I don’t own a pair.
Short-and-stocky jeans
are more my style.
So, he’s skinny.
But not gross skinny.
Good skinny.
Cute skinny.
His warm voice
tiptoes into the
quiet room.
“Did you see that movie?” he asks.
I did.
Without asking,
I know he’s talking
about Seven Pounds.
My mom is crazy
for Will Smith.
She dragged me along
like a box of Junior Mints
as soon as it hit
the theaters.
I was haunted
for days.
“Yes,” I tell him.
“A crazy way to die.”
He’s standing right next to me.
We both watch
the glowing jellies,
perhaps imagining
reaching in and touching them,
threads of fire
burning our skin.
“I don’t know,” he says.
“They look so delicate. Pretty.
Prettier than a gun.
Or a rope.”
I look at him.
“Didn’t anyone tell you
looks aren’t everything?”
like
“Cade,” he says, sticking out his hand.
“Amber,” I say, accepting his offer.
The warmth is a shock.
A tremor scurries
down my spine.
“You from around here?” he asks.
“Salem.”
He nods.
“You?” I ask.
“Portland.”
He smiles.
“So. You like jellyfish?”
I bite my lip
to keep from laughing.
Is he going to order me one
like a cheeseburger?
“I love them.”
“Me too.”
What is he,
a great white
circling his prey?
I don’t think I care.
something special
Cade motions
with a nod
to follow him.
He’s holding the pole,
and I’m the
fish on the line.
Just how far
will he pull me
in?
Around the corner
only a few kids
are at the
tidal pool touch tank.
My heart’s racing,
but not from what’s
in the tank.
With names like
pencil sea urchin,
scarlet hermit crab,
and chocolate chip sea star,
the creatures
all sound friendly.
I reach into the cold water.
The back of a starfish
feels like wet sandpaper
against my fingertips.
Cade pets it too, his
fingers almost
touching
mine.
“When I was little,” he says,
“I wanted to take them home.
Turn my bathtub into a touch pool.”
It makes me smile because
I was the same way.
Sea stars
are
m*a*g*i*c*a*l.
We wish on stars,
millions of miles away, and
yet here we can touch them.
I’ve never wished
on a sea star before,
but I want to try it.
I hold my breath and make a wish.
As he gives the
starfish a final pet,
his fingers graze mine.
Just barely.
But they do.
And the way I feel
when it happens,
I know I made
the right wish.
Please don’t let me go quite yet.
ah, to be a snail
Next to me,
a girl tugs on my jacket.
Her eyes round as sand dollars,
she asks me, “Why is that shell moving?”
She points to the water where
a shell appears to slide across the tank
by an invisible force.
“That’s a hermit crab.
There’s a crab underneath the shell.
He carries it with him wherever he goes.”
She smiles with relief.
“A shell for a home? Lucky!”
I think about that.
A shell,
all his own,
no one arguing,
you belong here
or there, with us
or with them.
Yeah.
I’d have to agree.
Pretty damn lucky.
secrets
“No school today?” the volunteer asks
from the other side of the display.
I jump.
I want to tell her
school is the least
of my worries.
But I don’t respond.
And neither does Cade.
Sometimes you just don’t want
to explain yourself.
She’s curious
the way a nosy neighbor
is curious,
bringing cookies over,
asking questions,
trying to get the dirt.
Well, I’m not sharing.
And apparently
Cade isn’t either.
He turns
and walks
away.
I follow,
my resolve
to spend the day alone
softer than I originally
thought.
a keen observation
Outside
we watch
as sea otters
swim and play
in their small
aquarium world.
One otter
paddles around
on his back,
spinning a blue ball
on his tummy.
I could watch them
for hours.
Because they get it.
They get that
life is short and
you should just
forget the crap
and have fun.
Another otter
comes to play
and the ball
is batted away.
Around and around
they twirl through
the water together,
like little boys wrestling.
“That’s the way to live, huh?” Cade says.
I guess he gets it too.
Two years, six months ago
Dear Amber,
What a week it’s been. I took two new babies into my day care this week—twins! Their names are Benjamin and Bryce. I’ve never cared for twins before. It’s a bit of a challenge. But they are beautiful, and they smile often. If you’ve ever held a smiling baby, you know there’s nothing quite like it. You are still the most important part of their world. Once they start rolling over, crawling, walking, their world expands, and suddenly, you just aren’t as important. It’s how it should be, of course. But it always makes me a little sad.
Over the past few months, most of my families have left me. I was sad to see the children I care for so much leave. But I’m trying to be understanding and supportive—they have to do what’s best for them and their families. I’m thankful to have the twins here now. And Sierra, a two-year-old. She’s my sunshine.
I know not everyone will agree with what we are doing. I also understand that people don’t want to get caught up in the drama. I’ve asked the media to respect our privacy, but they obviously don’t care.
I suppose the one good thing was that we were finally able
to see a picture of you on the news. Did you notice how much you look like Allen?
You are beautiful.
Love,
Jeanie and Allen
shocking
Next we head to the exhibit
I most want to see.
Passages of the Deep.
Sharks and stingrays swim
above us,
below us,
all around us.
We walk through
the tunnel of glass
slowly,
as if we’re afraid
of falling in.
