The Marine Lab – Part 2: Glow Tide

The sea was alight.

Alice and Nora walked the shore of Cape Cod at midnight, barefoot in the cold wet sand, in the dark. The sky was moonless, the stars thick. And every wave that broke on the beach curled over in a line of cool blue fire, and crashed into a spray of sparks. Wherever they stepped, the damp sand glowed faintly around their feet, tiny blue stars flaring and fading.

"It's real," whispered Alice.

"It's biology."

"It's a miracle."

"It's also biology."

They walked into the shallows, ankles in the cold water. The surf swirled around their legs in drifts of blue light. Nora kicked, laughing, and the sparks flew up like fireworks. Alice kicked back. They splashed each other like children, trailing glittering arcs.

At last, out of breath, they sat on a rock above the tideline, wrapped in one blanket, watching the waves.

"It's a cuttlefish," said Alice.

"What?"

"The thing in the tank. You were right."

Nora stared at her. "You're conceding?"

"I'm conceding. It had eight arms and two tentacles."

"I want that in writing."

"I'll tattoo it."

They laughed until they cried. Then they were quiet, listening to the surf. The stars wheeled.

"Can I ask you something?" said Alice.

"Yes."

"May I kiss you? It seems like the thing to do in a sea of light."

"Yes," said Nora. "And if you say stop, you must admit you were wrong about the ocean."

"It was the wrong ocean."

"Alice."

"I'll admit it."

Alice kissed her, salt-lipped and gentle, a cold hand rising to Nora's cheek. Nora kissed her back, warm and bright, her fingers curling in the blanket. The waves broke in blue light at their feet.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" asked Nora.

"Green," said Alice. "Very green."

They published together in the spring. The paper was about plankton and cephalopods. Footnote one reads: The authors disagree on tentacles. They are working on it.

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