Chapter 5
FIVE
PRESENT DAY
Madeline
I stare at the phone in my shaking hands as the app presents the next video—a girl holding up a recent romantasy book and raving about how much she loved it. I swipe backward, looking for the video of the surfer, but it doesn’t appear.
“Can we watch that again?” I ask Brooklyn, holding out the phone. “The video of the guy rescuing the kids.”
“No. Sorry.” Brooklyn waves a hand at the phone. “I don’t think we can. That video was live. Didn’t you notice the flashing red button in the top corner there?”
No, I hadn’t noticed anything except the man in the video. The man who looks so much like Adam. “What do you mean— live ?”
Brooklyn gives me an indulgent smile, and I feel every bit of my twenty-seven years. I’m not that old, but to my students I probably seem ancient. And social media isn’t really my thing. As a high school teacher, I have to be careful about what I put out there that students might see.
“Live means that someone was taking the video through the app and playing it for people to see while it was happening. Once it’s over, it’s gone.
It’s different than a video that someone shoots and then posts later.
It’s meant to be kind of like an exclusive thing.
If you don’t watch live—you’ve missed it. ”
“So, it’s just—gone?” I choke out.
Brooklyn looks at me strangely. “Don’t worry, Ms. Sullivan. Those kids seemed like they’re okay. They were lucky that surfer was there to save them.”
“I know, it’s just…” I hesitate. In addition to avoiding social media, I tend to avoid telling my students too much about my personal life.
They may have heard the stories about the local guy whose car went over the cliff on that cold, rainy February night, probably from their parents warning them about not ending up with a similar fate.
But ten years was a lifetime ago, and I’m sure they never made the connection between that kid in the Ford Bronco and the one smiling in the photo on my desk.
But I want Brooklyn’s help, and I need to tell her something about why I’m so desperate to recover that video. “The guy who rescued the kids looks like someone I knew. An… old friend.”
Brooklyn’s eyebrows raise, but at eighteen, she’s mature enough not to ask for details, and I’m relieved.
Because “an old friend” is obviously the biggest exaggeration of my life.
How could I admit that the guy in the video looks exactly like the love of my life?
Adam, who drove off the side of the road and plunged into the river?
Adam, whose life was swept away in the cold current, taking my heart along with him.
It sounds completely unhinged.
It is completely unhinged. And yet…
I take another glance at the phone in my hand.
I should hand it over, change the subject, and get on with my day.
I need to pack up my classroom, go find the perfect lounge chair by the pool, and open the book I’ve been so excited about.
But while I feel my arm reaching out to press the phone back into Brooklyn’ s hand, I hear my voice asking, “Is there any way to find out any more information about that video?”
Brooklyn takes the phone and clicks around in the social media app. “Here,” she says, holding it up. “This is the guy who streamed it.”
On the screen is a photo of a college-aged guy with a ball cap tugged over his sandy brown hair.
TylerBealAΔΦ / 1.5k Followers / 565 Following
“He’s like… a frat guy on vacation,” Brooklyn says, scrolling through his posts.
The cover photos for the first five or six videos show Tyler lying in the sand and drinking at an outdoor beach bar with a bunch of other early twenty-somethings.
“He was probably just hanging out on the beach and happened to catch the rescue, but it doesn’t look like he posted anything else about the surfer.
” She pushes play on a video, and I watch the group cheer and throw back shots.
“It’s mostly a lot of partying. You could DM him and ask him, though. ”
I shake my head. This really is crazy. “No, it’s okay. It’s such a… long shot… that the surfer is the guy I knew. I mean, the video was grainy and shaky. I’m sure in real life, he looks nothing like my old friend. And anyway, what could this frat guy tell me? It looks like the surfer took off.”
“You could try googling your old friend if you want to reconnect. Everyone can be found one way or another these days.”
I remember the voice of the police officer standing on Jason’s parents’ porch after we’d finally left the spot by the river and gone to wait for news. Divers searched the river downstream… Body washed away… No sign of him… We’ll keep looking, but don’t hold out hope.
Not everyone can be found.
My gaze slides to the photo on my desk. It’s the only image I have left of Adam.
All my photos from senior year were on my phone, and I lost them all when I jumped into the river the night he died.
I was never able to power on that phone again.
I wish I’d taken the time to print some other photos that year, or back them up on my laptop.
I wish I’d realized how temporary everything in my life was that year. I wish I hadn’t been so careless with it.
“Ms. Sullivan?” Brooklyn’s voice cuts in. “Are you okay?”
I force a smile. “Yes, of course. So, tell me more about your summer job…”
Later that evening, I carry a box to my car and slide into the driver’s seat.
Like the other teachers, I park in the staff lot.
But from my spot near the edge of the grass, I can look over and see the students’ parking area.
It’s mostly empty now. The last of the seniors like Brooklyn took off a few hours ago, and the other students won’t be back until the start of the school year in August. In the six years that I’ve worked at the school, I’ve gotten used to spending my life surrounded by the places where I used to spend time with Adam.
I’ve learned to shove aside my pain in the hallway, the cafeteria, the parking lot, and to get on with my day.
And eventually my life.
But now with dark hair and aquamarine eyes fresh in my mind, the grief feels as sharp as the day Adam died.
I close my eyes as the memories wash over me.
The warmth of his laugh, the strength of his arms. The softness of his lips on my neck, the weight of his body on mine, the heat of his fingers sliding up my thigh…
There’s a knock on my window, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
My eyes fly open, and I turn to look at the man standing outside the car.
My lungs slowly release a breath. It’s Gus, the security guard who patrols the grounds.
I fan at my face and shift in my seat. Surely, he thinks the flush on my cheeks is because I was startled; he’d have no way of knowing I’m turning myself on by a decade-old memory.
“You okay, Ms. Sullivan?” Gus calls through the door.
I roll down my window and gaze up at his grizzled gray beard. “I’m fine, Gus. Thanks for checking.”
Gus has been around since long before I was a student here. For a moment, I’m tempted to ask if he remembers Adam. But I’m sure he does. The shock reverberated through the entire town when Adam died.
“I saw you sitting over here alone with your eyes closed,” Gus says, looking me over. “Wondered if you fell asleep or something.”
I give him a bright smile. “I was just… meditating. You know… reflecting on the end of another school year.”
Gus nods like he gets it. “Time flies by, right?”
“It sure does.”
“Well, you have a good summer.” With a nod, he taps the roof of the car and heads across the parking lot.
I turn back toward the windshield, stealing one more glance at the parking lot where I nearly ran Adam down a decade ago. My memory of his face blurs with the image of the man on the beach. Could the surfer be Adam?
On the night Adam’s car went into the river, the rescue workers told us over and over that the chances of him surviving in the heavy current and freezing waters for long enough to get to shore were practically zero.
And I never, ever doubted it. If there was one thing I was completely sure of, it’s that if Adam had survived, he would have come back to me. He loved me as much as I loved him.
How could he have possibly ended up miles away on some random beach?
I start my car and drive off to find the only person who could understand my shock and confusion.