A gust of icy wind slapped Jesse’s face; her light hair whipped her neck, tangling itself together. She dragged her feet through the sand, raising a small gray cloud with every step. The grains got caught in the holes in her shoelaces, rubbing roughly between her toes. She kept moving, one foot after the other, toward the red cliff. She lost her balance. She didn't even hear the thud as she fell to her knees in the sand: above and below and behind and in front of her, the wind drowned out every other sound.
Her eyes didn't want to stay open: they were fighting against the cold sea air. She sat up, wrapped herself in the sand, pulling the scarf around her nose, looking at the sea. She was definitely alone. She could lie down here, no one would find her. She would be slowly buried by the sand, or the high tide would rock her first, and the wind would scream feelings for her, who was now voiceless. Better than other ways to go. She could think of at least one worse.
The rhythm of the waves startled her. True, she thought, she was scared too, but when they had come there, she had jumped in immediately, though she couldn't swim. She trembled at the sight of the currents. And once she had dived in, she had lost her bearings and accidentally ventured too far out, without realizing it. Jesse only noticed when he heard her scream, high-pitched, a sob carried by the wind. He had jumped in and quickly taken her by the hand, while the currents swirled beneath them and Mia's feet flailed for the ground. He guided her to shore, hand in hand, her feet finally finding uncertain footing on the rocky bottom. He wrapped her in the towel, enveloping her in a cocoon, hooking one hand into the other and securing it with her own arms. Their hair dripped onto the light towel as they waited to warm up. "You didn't wait for me," Jesse said angrily. "Why should I have?" Mia replied. She was turned toward her but she was not seeing her, she looking at the sea in front of her and the wind around her. Jesse hugged her knees, embracing them where there was no longer a wet cocoon. She remembered how her body still trembled with a fear that her gaze did not show. They had waited there until the sun had set to watch them, straight and fiery, resting on the sea. They had run away before the mosquitoes attacked Jesse. They never bit Mia.
Jesse struggled to his feet, her balance unsteady. The sun had already set, and the pale evening light tinged the sand gray and the sea lilac. But the sea was red-hot that day, when she and Mia talked about the universe, the latest shoes they had bought, the serious and the superficial, the sea and themselves as they walked toward the cliff. It was hot, and their feet moved effortlessly along the shore, dodging the sharp shells. Now the sand did not warm their feet; Jesse kept them protected under layers and layers of clothing, and yet something had gotten in. It scratched insistently. The wind, however, was the same, icy, lashing. It howled in her ears, only Mia's laughter slipped through, like a bird's trill. It rode the winds, hopping to her head, making her dizzy.
"Jesse, are you coming?"
An icy grip froze her feet. She stood still, so that not even the rustle of her clothes could confuse her. A crystal-clear laugh burst into the noisy silence of the wind. "Are you coming?" Memories tangled with the noise around her. What was it? She knew perfectly well what it couldn't be. Her vision flickered and tinged the clouds with warm tones, the sea ablaze, the brown hair in front of her running. "From up there. Are you coming?" She blinked, everything was dark again. "Are you coming?" She hadn't moved a muscle and still she could hear it.
Jesse ran. Once again. She ran in the light of a pale moon, a faded impression of that day's warm sun. The laughter echoed in her ears; she couldn't hear her own breathing. She left her footprints on the dry quays. Hers were washed away by the wind; theirs had been covered by the sea. She planted her feet in front of the cliff and rested her hands on the rough rock. "I'm going there," Mia had said. And Jesse knew she was afraid as she said it. By the time she had run there, the moon was already higher in the sky. She began to climb, remembering the handholds; it wasn't difficult to reach the top. The rock was bare and jagged, it wasn't comfortable to sit on, but they sat down for a moment. Then Mia got up, smiled at her, and dove without a trace of fear in her eyes. She had left it to Jesse.
"Come!" she heard again, in the wind and in the chest, as her lungs craved salt water. "I came to take your fear back," Jesse shouted into the wind, "Take it back! Take it back and go away, leave me alone, really, as alone as you left me here! Don't whisper in the wind..." The waves thundered beneath her, and her icy fingers clung poorly to the wet rock. A strand of hair had become entangled in the cracks of the rock. She wondered if it was brown, but she couldn't see the color. Everything was gray. The moon now traced its reflection in the water below her, rippled again and again by the waves. Jesse felt cold traces on her face. The wind had left cold traces where tears had passed. She was shivering from the cold, or from Mia's fear. The same trembling she had carried with her every day since then. It crept into the cracks of her mind, scratching and staining her days, whistling over the words of others that did not fill her life without Mia. But she knew what to do. Propping herself up with her feet, took her hair—it was brown, without a doubt—and freed it from the grip of the rock, abandoning it in midair. She did not see it fly away: it was too dark. She closed her eyes and, as the wind claimed more seawater from her cheeks, she jumped into the moon beneath her.
She woke up on the shore, her clothes cold and stiff with salt, the cold morning sun peeking timidly behind her. There was no more wind, and she was no longer afraid.