Seven Tears at High Tide Read online

  “Oh, a diplomat’s kid,” Rachel says. “I know how that feels. I don’t think I’ve really settled at all, even since I grew up. At least until I married Mike and we moved here,” she says, and Mike kisses her on her cheek. “We met on a beach, you know.”

  Kevin and Ann share a look.

  “It was right after I got tenure,” Mike says, a dreamy look in his eyes. “I signed up to teach a unit for this experimental field expedition that Rachel had helped put together.”

  Kevin leans back in his chair and watches his mom throw her hands up into the air, eagerly gesturing as she does when she’s excited. “I designed a course that mixed the sciences with the humanities, like when John Steinbeck and his friend Ed Ricketts traveled together in the Pacific.”

  Ann jumps in. “Ricketts wrote the in-depth catalog Between Pacific Tides and—”

  “Steinbeck wrote The Log from the Sea of Cortez,” Kevin finishes the sentence, catching Ann’s eye.

  They finish the story triumphantly together, having heard it many times. “And the two friends found that science and philo­sophy weren’t all that different from one another, and so did we.”

  “All right, all right, so what, we’ve told this story plenty of times,” Mike says.

  “Only once or twice a summer—”

  “Every time you teach that course again together and explain it to your students—”

  “Every faculty party—” Kevin teases.

  “It’s a beautiful way to find each other,” Morgan says.

  “Thank you.” Rachel throws Morgan an appreciative smile and then rolls her eyes at her children and turns to kiss her husband on the mouth with exaggerated aplomb.

  “Gross,” Kevin and Ann say together as their dad returns the kiss with equal fervor. It’s an old joke in the Luong household; both Kevin and Ann are used to it by now. Mike Luong and Rachel Jenners were both innovative researchers in their fields, darlings in their respective departments of marine biology and English at Cal State San Luis Obispo. Kevin was too young to remember the excitement when they got married, but he’s grown up with the stories and seen how other professors treat his parents with pride and admiration for their happy marriage as well as their research and joint teaching.

  Morgan doesn’t seem to find Kevin’s parents’ affection off-putting at all. He watches them, eating his food happily.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Rachel says. She winks at Kevin, making him blush, but at least she isn’t referring to Morgan as his boyfriend.

  “I’m happy to be here,” Morgan says, and then makes plans with Kevin to go surfing tomorrow.

  Maybe summer isn’t going to be so lonely after all.

  * * *

  “You don’t have a surfboard?” Kevin asks, holding up his own longboard and walking up to the lifeguard tower where he agreed to meet Morgan.

  Morgan shakes his head. He’s wearing the same shorts, the ones he wore yesterday and the day before. Kevin notices now that they were in the heap of lost and found clothes Sally gave him the first day he saw Morgan.

  “Okay, so you’re body surfing then? Where’s your wetsuit? I remember you had one.”

  “Safe,” Morgan says. For a second Kevin thinks he sees a flash of worry cross his face, but it’s soon replaced by an excited, eager expression.

  Kevin tugs the cord at the back of his own wetsuit, pulling up his zipper. It’s chilly, and he’s sure the water will be even colder. He guesses Morgan is trying to build up a tolerance, but figures if they only swim an hour or two it’ll be all right.

  They dash into the water, and Kevin shivers. He ducks his head under to adjust more quickly and resurfaces to find Morgan swimming ahead.

  All the clumsiness Morgan showed on the hike—walking with an unsteady gait, tripping over his feet—all of it seems to dis­ap­pear. Kevin is astonished to see his new friend joyfully dive head­first into an oncoming wave with his body undulating gracefully in the sparkling water.

  Kevin tries his best to keep up, paddling fiercely on his board, blinking salt water out of his eyes. A wave swells and raises him up, heading for shore. They’re not quite at that sweet spot yet, but Kevin is already tired just watching Morgan swim carelessly about in small circles, heading forward and then coming back behind Kevin.

  He finally gets a chance to rest when they get to a nice spot where bigger swells are visible from a distance and the small waves nudge by. Kevin bobs in the water, catching his breath, with Morgan treading water next to him.

