Chapter Fifty

ANDA

I’ve never done this before—search the lake hoping for a person to be alive. But as he and Father travel farther and farther away, I find my mind has trouble remembering his face. His voice. The scent of his skin and the texture of his palms. The air scours my cheeks and swishes angrily against my ankles. It’s trying to remove him. My memories of him are dissolving all too quickly.

Forget it all, Anda. People fade away. But I’ll always be here for you.

I know. The best thing for me to do would be to sink into the lake and spill the contents of my memories. Wash out my thoughts and only keep what matters. This happens with my father, too. Come December when he returns, I often find myself staring at him for hours, because I’ve completely forgotten his face.

I stand on the shore and inhale the lake air. The rain slowly comes to a stop, as do my tears. I think of the clouds above and how they offer themselves to me. To become something larger, fiercer. But their call is distant, unlike in previous Novembers. And I want to give Hector safe passage. He deserves to have a life that doesn’t end as a skeleton at the bottom of the lake. I extend my fingers and resist the scrubbing of my thoughts and memories. I settle the clouds into softness, keeping the precipitation low.

Keep him safe. Bring him to land.

Yes. That is what I’ll do.

I walk to the lake and let it welcome me into the depths, forcing myself not to feel. It doesn’t matter, anyway. The water hugs my waist, a gentle caress. It’s cold, much colder than I expect. How utterly human of me to notice such things. How very interesting. I’ve changed since Hector arrived on the island. I wonder how long it will last, if at all.

I must concentrate on Hector while I can.

Outside the boundaries of the lake, he’s lost to me. He won’t be mine anymore.

Anda. He was never yours to keep.