Luna and Beckett returned to the rooftop and loaded and secured a few more boxes. Beckett said, “I think we’ve done all we can, tomorrow morning I’ll pack my personal things.”

He turned to another grouping of trunks. “I was thinking about leaving these here with the packs and the edict. In case more Waterfolk arrive. They can help themselves to a pack and head east. Do you think that’s a good plan?”

Luna watched him solemnly. “Yes, it’s a good plan.”

“Yeah, but do you think they will? Without someone here to tell them how important it is, do you think they’ll take a pack and head east?”

“I don’t know Beckett, but you did all you can do.”

“Did I?” He stood with his hands on his hips looking down.

Then he shook out of it. “We have a birthday to celebrate. I’ll make a big dinner, use up some of this food. What would you like?”

Luna asked for meat of some kind, so Beckett offered chicken and pasta with Alfredo sauce. “I’ll warn you, I’m not a great cook, but I make up for it with exuberance.”

Luna said, “Alfredo sauce is a favorite of mine. Is it cheesy?”

“You didn’t let me finish. I make up for it with exuberant cream cheese overload.”

“Perfect. And classy.”

While Beckett cooked, Luna showered. She changed into almost the exact same clothes, another cropped tank with a pair of yoga pants, but this outfit was black, a more night dinner sort of choice.

She emerged from Beckett’s tent, shaking water out of her hair, sticking it up all around, carrying a book of Calvin and Hobbes comics under her arm. “This is very, um, literary of you.”

Beckett was wiping out a pot. “When I was packing, it just seemed to make sense, but in hindsight…”

Luna pulled a chair to the edge of the kitchen and curled up with the book.

Beckett watched her from the corner of his eye. She was fresh and a little bit wet, shiny, comfortable, reading. How did she come to be here, and how did she become so—necessary? It had been what, a day? And he wanted her here all the time. But he was leaving. She was leaving. This was over. The Outposts, the lifestyle, the Waterfolk, were all over—

“So what’s with this tiger? He’s funny.”

“That’s the cool part, the tiger is imaginary. Some of the comics,” he wiped his hands, took the book, and flipped pages looking for the one he wanted, “like this one. You can see the tiger, Hobbes, is a stuffed animal.” Luna looked confused. “Like a toy, a doll tiger. But in most of the comics, the tiger looks like a tiger. See? Hobbes comes from the imagination of the little boy.”

“Oh, that’s cool. But the little boy must be very lonely.”

Beckett watched Luna read the next one intently, almost sadly, but after the following one she laughed. “He and Hobbes flew down a hill on a sled!”

Luna read comics while Beckett cooked. Occasionally she read them aloud, sometimes Beckett laughed, a few times he finished the comic from memory. He pretended to wipe tears from his eyes as he said, “I’ve been out here a long time by myself. Calvin is my very, very, very, best friend.”

“Wow,” said Luna with the book folded against her chest, “you are seriously bringing down my festive birthday mood.”

“Good point, and dinner is almost ready.”

“And the sun is beginning to set. Can we move the table over there?” Luna pointed toward the west-facing wall.

“Near, okay, but please not right beside. I’m still… you know.”

Luna paused, wishing she could say I’m sorry. The kind of sorry that doesn’t just make someone feel better, the kind of sorry that completely takes the thing back, like it never happened.

Luna dreamed, like she did at least once every day, for a ‘completely take back’ superpower, but instead she said, “Of course.”

It was easier and was within her skill set.

Luna carried the small table toward the wall, sliding it into a position she hoped would let Beckett see the sun set, without actually having to see the wide expanse of endless ocean, too. Then she pulled a sarong from her box, draped it over as a tablecloth, and set the table with dinnerware, just as Beckett announced dinner was ready.

They served in the kitchen, giggling and crossing over each other and jostling while spooning food. But once they sat down and began to eat, they became awkward, quiet.

“It’s good.”

“Thank you.”

