Martin and Anna sat at the edge of the little pier, dangling their sandaled feet just over the water so that every third wave or so would lap at their toes.
"Here we are." Martin didn't look at Anna. But he didn't have to. He knew that he'd see her blue eyes staring out over bay, the corners of her mouth crinkled just so, they way she did when she tried to suppress a smile. He knew she was wearing that paisley sundress, the one with the spaghetti straps, and that the morning sun was glistening off her tanned shoulder and that if he looked he'd want to run his fingers over her skin and lay his palm across her collar bone and wait in silent hope for her to tense in refusal or slide closer in casual assent...
"You didn't call last night. I thought you were going to slip out of here without..." Anna said.
"Yeah, well. Maybe that would have been better."
"Better for who?"
"Whom."
"Whom? No one says 'whom'. Not out loud."
They sat silently. Tied to wooden post next to Martin, the sailboat bobbed. Windy day. Good sailing weather.
"I suppose," Anna said, "you won't be able to correct anyone's grammar out there." She fingered a pendant between her fingers. It was an opal held by a greying silver chain. Martin had found it among his mother's effects, and gave it to Anna on the occasion of their first year together. She rubbed the stone with her thumb, and looked to the sky.
"I guess not," Martin said. "Anna, I... this isn't personal. You know that, right?"
"Everything is personal, honey."
"What I'm saying is that, you know, I have to do this."
"No you don't. But you're going to." Anna smiled, and brushed away a single tear. She sniffed, and looked Martin in the eyes. "It's OK."
"Really? Is it really OK?"
"No, not really," she said, and stood up. Martin closed his eyes and imagined grabbing her legs, clinging to her like a three-year-old. Anna took off the necklace and held her hand out to Martin.
"I've made my choice," she said. "What's yours?"
Martin stared into her blue eyes for a long moment. Their first kiss had been on a morning just like this one. They hadn't slept all night, just sat on the beach, staring at the ocean and each other, reveling in the perfect conversation, each afraid to break the spell. Finally, the sun rose in an orange wave and he reached out and brushed her cheek with his hand and her lips with his and, later, as their shadows began to lengthen and then disappear they left, hand in hand.
Martin closed his eyes. He knelt down and unwrapped the rope that tied the boat to the pier. Anna gripped closed her hand around the pendant and threw it as far as she could into the ocean.
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