She took another sip of tea, then continued. “Every low tide. That’s when it happens. The ocean just sort of pulls me to it. I figured, either I could sit around waiting for the day I finally drowned, or I could learn to swim.”

Finn finally looked Yasmine in the eye. Here was another kindred spirit, another person at the mercy of something beyond her control, but out of everyone they had met on their journey, this woman seemed the most at ease with herself.

“You’re not afraid?” Zadie asked.

“Sometimes. When it’s stormy. On those days, I wear a life jacket. But even on stormy days, I’m still a hundred times safer than I was back when I was in denial about my … whatever you want to call it.” She patted her toned biceps and grinned. “I’m also in better shape.”

Finn stole a glance at her sister. “What happens if you don’t go out at low tide?”

Yasmine’s smile faltered a little. “It’s awful. It feels like I’m being ripped in two, like half of my body is moving with the tide and the other half is swimming against it. I’d rather take my chances with the ocean.”

Finn thought back to the night on the motorcycle, to the popping in her chest that felt like her ribs were expanding. She turned to her sister. “That’s like what Mom felt. The night of the accident.”

“Do you think that’s what it was? She was being pulled by the tides?”

“If that’s true, then why hide it from us? Why wouldn’t she just move us closer to the coast?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”

Yasmine turned her cup upside down and watched her last remaining drop of tea dissolve in the sand at her feet. “Maybe she didn’t know.” Both girls turned to look at her. “I was almost thirty before I finally figured out what was happening to me.”

Zadie turned to Finn. “It’s possible.”

Finn finally took a sip of her tea and felt the warmth not just in her throat but everywhere, from her toes to her temples. The fog had mostly cleared, and she could now see miles down the coast. Somewhere on that horizon was Oregon, then California, and beyond that, Mexico. Eight thousand miles: that’s how long she would have to walk on blistered feet in the hopes that her mother would happen by the same beach at the same time she was passing. The improbability of it felt like a slap in the face. She felt stupid and naïve. “We should get back.”

“Yeah, we should,” Zadie agreed. “I could use a hot shower.”

Yasmine stood. “I’ll give you guys a ride.”