Chapter 42
After visiting the beach that one time, Annie returns nearly every day.
She goes before work, after work, around the edges of her life.
The next time Annie gets her blood checked, her hemoglobin levels are up. Tessa wonders how it happened so quickly.
“A single iron infusion wouldn’t help that much,” she says. “What are you doing differently?”
Annie walks the shore. The sand is polka-dotted with shells—-purples and whites. Seagulls scout for remains among broken crab
shells. She steps between long lines of seaweed, collects misshapen pieces of sea glass in her pockets.
One night, she wears a bathing suit under her clothes. Maybe it’s crazy to swim in eight degree Celsius water in the middle
of winter, but the idea is unrelenting. She works up the courage to shed her clothes, folds them neatly, and leaves them behind
on the driftwood.
Her toes touch the edge of the water. It feels illogically warm. She takes another step, up to her ankles. The waves froth
against her shins. She wades until the water is past her knees, her thighs. Then she’s up to her waist. Her fear has eased.
Annie pushes off, free-floating.
She rolls onto her back, buoyant. Her skin feels loose.
Her ears are under, filled with seawater.
Her eyes close and visions come in waves: ivory coral walls, rainbow fish, the twirl of an octopus exiting its den.
Anemones with their jets of seawater and their soft pushing-and-pulling tendrils.
A million wild stories she can’t quite touch.
If she could have slept here, she would. If she could merge into the sound, she would.
It’s a long time before she emerges, dries herself, and heads home in the dark.