Fool's gold.

So this is what it feels like, running through my lines
I never need to ad lib, I find it’s just a waste of time
This is what it feels like when the hero dies
On to the next one, funny how time flies

I've got this film in my head
They've scripted all that I've said
Let's make it real before we're dead

He sat on the blanket, arms straight behind his back, hands propped, legs crossed, leaning back watching the sunset over the water. On a tray between us two half-full wine glasses were balanced and an empty plate that had held cheese, grapes, cherry tomatoes and crackers. Dinner for two. Our own private sandy cocktail party.

Who are you, princess?

I narrowed my eyes and then rolled them back into shape.

Is this an existentialist query, preacher?

I'm not on the clock, Bridget.

Then what sort of answer should I give?

The first thing that comes to mind, of course. It should be easy for a person to talk about themselves.

I don't find it easy.

Just say whatever you think of first.

I stood up abruptly, blocking his view of the sun. I threw my arms out wide, facing the Atlantic. The sand flew everywhere. Into our drinks, onto the plate. Onto his pants and maybe in his eyes. I don't know, I wasn't looking at him.

This is who I am.

You are the sunset?

No! I'm the ocean. I hurt and I'm cold and I sting and I'm endless.

I thought you loved the ocean.

I do.

Then?

Okay fine. I heal and I cradle and I lap softly and I have warm spots and beautiful color and I'm endless.

He smiled.

Is that a good answer, Jake?

He shook his hair out of his eyes. Do you think that's a good answer, Bridget?

I don't think I see me the way everyone sees me, Jake.

Why are you crying, Bridget?

Because it's a HARD question and I'm afraid of getting it wrong.

I threw myself back down on the blanket and covered my face with my hands.

Don't do that. He pulled my hands away. This is what I love about you.

What? My doubts about who I'm supposed to be?

No, the fact that you know exactly who you are. No disguises. No act. Just you. People like you are rare, princess.

Rare means we're worth more, Jacob. I whispered it.

He nodded. Exactly.