[attr="class","rigidw"]
Slowly, ever so slowly, like water wearing away at rock, like-- like the friggin’ glaciers, Alex slipped his leg over Titanic’s back; he hovered for a second before lowering himself into a seat. Memo could feel him shaking, felt a twinge of regret, but how else was Alex going to face his fears?
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Slowly, that’s how. He was going to do it slowly.
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“See, that’s not so bad,” Memo said, hopping back onto Titanic, who began to wiggle her tail end to get them back out to sea. He had exactly .02 seconds to breathe before Alex’s arms cinched around his waist, tighter than any seatbelt, but Memo was grinning like an idiot. He rested his arm over Alex’s, the waves jostling them ever so lightly, as he leaned his head back against Alex’s chest, and looked up.
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“Thank you,” he said, earnest and genuine and so full of emotion he could burst. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”
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With some more pushing of wet sand, Titanic escaped into water deep enough so she didn’t drag along the beach. She surged forward into the surf, splashing seawater over her head, before settling into an easy, steady pace, gliding through the indigo waters quickly turning purple with the setting of the sun.
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She cut a quick swathe in a scythe-shaped curve to the left, along a ridgeline of worn away rock and crumbled boulders; the face of the mountain was beautiful, cut through with pink and purple, black and red; of course, Alex’s eyes were shut, so he wouldn’t see all the glittering, glimmering crystals, agate, clay, and onyx.
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Every now and then a wave rushed upon them with enough force to splash, but other than that, it was a quick journey.
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Around the curve of the cliff, there was a swoop cut out of the rock face; sand had been pushed up to make a little beach, completely covered by a tall ceiling of granite. A natural breakwater of rocks formed a semi-circle out in front of the beach, calming the surf and making it little more than gentle, back-and-forth laps at the soft, white sand. Titanic docked herself once more with powerful pushes of her strong tail, and Memo hopped off, took Alex’s hand, and said, “You can open your eyes, now,” with just the hint of a laugh.
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The inside of the cove was a rainbow of hues, purple and pink, red and white, black and gray, shimmering with mineral deposits; the water over the white sand was a crystal clear blue, enabling them to see the myriad colors of shells and pebbles beneath, smoothed and soothed by the push and pull of the water.
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The cave opening was bright with the last rays of sun, a perfect view of the sunset over the water, blood orange and vibrant yellows, lavender and gray. There were two fold-up beach chairs with a wicker basket between them, sitting by a small, smoking fire, the flame recently gone out. Towels and soft, fluffy blankets were stacked on each chair.
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“See?” Memo said, excitement crackling in his voice as he spread his arms wide and gestured to all his hard work.
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A small, white rock, sitting by the fire, slowly sat up and ambled over, eyes downcast. Memo crouched down and gave the Corsola a loving pat.
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“Thanks for watching everything, Sy,” he said. “If you wanna go swimming now, you can.”
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The Corsola heaved, as though sighing, and slowly waddled into the water, allowing the current to lift him up and take him further out to sea.