He let the next wave hit his chest, waded farther in as the sea drew back again, and when he saw the next wave coming he dove beneath it, pushed forward with his feet, and swam as hard as he could against the current.

When he surfaced, the ground had disappeared beneath him. The sea swelled, lifting and dropping him, and he treaded furiously to keep up with it, until he willed himself to relax and rode the pushing, jarring waves—stroking up the slopes, gliding back down. For a moment he couldn’t see Alma, he faced the open sea, thousands of miles of it ahead of him, above him nothing but the stars—but there she was, farther out now, up on a swell: he could just see her waving at him. He swam toward her, working against the current. Already he was out of breath. His skin was numb. He rolled onto his back and kicked and pushed—he could swim more powerfully on his back—and a few minutes later, finally, he was level with her.

“I thought you’d never make it,” she said.

“It’s”—he felt like he’d been in a sprint—“it’s exhausting.”

They were twenty, thirty yards out past the breakers. The lights along Beach Avenue glowered at them.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she said.

“It’s amazing. Yes.”

His voice trembled, his teeth were chattering, the salt water stung his sinuses. She told him to lie on his back and catch his breath, and he did.

The sea was gentler here. He moved his arms and legs easily and his body rode the swells. The stars seemed not so far away now: an arbor of luminous, low-hanging grapes. When he’d caught his breath he pitched upright again and dove under.

They floated, dove, treaded water close enough to see each other’s faces. On one dive she found him and took hold of him, their limbs intertwining, her skin as slick as an eel, and he panicked and kicked free. When they surfaced, she was laughing. He laughed too, but kept his distance. Out here, he thought, the elements meant business. He thought of undertows and riptides, he thought of sharks and giant squid, he thought of the immense spaces hidden in the dark. In an instant any one of these things could erase him.

Alma treaded close to him again. “I’m peeing at this very moment,” she said. “Can you feel it?”

He laughed wildly. Everything felt exaggerated. “You’re disgusting,” he cried.

“This is what disgusts you?” she said. “We’re in the sea. We’re nothing but animals.”

He relaxed, and let himself go too, and felt the warmth of it spread up his abdomen. Alma leapt on him and pulled him under again.