9: Between the Shore and the Sea
Beneath the Weight of Water | 1980s Mexican American Women’s Fiction
Previously:
Previously: Lucia’s new confidence drew warmth from the barrio, but it also drew attention. Expectations shifted, and when Alex walked her home, Lucia understood how quickly the life she was creating for herself could be pulled back into the life everyone expected.
New to the Serial? Start Here | Need the previous chapter? Chapter 8: New Friend
Lucia
We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea… we are going back from whence we came.
~President John F. Kennedy
Every ride with Matteo ended at Torrey Pines State Beach. He lowered the top, allowing the ocean to claim them, the salt-kissed breeze mixing with their laughter. When the wind swept through her hair, his finger tucked it behind her ears, a firm touch she missed even before it moved away. Her body tightened as though it remembered something she wished it wouldn’t. The rocky cliffs and sandy beach curved around them in an intimate embrace.
The excitement of his invitation vanished before she exhaled. A ride was not the same as spending a day at the beach. The California coastline pushed through her thoughts, sharp and cold, catching her off guard. Her chest tightened, a phantom weight dragging her down before her feet touched the sand. The taste of salt shifted into the burn of chlorine. Her body answered the memory before she could.
Abuela, and later Johnny, always pulled her out coughing, struggling to clear her airway, only for her uncle to throw her back in at the first chance he had.
Each rescue left her colder, trembling harder, her body learning that danger began with proximity. If she let anyone too close, she feared the old pattern would emerge, where people, like a riptide, pulled her under. Yet Matteo had inched closer over the last year.
She tried to shake off the memory, but the echo of her helplessness sat heavy on her chest. Safe among the rows of books, steadied by the order, she looked up to find Matteo watching her. Her mouth went dry, voice catching low in her throat. He would step back, the way people did once she revealed she wasn’t whatever version of her they preferred.
“I need to tell you something… you won’t like it.”
When he saw her biting her thumb, he set his book down, shoulders tensed. His voice remained light. “What could that possibly be?”
“I don’t know how to swim.” Her confession spilled out in an uneven burst. “I don’t even like being near the water.” She braced herself for frustration, or worse, the quiet disappointment that left her outside looking in on so many of her relationships.
His shoulders loosened, his grin spreading across his face. “All I want is to spend time with you on a beautiful beach.”
Lucia wanted to believe him, but he never stopped talking about his love of the ocean. “I don’t even have a swimsuit.”
“I have five sisters,” he said, dismissing her excuse. “And several nieces your size. I’ll borrow one.”
Her need to be near him wasn’t enough to silence her fears. If they remained on the sand, what would they do? Build a castle or fry beneath the California sun? Her voice barely above a whisper, she asked, “You won’t… throw me in, right?”
A faint shadow crossed his face. Yet his eyes remained steady as he promised, “No, I’d never do anything you didn’t want.”
Her pulse pushed hard beneath her skin. The child who had sunk beneath the water begged her to step back before it could happen to her again. “Okay. We can go after my shift at the bookstore.”
Her thoughts kept circling to her promise to Matteo until she reached her classroom.
“I saved you a spot.” Sheri waved her over as though they were the greatest of friends. Her bubbly, irrepressible energy was hard to ignore, but Lucia didn’t know if it was real or performative. “Was that Matteo Johnson I saw you talking to? How do you know him?”
“What?” She blinked, confused. “Huh?”
“Matteo Johnson?” Sheri repeated, bouncing with excitement.
“We were just walking in the same direction,” Lucia said, hoping she sounded casual. Sheri shared her passion for history and always sought her out. It was time to accept her friendship. No one else was lining up for the position.
“He’s so hot. Like, not-from-this world hot.”
They both giggled, quickly covered their mouths, and looked around. Their connection was unexpected. The giggle lingered in her chest, simple and fun, almost like she really was nineteen.
“Did you finish the assigned reading? I had to pull an all-nighter.”
Lucia had never pulled an all-nighter. Her schoolwork was a pleasure she struggled to put away. Wanting to meet Sheri’s easy warmth halfway, she moved her notes toward her.
“Can I check mine against yours?”
Why was she asking about something clearly offered? Lucia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her face warmed, and her thoughts were spiraling. Had she sounded cold? Uninterested? Maybe she should apologize. Her mind began cataloguing every tiny inflection, every shift of the face, as proof she’d somehow messed up again.
Sheri looked up and smiled. “Your notes are amazing.”
“Thanks.”
“You should sell them to other students, 25 dollars per class. Nice side money.”
Thinking Sheri was joking, Lucia grinned. Maybe friendship always felt awkward before it felt safe.
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Have you ever had someone treat one of your fears as something to respect instead of something to fix?
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Author’s note
This chapter turns on the body remembering what the mind tries to outrun.
When I was young, one of the most traumatizing experiences of my life came from the person I trusted most. My father tried to teach my sister and me how to swim by throwing us into the deep end of a pool. My sister dog-paddled to the edge. I sank to the bottom.
What I remember most is not panic. I remember sitting beneath the water, surrounded by silence, mourning the loss of the man I had trusted to keep me safe.
That kind of betrayal does not stay in one moment. It follows you into every relationship where trust is required. It teaches the body that love can throw you into danger and still call it care.
Lucia’s fear of water is not only fear of drowning. It is fear of surrendering control to someone who may not understand what they are holding.
Trauma does not let go cleanly. Even when you learn to live beside it.
If Lucia agreeing to the beach feels less like a date and more like a test of trust, subscribe to receive the next chapter in your inbox.
Copyright © 2026 Angelica Thorne
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