Page 114 of When We Believed in Mermaids

By the time we wade back out of the water under an angry sky, my legs are weak and I could eat a large-size cow. Peeling out of my wet suit, I ask, “Did you bring food?”

She gives me a look. “Duh. Do you still eat the earth and all the moons of the galaxy after surfing?”

I laugh. It was something Dylan used to say. “I do. But look”—I spread my arms—“I didn’t get fat.”

“You have a very hot body,” she says. “Look at your abs, dude.”

“It’s all surfing.”

“I thought we might eat on the beach, but it’s getting too windy.”

We hustle back to her car and load up the back again with boards and wet suits. I don’t have a fleece and wish I did; seeing my goose bumps, she hands me one she drags out of the back seat. It must be Simon’s, and the warmth is delicious. We settle on the leeward side of the car and eat pies filled with meat and potatoes, washed down with a lemony drink. For dessert, there are slices of cake. “I love how much they love cake here,” she confesses. “Such amazing cakes too.”

“This is so good,” I comment, immersed in mine, a chocolate and passion fruit concoction that melts in my mouth. “I could seriously eat a couple more moons.”

“I’m jealous of your size.”

I laugh. “That’s a turnaround.” Wiping my hands, I say, “We should call Mom.”

For a moment, I think she’s going to refuse, but then she capitulates. “Okay. Let’s do it inside the car. Too windy out here.”

Now I’m nervous as I dig in my purse for the phone. I check the world clock, and it’s only early afternoon. Perfect. I take a breath and text.You free?

It’s not five seconds before she texts me back.Yes!And then my phone bleats the FaceTime ring. I glance at Mari, and she gives a nod. I punch the button.

And there she is, sitting on the floor with Hobo on her lap. She’s wearing a pair of jeans with a T-shirt, her hair in that messy bun she likes so much lately. “Look who loves me now!” she says.

Josie, because she’s Josie right now, starts to cry at the sound of her voice.

“That’s great, Mom. Thank you so much for doing that. Listen, I have some news.”

“You do?” Something in my voice must have alerted her. She sits up straighter. “What?”

“I found her.” I turn the camera to the other direction, and there is my sister, so unmistakably herself.

“Hi, Mom,” she says.

My mother makes the most piercing sound, halfway between a howl and a laugh. “Josie! Oh my God.”

Josie is crying too, tears streaming down her face. She reaches for the screen, touches it. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”

For a long time, they only weep and look at each other, murmuring things: “You look so good.” “I can’t believe how little you’ve aged.” “I just want to look at you.”

Finally, Josie sits up and, for the second time this morning, wipes tears off her face. “You look amazing, Mom!”

“Thank you. So do you. You quit drinking.”

Mari nods. “Quit everything.”

“Me too.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, can we have the AA meeting some other time?”

They both laugh. “I have so much to tell you,” Mari says.

“I want to hear every bit of it. And Kit!” She yells the last like I’m in another room. I click the camera around to my face.

“I’m right here, Mom.”