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JUMP
I SURPRISE OLLY by getting into the water right away. He says I’m like a baby who runs
headlong into things, not knowing enough to be afraid. Like a baby, I stick my tongue out
at him and make my way, life jacket and all, farther into the water.
We’re at Black Rock, so named because of the rocky cliff formed by the lava rocks that
run right up to the beach and jut high into the sky. In the water, the rocks form a crescent
shape that calms the waves and forms a coral reef perfect for snorkeling. Our guide at the
Fun in the Sun desk says the beach is popular with cliff divers, too.
The water is cold and salty and delicious and I think maybe I was a mermaid in a
former life. An astronaut mermaid architect. The flippers and life jacket keep me floating
on the surface and it only takes a few minutes for me to get used to breathing through the
mask. Listening to the magnified sound of my own breath is peaceful and strangely
euphoric. I’m being reassured with every breath that I’m more than just alive. I’m living.
We see the humuhumunukunukuapuaa right away. Actually, we see quite a lot of them.
I guess the reason they’re the Hawaiian state fish is that they’re plentiful. Most of the fish
are clustered around the coral reef. I’ve never seen colors so intense, not just blue and
yellow and red, but the deepest blues and brightest yellows and most vibrant reds you’ve
ever seen. Away from the coral, the sun’s rays form rectangular columns of light in the
water. Schools of silver fish dart in and out, acting with one mind.
Holding hands, we swim farther out and see gliding stingrays that look like giant whitebellied
birds. We see two enormous sea turtles that seem to be flying instead of
swimming. Intellectually I know that they won’t hurt us. But they’re so big, and so
obviously belong to this water world—where I do not—that I stop moving, not wanting to
attract their attention.
I could stay all day, but Olly eventually tugs me back to shore. He doesn’t want us,
meaning me, to get burned by the midday sun.
Back on the beach we dry off under a shady tree. I feel Olly’s eyes on me when he
thinks I’m not noticing, but we are a mutual admiration society—I’m secretly ogling him,
too. He’s taken off his shirt and is only wearing swim trunks, so I can finally see the lean,
smooth muscles of his shoulders and chest and stomach. I want to memorize the
landscape of him with my hands. I shiver and wrap my towel around my body. Olly
misinterprets my shiver and steps close to me to add his towel to my shoulders. His skin
smells like the ocean and something else, some indefinable thing that makes him Olly. I
shock myself by wanting to touch my tongue to his chest, to taste the sun and salt on his
skin. I drag my eyes away from his chest and up to his face. He avoids my eyes and wraps
the towel tight around me so none of my skin is showing and then steps away from me. I
get the feeling that he’s holding himself in check.