The Beach Is Too Cold to Have Fish

I loved to follow the shadows in the breakers, the dark shapes moving within them. It never occurred to me that loving the ocean might mean going in. Because there's something in the water. My little brother Jamie loved the ocean too. He was always running into the surf the second we arrived and plunging through the cold water until he was in up to his neck. Sometimes it scared me, watching him stare down a wave that I could see was full of writhing, sharp shapes. When he visited home he always smelled like those summer holidays, sunscreen and seaweed and saline. But I wonder if he knew that beach was too cold to have fish.

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