“Oh, for sure. But, Rei … you’ll be all right?”
“Yeah, I think I will.”
Koji can’t believe that I’ve gotten him on the line up for the Beach Band Bash. “This is the first time I’ll have ever jammed in front of, like, a real audience!” He’s beaming. “This is going to be so awesome.”
“I know it doesn’t make up for me missing your audition, but I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait to hear you play.” Then I smile. “Properly play, not just out in our garage.”
“Thanks, Reiko,” he says.
“Do you want Mom and Dad to be there?” I ask.
“Mom and Dad are in New York this weekend, remember? Dad has some business trip and Mom is going with him.”
“So it’ll be just us.” I haven’t told Mika I’m going back to the beach. I’m scared to tell her. I don’t know what she’d say.
“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “We’ll have to represent for the Smith-Moris.”
A slight pang thrums through me, like I’ve hit my funny bone, but then it’s gone.
“Yeah,” I say, “we will.”
CHAPTER 60
The last time I saw the sea I was twelve. I’m seventeen now. Five years is a long time to not see the sea. But it is a hard thing to forget. Especially when it stole your sister.
It is bigger than I remember it.
We’re in my car. Koji is in the back seat, wearing his headphones, humming and bopping his head to a beat I can’t hear. I don’t think he knows how big this is for me.
I don’t think I want him to know.
I keep both hands on the steering wheel, but I can feel my palms starting to sweat.
It’s a different beach than the one I last saw, but it’s the same ocean.
Dre is sitting next to me and she reaches over and rubs my arm. “You’re doing great,” she says. “We’ll be way up on the beach. Nobody is going in the water. You’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.”
I feel like I’m going to throw up, but I nod.
I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.
We park and then take Koji over to where he needs to be. He’s the third act. I thank Tori and her boyfriend for getting Koji on the line-up, and go with Dre into the crowd to wait for Koji’s set.
I’m surprised how many people are here from our school. Oceanside is a good two hours from Palm Springs, but I recognize lots of faces. Zach Garcia is here too, and at first, I think he’s staying close to me, but then I realize he can’t keep his eyes off Dre. And she keeps looking over her shoulder and beaming at him.
Something clicks in my brain. I realize that Dre must be crazy about Zach. And that he must feel the same way about her. How did I not see it before? Just as I’m about to text Dre demanding that she tell me everything, the speakers crackle around us, distracting me.
“Next up, Koji Smith-Mori!” says the host from the small stage set up on the beach.
I cheer as loud as I can.
Koji makes his way onto the stage, and he looks like someone I’ve never seen before. He looks older, more confident. And when he starts to play, I’m blown away by how good he is.
I wish my parents could see him like this.
I wish Mika could see him like this.
He plays three songs, and then, amidst the cheers and applause, he leans close to the mic. “I just want to thank my sister Reiko, who’s here tonight, and my sister Mika, who I wish could be here too.”
Dre grabs my hand.
I know Koji means well.
I know he means it with love.
But suddenly, the crowd feels like it is crushing me and I need to get some space. Need to get some air. But even the air is heavy here, not like dry desert air.
“I’ll be right back,” I say to Dre, pushing my way past people, out of the crowd. Right as I’m almost through the throng of people, I look up, and see Seth walking toward me.
I don’t believe he’s here.
I stare at him across the sand and he stares at me, and I try to remember that once upon a time, we were friends.
And I pretend for a second that things had gone differently with us and we’d just been friends all summer and we’d never hurt each other.
And then someone runs up next to him and grabs his hand, and it’s Libby. And I remember how he called her a bitch and how I reveled in thinking I was better than her, and even though she’s been awful, the thought makes me feel icky. All the same, I don’t like looking at them. So I kind of wave goodbye at them, and Libby gives me this weird wave back, and I’m mad at both of them but also at myself.
I turn and walk in the other direction.
Down to the sea.
I think I see a figure in the surf.
No … it can’t be. It’s too dark, and my eyes are playing tricks on me.
There, in the moonlight, there.
It’s Mika.
It’s Mika.
Mika is in the sea.
And I’m worried she’s angry that I came back here and didn’t even tell her. Is she angry that I came to watch Koji play? I have to explain.
I start to run.
Into the sea, into the waves.
Mika!
Mika!
I hear someone yelling my name from the shore, and I turn back for a second.
And then a wave crashes into me. And drags me down.
Drags me under—
… wet coarse sand … in my nose … in my mouth, and water, so much water … my lungs a bubble about to burst…
Memory merges with reality, and I don’t know which way is up.
This has happened before it happened before.
I keep my eyes and my mouth tightly shut, but my lungs are starting to scream for oxygen and then there are arms behind me, around me, pulling me up, pulling me out and then—
air, sweet starlit air.
I’m shaking all over and I open my eyes to see Dre and Zach on either side of me, pulling me out of the surf and up the beach, away from the waves. Away from the sea.
“Reiko! Honey, you’re OK. We got you,” says Dre.
I look past her, and Seth is standing up on the beach, exactly where he was before. He hasn’t moved.
“You’re shaking! Don’t worry, we’ll get you warm and dry,” Dre goes on.
