Chapter 10
ANNA
I clap with glee. “You won’t regret this.”
Marco smiles at us and I instantly think of Leo’s warm, laid-back grin. My stomach flutters. Not now, I tell my overactive imagination, and especially not Leo, who sees too much already. What if I let him in and he realizes I’m just as empty as my parents’ house?
Afraid of that potential rejection, I push thoughts of Zoe’s brother away.
Within little time, we reach Pelican Rock and Marco cuts the engine and lowers the ladder. “Your friend booked an hour. I’ll wait here as long as I can, otherwise I’ll return then.”
“We only need fifteen minutes,” Holly says, sounding panicked.
“That’s not enough time. Thirty minutes,” I say to Marco.
“Twenty,” Holly counters.
“Seriously? It could take us that long to swim over and climb. There are already a lot of snorkelers. There could be a line to the top.”
Holly turns green. “Then maybe we don’t go to the top.” I press my hands together, pleading with puppy-dog eyes. This used to get her every time. She caves. “Fine.”
“Yay!” I pull off my swim cover-up. Holly’s gaze narrows on my two-piece Burberry checked triangle bikini. “How are you going to swim with Zoe?” She glances nervously over the side of the boat.
“Easy.” I stuff the baggie into my bikini top, careful not to flash Marco any boob. The corners of the baggie poke out of the triangle.
Holly rolls her eyes. “You can’t be serious. Give me that. You’ll lose her the second you’re in the water.”
She yanks the baggie from my suit. The plastic sticks to my clammy skin, tugging on its way out.
“Ow.” I clap a hand over my boob. “What are you going to do with her?”
Holly looks down at herself. After giving Marco her back, she shoves Zoe down her navy-blue racer-back one-piece until I can see the bag’s imprint on her stomach.
“That works. Let’s do this.” I’m both excited and sad to let Zoe go. I mean, it’s the reason we’re here, to celebrate her life. But it’s sort of depressing, too, especially when everything about this trip reminds me of before. Except Holly’s vomit fiasco. That’s a memory that holds its own.
Giggling at the reminder when I move past the bucket, I check that my phone is secure in its waterproof case, and jump into the ocean with a whoop, imagining Zoe beside me.
Last time, we held hands when we jumped. “Cannonball!” Zoe yelled before we shrieked at how cold the water was. And like before, the temperature shocks my body. Salt water coats my lips. Sunlight reflects off the surface. Fish swim everywhere, colorful dots gliding under glass.
I turn toward the boat. Holly is at the top of the ladder with Marco. “Jump in,” I holler.
“Too risky.” She pats her stomach and I get the message. We don’t want to lose Zoe.
Holly shakily climbs down the ladder with Marco’s assistance, and I swim to her side. She’s white-knuckling a rung. Water laps at the side of the boat.
“You good?” I ask.
She blows out a breath. “Yes.”
“It’s easiest to climb from there.” I point at a flat area at the base of Pelican Rock which is a popular cliff-jumping spot for snorkelers.
From the side we’re on with the marina inlet behind us, the rock looks more like an erect circumcised penis, balls and all, jutting up from the ocean than it does an actual cliff.
Local birds use the top as a perch to fish, so the tip is coated in white crap. Zoe dubbed it Penis Rock.
“Ready?” I ask, my back to Holly as I adjust my swim goggles over my eyes.
“Anna!” Holly shouts when my head hits the water. But I’m off.
I love any activity in the ocean, from snorkeling and scuba diving to sailing and jet skiing.
My freestyle is precise as I smoothly cut through the water.
The area around the rock is roped off for snorkelers, keeping boats at a distance.
But Marco pulled up as close as he could, so the swim isn’t far.
I look back for Holly when I reach the barrier. She’s way behind.
“Hurry up!”
“I—I’m coming,” she sputters.
Ugh. She forgot her goggles. Now she’s swimming breaststroke with her head above water. I forgot swimming doesn’t come naturally for her, even less so when she can’t see the bottom. This is going to take all morning.
“Wait!” she shouts when I dip my head under to swim the rest of the way.
I resurface. “What?”
“Just wait.” She paddles to the rope, clinging to it when she reaches me.
“You good?”
“Fine,” Holly grits out through clenched teeth, her lips trembling from the cold.
Maybe from nerves. Who knows with her. She throws her arms over the rope and hangs there.
I tread beside her. We both lift our gazes upward.
From the corner of my eye, I see her complexion pale as a woman launches herself off the ledge, a somewhat flat landing below the top of the rock.
She splashes into the water among cheers from onlookers below.
“It looks taller than it is,” I reassure.
“How tall?” She’s still looking up.
