Milk(24)

            On the second sandbank the water was too shallow for him to swim, and he got up and walked a few steps. He looked out towards the third sandbank but couldn’t see his brother. He hurled himself forward.

            When he reached the last sandbank he let his feet sink down, and glanced around. Thomas was nowhere in sight. Jon spun around, ran an arm through the water, and swirled the phosphor. Just then, he felt something grab hold of his right foot. He fell backwards and felt the water gush up his nose and into his sinuses. A moment later he got back on his feet. He threw himself at Thomas and tried to dunk his head under the water. Thomas got away from him and shoved a handful of water in his face. Jon threw himself forward again and this time he managed to grab Thomas’s hair with both hands. He pressed Thomas’s head under water and held it there a few seconds.

            —Truce? he said, as he pulled Thomas back up.

            —Truce, Thomas said, laughing.

            Jon let him go and Thomas splashed him again.

            —Stop it.

            —What’s wrong with you? Thomas said, pressing his hands together and shoving saltwater against Jon.

            Jon leapt forward and swam away underwater. He had barely emerged when Thomas was on him again.

            Jon took two steps away from Thomas, then turned and smacked him across the cheek. Thomas grabbed his hand before he managed to pull it away. They stood motionless across from each other.

            —Look at me, Thomas said.

            —Sorry, Jon said.

            —Look at me, Thomas said.Jon

            —It’s not enough that I say I’m sorry?

            —No.

            Jon looked at him.

            —Now tell me what’s wrong?

            Jon exhaled and stared up at the stars. He glanced toward Thomas, fastening his gaze at a point just above his eyes.

            —I don’t know.

            —You don’t know?

            —Maybe I shouldn’t have come.

            —Why?

            —I don’t know. I just shouldn’t have come.

            Thomas still had a solid grip on Jon’s wrist. They stood opposite each other, the water reaching their chests. The water was dark and still, and the phosphorescence had subsided. They stood without speaking for almost a minute.

            —Don’t you ever miss him? Jon finally said.

            —Who?

            —Who do you think?

            Thomas let go of Jon’s hand.

            —Of course I miss him, he said.

            —I can’t help thinking of him now that we’re here.

            —Why?

            —I don’t know. Maybe because it was here he was happiest. That’s what everyone says.

            —Of course I think about him, Thomas said. But not all the time. It comes and goes.

            Jon drew a hand through the water and the phosphor sparkled.

            —I’m freezing, Thomas said. Let’s swim back.

            They swam slowly toward the beach, side by side with three or four feet between them.

            Jon took a few powerful strokes, then let himself sink under the water. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep the water out. He lay against the bottom, sand scraping against his chest. Soon after he surfaced for air.