Evenfall

Epilogue

Soft sheets slid against Theo's arm as he rolled onto his back. The room was dim in the weak morning sunlight but still had a bright and airy atmosphere, like beach houses always seemed to. The walls were baby blue, and the plethora of windows were draped in gossamer cream drapes. A collection of seashells spilled across the top of the dresser, above which leaned two nearly identical watercolor paintings of a shark serenely swimming beneath sun-dappled water.

A couple of weeks ago, he and Abel went to a painting night. They each got a canvas and loose instructions from a local artist who seemed more interested in encouraging them to be creative than to follow the reference photo. Theo's artwork turned out to be a bit childlike, but he liked how friendly it made the shark look. Abel's looked pretty much like the reference photo. Abel kept saying he would hang them on the wall, but he also kept forgetting to do so.

Theo rolled his head to the side to look over at him. He usually slept on his belly and splayed out all over their bed. Thank god the bedroom in the bungalow came equipped with a king-sized mattress. One of his arms was shoved beneath his pillow, and his other disappeared off the bed. Not only did he hog the bed—and oftentimes ended up squishing Theo in his sleep (much to Theo's delight)—he also kicked at the sheets. They were pooled low on his waist, crisp white against his tanned back.

Moving slowly and carefully, Theo slipped out of the bed. He stepped into a pair of swim trunks, grabbed his shark from beside his own pillow, and padded out of the bedroom. The hardwood was gritty beneath his bare feet because no matter how hard they tried, sand always got tracked inside. He sat his shark in his usual spot on the windowsill behind the sofa next to their green onion plant so he could look out over the beach.

When Theo was released from the hospital over a year ago—all statements given to the police and his hand surgery scheduled—Abel almost immediately raided his mother's sewing kit. He'd very gently told Theo that he did not know how to sew very well but could probably patch him back together if that was what Theo wanted. His mom had taken one look at the two of them trying to thread a needle at the dining room table, then took over and showed them what to do as she mended the shark herself.

Now, he had a little jagged seam down his back, and his dorsal fin was a bit crooked, but they managed to restuff him just fine. He spent most days sitting in the window with his green onion friend and looking out over the beach.

Theo stuck a finger into the green onion's soil to see if it needed to be watered, then picked it up and held it under the tap while gazing out at the beach. The sun crested the horizon, sending brilliant streaks of red and pink across the sky. Below it glittered the ocean, gentle waves lapping the sand. There was a fisherman down by the piles of a long-gone pier. A couple strolled through the wet sand as they enjoyed the sunrise, footprints gathered up greedily by the waves.

Theo eased open the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the deck. It had a towel rack, creaky wicker furniture, and the beautiful, vining rose plant his mother had planted when he was little. It climbed up the trellis on the side of the deck nearly to the roof, pink flowers buffeted in the constant, salty breeze.

A set of stairs descended from the deck, over the dunes with their hardy grasses and stout, yellow and purple flowers, leading to the beach proper. Theo relished the way that his feet sank in the sand as he strode across it. The water welcomed him, waves lapping eagerly around his ankles.

Nearly every morning, he came out to swim long before Able woke up, with only the company of the rising sun, a few fishermen, some seagulls, and the occasional early-rising tourist. By the time he finished, salt on his tongue and the sun's rays sucking the water droplets from his shoulders as he stood up out of the waves, people had begun to set up on the beach. They laid out towels and set their coolers in the shade of their umbrellas.