I nod.
“Why?” he asks.
Cordy says for me, “Because it teaches me that if I stand tall, brave, and unwilling to back down, then the chaos, the destruction—it can’t attack me. It can’t touch me. It makes me feel invincible.”
He laughs a disbelieving laugh and pulls me into his arms. “You’re some kind of phenomenal, Becca Owens,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head.
I squeeze my hands between us so I can type, “This is my second favorite place in the entire world.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s your first?”
“Right here. In your arms.”
* * *
We sit and watch the sunrise from the rooftop, his legs on either side of mine, his arms around me, cocooning me, unknowingly protecting me.
“You know what the dictionary definition of coast is, Becs?”
I shake my head and face him.
“It’s where the land meets the sea.” He presses his lips to my temple. “What if you were the land, and I were the sea? What if the coast we’d been searching for was us all along… living and existing together…?”
We count down the minutes until we have to live and exist apart again. But something’s changed between us, something that confirms my hope. That regardless of how far apart we might be physically, there’s something that holds us together, keeps us close, keeps us us. All three of us.
* * *
The car ride home is spent in silence, our embrace the only thing we need to communicate how we feel. No goodbyes. No see-you-laters. No unspoken promises.
“You know,” I sign, turning to him when I reach my front door. “If you wanted to shout it from the rooftops—about you and me—I might not be as mad as you think.”
He smiles at that, kisses me once, and makes his way down the porch steps and into the waiting car.
I walk through the house as quietly as possible, even though I’m sure Dad’s awake, waiting for me to arrive safely. I crawl into bed, letting the exhaustion take over me. I’m almost asleep when my phone chimes in my back pocket, alerting me of a notification. A few seconds later, the alerts are constant, vibrating against my butt. I pull out my phone and with one eye open, I tap on the screen. It’s an Instagram post from Josh that he’d tagged me in—a picture he’d taken the first night he spent here. I’m lying in the crook of his arm, half my face hidden in his chest. I’d been shy, I remember, because I’d just walked out of the bathroom naked after making love for the second time. Even though the blanket’s pulled up to my chin, you can tell that we’re naked, and going by the flush in our cheeks, it’s obvious what we’d been doing. I should be mad that of all the pictures he’d taken of us, he’d chosen this one. But I’m not. I’m almost proud, and that pride turns to pure joy when I read the caption beneath it:
My Heart.
My World.
My Coast.
My Becca.
* * *
Josh: Two things. And please don’t be mad.
Becca: About that Instagram post? I’m not mad.
Josh: No. I mean, it’s good you’re not mad about that but that’s not what I wanted to tell you.
Becca: Oh no.
Josh: Where’s your car?
Becca: Dad likes for me to keep it in the garage. Why?
Josh: Oh.
Becca: Why?!
Josh: Because when you told me you had a job and you wouldn’t tell me why, I assumed it was because you were saving for a car. So I kind of maybe ordered you one online while you were sleeping. It’s being delivered today.
Becca: What?! You can’t just “order me a car”!!!
Josh: Clearly I can, because I did. Also, I accidentally stole your bra and panties. Please don’t tell your dad.
34
—Joshua—
“Wake up, white boy,” Nico says, slapping my face. “Funny. Your hair still looks stupid today.” “Fuck off.”
“Wheels up in three hours.”
“It’s like the ass-crack of dawn. Who the hell flies a plane this early?”
“Maybe if you’d gotten some sleep instead of chatting with your girl all night, you’d be well-rested like me.”
“How long is this flight again?”
“Fifteen hours,” he sings.
“Fuck.”
“We’re flying commercial, too. And Chris could only get four seats in first class, so you’re in coach.”
“When the hell was that decided?”
“In Mexico when you were in the hotel room chatting with your girl.”
“Ugh.”
“Ugh all you want, but that’s what happens when you decide not to take part in team activities.”
