If they were meant to be, he told himself now, about five miles from shore, wouldn’t he have found her then? And wouldn’t Pan Head have pulled off the road when he saw him flashing his headlights in his rearview mirror so that he could tell her that he wanted her to be with him and offer to give her time to end whatever she needed to end so they could begin anew? Fuck, man! He had tried for it and lost.

Feeling a swell beneath him he glanced over his shoulder and began to think about the task at hand. He would be stopping ten miles from shore in deep waters patrolled by sharks, and as he considered this, plus the fact that the beach was already invisible, he acknowledged that he was slightly afraid, for he was not a man of the sea. He’d gone out with Teego many times, but he was not accustomed to being on his own, especially at night in a vessel without a life vest. The fishermen did not carry them because doing so implied a lack of faith in Jah. Because he’d lost time in pursuing Sylvia, he never got a chance to eat, and he’d been too confused and melancholic to remember to carry food or water. He would be okay, though, he told himself; he’d learned to navigate by the stars, and there was a radio on board that he could use to call for help in case of difficulty. For a moment he thought of spreading the ashes closer to shore and turning around immediately. But he believed in the power and meaning of ritual, and understood the need for him to go on: this was not for Ian, but for him, because by forging ahead into the darkness he might meet and slay his own dragon—his fear that Sylvia would disappoint him.

The rise and fall of the boat on the swells evoked in him the recollection of making love to Sylvia on the common beneath the stars; then a smile creased his face as he thought about his victory over Blanche, who had almost broken his will at a moment of weakness. With the drone of the engine and the heave and crash of the hull as company, he began to feel connected in a new way to writers like Haley, Hemingway, Melville, and Conrad. They had loved the sea for its meditative power and its ability to bring out the best in men—for water, the giver of life, could also take it away. Was he prepared to die? he asked himself. And if he should die right now, what would be his greatest regret? In his head he heard Marvin Gaye singing “If I Should Die Tonight.” He pondered this for the next few miles. His greatest regret? Was it his relationship with his father? Was it his failure to save Ian? Was it not winning the Booker? He stretched his mind across his skull, hoping to net the answer. But no answers were out this evening. His mind was pure water.