Free Things We Know by Heart by Jessi Kirby Page B

of the kayak. I stay where I am, in denial of all the pieces adding up right in front of me. We’re not actually, he’s not thinking we’re going to, I’ve never—
    â€œYou ever kayak out here before?” he calls.
    The man on the bench glances up, mildly interested, then goes back to his paper when he realizes the question wasn’t meant for him. I cross the grass quickly, trying to think if there’s a way out of this. I’m all for the beach and admiring the rocks, but kayaking through them is miles beyond my comfort zone. And it doesn’t seem like something he shouldbe doing either, with everything—it seems risky.
    â€œHave you?” he asks with a smile. Then, without waiting for an answer, he reaches inside, pulls out a life jacket, and hands it to me.
    I shake my head. “No . . . and I don’t . . . I’ve actually never kayaked anywhere before, so I don’t think . . . This doesn’t seem like a good place to start. You know, for a beginner. All those rocks . . .” Now, in my mind, they’re all jagged edges and crashing waves.
    â€œIt’s actually a great place,” he says. “Pretty protected. We do a lot of tours down here.” He pauses with a smile. “It’s where I learned.”
    â€œReally?” It comes out sounding like maybe I don’t believe him, but I do. And I realize I want to know more—about him, and who he is. In his own words, not Shelby’s. I can see it on his face that this is a big part of it.
    â€œYeah,” he says. “When I was six, my mom finally let my dad take me out here with him.” Eight years before you got sick, I fill in. Eight years before it all started, and you went to the doctor because your mom thought you had the flu. I feel guilty for knowing a part of his life that he doesn’t realize I do, but that’s not what he’s thinking about right now. I try not to either. I try to be here, now, with this Colton instead of the sick one I feel like I know so well.
    He shakes his head, laughs at the memory. “I’d begged my mom to let me for so long, and then when she said yes,we got here and I looked over the cliff, and I got the same exact look you did a second ago.” He pauses. “I tried every excuse to get out of it, but my dad just slapped a life jacket on me, gave me the paddles to carry, and hauled the kayak down the stairs without saying anything. When we got to the bottom, he put me in the seat, and then he kneeled down in front of me and said, ‘You trust your old man, right?’ and I was so scared I just nodded. Then he said, ‘Good. Do what I tell you, when I tell you, and the worst thing that’ll happen is you’ll fall in love.”
    I laugh nervously, try to look anywhere but at him, but it doesn’t work.
    Colton pauses, smiles at me with those eyes, and then looks out over the water. “With the ocean, is what he meant, that I’d take after him and want to be in it all the time, one way or another.” He looks back at me. “He was right. Couldn’t keep me on the shore after that day.”
    I know this is a version of the truth, and it’s the one he’s letting me know. But I also know about the years when he was sick, times that did keep him on the shore, and in and out of the doctors’ offices and the hospital. Part of me wishes I could ask him about it, but the other part doesn’t want to think of him that way.
    â€œI don’t really have anything like that,” I say. Anymore, I finish in my head. I see a flash of dirt road, Trent’s shoes, the two of us matching step for step, breath for breath, andguilt twists in me. “My sister and I used to run together, but she’s been gone at school, so I don’t really do it without her.” It’s the version of the truth I can let him know.
    â€œThat’s too bad,” Colton says. He looks like he’s