The Tide Pools – Part 2: The Good Pool

The good pool was hidden behind a ridge of dolerite, reached by a scramble Freya would never have found alone. Noor held out her hand at the steep part, and Freya took it, and neither let go afterwards.

Then the pool opened out below them, round and deep and bright, lined with anemones like a field of tiny red flowers. A shoal of silver fish turned together in the green water.

"Oh," said Freya.

"I found it my first week," said Noor. "I come here when the job is too much."

"It's extraordinary."

"It's the only place nobody wants anything from me."

They sat on a flat warm rock, shoulders touching, as the light climbed the cliffs. Freya told her about the Antarctic station where she had worked, the long dark, the loneliness of cold places. Noor told her about the Malaysian town where she was born, and how the ocean had followed her across three continents.

"Can I ask you something?" said Noor.

"Yes."

"Are you leaving?"

"On Friday." Freya swallowed. "I could extend the permit."

"Could you?"

"Yes. I'd like to."

Noor looked at her for a long, quiet moment. "May I kiss you?" she asked.

"Yes," said Freya. "And if I say stop, you must name every sea star on the shore."

"There are eleven species."

"Then I'll be here a while."

Noor leaned in and kissed her, soft and sure, a salt-chilled hand cupping her jaw. Freya kissed her back, warm and unhurried, the tide whispering over the rocks, the anemones opening beneath them like small applause.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" asked Noor.

"Green," said Freya. "Very green."

The tide came in around them, slowly, and neither of them moved.

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