“Lena.” Alex’s voice is stronger, more forceful now, and it finally stops me.He turns so that we’re face-to-face. At that moment my shoes skim off the sandbottom, and I realize that the water is lapping up to my neck. The tide is comingin fast. “Listen to me. I’m not who—I’m not who you think I am.”I have to fight to stand. All of a sudden the currents tug and pull at me. It’salways seemed this way. The tide goes out a slow drain, comes back in a rush.“What do you mean?”His eyes—shifting gold, amber, an animal’s eyes—search my face, andwithout knowing why, I’m scared again. “I was never cured,” he says. For amoment I close my eyes and imagine I’ve misheard him, imagine I’ve onlyconfused the shushing of the waves for his voice. But when I open my eyes he’sstill standing there, staring at me, looking guilty and something else—sad,maybe?—and I know I heard correctly. He says, “I never had the procedure.”“You mean it didn’t work?” I say. My body is tingling, going numb, and Irealize then how cold it is. “You had the procedure and it didn’t work? Like whathappened to my mom?”“No, Lena. I—” He looks away, squinting, says under his breath, “I don’tknow how to explain.”

“I’m Hana,” Hana says. “And this is Lena.” She jabs me with an elbow. Iknow I must look like a fish, standing there with my mouth gaping open, but I’mtoo outraged to speak. He’s lying. I know he’s the one I saw yesterday, would betmy life on it.“Alex. Nice to meet you.” Alex keeps his eyes on me as he and Hana shakehands. Then he extends a hand to me. “Lena,” he says thoughtfully. “I’ve neverheard that name before.”

“Todd!” she says again but this time in a way that asks me to look at her and I do and she stops Angharrad at the edge of the square and she’s looking at me, looking right into my eyes–And I read her–And I know exactly what she’s thinking–And my Noise and my heart and my head fill up fit to burst, fill up like I’m gonna explode–Cuz she’s saying–She’s saying with her eyes and her face and her whole self–“I know,” I say back to her, my voice husky. “Me, too.”And then I turn to the Mayor and I’m filled with her, with her love for me and my love for her–And it makes me big as an effing mountain–And I take it and I slam all of it into the Mayor–”

“My god, Anna,” he says. “I almost lost you.” He has me in his powerful grip. I’ve never felt this safe before.“Never let go,” I say, looking into his beautiful gray eyes.“That could be problematic,” he says. “I’ll have to let you go at some point. What if I have to pee? What if you have to pee?”“I don’t care,” I say.“What if I have an important business meeting and I’m holding you and we’re both covered in urine?”I start to cry. “You’re right,” I say, turning my face away from his gaze. “Nothing lasts forever.”

“I’m sorry,” I say and the words start spilling out. “I’m sorry. I should have just talked to you and then you wouldn’t have felt guilty and then you wouldn’t have gotten into this accident. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.” I’m still holding his hand and he’s looking at me with his beautiful blue eyes. “You’re sorry?” he asks in confusion. “You’re sorry? For what? It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” “I was being a baby,” I tell him. “I didn’t know what to say to you and I was trying to be strong but I was so upset that you were kissing Elena.” “Elena kissed me,” he answers. “I just want to clarify that. And she kissed me because I had just told her that I can’t see her anymore. Because I want to be with someone else.” “Someone else?” My voice is small in the large hospital suite and all of a sudden my heart is numb again. This time, it is numb because it is waiting hopefully for words that I am desperately wanting to hear. “Yes,” he nods. “Someone else.” My heart is still waiting. There is a pause. Then another pause. He doesn’t say anything so I do. “Is it anyone I know?” I look down and he looks up and our eyes lock. “I should hope so since it is you,” he says. My heart stops. And then starts again. And then I bend down and kiss Dante Gili-bear-ti as softly and gently as I can. “You want to be with me?” I ask this as I pull away and look at him. He smells like iodine and rubbing alcohol and bleached hospital sheets. It’s a foreign, unfamiliar smell. And I don’t like it. But his hand is strong and he squeezes mine. He nods. “Ever since you ran into me in the airport.” “You ran into me,” I answer. He rolls his eyes and I kiss him again.”

“Being on that pitcher’s mound, it’s the one thing I’m really good at. The one thing I haven’t fucked up. And when I’m on the field, everything else fades away. You know?” He turned to look at me, his eyes craving understanding. I smiled and he continued. “It’s like my mind is clear when I’m out there. It’s not about my mom or my dad or the stupid shit I’ve done. It’s about me, the ball, and the batter. It’s the one place in the world where I feel like I’m in control. Like I have a say in what happens around me.”I stopped my head from nodding in agreement once I realized that I was doing it. “I feel that way when I’m taking pictures. Anything that I’m not seeing through my lens fades away in the background. And I get to frame my picture any way I choose. I get to dictate how it looks. What’s in it. What isn’t. Behind that lens I have complete control in how things are seen.”He smiled, his dimples indenting his cheeks. “You get it.”