we’re in anymore. Maybe it’s a buildup of tears and anguish so vast and wide I’ll never find my way back out.
Mom calling my name.
Dad thrashing in the water.
I will never recover from this, not if I live a hundred years, a thousand lifetimes. This moment will scar every part of me, and I will never be without it.
I squeeze my arms and legs tighter around Wolfe because I’m afraid if I don’t, I’ll give up and let the ocean do with me whatever it will. But Wolfe’s arms are secure around me, holding me together when I’m sure I’ll fall apart.
The current slows, and we surface. We both pull in air, our chests expanding into each other as we breathe. I cling to him as if he’s a life preserver, and in this moment, I’m sure that he is.
The water pulls us along. I look toward the shore, but we’re far away from the beach where the rush took place, far away from my parents. Far away from my heart.