  “You okay?” Kevin asks, then immediately realizes his question is useless. It’s clear from the contented look on Morgan’s face how relaxed he is. “Do you wanna hang onto my board or something?”

  “I do not need to rest, thank you,” Morgan says, laughing brightly. Water drops cling to his eyelashes, catching the morn­ing sun, framing his golden brown eyes. Morgan blinks, and the gleaming drops trickle down his cheeks. He flicks his head back so water runs down his throat in rivulets. “Does that look acceptable?” he asks, pointing at an oncoming swell.

  “Awesome.” Kevin turns around and paddles fiercely, hop­ing he can catch the wave. He’s not the best surfer, despite his love for the ocean and the sport. He’s a fair swimmer, but doesn’t have the self-discipline to practice surfing on his own, and he’s never had anyone interested in going with him. So, he’s never actually stood up and ridden a wave all the way to shore.

  The water rises beneath him, and Kevin grips the edges of the board and tries to get to his feet. The wave rushes by and then churns over on itself. Kevin loses his balance and topples off the board. It’s a mad, whirling rush of confusion underwater, and he can feel himself getting pulled quickly toward shore by the leash on his board.

  Everything is green and blue and Kevin can’t make out which way is up, can barely see his own hands in front of him, can’t concentrate through the roar of water in his ears. If he doesn’t right himself soon, he’s going to get a full body drag onto the grainy beach, and it’s going to hurt.

  He feels a brushing touch at his ankle and then the leash is off, and Kevin is hauled up to the air. He gasps for breath, coughing and spluttering. Morgan is holding him up. They tread water together; Morgan watches him with a worried expression and keeps his hand clasped firmly around Kevin’s arm.

  “Thanks, dude,” Kevin says. “I guess we’re even now.” He chuckles.

  Morgan doesn’t laugh, just blinks and asks, “Were we odd?”

  “I saved you, you saved me, even-steven. You know, fair and square.” Kevin gestures between them. Not for the first time he wonders where Morgan is from. Maybe he was home-schooled; his English seems centuries old sometimes. “Oh no, my board!” he shouts, swimming quickly toward the beach. Kevin’s feet drag against the pull of the incoming waves. His board has drifted off to a pile of sharp rocks; the surf pummels it relentlessly.

  Kevin pulls it off the rocks, groaning when he sees scratches and a huge gouge running down the center, exposing the foam interior.

  Morgan clambers onto one of the rocks and eyes the board. “It is damaged?”

  “Yeah. I mean, technically I could take it back out and keep going, but then the seawater will get in this crack and it’ll just get worse.”

  Kevin walks over to the shower area, sprays down his board and rinses it carefully to get all the saltwater off. “Guess no more surfing for today.”

  “We could watch a movie,” Morgan suggests.

  “Yeah, that sounds good. Do you wanna go home and change out of your wet clothes?” The question is already out of his mouth before Kevin remembers he has never asked if Morgan lives in town, or if he moved recently to the area or to Piedras Blancas itself. He must live close by, walking distance probably; he always seems to just show up at Kevin’s house. It’s possible he’s staying in San Simeon or farther south in Cambria. Kevin can’t remember an
yone dropping him off, but that doesn’t mean someone hasn’t.

  Morgan shakes his head.

  “What, you got dropped off and now you’re stuck till you get picked up?” Kevin asks. “How long did you think we’d be out?”

  Morgan gives him a noncommittal shrug.

  “Okay, you can borrow something from me.”

  Should he mention that Morgan still has his sweatshirt? He wasn’t wearing it yesterday or today; maybe he thought it was a gift? For some reason that doesn’t bother Kevin at all. Morgan looked adorable wearing his blue sweatshirt. Does Morgan have it in his room? Did he keep it because it reminded him of me?

  They walk back to Kevin’s house, and Kevin laughs at Morgan’s imitation of a seagull. Morgan sticks out his tongue. “Pests.”

  “So true,” Kevin says, laughing. “You should see the school around lunchtime. Right before the bell rings, they all swarm in, waiting to attack the trashcans and the food left out. They can get quite vicious.”