“Is she OK? Why isn’t she answering?” says Zach.
Seth still hasn’t moved. He’s standing with Libby, and they’re just staring at me.
A sob that starts low inside of me rips its way through my heart and then I’m shaking even harder and sobbing.
Zach’s eyes widen and he looks at Dre for instructions. Jumping into the waves to rescue a drowning girl is one thing; dealing with this is something else.
Someone has stopped the music and people are starting to crowd around us.
“What are you all looking at?” Dre shouts. “I didn’t see any of you going to help her!” I don’t know if she’s specifically yelling at Libby and Seth or at everyone.
“My brother,” I gasp. “Where’s Koji?”
“He’s right here, sweetie. He’s right here. He was just packing up his stuff. Hold on.” Dre looks over her shoulder. “Koji! Let Koji through!”
And then he’s there; my little brother is next to me, fear splashed across his face.
“Reiko, everything is OK, everything is OK,” he says in a low, calm voice. “Here, Zach, I’ve got her.” And then my brother loops my arm over his shoulders. “Come on, Rei.”
Dre and Koji lead me up the beach and toward my car. Tori runs up with towels she’s procured from somewhere and wraps me up. They lie me down in the back seat, with my head in Dre’s lap. She strokes my hair.
“Mika? Where’s Mika?” I say. “I saw Mika.”
“Oh, honey,” says Dre, and her lip is trembling. Then she leans forward toward her sister, who is sitting in the driver seat. “Tori, she keeps asking about Mika.”
“She’s fine,” says Tori, with a gentle firmness. “She’s just had a shock. Sh
e’s fine. We’ll keep her warm and bundled and we’ll get her home.”
I’m still shaking. I can’t stop shaking.
Koji is sitting in the front seat beside Tori and looking back at me with wide eyes. “Should I call my parents?”
“Koji! Don’t go anywhere!” I say, unable to keep my teeth from chattering. “Don’t go.”
Dre keeps stroking my wet hair. “Shh, he’s not going anywhere. Nobody is going anywhere. We’re all right here, babe. We’re right here.” She looks up at Koji. “Tori’s right, she’ll be OK. But, yeah, maybe call your parents to let them know what happened.”
Koji nods but keeps watching me, watching me like I’m watching him. Like if we look away, one of us might disappear.
“Don’t go,” I say again, and Dre holds me close.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says. “Koji’s not going anywhere. We’re right here.”
But Mika isn’t here. Mika isn’t here.
I couldn’t save her.
I’ll never save her.
CHAPTER 61
The Last Time I Saw the Sea
“Take care of your sister,” my mom had called out as Mika and I ran down the beach. She was fourteen, and I was twelve, but being at the beach made us act like little girls again. “Don’t go in too deep,” she warned, but we weren’t scared. We were good swimmers. I trusted the sea, then.
The waves changed without us noticing. And when I came up for air after diving like a mermaid, I was slammed back into the ocean, and I tumbled around like a sock in the washing machine. I didn’t know which way was up, which way was down. Then I felt the sand under my fingers − it got in my nose and in my mouth, and not just sand, water, so much water, my lungs were a balloon that was about to pop. I was trying to fight it, but I couldn’t, and then there were hands around my ankle, pulling me up and out. Like I was a fish that they’d caught by the tail. I came up choking, water slapping me in the face.
Mika was there. Breathing hard, tears streaking down her face. “Come here,” she said, reaching out for me.
“Mika, I’m scared!”
“You’ll be OK, Reiko,” Mika whispered in my ear. “Be brave.”
And then another wave came and we went down, and by the time the lifeguard got out to us, Mika was exhausted, because she’d been swimming for both of us. As soon as the lifeguard was close enough, Mika thrust me at him and he caught me in his arms and as I let go of my sister, another wave came, and took her.
They told us, after, that we were lucky they found her body at all, lucky that it hadn’t been swept away.
Lucky.
The ocean can do that, they said. Change quickly. Too quickly for anyone to notice. They didn’t use emotional words. They didn’t say that it gets angry. They said things like
rip tides
currents
words as cold as the sea.
But I know. I was in it. That sea was angry. And it was greedy. And it stole my sister.
And it should have been me. And I have spent every moment since trying to make up for it.
CHAPTER 62
I wake up in my bed. Alone.
It’s the next morning. My parents are still in New York.
I go downstairs and find Koji making pancakes. He passes me a plate without a word.
“You OK?” he says finally.
I nod. “I think so.” I take a bite of pancake and then look at my brother. “What do you remember about Mika? You’re older than her now – than she was.”
“I know,” he says.
“Do you remember what she looks like?”
“Of course,” he says. Then he grins. “She looked like you.”
“Do you remember her voice?”
His grin fades. “No … not really.”
“I miss her,” I say.
“I know. I miss her too.” He sounds so sad.
“I would do it for you too, you know,” I say. I’d keep you afloat, like Mika did for me. I’d make the lifeguard take you first, is what I mean.
“I know,” he says. And I know he understands.
“Koj, wanna go on a drive?”
“A drive? Where to?”
I smile. “We’ll know when we get there.”