“Thirty feet, I think?”
“Thirty—!” Now she’s gawking at me. “That’s a three-story building, Anna.”
“Yeah, so? Come on.” I swim to the rock before she has the chance to talk herself out of this.
Pelican Rock is frequented by snorkelers so there aren’t any sea lions resting on the rock, but there are dozens of spider crabs scurrying about.
They race for the crevices when I set my hands on the surface.
I lift myself out of the water and push my goggles up my forehead.
A strong breeze hits my body, sending chills across me.
My skin ripples with goosebumps. Looking across the ocean, I remember when it was Zoe and me.
She’d beaten me up the rock. But Holly is struggling.
“You got this,” I encourage. Though I wonder if she does when she reaches the rock and goes buggy-eyed.
“What the hell are those?”
“Crabs.”
“You’re telling me Zoe sent us out to a rock that looks like a dick, and it has crabs?”
My jaw drops. I gape at her. Then I laugh. I laugh until there are tears in my eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that.” I cackle, wiping my eyes, feeling buoyant. Gosh, I didn’t realize how much I needed that giggle. “Zoe would have loved that.”
Holly’s mouth twitches as she fights a smile. Her expression then turns serious as she attempts to lift herself from the water once, then twice, finally making it up on the third try. She rises on unsteady legs, arms out for balance.
Others behind us will be wanting to jump, plus Marco is waiting. We don’t have much time since I’m guessing it took us about ten minutes to swim here. He’ll have to move the boat to make room for other tour boats, then Holly will blame me for being stuck here an entire hour.
“This way.” I lead her, climbing over a boulder that takes us around the back of the shaft.
The surface is dry, but my hands are wet and my feet tender.
It’s slow going scrambling up and over the rocks.
Holly is even slower. Rather than standing when she can, she’s hunched over, keeping her center of gravity low.
“Hurry,” I call over my shoulder. I want to get to the top before the next wave of people. I don’t want them to rush us with Zoe.
I’ve done my share of rock scrambling, most recently in Sedona with Jalsa. Pelican Rock is comparatively easy. Once we’re around the backside, it’s a relatively straight climb up, which I do quickly.
The last section is a long stretch upward to the landing from where we’ll jump.
It requires some arm and foot strength. I heft myself up, gaining purchase with my toes, and wiggle my way up in mere seconds.
Once on the landing, I rise to my feet, resting my hand on the rock face beside me for balance, and look across the ocean.
Wind blows hair away from my face and the sun warms my skin.
I close my eyes and relish the sensation. It feels like a kiss from Zoe.
“Anna!” Holly shouts from below me. I look down at her. “I’ve been calling you.”
“Sorry. Didn’t hear.”
“Obviously. How…” She looks for a place to put her hands. “How’d you get up there?”
“Easy. Just lift yourself up.”
She frowns and tries. Her head hardly makes it over the edge. She tries again and swears. “Ow.”
I peek down at her again. She scraped her knee. “You okay?”
“Can you stop asking that?”
“Need help?” I offer instead.
“No,” she says, glaring at the rock face in front of her. She places her hands on the ledge again. I hear her feet scrape against the rock right before she drops. “Shit.” This time, she whimpers, glancing behind her. Another group of people are starting to climb up. “Let’s just do it from here.”
“We can’t, Hols. Zoe and I jumped from up here.”
Holly doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even look at me. But she is breathing heavily, and I’ve never seen her look so pale. Then I notice that she’s shaking. She also hasn’t been her usual pain-in-the-ass self. Not once has she ridiculed, reprimanded, or put me down since we left the boat.
Holly isn’t upset that Zoe’s making us climb and jump. She’s terrified.
Is this why she didn’t come that first time?
Maybe her excuse all those years ago had nothing to do with being seasick.
I watch her closely, wondering what’s going on with her.
Holly’s stuck partway up, and considering the look on her face, I worry her desire to do this for Zoe isn’t enough to get her up here.
I could ask her to give me Zoe’s ashes and I’ll disperse them from the correct landing. Or I could…
I hear something. Lifting my head, I listen.
It’s beautiful up here. Holly should be with us. It should be the three of us.
Zoe’s voice from our first trip whispers in the wind. I want to cry at the sound of it.
“It will be the three of us. I promise,” I whisper back.
Then I squat above Holly and extend my hand. “Hols.”
She turns back to me. Her gaze lifts from my hand to my face.
“I’ve got you,” I say.
She visibly swallows, and for a few seconds, I think she’ll refuse my offer. But she tightly grips my forearm just above my wrist, and I grasp hers.
“On three,” I say, elated. “One, two—”