Watching the ocean wash rhythmically upon the shore, Toby digs his toes deeper in the sand, refusing the urge to wade into the water. He envies them all: the surfers bobbing behind the break, the swimmers diving under the waves, and the children squealing as the foam washes over their toes. He wonders what it is like for them, to be touching the water without being overwhelmed by its chatter and shrieks.
Toby has always heard the ocean. For him, the surprise was that everyone else did not. When he was eleven, his mother held a shell to his ear so he could listen to the waves but he only heard a hollow crashing sound. He told his mother it was too quiet to be the ocean. She sighed, disappointed, and his father scolded him for being difficult. Only Jen asked him - later, as they lay in the darkness of their shared room - what the ocean sounded like to him.