“Can you feel it?” Cade asks me.
“Feel what?”
“The power.
The confidence.
They’re so damn confident.”
I nod.
I do feel it.
But I want to tell him,
I feel something else too.
Electricity.
And it’s not from
the eels.
never before
Guys always look at me
and see the cool girl
who plays drums,
and they think,
friend.
Right now,
I want to know
what this guy thinks.
I want to know
what this guy feels.
I want to know
this guy.
trapped
He stops.
Touches the glass.
Looks up
at a leopard shark
swimming
over and back,
over and back,
over and back.
“Look at him,” he says.
“He owns that water.
Nothing bothers him.
Nothing.
He’s free to swim and do
whatever the hell he wants.
Man. I want to be like that.”
“Cade?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s trapped in a tank.”
The shark swims
right past us.
If it weren’t
for the glass, we’d be
fingers to fins.
“Oh, God,” he whispers.
“Let him go.”
radio for help
Why do I get the feeling
this boy is
lost at sea?
Just like me?
what a feeling
We stay with the sharks
for a long time,
maybe hoping
they will fill us up
with all the power
and confidence they possess.
Or maybe it’s more than that.
People pass through,
lavishing the creatures
with praise and admiration.
And yet,
as much as visitors
appreciate them,
maybe even love them,
there are boundaries
and they’re respected—
no questions asked.
So here,
in the passages of the deep,
among the deadliest creatures,
for just a moment, one
incredible,
miraculous
moment,
I feel
safe.
hold on
When we’re
alone for a few minutes,
we stand side by side,
watching a bat ray skim
against the glass like a flying carpet.
It fascinates me.
Then something
even more fascinating.
“I’m hungry,” Cade says.
“Wanna grab some lunch?”
I look at him.
Really look,
as his eyes stay fixed
on mine.
His eyes are deep brown.
Deep like a good conversation.
Deep like a hole.
Deep, of course, like
the ocean.
I fall in.
I say yes.
ninety-nine degrees
I count
in my mind
the number of words
I’ve said
to this guy.
Twenty?
Twenty-five?
Either way, not many.
And even now
as we walk, the only sound
either of us makes
is the sound of our shoes
hitting asphalt.
We step
in rhythm,
and in my mind
I come in with
a drum fill that makes
the crowd go wild.
He looks at me.
Smiles.
I smile back.
And still, no words.
One time Mom told me the people
you can be quiet with
are the ones
you are the most
comfortable with.
Then why am I sweating
like a lobster headed for
a boiling pot?
spread the luck
Cade reaches to the ground,
picks up a penny,
“Short on cash?” I tease.
“Short on luck,” he quips back.
Maybe he’ll share with me.
well … we both watch movies
He drives
a classic, pale yellow
VW Beetle.
It’s as cool as he is.
Now it’s my turn.
“Did you see that movie?”
He looks at me
over the top of the car.
I hold my eyes steady,
not wanting to give it away.
It’s old.
One of Mom’s favorites.
I didn’t really get the appeal.
But I liked the guy’s car.
A car just like this car.
“Yeah,” he says.
“What a crazy town.
I mean, seriously?
No music?”
Oh my God.
He knew.
Footloose.
He knew the one.
I’m impressed.
And I’m not impressed easily.
Sometimes, not at all.
But today?
Definitely impressed.
off-limits
Sitting in his car,
I wonder if he
can hear my heart
beating loud and hard,
the way I like
my music.
When he turns the key,
Fall Out Boy plays
loud and hard,
the way Cade likes
his music.
He reaches for the volume.
His hand is shaking.
Just a little bit.
But I see it.
And I know
I’m not the only one
feeling like we’re on the edge
of a cliff,
about to jump.
His brown eyes stare into mine.
“One condition,” he says.
“For today.”
“Okay.”
“We don’t ask each other
what we’re both doing here.
At the beach, by ourselves.
I won’t ask you.
You don’t ask me.”
I nod. “Great.”
“Great,” he says as he puts the car
in reverse.
Even though I’m dying to know.
observant
“What do you like?” he asks.
“I mean, in music.”
“Anything and everything.
Almost, anyway.
The White Stripes are my favorite.
Meg White is pretty much my hero.
But I also love P!nk.
I mean, music that touches my soul?
P!nk all the way.
And, she’s so damn cool.”
“You and her,
you have something in common.”
“Tough on the outside,
tender on the inside?”
“Well, maybe,” he says,
“but I wouldn’t really know.”
I feel my cheeks get warm,
like when I’m playing with
the band and I miss a beat.
“You both have a color for a name.”
Right.
That.
special
On the Oregon coast,
Mo’s is the place
for bowls of clam chowder
with paprika sprinkled on top,
and warm bread
with a flaky, golden crust.
Picnic benches line
the wall of windows
overlooking the bay.
We’re seated in the corner.
He takes his hat off and
scratches his head.
Even with his hair
sticking out every which way,
he’s cute.
He tries to pat it down,
grinning sheepishly at me.
“It’s fine,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I like the red,” he says.
“In yours.”
“Thanks. My mom isn’t a fan.”
He reaches for his glass of water.
“Mothers can be a pain in the ass.”
I shrug.
“Mine’s all right.
Most of the time.”