* * *

The first night at the beach house, after the evening’s festivities, Karina showered and returned to their room, where James was waiting for her. He slipped her robe off her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her collarbone, then pulled her over to the bed. As James untied her robe and rolled on top of her, Karina reached to switch off the bedside lamp. She breathed in the salty flavor of his skin. In the dark, they groped and bumped into each other like two inept dance partners. Eventually, they found a rhythm. She was trying to understand this new sensation, of having him inside her, when he opened his eyes and looked at her.

“I love you,” he said softly. It wasn’t the first time he’d said those words to her—and she’d said them too—but they nonetheless took on new meaning that day. They slept naked and entwined. When they awoke, sunlight was falling through the window shutters and across the bed, and James’s arm was wrapped around her shoulders. It felt to Karina like a perfectly happy moment.

“You should really come boogie-boarding today,” James said. “Those waves were awesome yesterday.”

Karina drew in a slow breath and let it go. “My brother’s name was Prem,” she said softly. “He called me Kiki.”

James raised his head slightly from the pillow to look at her face. She didn’t turn around, but she clasped his hand under hers. “He was eight years old. He drowned in our swimming pool.” She heard his sudden intake of breath.

“Is that why you don’t swim?” he asked cautiously.

“I can swim. I love the ocean, actually. I just . . .” Although she still went out of her way to avoid swimming pools, she felt comfortable at the ocean. When she thought about its expanse and driving currents, its inherent danger, her feelings didn’t seem rational. This was one of many things she didn’t understand about the way her mind worked. She had stopped trying to make sense of why cutting herself felt good, or why she didn’t feel like a blend of her parents, but like something apart from both of them.

Now, James nuzzled his nose and mouth gently into her ear and tightened his arm around her body. She rested her chin on his forearm and closed her eyes, still feeling the narrow rays of sun across her face.

“I was the one, who found him,” Karina said. “I tried. To save him.” She told James about her failed attempts at resuscitation. She described how her mother had retreated to bed for weeks and later emerged with the elements Karina had loved about her scraped out like the innards of a squash, only a hard shell remaining. A new person had grown in her place, who sat all day in the shrine she had built to her only son, who would never come back.

Hot tears slipped down her face and onto James’s arm. She tasted salt as they ran over her lips, and she wiped her face against the bedsheets. “It changed me too. Made me more independent. I learned to cook and do my own laundry. I got really focused about school and college. And that’s when I grew really close with Izzy and her family.”