Chapter 40
Sawyer
I sit on the beach, feeling the sea breeze ruffle my hair, the sand stick to my toes. Seagulls call above me, their cries and the crashing of the waves a symphony I could listen to all day.
It’s hard to believe I was consumed by terror hours ago. I feel completely at peace now. Such a dramatic transformation seems like it should be impossible. And yet…
Change. The defining trait of living. Life might just defy the laws of nature, too.
No matter how bad it might get, how dark, how lost in grief, this is always possible. I want to sculpt something so I don’t forget the serenity surrounding me. A vase with the texture of sand and the swirling colors of the ocean.
In front of me, Morgan is diligently listening to a five-person crash course on surfing.
She nods, her brows knotted in concentration.
She looks out at the vast ocean with apprehension, but she doesn’t retreat.
Gamely, she mimics what her instructors are telling her, pretending to paddle through the sand on her board, then hopping up in one fluid motion.
Everyone applauds and encourages her, like standing up on packed sand is anything at all like standing on the rolling waves of the ocean. Morgan swallows. She looks at Zach, who is smiling from ear to ear, and some of the fear leaves her face.
The surfers lead her out into the water. Zach crashes through the waves, looking like he’s having the time of his life. Dipping her toes in, Morgan shivers, then seems to make a decision. I grin as she charges into the waves, dunking her head instantly. She comes up gasping for air and gorgeous.
As Zach’s friends push Morgan into wave after wave, the tide surges. My feet get wet. This early in the morning, the water is cool. I don’t mind it, though. The chill just makes me appreciate the sun on my face.
I lean forward, grabbing a handful of wet sand. Rocks eroded over millennia. Earth. Like clay. Like dust.
I mold it in my fingers into nothing but the shape of my palm, then release it into the tide, where it disintegrates and is swept out to sea, to Morgan.
Nothing is ever really gone, I suppose. Only changed.
Rock into sand. Us into dust. You can’t erase a person completely, either.
Kennedy’s ghost is gone, but she’s changed my world forever.
I hear a whoop from the sea and look up to see Morgan standing on the board for a triumphant five-second ride before she falls to the side. She comes up laughing.
I can’t help smiling. Morgan is so fearless, so ready for new experiences, ready for everything. It’s the opposite of how I’ve lived for five years. I was so afraid to let my world change, to lose Kennedy for good.
How foolish. I can never lose Kennedy. She changed my life every day I knew her, she made me alive, and then she changed it one last time. It was her final gift, I know now. To bring me to Morgan.
I want to be more like her. Morgan Lane is a force of nature, like the sun, the sea. An earthquake in my life, shaking my foundation until my walls crumble. Eroding my stone into sand and dust, leaving me exposed. I’m done pretending otherwise.
As I watch her cheering with Zach over her board, I feel like I did when I saw her in my garden. Heart-punched with longing, hope, affection. I know what the emotion is now.
Love.
I wait for the guilt to hit me. All I feel is the ocean at my feet, the breeze in my hair, the sun on my face.
The second love of my life learns to surf, turning a group of strangers into friends. She successfully rides waves, standing with one foot in front of the other, her mouth fixed in focus. I would happily watch her all day.
She’s leaving, I have to remind myself.
But loss is only one part of love, I’ve learned.
Losing someone doesn’t make them any less worthy of holding on to while you can.
I don’t regret loving Kennedy for one second.
And I won’t regret loving Morgan, even if it’s just for this weekend, just this day, just this minute.
I can face the hurt later. I’ve survived it before. I’m not afraid.
When the sun is high in the sky, Morgan comes in from the ocean. Her hair is slick with salt water, her face golden in the sunlight, her smile wide. Zach jogs next to her, talking quickly and animatedly. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I know he’s happy.
I wave and stand to greet them.
“Dude,” Zach says, “did you see her? She’s a natural.”
My eyes land on Morgan. “She was incredible,” I reply softly.
She flushes. I think I might have actually flustered the fearless Morgan for a moment. She tightens her grip on her board, then turns to Zach, recovering. “Maybe our first date should have been surfing, not rock climbing.”
Zach laughs, the sound another perfect strain of the day’s melody. “Well, I’m really glad we got a do-over. As friends, obviously.”
Morgan’s eyes sparkle. “Me too. So what’s next for the Perfect Weekend?”
“Anything and everything. Napping on the sand, listening to music, picking up sandwiches from the nearby deli, hanging out with friends. You can’t do it wrong,” Zach says.
“I think I can get into that,” I say. “Here, let me take the board in for you so you can rinse off.”
Morgan looks at me. She blinks. Can she tell how changed I am? How much she’s inspired me? I hope so. “Thanks,” she says, passing the surfboard to me.
It’s wet still, but I don’t mind how the salt water dampens my shirt.
I trail behind them with the board while Morgan and Zach run up the sand to the showers.
When I reach the edge of the parking lot, I wedge the board upright in the sand the way the rest of our crew has.
This close, I can make out all the doodles and signatures left by Zach’s friends.
I see where it looks like Ben’s daughter wrote her name, the E in Emma written backward.
Someone has drawn a snowboarder on a mountain—Otto, I think?
The Perfect Weekend 2014 is scrawled on the side.
“You should sign it, too,” Layla says behind me. I turn to face her. “You were clearly special to him.”
Emotion wells in my throat. I can’t speak.
Layla seems to understand. “Here.” She walks over to her van and leans into the open window. When she emerges, she’s holding a thick Sharpie.
“Thank you,” I manage to get out.
She smiles and walks over to the rest of the group setting up on towels in the sand, giving me my privacy.
I uncap the pen when I’m alone. It feels intimidating, leaving my mark on this part of Zach’s life. But I want to. What we had is worth it.
So I summon Morgan’s fearlessness. Just a little. Just enough to press pen to fiberglass.
Doodles spill out of me—pieces of Zach I’ve collected in our too-short time together.
A blooming flower for Morgan, a dragon for his nephew, a screwdriver for his family.
Ocean waves for his friends, a small house for me.
It’s not an urn, but it still feels like a part of Zach’s spirit, a memorial of the love so many people have for him.
I was afraid to give this to Kennedy. I was so wrong. It’s hard, but it’s healing. Action instead of inaction. Taking control of something I have no control over. Changing.
I sign my name, and I start to say goodbye.