“Yeah.”
“What do we do?”
“Breathe.”
“Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah.”
“Do it, then.”
I do. I take in a breath and my throat whistles and my lungs fill with Seafare, Oregon, a smell I promised myself I would never experience again. My lungs fill, and it’s like muscle memory. I can taste the air on my tongue, and all I remember is Bear, Bear, Bear, and Kid, Kid, Kid. I’m not the Kid anymore, though Bear and Otter still call me that. I’m beyond that. I’m Tyson. I’m Ty. I’m not some fucking Kid anymore.
It’s this place. It’s Seafare. The ocean.
My throat opens slightly, and I’m able to suck in a deeper breath.
“Good,” Bear says. “Hold it.”
I do.
“Let it out.”
I do.”
“Again.”
I do.
Eventually, my vision clears. I’m not surprised to see the stretch of beach we’re standing on is the one where Bear and Otter were married, where Mrs. P’s ashes were spread.
“S-she was thrown,” I say. “R-remember? Back into our f-f-faces.” I’m really cold.
“I remember,” Bear said. “Her last bit of fun, I think.”
“You think so? Y-you think that was her?”
Bear sighs. “I do. I don’t know why, but it just seems like something Mrs. Paquinn would have done, you know? To tell us to not be so sad over her.”
“Yeah.”
“Bear?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not… I’m not right. You know.”
His arm tightens around my shoulder. “You’re more right than you could possibly know, Ty.”
“I thought I was over this.”
“It has been a while, huh?”
“Months. At least.” That he knows of.
“It’s a lot, I know.”
“What?”