Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

SAVING FISH FROM DROWNING
They just had to discover who they were beneath the habits of foray
and retreat.
There was also Esmé to consider. If anything, she might become
the force that kept them together.
E SMÉ ADORED the little bedroom Harry gave her in his apartment.
It was on its own level and was very private. She was now thirteen. A
girl needed her privacy. The room had a bed built into an alcove with
round windows on three sides, and when she looked at the Bay wa­
ters, she imagined she was on a flying boat. There was also a low
doorway that led to a glassed-in balcony with a view of Alcatraz
Island. At night she could hear the sea lions at Pier 31 barking their
heads off. Pup-pup liked to bark back, but stopped as soon as Esmé
told her to shush.
Sometimes Rupert came over with his father. He and Esmé no
longer played those baby games about naming foods they missed
most. That was so long ago. She was also not her mother’s “wawa,”
thanks to a growth spurt, and was a few inches taller. She now had
breasts and wore a bra and tight low-slung jeans. Her breasts were
noticeable, she knew, because she caught Rupert glancing down at
them many times. One day he touched them. He asked, sort of. He
stared at them a long time, then looked up at her and said, “Hey.”
Right away, she gave a little cock of her head, then shrugged and
smiled at the same time. He touched them, the tips. He didn’t kiss
her, like she wanted. He squeezed her breasts through her clothes.
His hand was crawling under her jeans, and she would have let him
go farther if only her mother hadn’t yelled, “Esmé! Rupert! Dinner!”
They heard her clanking halfway down the metal spiral staircase to
call out again. Rupert jumped up like a person who had burned his
hand, then lost his balance, hit the wall, and slid down. (Of course,
this moment of embarrassment reminded me of the night Harry and
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