Meant To Be

Mine

I've lost you already 

You're here, you're here, you're here 

But I've lost you already girl, it's just a matter of time 

It's just a matter of you're not mine 

 - You're Not Mine, from FOUR's third album, Changes 

"Okay," I say, as we keep driving. "So it's not on campus?"

"No," he said. "I thought we'd be a little bit more adventurous than that."

"Thank god," I say. "I was worried you were going to take me to the nude beach."

He snorts, then seems to realize that I'm being serious. "Wait, is there really a nude beach?"

"Yeah," I say. "Right by the campus, which yeah, I thought was odd too. I've never really gotten an answer as to why, but."

"That is - so weird," he says. "Like honestly, Cass, what the fuck?"

I can't help but laugh. "Are you enjoying Canada?" I inquire innocently.

"It's - certainly something," he says. "I'll be going along thinking everything is normal, then there's just something that's like - damn weird, you know?"

"You don't have to tell me," I say. "I grew up here."

I'm keeping an eye out as we drive, trying to get a vague idea of where we might be going. If I'm being completely honest, I've spent most of my time here on campus, under a mountain of homework.

We're staying close to the ocean, though, which is nice. Holland sees me looking and smiles. "I haven't had much time to really see the ocean," he says. "And the beaches here are supposed to be incredible."

"They are," I say. "Good choice."

"Narrows it down a bit," he says.

"Hmm," I shrug. "I'm not that familiar with the beaches around here." At his questioning look, I elaborate. "I'm not actually from Vancouver. I grew up on Vancouver Island, which is a stone's throw and a ferry ride from here. My family lives in Victoria."

"Wow," he says. "An island girl."

"I guess," I laugh. "It's so big, it doesn't really feel like an island. But yeah, I love the ocean. So you chose well."

"Thank god," he says, putting one hand on his chest. "I was worried, you know, that you might just leave if I picked wrong."

"Mm," I say. "Definitely. Stormed out, made a whole scene..."

"And fifty years from now," he says, "I'd be sitting somewhere, thinking about you, thinking 'oh, only if I'd taken her to the sea.'"

We both smile.

"Anywhere we would've gone I would've loved," I say. "But I'm glad you'll get to properly see the ocean."

"And how do you know it's going to be properly?" he says. "You don't know where we're going."

"Well, you're with me," I say. "And island girl. And an ocean girl, for sure. So it definitely will be."

I can see the Arthur Laing bridge ahead of us, and I squint. "The airport's out this way, isn't it?" I ask.

Holland nods. "The one part of Vancouver I know," he laughs. "But we're going past it."

We both go silent as we pass over the Fraser River, the waters high with the fall rain. To the right of us, it continues to the ocean, widening out into a large estuary.