Just yes.
Yes, you did.
The ocean kept coming.
The light was changing the way it changes in the late afternoon, going gold the way light goes gold on the water.
Rose watched it.
I watched her watch it.
She said: when Edwin said he was going to take me.
She said: I used to picture it.
She said: what it would be like.
She said: I don’t know what I pictured exactly.
She said: I think I pictured something beautiful.
She said: but not this.
She said: you can’t picture this.
She said: you have to be here.
I said: yes.
She said: Edwin knew that.
She said: he knew you had to be here.
She said: he just couldn’t get us here.
She said: but you did.
She said: you got us here.
She squeezed my hand.
We stood in the ocean.
The two of us.
For a little while longer.
The sun went further down.
The water kept coming.
Rose said: I think I’d like to get some dinner.
I said: yes.
She said: somewhere with a view.
I said: I already looked.
She said: of course you did.
She said: you’re always looking.
She let go of my hand.
She walked back out of the water.
I picked up her shoes.
She waited while I dried her feet with the small towel I had thought to bring.
She put her shoes back on.
She looked at the ocean one more time.
She said: I’ll be back tomorrow.
She said it to the ocean.
Like a promise.
Like a plan.
Then she turned and we walked back toward the hotel, the two of us, the sand warm under our feet, the light golden, the sound of the water behind us.
That was the whole thing.
And it was everything.
