Hamish takes us past the white, ribbed walls of the sea cliffs, and all the cormorants and gannets and other seabirds that lodge there, perched precariously. I wonder how they can even survive living on the absolute edge, in danger with every breath of their lives.
“Here are your dolphins, Gemma,” Hamish suddenly says, and the boat guns it further into the open ocean. That thing that Josh feared, that unending emptiness and loneliness, well, I’m finally aware of it, finally fearful. The waves are so big and the boat is so small. We could keep going and going and going until New Zealand was just a dot on the horizon, and we’d be alone forever.
I suck in my breath, trying to calm the panic rising at the bottom of my throat, and Josh instinctively holds me tighter. Maybe he can tell. But he’s just letting me know he’s there.
Suddenly gray and black bodies are shooting out of the water to the left of us and then to the right of us. The smallest dolphins I’ve ever seen are propelling themselves out of the water while others are racing us just below the surface, a stunning contrast against the thick, aqua blue of the water. They ride the waves and the current like underwater surfers.
Josh may have been making fun of me for being a dolphin hipster, but I’m sincerely impressed by these tiny, quick guys. I wonder if I should let him know that or keep up my reputation.
“Ah, dolphins,” Hamish remarks earnestly. “The llamas of the sea.”
Josh and I exchange a look at that.
When we’re cold, a bit wet, and utterly enthralled, running on delicious adrenaline, Hamish turns the little boat around and we head back toward the sharp, guano-stained cliffs of Le Bons Bay. After we make our way past the sharp hills and toward the wide beach, he runs the boat into the sand and then ushers us off.
As far as tours go, this one was utterly rudimentary. But that’s part of the charm. It was personal—just Josh and I, getting to experience the little Hector’s dolphins and that terrible taste of the open sea. It was real to the bone, and I knew because of that it would stick with me for a long time.
With Hamish in the background trying to hook up the boat to the tractor trailer, we make our way across the beach and back toward the road. The sand is extra cold beneath my feet and I’m trying to walk faster because of it.
I look beside me at Josh. He looks pumped, elated, yet when he meets my eyes I see a thread of darkness in him.
“So, what did you think?” I ask.
“You actually care what I think?” he answers. My smile falters for a moment but he’s already looking back at the hills in front of us. “I thought that was pretty fucking amazing.”
“A bit of a low-budget adventure,” I say, feeling as shy and unsure as a girl at her first school dance. What the hell is wrong with my head?
Once we reach the end of the beach, we slip our shoes on. Hamish seems to be taking his time. He’s actually abandoned the tractor and boat and is walking to a shed on the opposite side of the beach. It looks like we’ll have to walk up the hill without him.
Together.
On our own.
The thought fills me with unwarranted trepidation, and I’m not sure if I’m more scared of myself or of Josh.
We’re halfway up the hill, the rugged brown cliffs rising from the road on one side, gently sloping into green fields and trees on the other, when Josh says, “So, the ‘us’ that happened in Vancouver . . . is that ever going to happen again?”
The question stuns me. It’s so blunt. I stop walking, glued to the road, a tiny plume of dust rising up around me. I can only stare at him blankly.
He throws his hands up in the air. “Oh, come on Gemma, it’s a valid question.”
My heart is starting to hammer against my rib cage and my breathing deepens. But instead of answering honestly, I answer with spite. “I don’t know. Is the ‘us’ that was you and Amber in the movie theater ever going to happen again?”
Josh jerks his head back, blindsided. He blinks, his mouth opening and closing, searching for words, but he has none that can help him right now.
“Amber told me,” I quickly fill in, knowing what he’s trying to ask. “Said that Nick caught the two of you.”
Josh lowers his head until all I can see is his jet-black crown. When he looks back up, he’s running his hand down his face, stretching his features, his eyes turned to the sky. “Gemma,” he manages to whisper, but he can’t go on.
“It’s fine,” I lie, “but I just find it funny that you have the nerve to bring up the way that we were once when you were with her so recently.”
He pinches his eyes shut and shakes his head. “That is not fair.”