  Morgan laughs, squawking ridiculously and flapping his hands, making a silly face.

  “Are you staying in Piedras Blancas?” Kevin asks.

  Morgan shakes his head. “A bit farther north. My family is only staying here for the summer.”

  “Oh.” Kevin is more than a little disappointed that Morgan won’t be going to high school with him in the fall. He’ll be gone come September, back to Scotland or something.

  “Come on.” Kevin takes Morgan’s hand, suddenly filled with the desire to make more of his time with this strange and compelling boy.

  They wander into the house, wipe their wet feet on the welcome mat, climb up the stairs and giggle as they pass Ann’s bedroom. She’s dancing with her headphones on, oblivious to the open door, swaying to the beat.

  In Kevin’s bedroom, he quickly scrounges up some clean shirts and shorts. “Here, you can wear this,” he says, handing an outfit to Morgan and then ducking into his bathroom to change. He peels off the wetsuit and hangs it up in his shower, then leans his surfboard carefully against the wall, eyeing the crack. He’ll have to fix it tomorrow.

  When he returns, Morgan is holding onto the wet boardshorts, wearing the outfit Kevin gave him. He looks curiously at the rock collection prominently displayed on Kevin’s bookshelf. “These are beautiful,” he says.

  “Here, I’ll take that,” Kevin says, holding out his hand for the bedraggled boardshorts to hang in his shower. He’s certain now that they’re the ones from the lifeguard’s lost and found. Kevin’s starting to worry that Morgan doesn’t have any other clothes, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up. Money can be a touchy subject.

  Morgan holds Kevin’s favorite specimen, a piece of green olivine on basalt. Kevin once almost convinced Ann it was an avocado roll—it certainly looks like one, bright green speckled with sesame seeds, wrapped in dark seaweed.

  “That’s from Mexico. My family went on vacation to Baja last year, and I got that out of an old volcano.” He tries his best to describe the sweltering heat and the excitement of finding geodes and cracking them open with a hammer. Morgan listens in rapt silence as Kevin talks about the find and tilts the olivine so it catches the light. He sets it back in its spot behind its label, slowly so as not to disturb the other specimens, and Kevin is quietly pleased with Morgan’s careful appreciation.

  “I changed my mind,” Kevin blurts out.

  “About what?”

  “I do want this to be a date. For us, to do that,” he says, blush­ing. “I like you. A lot.”

  Morgan’s face breaks into a bright, happy smile.

  “And what do we do differently, for this to be a date?”

  Kevin can feel the heat on his cheeks. “We can hold hands, if you like. Um, or kiss, if you want to. But we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m fine just hanging out and watching a movie with you.”

  Morgan tilts his head and steps closer. “I want to,” he says, not specifying what, but Kevin knows immediately.

  It’s just the quickest brush of lips, but Kevin feels it all the way to his toes. A warm curl of excitement blooms throughout his body, and Morgan’s mouth is warm and wet against his. It’s not like any kiss he’s had, chaste and sweet and over in a second, and yet his heart is still pounding after Morgan leans back. He’s close enough for Kevin to be able to count the eyelashes dark against his cheek.

  Morgan ducks his head and asks, “Was that okay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, that was great.”

  They settle down on the floor, leaning back against his bed. Kevin drags his laptop across the carpet from where it was sitting in the corner and pulls up the Netflix account he shares with his sister.

  “Okay, so, movies,” he says distractedly as Morgan’s fingers brush against the back of his hand. “What do you want to watch?”

  “Whatever you like. I enjoy stories of all kinds.”

  Kevin finally decides on an old Batman movie, slings a casual arm around Morgan’s shoulders and hits “play.” The movie is an old favorite of Kevin’s, and it’s actually more entertaining to watch Morgan’s eyes widen and the little shakes he makes when he gasps with surprise and his quiet fascination with the Penguin.

  Morgan relaxes into his arm, leaning into the touch; his head rests on Kevin’s shoulder. It’s pleasant and comfortable in a way Kevin’s never felt. He’s completely at ease.

  Six.