We go out into the desert and we talk about Mika. We talk about her until the sun goes down and then we go get tacos, and then he tells me how much he wants to pursue music and how much he likes this girl Maggie, and I tell him I don’t know where I’m going to go to college, and we talk and we talk and we talk and I realize all this time that Koji has been there, waiting for me to talk to him. Waiting for me to see him.
My parents get home that evening, and my mom rushes in and wraps me in her arms. “Reiko, Reiko,” she whispers against my head. “Are you all right?”
I hug her back. “I’m OK,” I say. “And, Mom” − I pull back and look at her − “I want to talk about Mika.”
Her eyes glisten. “I’m so glad,” she says.
Later, after we’ve been in the living room, looking at pictures of Mika, sharing memories, I take a deep breath and ask what I’ve been wanting to ask all day: “Can we watch the video from Mika’s last piano recital?”
And then, on the screen, there she is. Mika playing the piano. The piano that we still own but that nobody touches.
She walks out on the stage with a straight back and her hair tied back in a severe bun. She’s wearing a crisp white collared shirt and black trousers.
“I thought she looked so grown up that day,” my mom says, “and I can’t believe that anyone would have thought she looked grown up when she looks like a little girl playing dress up, pretending to be an adult.” Mom laughs a little then. “She insisted on doing her own make-up, and it was terrible. I made her take it off and she was so mad at me.”
I remember then that Mika and my mom used to argue a lot. And finally acknowledging that she wasn’t the “angel sister” doesn’t make me sad.
It makes me relieved.
On the screen, Mika goes and sits at the grand piano. It dwarfs her. “Good luck, sweetie.” My mom’s whisper comes through the speakers.
And Mika begins to play.
The music washes over me like a mist. It seeps into my pores and it reverberates in my bones. All the hours of hearing that song over and over again when she practiced. I haven’t heard it since she died. I had to lock the memory away, because it was too hard to think about it.
My mom is squeezing Dad’s hand and I can tell she’s trying not to cry.
“I’m sorry,” I say, slowly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t talk about her for so long.”
“We understand, sweetie,” my dad says.
“But it wasn’t fair, especially to Koji. It wasn’t fair to Mika either. She would have hated that.” I wipe a tear off my cheek.
“I do talk about her,” says Koji. “Just not to you. I talk about her with Mom and Dad, and Ivan and Maggie.”
“Is there something wrong with me? Why did it take me so long?” I ask.
“There is nothing wrong with you, darling. You went through something terrible and lost someone you loved very much,” my mom says.
My hand is trembling. “But why was everyone else OK so much faster?”
“Oh, sweetheart, we’re not OK. And I don’t know if we’ll ever be, but that itself is OK. For us, talking about Mika doesn’t mean we’re OK; it just makes it easier. Everyone processes grief differently. You were processing it the only way you knew how. And we thought we were doing the best thing, by letting you deal with it the way you needed to, but I don’t know. Maybe we should have done it differently. I worry that being so hands off in our approach only added extra pressure to you. And we never wanted that.”
“I wanted to be good enough for both of us,” I say quietly. “To make up for losing her.”
“Reiko,” my mom says firmly, taking my hand, “I’m going to tell you two things that are simultaneously true. You will always be enough, and nothing could ever make up fo
r losing Mika. Does that make sense? I’m so sorry if we ever made you feel differently. We love you. We’ll always love you. Just like we’ll always love Mika.”
“I just want to be OK,” I say.
My mom hugs me tight. “You can hurt, and still be OK. And we’re here for you, Reiko. I know it is hard, I know it will always be hard, and we’ll miss Mika every day, but I promise you’ll be OK. We all will.”
This time, I believe her.
CHAPTER 63
I stay home from school the next day, and in the afternoon, Dre comes over to check on me.
“Hey, babe,” she says, giving me a tight hug. “You OK?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I think so. Thanks … for everything. To Tori too. I owe you guys.”
“Reiko, don’t be ridiculous. You’re family.”
“Dre,” I say. “Can you tell Tori that we can talk about Mika whenever she wants? I know she was her best friend.”
“Of course. Tori would love that.”
We go out and float in my pool. I’m in a pink flat raft and she’s on one shaped like a unicorn. Then we lapse into silence and I watch the clouds float by. The one above me is shaped like a rabbit, or maybe a butterfly; they are changing too quickly for me to really make out any shapes.
“Is everything OK, Rei-Rei?” Dre says softly. “You seem a little distant.”
“It’s just … a lot has happened recently,” I say. “Like, the whole going into the ocean thing was obviously a huge deal, and so is talking out loud about Mika, but something happened recently with Seth too. Something I haven’t told anyone about.”
And I tell her what happened in the back of my Jeep. I tell her how it was like being trapped in a small space with a fox, with an animal; how I had to grow my own claws to push back.
Andrea is livid. “I hate him. I already hated him, but now I really hate him. I despise him. What a disgusting shit. He is so lucky I didn’t know about this when I saw him at the beach. I would have eviscerated him.” And then her face softens and she swims toward me. “Why didn’t you tell me right away? Like, why didn’t you call me?”
“There was nothing to tell,” I say. “Nothing actually happened. Not really. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
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