“The city cut down a tree in our park to make room for a playground. One of the trees had a family of squirrels in it that got crushed in the process, and a little boy found their bodies. He rallied five of his friends and they picketed the building of the new playground. Nobody cared or paid them any attention, except for this one guy who made a little squirrel headstone, so the kids could feel like they were heard. I walked by it one day and somebody had sprinkled the area with peanuts. There were about ten squirrels congregating around the headstone. The photo looks like I stumbled across a squirrel wake.”

Nolan yells something over the wind, without taking his eyes off the shore.

“What? I can’t hear you,” I say.

He turns his head toward me. “Another.”

When I hesitate, in search of another description worth mentioning, he adds, “Please.”

It feels as if I’m bartering tiny pieces of myself in order to reach safety. And because the situation isn’t a calm one, it feels like the descriptions have to be particularly poignant to do the job right. I don’t have time to choose carefully.

“My dad gave me my camera for my birthday. I was surprised because sometimes he forgets my birthday entirely, but it’s a really nice camera and I wanted to use it right away. I took a picture of my mom. She didn’t notice me, so in the photo she’s looking down into the sink with a blank stare. But there’s something about the curve of her back that matches the line of a hanging plant in the kitchen. It looks like she grew there. Like she will always live in the kitchen.”

I’m not sure how much he heard over the storm, and I don’t get a chance to ask. We’re only feet away from solid ground when I take my turn at losing my footing, but unlike Nolan I don’t catch myself. My legs stumble into the water, my ankle knocking against the side of the ledge with a painful thump. I let go of Wally’s collar and Nolan’s hand before I can drag them down with me, confident I can make it the last few yards to shore on my own.

Though my feet can reach the lake floor, waves bash over me, blurring my vision and rendering me immobile. I reach out to grasp the rocks of the peninsula as a guide, but my fingers curl over air. I choke as sprays of water trickle into my lungs.

When my eyes clear between waves, I look up, expecting to see Nolan frozen on the walkway, but he’s gone. He’s fallen, I know it. I kick against the floor of the lake, my foot connecting with something large and moving.