“Catching food poisoning and spending the next few days hugging a toilet bowl is team development now?”
He shakes his head at me. “Just get your ass dressed and meet us outside. My grandma’s driving us to the airport.”
“She finally got her U.S license?” I ask, slipping on a shirt.
“Nope.”
* * *
Becca: I’m about to get on the plane. By the time I land, you’ll be in the air. Sigh. I miss you, Skater Boy.
Josh: I’m going to video call you as soon as I land. I don’t have the mental capacity or mathematical knowhow to work out what time it will be for you so I won’t be mad if you don’t answer. Give your grams a kiss for me. I love you.
Becca: In all ways. For always.
* * *
It’s easy to jump to conclusions, to let your worst fears take hold of you and not think logically. Especially when you get off a fifteen-hour flight, switch on your phone and get a message from your mom saying that you needed to call her right away.
“Josh,” she says, her voice a whisper.
“What’s going on, Ma?” I ask, trying to work through the crowd at Hong Kong International while not losing sight of my teammates. “Is it Tommy? Is he okay? Becca? Chaz?”
“Josh,” she says again.
“Just say it, Mom.”
She sobs into the phone, making me freeze in my spot. I drop my luggage, causing someone to trip over it. People move around me, shoving me from side to side and all I can do is stand there, listening to my mother cry. “Mom?”
“Tommy’s fine. But there’s been an accident, sweetheart, and you need to come home.”
PART IV
35
Journal
Darkness seeps in my veins like acid poured in my soul until grief is my only burden. I have no concept of time.
Of lights and shadows.
Of sounds and silence.
There’s only pain.
Too afraid to sleep,
Yet too afraid to breathe.
I lie on the floor.
In her room.
Right where her bed used to be.
I stare at the ceiling.
Unblinking.
Unthinking.
Unexisting.
I block out the voices in my head.
The constant humming of voices downstairs.
The car rounded the corner too fast, they said.
But I know.
I saw it in her eyes.
Right before she walked in front of it.
“Why?” he asks.
Cordy says for me, “Because it teaches me that if I stand tall, brave, and unwilling to back down, then the chaos, the destruction—it can’t attack me. It can’t touch me. It makes me feel invincible.”
He laughs a disbelieving laugh and pulls me into his arms. “You’re some kind of phenomenal, Becca Owens,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head.
I squeeze my hands between us so I can type, “This is my second favorite place in the entire world.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s your first?”
“Right here. In your arms.”
* * *
We sit and watch the sunrise from the rooftop, his legs on either side of mine, his arms around me, cocooning me, unknowingly protecting me.
“You know what the dictionary definition of coast is, Becs?”
I shake my head and face him.
“It’s where the land meets the sea.” He presses his lips to my temple. “What if you were the land, and I were the sea? What if the coast we’d been searching for was us all along… living and existing together…?”
We count down the minutes until we have to live and exist apart again. But something’s changed between us, something that confirms my hope. That regardless of how far apart we might be physically, there’s something that holds us together, keeps us close, keeps us us. All three of us.
* * *
The car ride home is spent in silence, our embrace the only thing we need to communicate how we feel. No goodbyes. No see-you-laters. No unspoken promises.
“You know,” I sign, turning to him when I reach my front door. “If you wanted to shout it from the rooftops—about you and me—I might not be as mad as you think.”
He smiles at that, kisses me once, and makes his way down the porch steps and into the waiting car.
I walk through the house as quietly as possible, even though I’m sure Dad’s awake, waiting for me to arrive safely. I crawl into bed, letting the exhaustion take over me. I’m almost asleep when my phone chimes in my back pocket, alerting me of a notification. A few seconds later, the alerts are constant, vibrating against my butt. I pull out my phone and with one eye open, I tap on the screen. It’s an Instagram post from Josh that he’d tagged me in—a picture he’d taken the first night he spent here. I’m lying in the crook of his arm, half my face hidden in his chest. I’d been shy, I remember, because I’d just walked out of the bathroom naked after making love for the second time. Even though the blanket’s pulled up to my chin, you can tell that we’re naked, and going by the flush in our cheeks, it’s obvious what we’d been doing. I should be mad that of all the pictures he’d taken of us, he’d chosen this one. But I’m not. I’m almost proud, and that pride turns to pure joy when I read the caption beneath it:
My Heart.
