Page 82 of Wayfarers

“There you go,” she says. “All done. But if I catch you staring at the sun, we’re leaving.”

We walk toward the water, Winslow pulling and straining at his leash with keen whines until Sylvie looses him and he bounds toward the water like a rubber band shot from a thumb, past the families sunbathing. He splashes into the waves.

“Yeah, not super dignified,” Sylvie says, laughing.

“He doesn’t disappoint,” I say, laughing too.

We drop our things on a vacant patch of beach. Sylvie peels off her button-down shirt and I try not to stare as we follow Winslow in, stepping carefully to maintain balance. I keep the hand of my cast arm fixed to the top of my head.

The afternoon is sun-hazed and warm on our backs, the water cool around our legs and waists.

Sylvie sighs. “I love this so much.”

“Being in water?”

“Being in water. Summer afternoons. Winslow living his best life.” She pauses for a second. “Making new friends.”

My heart judders at that and robs me of words. “Yeah. I love all that stuff . . . too.”

“Will you be sad or jealous if I swim a little for real?”

“Not as long as we can still talk.”

“I solemnly swear to only engage in swimming conducive to conversation.” Sylvie turns over and floats on her back.

For a second I’m jealous of the blue sky, the way she looks at it like it’s too beautiful to bear. “I feel like I don’t know you well enough. I want to know more about you.”

Sylvie splashes back to her feet and pushes her wet hair back from her face. “Ask me anything. I may not answer anything, but you can ask.”

I suddenly feel stupid. “Uh. What’s your favorite food.”

“How dare, sir. How dare.”

We laugh. “I don’t know. Don’t you think someone’s favorite food is very telling?” I say.

“Sometimes,” Sylvie says. “Mine might be.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Avocados.” Sylvie has an expectant set to her face. Like she’s ready to play defense.

Thing is, I’ve known people whose favorite food is sprouts. I nod.

“Nothing?” Sylvie says.

“I think that’s a respectable favorite food.”

“You’d deny me the pleasure of defending avocados?”

“Sorry. How about: Avocados?! You can’t be serious. You’re a monster.”

“Thank you. Avocados. They’re the perfect food. Eating them is like eating green butter, but healthy for you.”

“So, like butter made from Yoda milk.”

“Knox!”

“What?”