Page 51 of Under the Waves

So instead, I pulled out some of the old photo albums Isa had shown me a few years ago and together we looked at all of them whilst stuffing popcorn into our faces. I wanted him to see just how beautiful his culture, his accent, hishomewas. That all of their words stemmed from a jealous, insecure place. And most importantly, that none of it was his fault—that he had done nothing to deserve their cruel words, and he was not in any way faulty, broken,worthless.

I even learnt Spanish for him so that he could see that if people cared about him enough, they would go out of their way to do something like that for him. I didn’t want him to have to grow up and put himself second to everyone else just because they looked at him like he was different. I lived a life of putting myself second to everyone else and I’d be damned if I let him do that too.

Droplets of water splashing against my face drew me from my thoughts. I watched on proudly as Pepe paddled out, exactly like I had taught him, and caught a small wave back to the shore, standing up and all. As soon as he pushed up from his board and walked up onto the shore, I threw my arms around him, spinning him around as I hugged him tightly.

“Estoy muy orgulloso de ti, chico. Tan increíblemente orgulloso.”

I am so proud of you, kid. So unbelievably proud.

Laughter serenaded us, even after I had let him back down. The smile evident on his face was so bright and beaming it made my heart ache because I knew exactly what the world did to people who bore such smiles.

Smiling, he raced back to his board, yelling at me over the sound of crashing waves. Watching him proudly, I cheered and celebrated every small victory, and when he failed to stand up and got pulled over by the water’s wrath, I cupped his reddenedcheeks and said, “you are so brave, Josep Maria Gonzales, so incredibly brave. Those waves do not control you and you do not control them. Feel them beneath you and work with them, not against them. They will help you, only if you let them. Now, get out there and show me how we Gonzales men do it.”

With a wide smile and a brush of a hand across his teary eyes, he nodded once before picking up his board and padding back out into the water. I could immediately see the change in him—the calmness that washed over him, blanketing his fears. Each stroke of his arm in the water, each kick of his legs that sent droplets flying behind him. And then,

it

all

stopped.

“Pepe?” I called out.

No response. Not even a hint of recognition as if time itself had paused. My fingers began to tremor by my side, fear eroding each nerve. I gulped down a breath, but my throat was suddenly so dry that it felt like I was swallowing needles. My legs began to move without instruction and only when a coldness washed over my skin, did I realize I was already knee-deep in the salty water. Diving under, welcoming the waves, I swam over to where Pepe was clinging to his board, eyes fixated in front of him. I rested my arms across the board, before lifting one to wipe the drenched curls from his eyes.

“Pepe?” I repeated again, and this time, only a small blink greeted my words. Confusion knitting my brow, I turned to follow his gaze out into the vast blue.

And that was when I saw it.

Not it.Someone. Face down in the water, unmoving. Body cradled by the waves, enveloped in a tranquility of blue.

“Fuck!” I swore before hurriedly turning to Pepe, his big green eyes frozen, fixated on the small, frail frame being washed out to sea. “Stay on board, do not look back. When you reach the shore, I need you to sit down on the sand and face the house, okay?”

A quick nod of his head was all I needed before pushing his board back to shore, letting the waves carry him home for me. Without so much as a second glance, I swam, my arms digging ferociously into the water, pushing it aside as I stretched to reachthe floating body.

Brown hair.

Each kick of my legs sent the waves trembling.

Curls that fell down her back.

Ivy green eyes.

Small, broken smile.

Black and white wetsuit.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

“POPPY!” The scream tore its way up my throat, as my fingertips brushed against her cold, pale skin. Only her cold, unmoving body greeted me.

“No, no, no,” I rambled, scanning her pale face before brushing a mangled strand of stowaway hair away from her face.Fuck. Turning onto my back, I angled her body on top of mine, so her face wasn’t under the waves, and hooked one of my arms under hers and across her chest. Tugging her tightly to me, I waited for the next wave to come before I let it catch my body and give me a helping hand back to shore. She weighed practically nothing in my arms as I swam back.

When I could feel the sand bank beneath my feet, I stood up and swooped her body up into my arms. Racing back to the shore, I collapsed on the sand as soon as I reached it.

“Poppy?” I rested my fingers against her neck, feeling her faint pulse under my fingers. It was barely there, but it was better than nothing.Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was it Meredith Grey said?You’re not dead until you’re warm dead. Well, Poppy wasn’t warm dead yet. She wasn’t dead at all.