but she can’t hear what we’re saying.
“So I’ve been told,” I answer quietly. “But no one can tell me why.”
“The water is not as cloudy as I let her think. But she can’t know the reasons, not now.”
The question I’ve been pondering and dreading surfaces, because I know that he may be the only one who can answer it for me. “Stelios … am I the danger she has to avoid?”
“Tristan?” she calls to me from shore. “You coming?”
“Be right there,” I call back, then look back at the fisherman.
“You might be. But you must take her where she needs to go. She needs you. And you need her.”
“I need her? ”
“You will. Soon. Now go on. There’s a long way to travel yet.”
“Thank you, Stelios.”
“Be careful, Tristan.”
I rejoin Rebecca on dry land as Stelios goes to get his toolkit. “What were you two talking about?” she asks me.
“You know, boy stuff. Football, beer, pretty girls.”
“I see. Was one of those girls me?” she asks coyly.
“Come on, you know I can’t violate the sanctity of boy stuff.”
We make our way back to the car, climb inside, and lower the top again. The weather is pleasant today, not too hot. Good driving weather, which is a good thing, since there’s a hell of a lot of that to do.
As we pull out of Tarpon Springs, Rebecca asks me, “So, did we just save that man’s life?”
I smile a little at the realization that she’s right. “Yeah, I think we did.”
“God, that’s freaky. And how weird was that when he called you by your name? I saw you look at me like ‘what did you tell him?’ But then you knew I didn’t tell him anything.”
“It was a little disconcerting, I have to admit.”
“Think how I feel!” she says. “Two days ago, I thought that psychics were just people trying to scam you out of twenty bucks in a storefront. Then I meet you and Stelios, and all of a sudden it’s like a psychic fair.”
I don’t respond, and the absence of a reply affects her. “What?” she says. “What is it?”
I feel caught. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. Did he say something to you? What did he tell you?”
“Rebecca, it’s nothing, really.”
“He told you what’s going to happen to me, didn’t he?” she guesses. “He couldn’t tell me, but he told you …”
“No,” I reply quickly, and for the most part honestly. “He doesn’t know and I don’t know.”
“If you do know, I want you to tell me. Even if it’s bad, I want to know. Promise me you’ll tell?”
“I promise.”
A familiar silence ensues for about ten minutes, but I start to feel guilty because of it, so I start up the conversation again. “So when did you change your name?”
The question catches her off guard. “What are you talking about?”
“At some time, you must have changed your name to Rebecca. I was just wondering when. And, you know … why.”
“Why do you think I changed my name?”
“I didn’t until today. When we boarded that boat, I told Stelios my name was Alex. I usually give a false name, to avoid complications. You decided to play along and you told him your name was Persephone. But when he saw through me, he started calling me Tristan. And to the end, he called you Persephone. So I have to think that it’s your real name, which is why he didn’t see through it.”
I can see her working it out inside, considering whether she can make something up to cover for it, and then deciding that the truth is out. “On my eighteenth birthday. I was tired of my old name. And Rebecca was my middle name anyway, so I changed it legally.”
“You were tired of your old name. That’s the only reason?”
“Yes. Why?”
She sounds defensive, and I don’t want to upset her. “Well, it’s just that a legal name change is a big step. Most people who don’t like their name just go by a nickname unofficially. I just wondered if there was something more that was motivating it. Some
“So I’ve been told,” I answer quietly. “But no one can tell me why.”
“The water is not as cloudy as I let her think. But she can’t know the reasons, not now.”
The question I’ve been pondering and dreading surfaces, because I know that he may be the only one who can answer it for me. “Stelios … am I the danger she has to avoid?”
“Tristan?” she calls to me from shore. “You coming?”
“Be right there,” I call back, then look back at the fisherman.
“You might be. But you must take her where she needs to go. She needs you. And you need her.”
“I need her? ”
“You will. Soon. Now go on. There’s a long way to travel yet.”
“Thank you, Stelios.”
“Be careful, Tristan.”
I rejoin Rebecca on dry land as Stelios goes to get his toolkit. “What were you two talking about?” she asks me.
“You know, boy stuff. Football, beer, pretty girls.”
“I see. Was one of those girls me?” she asks coyly.
“Come on, you know I can’t violate the sanctity of boy stuff.”
We make our way back to the car, climb inside, and lower the top again. The weather is pleasant today, not too hot. Good driving weather, which is a good thing, since there’s a hell of a lot of that to do.
As we pull out of Tarpon Springs, Rebecca asks me, “So, did we just save that man’s life?”
I smile a little at the realization that she’s right. “Yeah, I think we did.”
“God, that’s freaky. And how weird was that when he called you by your name? I saw you look at me like ‘what did you tell him?’ But then you knew I didn’t tell him anything.”
“It was a little disconcerting, I have to admit.”
“Think how I feel!” she says. “Two days ago, I thought that psychics were just people trying to scam you out of twenty bucks in a storefront. Then I meet you and Stelios, and all of a sudden it’s like a psychic fair.”
I don’t respond, and the absence of a reply affects her. “What?” she says. “What is it?”
I feel caught. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. Did he say something to you? What did he tell you?”
“Rebecca, it’s nothing, really.”
“He told you what’s going to happen to me, didn’t he?” she guesses. “He couldn’t tell me, but he told you …”
“No,” I reply quickly, and for the most part honestly. “He doesn’t know and I don’t know.”
“If you do know, I want you to tell me. Even if it’s bad, I want to know. Promise me you’ll tell?”
“I promise.”
A familiar silence ensues for about ten minutes, but I start to feel guilty because of it, so I start up the conversation again. “So when did you change your name?”
The question catches her off guard. “What are you talking about?”
“At some time, you must have changed your name to Rebecca. I was just wondering when. And, you know … why.”
“Why do you think I changed my name?”
“I didn’t until today. When we boarded that boat, I told Stelios my name was Alex. I usually give a false name, to avoid complications. You decided to play along and you told him your name was Persephone. But when he saw through me, he started calling me Tristan. And to the end, he called you Persephone. So I have to think that it’s your real name, which is why he didn’t see through it.”
I can see her working it out inside, considering whether she can make something up to cover for it, and then deciding that the truth is out. “On my eighteenth birthday. I was tired of my old name. And Rebecca was my middle name anyway, so I changed it legally.”
“You were tired of your old name. That’s the only reason?”
“Yes. Why?”
She sounds defensive, and I don’t want to upset her. “Well, it’s just that a legal name change is a big step. Most people who don’t like their name just go by a nickname unofficially. I just wondered if there was something more that was motivating it. Some
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