Summer of Salt

by Katrina Leno

They would have said I was asking for it.”

And you need to snap out of this mood, because the island’s been gray as shit the past couple of days, and I know it’s because you’ve been moping around.”

“Poor Mildred Miller,” she whispered. “Robbed of the distinct pleasure of sharing a very small cinder block dorm room with me.”

going to chew worms and then vomit them back up, they’re sadly misinformed about how far I’ll take my maternal hen duties.”

“I’m going to miss you so much,” I said. “Don’t worry. I can fly. I’ll come and visit.”

“I’m not abandoning you,” I whispered to the island, my island, but of course it didn’t respond. Islands were like that. Always listening. Never replying.

And now I knew that my father’s ship had gone down because of me.

that. This power had blood on its hands.

a Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt.

We loved with a love that was more than love.

There’s one for both of us, my sister had said.

Everything would be okay. The birdheads would come back. The inn would stay open. My sister was alive, and Peter was in jail. The sun was shining. And Prue was holding my hand. You couldn’t ask for much more than that.

“Did you think I wouldn’t come and see you off, you ass?”

Vira climbed backward off me and kneeled there, her eyes so wide and her face so beautiful that I wanted to put her on pause, pull out a canvas and easel, and paint her picture right there in bright and beautiful oil paint, the last memory I’d have of her on By-the-Sea for who knew how long.

“Don’t shoot anybody else with lightning bolts unless they really deserve it.”

And then I saw them.

Three little birds, flying recklessly over the strong ocean wind, flying right toward the boat. Three Annabellas. One a little bigger. Two little babies, just testing out their wings. Learning how to fly. And I waved to my sister too— Until I couldn’t see her either.

On the island of By-the-Sea you could always smell two things: salt and magic.