The sunset spread pink to the horizon. A few tufting clouds wisped along. Beckett couldn’t think of a thing to say, so he went for obvious, a comment on the sky. Between bites, he gestured up with the end of his fork. “That’s been one nice thing about living on an Outpost, the sunsets.”

Luna, thrilled to have something to talk about besides how the food tasted—good, why thank you—dropped her fork. “Sunrises too. That’s the best part of living out on the water—sunrises and sunsets.” She pretended to paint on the sky with an imaginary brush. “The beauty of the heavens when you rise and just before you sleep. It’s like having your very own art collection, epic paintings on the sky.”

“Okay, that’s a much better way to put it.” Beckett leaned forward both elbows on the table, fork hanging down, lingering, watching her, as she picked up her fork and returned to eating.

Her eyes were down. Her cheeks reflected the sunset’s hues.

“I have to know more. How long have you been living a Nomadic life?”

She looked up. “Since forever. I can’t remember anything else.” She mirrored him, leaned forward, fork hanging down. “Have you always lived on the Mainland, what’s that like?”

“It’s interesting. There’s sadness because of all the, um, changes, and a lot of fear. But there’s also some joy. I think some of us feel like that was a close call, but we survived, and now we need to go on. Live your life, you know?”

“I do know. That’s the Nomadic creed.” Luna smiled pushing her plate away, finished. “I want to hear more about your great-grandmother the sea captain’s wife.”

“Oh, her? I think she was actually my great-great-great,” he counted on his fingers, “great-grandmother, Jane. The way I heard the story is like this: Her husband George was out at sea all the time. Every time he left, Jane begged him not to go. She begged him to quit and become a store clerk, to stay home, but instead he made promises, ‘This is the last time,’ or, ‘this time will be short,’ or, ‘I’m saving money for my store.’ And he would leave and be gone for months and months and months. After a decade of this, he left one day and never returned home.”

“He died?”

“Lost at sea. Jane waited for a while, but then she decided not to wait anymore. She also decided that she hated that ocean. Hated it. She moved inland and never looked at an ocean again, extracting promises from everyone she loved to never dip a toe in the sea, ever. For generations that’s been the way we’ve lived. Even as the ocean rose, creeping closer and closer, my family heads to higher ground.”

Beckett pushed his plate away and leaned back. “I guess the point of the story is this—I take after my maternal multiple-great grandmother and don’t much like the ocean.”

There was a twitch in the corner of Luna’s mouth. “Funny, I was thinking you shared a lot of qualities with the sea captain. Hard to get more out to sea than this.”

Beckett chuckled, nodding. “You have a unique way of looking at the world. Maybe it’s all that time floating on water, gives you a clarity.”

“I don’t know, I don’t feel very unique. Have you met many Waterfolk? We’re all a lot of the same.”

“Point made. But I don’t know, like I said before, you’re different.”

“I just seem that way because I’m alone, there’s no one here to compare me to.”

“We’re most of us alone now. You’re lucky you still have a family.”

“True.” Under his gaze, Luna shifted her focus to the horizon. “Well, sea captain, the sun is going down, the last night aboard your ship. This is my mostest-favorite time, this epic change of light. If you watch—don’t blink—and catch the exact moment that the sun disappears over the horizon, there’s a flash of light. It’s hard to see.” She turned her chair to face the sun.

Beckett watched her silhouette, the pink glow on her cheeks and nose. But he also wanted to please, so he tore his eyes away directing them at the sun.

“Okay watch, don’t blink, keep watching—there! The flash of light, did you see it?”

“I think so?”

“Oh, you would know. If you don’t know then you missed it. My mother told me it’s the moment when the instruction sheet to the whole wide world is shown to us, but our eyes are too weak and our brains too uncomprehending to see it. But if we could see it, the instructions hidden in the flash of light, we would be able to solve everything, understand it all.”

“Now I wish I had tried harder.”

“You don’t have to speak in past tense. You have every night of your life, Beckett, every night.”

“True. Thank you, Anna.”

Luna gulped, swallowing down what she really wanted to say and instead saying, “You’re welcome.”