Page 84 of Summer Love

J + S

I run my thumb over the inscription. The black marker won’t come off anymore. It’s soaked into the fiber. I tuck the board under my arm and take the path down to the beach.

This morning, it’s empty.

The sky is pale, the air cool, the ocean gray-green and streaked with lines of swell farther out. The waves are bigger than yesterday. They break far from shore, in steady sets, with a low thud.

I spot Jace’s black silhouette out on the water. He’s at the far end of the spot, past the peak, where the waves form. He paddles, stands, disappears under the lip of a wave. Easy. Smooth.

I’ll stay close to shore.

Flip is lying on the sand, muzzle between his paws, eyes on Jace. He watches me pass. His tail thumps twice, then he sets his head back down. I walk toward the water.

The first touch is a shock.

The water is freezing—the Pacific at seven in the morning, early summer, before the sun has warmed anything. The cold climbs up through my ankles, my thighs, my stomach. I grit my teeth. I push the board out in front of me and throw myself flat onto it.

I paddle.

My arms pull, my shoulders heat up, the water races under the board. My hands find the rail, the wax, the rhythm again. Six years, and my body remembers.

A set comes in. Three waves, spaced apart. The first breaks twenty yards out. I dive under it. The board sinks, slides beneath the wave, and I come up the other side.

I let the set pass. I settle on the inside, where it’s calmer. The sky opens, pink at the edges.

J + S

Don’t think about it.

A new set forms farther out, dark humps rolling in.

The first wave passes. The second too. The third is smaller, gentler—that one, I can take.

I pivot, I paddle, the wave lifts me. I feel the drop. I plant my hands on the board, I push… and I stand.

I hold it. Knees bent, wind in my face.

Then the wave closes out. I lose my balance and jump before it can take me. I come up laughing.

I can still do this.

I climb back on the board and paddle out, farther this time, toward the peak.

J + S

Another set comes in, bigger, faster. I should wait, drop back toward the inside.

I don’t.

I pivot and paddle for the second wave.

Too late. I know it the second I push—I’m too far back, the wave has already pitched. My front foot slips. My knee hits the board.

And the lip comes down on me.

The sound disappears. The water sucks me down. The board is ripped away, the leash yanks on my ankle, and I spin—shoulder, back, stomach, I don’t know which way is which anymore.

The pressure is everywhere. On my chest, my temples, in my ears. Bubbles, foam, blackness. I swim up. I think it’s up.