The Boy, Part 1: Water's Edge

I smiled at the boy.

He smiled back.

"Come into the water," he said.

I shook my head. I never went into the water. I didn't trust it. Gentle waves that soothed, deceptively warm. But water could destroy. The simplest way to keep from drowning was to never get wet.

"Please?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. He took my hand. 

The contact made my heart beat faster. I glanced at the shimmering, still surface of the water. No. It looked calm and inviting, but it was dangerous. The tide could turn. It might become cold. Harsh. I inched away. My entire life I had kept safely out of the water. I would be a fool to go into it now.

"You can trust me. I'll keep you safe." The boy sat and pulled me down beside him. "We don't have to go into the water if you don't want to. We can just sit together and look at how beautiful it is. And once enough time passes, you'll see that I'll never let anything bad happen to you. There's nothing to fear. Then you'll want to go into the water with me."

I sat with him, watching the water, watching him, listening to his stories and telling my own. I hadn't noticed the subtle rise of the lulling tide, the calm water inching ever closer to our spot. A hushed wave rolled up and reached our legs. I started, tucking my feet up.

"It's okay," the boy said. "I'm right here. We're together."

The next wave brought water swirling around us. It was so warm. Surprisingly comforting, and the boy urged me further in. I trusted him. I could trust him. The knowledge filled a deep ache inside me and I wanted to go deeper, to feel the water surround me and fill me. I wanted what the boy wanted. I let myself go, into the water. I let myself go.

But we'd gone so far from the shore. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't feel the safe, sandy ocean floor beneath me anymore. I could feel nothing but the boy and the water.

"You seem afraid." The boy's eyes were gentle. "What are you afraid of?"

I shouldn't have told him. I should have smiled and said, Nothing. I'm afraid of nothing. But I said, "That the tide will turn. That the water will become cold. That you'll leave me alone."

"I'm right here, just as much in the water as you are." His lips came close to mine. "You have nothing to fear."

His words soothed me. Yes, the water was just as deep for him. He understood. 

"There's an island." He held me close. "It's beautiful. Come with me?"

(Continued in The Boy, Part 2: Island).