The umbrella planted between Asher and Justin is rocking in the wind. A rainbow-flag beach towel blows past, settling on Justin’s face for only the briefest second but long enough for him to rise up like he’s coming from deep water, about to drown.

“What is it?” he hollers out just as the corner of the towel slips from his face and sails on down the beach, stretching its corners out like a magic carpet.

The umbrella rental boy runs to them. “Sorry, folks, but I have to get this stuff in.” He has to holler over the wind. His white polo shirt works up his back in the wind. “Y’all should get off the beach.”

Lightning zigzags down and touches its tips to the waves of the ocean, causing the last remaining people to get a move on. A couple women and kids let out little yips as they run past.

Asher hustles his chair back up to the stack to help out the rental boy, who’s standing back on the beach, holding Justin’s chair and watching as their umbrella sails away, bouncing once on the sand before hitting the water.

“Justin!” Asher yells over the thunder. The clouds have taken the sun so it’s almost dark except for the glimmers of lightning. “Come on right now!”

The sky opens up just as they reach the Vespa and the rain falls in big cold blocks. Asher has felt rain like this only the day of the flood. Before they knew how high the water would rise, he had stood on the porch while bolts of lightning like these had split the sky in two purple halves. Asher fires the engine and puts the gas to the Vespa and they speed away, like a zipper being unzipped, through the black parking lot. Asher drives them through the rain, hunched over so he can see as the raindrops sting his face. Justin curls against his back.

He is wetter and colder (that rain came from some place not of this earth, some cold, high place) than he has ever been before, even during the flood. He can’t stop thinking of Bell and how soon she will be lying under the wet ground in storms like this and the rain will pound on the dirt and seep down through the soil until it eats into her casket and fills her mouth and eyes with water and sand and rocks. He thinks of how only a couple days ago she was tapping away on her piano and making such pretty music. Justin hugs his father’s back and Asher thinks his son might be crying a little while they ride along. He wishes he could, too. He needs to, but the tears won’t come, even though this would be the perfect time, when nobody would be able to tell his crying from the rain on his face.