The path is barely wide enough for one person, so, in the interest of being as rooted as we can, we walk sideways. Every time a wave splashes against us, Nolan shudders, but he does not let go of my hand. It is already much easier, having his solid body as a counterweight to my swaying.

It’s not a terribly long peninsula, but it feels like an eternity passes as we creep our way along the path. Sharp rocks cut through my callused soles, but I continue to lead us in our slow crab walk.

“Almost there,” I shout to Nolan. I dare a glance back at him and the drowning look has only worsened. His eyes are almost completely shut.

We finally reach the cowering Wally, who, for the first time since I’ve met him, appears unenthusiastic about his circumstances. He barks, his tail low but wagging.

“Come on, you stupid boy.” I spit out lake water as it splashes into my mouth and grab Wally’s collar. “It’s going to be okay. We’ve made it one way, we can make it back.” I say this last bit loudly to both dog and master, but Nolan is looking back toward the shore.

“We can make it,” I say again, squeezing his hand. “But you’re going to have to lead us back.”

His breath comes too fast, his nostrils flaring in steady pulses and his chest rising up and down. He did not think this through.

“There’s this picture,” I say, and I pray to God this works, that he can hear me, “of Jenna and me at the aquarium when we were sixteen. We’re smiling in front of a tank. They had just fed the sharks and one is directly behind her head with a dead fish hanging out of its mouth. Over her shoulder, there is a little girl looking at the camera and pointing at the shark and bawling, but it looks like she’s pointing at Jenna. It’s one of my favorites.”

His breathing hasn’t slowed, but he seems to be focusing on me rather than the waves.

“You had to pick a photo with more water in it?” he asks.

If he were anyone else, if we were talking anywhere else, I would laugh.

“You can hate me for it after we get back to the shop,” I say.

He nods, squaring his shoulders and gripping my hand tighter in resolution. I resituate my hold on Wally’s collar, and Nolan begins to slowly, slowly, lead us back to the beach.

When a rogue wave crashes against us, halfway down the walk, and Nolan loses and immediately reclaims his footing, I panic. If he freezes up, there’s no way I can work around him to pull us to shore. We could be stuck out here. Quickly, I yell another photo description over the wind and rain, the first that comes to mind.