Pacific

They made it to the beach.

The sand felt loose under their feet.

Joseph dropped the duffel bag near a piece of driftwood. He put the metal detector next to it.

He stripped off his shirt. He kicked off his jeans.

He stood there in his boxers and looked at the water.

-It looks cold, he said.

-Good, Rosa said.

She unzipped the dress. She let it fall to the sand.

The red bikini looked like a wound or a heart.

Joseph looked at her.

-Trouble, he said. He turned. He ran into the water and dove.

Rosa watched him. He headed for the buoy bobbing in the distance. A dark speck in the vast blue.

She walked to the water.

She kept walking. Knees. Waist. Chest.

She gasped as the cold hit her heart.

She pushed off the sand. She floated.

The sky was vast and clean.

She closed her eyes and drifted.

She stayed there until her fingers went numb.

A splash near her ear.

She opened her eyes.

Joseph was there. His hair was slicked back. Water streamed down his face.

-You okay? he asked.

-I’m clean.

-The buoy is far out, he said. It’s quiet out there.

-It’s quiet here too.

He swam closer. His legs brushed hers beneath the surface.

-The bus comes in forty minutes, he said.

-I know.

-Cousin Benny is waiting. The border is waiting.

Rosa looked at the shore. Her black dress was a pile of rags on the sand. The duffel bag held the money.

She looked at Joseph. The stranger.

-Are we going to make it? she asked.

-I see us there, he said. I see the tequila. I see the sun.

-Do you see us happy?

He reached out. His wet hand cupped her face.

-I see us together, he said. That’s enough.

Rosa nodded.

-That’s enough, she whispered.

And they drifted.

And they were free.