The Night Swimmers – Part 2: Sunrise Swim

The morning the sun finally rose over the headland, they swam out to the rocks together.

It was a still, shining dawn. The Mediterranean lay flat and green-gold, rippling in long soft folds. Gulls floated on the water like white boats. Nour's strokes were slower now, longer, easier. Beside her, Élise glided through the water like a seal.

They climbed onto a flat rock and sat, shivering, wrapped in one towel. The sun came up behind the cliff in a sudden rush, flooding the cove with pink and gold. The whole world lit at once.

"I've never watched it," said Nour.

"Not once?"

"I was always facing the other way. Counting."

Élise rested her head against her shoulder. "And now?"

"Now I'd like to watch it every day."

"With me?"

"Yes. With you."

The sun climbed. The water went from gold to turquoise. Élise took a flask from her bag and poured two cups of hot coffee, which steamed in the cool morning air.

"Can I ask you something?" said Élise.

"Yes."

"Would you let me come to the hospital sometime? Just to meet you for lunch."

"I'd like that very much." Nour hesitated. "May I kiss you?"

"Yes," said Élise, softly. "And if you say stop, you must float for an hour."

"That's cruel."

"It's therapy."

Nour kissed her, salt and sun-warm, her cold hand rising to Élise's cheek. Élise kissed her back with slow, sweet confidence, her fingers curling in the towel. The sea lapped gently at the rock, and the whole cove shone.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" asked Élise.

"Green," said Nour. "Very green."

They swim at five every morning. Nour no longer counts laps. She counts sunrises.

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