My World.
My Coast.
My Becca.
* * *
Josh: Two things. And please don’t be mad.
Becca: About that Instagram post? I’m not mad.
Josh: No. I mean, it’s good you’re not mad about that but that’s not what I wanted to tell you.
Becca: Oh no.
Josh: Where’s your car?
Becca: Dad likes for me to keep it in the garage. Why?
Josh: Oh.
Becca: Why?!
Josh: Because when you told me you had a job and you wouldn’t tell me why, I assumed it was because you were saving for a car. So I kind of maybe ordered you one online while you were sleeping. It’s being delivered today.
Becca: What?! You can’t just “order me a car”!!!
Josh: Clearly I can, because I did. Also, I accidentally stole your bra and panties. Please don’t tell your dad.
34
—Joshua—
“Wake up, white boy,” Nico says, slapping my face. “Funny. Your hair still looks stupid today.” “Fuck off.”
“Wheels up in three hours.”
“It’s like the ass-crack of dawn. Who the hell flies a plane this early?”
“Maybe if you’d gotten some sleep instead of chatting with your girl all night, you’d be well-rested like me.”
“How long is this flight again?”
“Fifteen hours,” he sings.
“Fuck.”
“We’re flying commercial, too. And Chris could only get four seats in first class, so you’re in coach.”
“When the hell was that decided?”
“In Mexico when you were in the hotel room chatting with your girl.”
“Ugh.”
“Ugh all you want, but that’s what happens when you decide not to take part in team activities.”
“Catching food poisoning and spending the next few days hugging a toilet bowl is team development now?”
He shakes his head at me. “Just get your ass dressed and meet us outside. My grandma’s driving us to the airport.”
“She finally got her U.S license?” I ask, slipping on a shirt.
“Nope.”
* * *
Becca: I’m about to get on the plane. By the time I land, you’ll be in the air. Sigh. I miss you, Skater Boy.
Josh: I’m going to video call you as soon as I land. I don’t have the mental capacity or mathematical knowhow to work out what time it will be for you so I won’t be mad if you don’t answer. Give your grams a kiss for me. I love you.
Becca: In all ways. For always.
* * *
It’s easy to jump to conclusions, to let your worst fears take hold of you and not think logically. Especially when you get off a fifteen-hour flight, switch on your phone and get a message from your mom saying that you needed to call her right away.
“Josh,” she says, her voice a whisper.
“What’s going on, Ma?” I ask, trying to work through the crowd at Hong Kong International while not losing sight of my teammates. “Is it Tommy? Is he okay? Becca? Chaz?”
“Josh,” she says again.
“Just say it, Mom.”
She sobs into the phone, making me freeze in my spot. I drop my luggage, causing someone to trip over it. People move around me, shoving me from side to side and all I can do is stand there, listening to my mother cry. “Mom?”
“Tommy’s fine. But there’s been an accident, sweetheart, and you need to come home.”
PART IV
35
Journal
Darkness seeps in my veins like acid poured in my soul until grief is my only burden. I have no concept of time.
Of lights and shadows.
Of sounds and silence.
There’s only pain.
Too afraid to sleep,
Yet too afraid to breathe.
I lie on the floor.
In her room.
Right where her bed used to be.
I stare at the ceiling.
Unblinking.
Unthinking.
Unexisting.
I block out the voices in my head.
The constant humming of voices downstairs.
The car rounded the corner too fast, they said.
But I know.
I saw it in her eyes.
Right before she walked in front of it.