  Morgan hates to admit to Naida when she’s right, but movies are absolutely fascinating. It’s only been a week but Kevin’s shown him many different stories. He always loved stories as a child, curled up as a pup, sleepily listening as his aunts and uncles wove magical tales with their words. Sometimes they were histories of their people, sometimes clever fantasies of heroes and monsters of the ocean’s depths, epic tales that took weeks to finish telling.

  Movies are visual.

  Clearly Kevin is used to it, but the first story he showed Morgan—the tale of a Batman, fighting for justice against the Penguin, the colorful costumes, the exciting music, the way the whole story came together—was so thrilling. It makes Morgan wonder if any of the penguins he’s met down south could also be shape-shifters.

  Morgan had been afraid Kevin would make fun of his very obvious first time enjoying a movie, but Kevin seemed happy just to watch it with him, holding him close.

  And the movies weren’t even the best part: Kevin said he wanted it to be a date.

  Morgan sighs happily, drifting in the water, watching the sun­light bounce off the waves, listening to the quiet burble of fish swimming under him, feeling the water cool under his back. He swims lazily, thinking about the way they kissed, about Kevin’s lips soft and sweet on his own, about Kevin’s arm around him as they watched the movie.

  He’s lightheaded even now, thinking about it. Morgan doesn’t notice when a wave pulls him forward, just lets it carry him wherever.

  Morgan can’t believe he’s avoided the human form his whole life. Running, walking, eating fried foods—it’s all amazing. Hold­ing hands and kissing—that’s a whole other experience Morgan can’t believe. He’s seen the affectionate nuzzling of mated pairs in his herd, the easy way they sprawl over each other when they sleep. And occasionally, when he was younger and curious, couples mating, rutting together on the beach, making loud passionate noises into the night.

  It’s different with humans. He doesn’t know if Kevin wants to mate with him or not. He hasn’t Requested that, not that Morgan can remember anyone ever in history Requesting someone to mate with and the Sea actually granting it. Requests are granted based on purity of heart, to those whose intentions are good. Kevin wanted someone to love—and Morgan does love him.

  Morgan’s pretty sure he could figure it out—mating—if Kevin wanted to. He’s happy where they are, though, and more than thrilled about kissing. The human body—the skin—isn’t as sen­sitive as a seal’s,
but the lips are particularly receptive to touch Morgan learned.

  And Kevin is a patient teacher. The first time Kevin’s tongue touched his own, Morgan’s face turned so red he thought he must have been ill. Kevin laughed, called him adorable, and then Morgan discovered that feeling excessively warm in the face was not the sudden onset of human disease, but blushing.

  It happens around Kevin a lot, particularly when they kiss, but Morgan loves every moment—Kevin’s soft hands holding his own, or gently cupping his jaw, the warmth of his mouth, his pleased hum when Morgan tilts his head and kisses back eagerly.

  It isn’t always kissing and holding hands. They spend time doing other things, such as studying for the SAT together. Kevin assumes Morgan needs to study for this too, so they do it together, memorizing definitions and practicing math problems. Morgan’s rather abysmal at the math, and returns to the Sea at night to try to fill in the missing gaps in his knowledge. Asking to absorb the information simply results in an amused feeling and silence, and nothing changes when Morgan tries to explain that being good at math is necessary to fulfill Kevin’s Request. The Sea is silent and entertained. No one else in the herd experienced in human knowledge is any help either.

  Kevin doesn’t find his lack of mathematical knowledge weird. They have the same level of understanding of most of the concepts, and being bad at math is a normal human thing. Morgan does all right with the meanings and stories part, and he is learning a lot, but mostly he feels good about helping Kevin study.

  One warm afternoon, Morgan accidentally knocks over a pack of index cards, sending them flying off the bed. Kevin laughs and the two of them scramble over the floor, picking up the cards together, chuckling as they bump heads. Morgan reaches for the cards scattered under Kevin’s bed, crawling under it to collect them all. He shifts aside a few objects, pulling them out so he can grab all the blank cards where they’re sticking to the carpet. Morgan gathers all the cards and emerges, knocking aside a box he moved earlier, grinning triumphantly at Kevin.