Page 1 of Seashells and Other Souvenirs

They say if you put your ear

To a seashell

You can hear the ocean

But I hear

The beating of my own heart

The voices of four little girls

Laughing and sharing secrets

Making memories

As countless as grains of sand

And wishing that joy

Could be bottled up

Forever

Wendy’s Wild Water Park was an awfully flashy name for two rickety blue slides that fed into half a swimming pool. Even so, we spent an entire day every summer hauling squeaky foam mats up an astroturf ramp for the thrill of taking the plunge again and again.

I was ten the summer my cousin Sutton decided it was time the four of us girls graduated to the Tall Slide.

“Seriously.” She gave her soggy strawberry blonde curls a shake. “If the boys can do it, we can too.” The oldest of us at eleven and a half, Sutton likely could have convinced us to follow her off the edge of a cliff if she’d had a mind to.

Rebekah sidled up to me in the line. “You okay, Alex?” She knew I was terrified of being up so high.

And of the tunnel that enclosed the top half of the slide.

She knew most everything about me. We were more like sisters than cousins, and people often mistook us for twins.

Born only four months apart, we shared the same straight golden hair and freckled faces.

But she was always at least an inch taller and a whole lot braver.

“I’m fine,” I lied as I tucked my mat under my arm and fidgeted with the paper bracelet stamped with the words ALL DAY PASS.

The female teenage lifeguard held out a hand to stop the spunky cousin with dark pigtails in front of us. “Hold on; I need to measure you. How old are you, sweetie?”

Elle squared her shoulders and stood on her tiptoes. “Almost nine.”

The lifeguard squinted at the yardstick in her hand. “And almost tall enough. Next summer.” She smiled sympathetically. Elle’s face fell.

“Oh, come on, Kels,” the boy behind us yelled. “She’s close enough. Let her slide.”

Elle took the lifeguard’s sigh and momentary pause as permission and plopped down on her mat, pushing off the sides. Sutton laughed at her triumphant whoop echoing down the tunnel, and the boy smiled and pumped his fist. My stomach churned.

“You go next, Alex.” Sutton tugged me forward by the corner of my mat. I closed my eyes and took a breath, then gingerly placed my mat in the swirling water flowing from the entrance of the slide.

“Don’t overthink it,” Rebekah encouraged. “Just do it this first time, and it will be easy after you see how much fun it is.”

I slowly lowered myself into a sitting position and waited for the lifeguard’s okay. “Whenever you’re ready.” She nodded.

I turned around and started to stand. “I think maybe—”

But Sutton’s hands clamped over my shoulders and sat me back down.

“You’ll thank me later.” I hardly had time to register her words before she gave me a hard shove.

I flew forward, barreling toward the water below and reaching above my head to hang onto the mat that had slid right out from under me.

I’d only just seen the start of my second decade of life, and this was how it was going to end?

I didn’t even have the presence of mind to scream as my body was flung up and down the sides of the tunnel like a towel in the old dryer under the beach house.

I struggled to hold on to my top with one hand and grasp the runaway mat with the other.

If I was going to die, I wanted to do it with my bathing suit and my dignity intact.

As I whipped around the last curve and shot out into the open bottom stretch, the bright sun momentarily blinded me.

And then my feet hit the water.

My body twisted around, the mat flew into the air, and my forehead collided with the edge of the slide.

The last details I registered were one of my aunts shouting my name, a copious amount of blood in the water, and a flash of annoyance at myself for ever listening to Sutton. Everything went black.

“Alex!” Sutton greets me excitedly at the front door and pulls me in for a hug. “How does it feel to officially be on summer break, Ms. Henry?”

I pull back and narrow my eyes at her. “Whose car is that in the driveway?”

“Just Chris’s friend from work.” She grabs my hand and drags me toward the kitchen. “He likes to read, and he’s great with the baby,” she whispers. “And he’s very handsome.”

“Oh my gosh, Sutton,” I hiss. “You have to stop doing this.”

We round the corner to find the two men playing peek-a-boo with a chubby eight-month-old in a high chair. I have to admit, it is very cute. Sutton flashes me a triumphant grin as the men stand and she introduces us. “This is my cousin, Alexandria. And Alex, this is Bryan.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex.” Bryan holds out a hand and offers me an apologetic wince. I’m relieved that he seems to feel as awkward about this whole scheme as I do.

“I hope you guys came hungry!” That’s my cue from Sutton to sit and let her play matchmaker in exchange for another dinner that Chris cooked but is letting her take credit for. My honorary niece’s tiny toothy smile makes it worth it. Usually.

“So Sutton tells me you’re a teacher?” Bryan ventures.

“Yep. High school literature.” I spoon some mashed potatoes onto my plate. “I hear you like to read?”

“I do.” He takes the bowl from me and serves himself. “But I can’t say that I was very interested in literature back in high school. Then again, I didn’t have a pretty teacher either.”

I inwardly cringe.

“Alex is going to publish a book of poetry soon,” Sutton interjects.

“Is that right?” Bryan winks across the table. “I’d love to read it.”

I set my fork down, irritated at my cousin’s presumptuousness.

“Well, I have to actually write it first. But if you’re still working with Chris when the time comes, I’ll have Sutton pass along the information.

” The baby starts to fuss, and I scoot my chair back to intercept Chris.

“I’ll take her upstairs and change her. Come on, Marcail.

” I hoist her onto my hip and escape to the staircase, pretending not to hear Sutton following me.

I lay Marcie on the changing table and turn to locate a clean diaper. Sutton, arms crossed, scowls at me from the doorway. “Why can’t you at least make an effort, Alex? I’m trying so hard.”

“Which no one asked you to do.”

She sighs dramatically. “I just hate to see you selling yourself short. There’s a whole world out there and you won’t let yourself see it. Refusing to let anyone in. Teaching at the same high school you just left a few years ago. Stuck in this tiny town—”

“The town that’s so boring that you chose to move here?”

“Because I fell in love.”

“You’re welcome for that by the way.” I snap up Marcie’s jumper and hand the baby to Sutton.

“I’m trying to return the favor! But it’s like you don’t even want to be happy!”

I bristle. “So I can’t be happy without a guy? I can’t be happy with this simple life I’ve chosen?”

“Of course you can.” She kisses the top of Marcie’s head. “But are you happy, Alex? Really?”

I push past her but linger at the top of the stairs, studying the carpet until she speaks again.

“You know I love you, Al. And if this is what you really want, how you want to spend your life, I’ll support you one hundred percent.

But I can’t stand this feeling that you’ve put your future on pause.

That you’ve written this perfect story in your head of how you think things should be and have shut out any other possible route to happiness. ”

“And you think Bryan is the route to happiness?” I scoff.

“I think Bryan is a more plausible possibility than a boy you kissed on the beach when you were sixteen and haven’t spoken to since.”

I’m suddenly back at the top of that water slide, Sutton’s hands at my back, ready to push too far. My fingers move to the pendant around my neck, and my thumb traces the outline of the silver sand dollar hanging from the chain.

“I’m sorry,” she relents. “Let’s just finish dinner. Chris said Bryan was planning to ask you to go to the company picnic next week if tonight goes well. Maybe you could give him at least two dates before you write him off?”

This isn’t about dating, but I don’t know how to make her understand that. I meet her eyes, a rare spur-of-the-moment decision firming up by the second. “Unfortunately, I won’t be here next week.”

Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I’m leaving this boring little town for the summer, Sutton. To finally write my poetry book.”