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“You're a good father,” I said. “And you've raised an amazing young woman. You should be proud of her.”
He looked up at me and I saw the shine of tears in his eyes. “I am, Marcus,” he said softly. “I really am.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MARCUS
“Can we surf in the water now?” Zoey asked, hands on her hips.
She was getting tired of all these classes up on the beach and it showed. She was eager to take to the water, to see about getting up on her board and riding the waves. My little Zoey was adventurous like that. She was fierce, fearless. It was sometimes difficult to rein her in, even when it was for her own good, especially when it was for her own good.
“I don't want to go in the water yet, Zoey,” Zack said, staring at his sister with big, scared eyes.
It was becoming more and more obvious that Zack was not cut out for surfing. He didn't like it and wasn't overly fond of the water in general, which was fine. He gave it a shot, it wasn't for him. No big deal. We'd find something that he was into at some point. He was young and there were a million different things he could do with his time. I knew he would find something that lit a fire in him.
Zoey was another story altogether. She loved the water, she couldn't get enough. She and Emma had the time of their lives at these lessons and it was becoming increasingly obvious that the two of them were going to be surf buddies before too long. Zoey, though a little awkward at times still, was taking to surfing like she'd been born to it, like it was in her blood and bones, just like Emma.
And I for one, was glad to see that Zoey had found something that really stoked the fires and passions inside of her. I wanted my kids to be active, to have hobbies that inspired them, that motivated them. That made them want to get out of the house and do something. I was an athlete by nature, and I didn't particularly enjoy being cooped up inside all of the time. I enjoyed being active, and I was more than happy to see Zoey following in my footsteps that way.
And I was finally getting over my fear of looking stupid. Little by little.
“Think of it this way,” Emma told me once when we were alone in bed one night. “You're teaching me about sex. What to do, what you like, what I like. And yeah, I could look stupid and screw up, but you don't judge me, do you? You simply take it all in stride and we just move forward together, enjoying one another.”
“Never,” I said. “I'd never judge you in a million years, Emma.”
“Well, it's basically the same with surfing,” she said. “I might know what I'm doing, but I don't expect you to come in here being an expert. You have to start somewhere. And I've had a lot more practice on the water than you have. Sort of like the fact that you've had more practice – ”
I held up a hand to cut her off and laughed. “I got it,” I said. “Your analogy makes perfect sense.”
And it did. Her analogy absolutely clicked with me. It might not be easy to let go of my fears, to open myself up to the possibility of screwing up and looking like a fool in front of the woman I loved. But if Emma could be brave enough to do it when it came to being intimate with me, surely, I could hop on a surfboard and share in her hobby.
After all, of the two activities, being naked and intimate with somebody was, by far, the more terrifying of the two. And yet, Emma charged into it headlong, unafraid, and fierce.
So, there we were, a few weeks into surfing lessons and I was about to go out on the water for the first time. Emma was going to stay back with the kids and make sure they were doing okay. She walked me through everything I needed to do over and over again until I could recite it back to her verbatim.
We waxed the board, got everything ready to go, and I walked toward the water. It was ridiculous, but I felt a little bit nervous – and not just nervous about looking like an idiot in front of Emma and the kids. The ocean was a powerful, unpredictable force. I'd seen more than enough documentaries to know that the ocean killed a lot of people every year, many of them surfers. And being that I was a rookie at all of this, I think I'd rather face a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound linebacker than get crushed by a wall of water.
But, the waves weren't very big that day, thank God. As I watched the sets roll in, I figured that I probably wouldn't catch anything at all. Whether or not I actually got up on a wave was irrelevant at that stage of my progress to Emma. She wanted me to paddle out and stand on the board, in the water. That's what we were doing today. That was the whole plan. Baby steps.
I laid down on the board like she'd taught me and paddled out a few feet from the shore. I felt my cheeks flush when I heard Emma and Zoey cheering me on. I felt silly being out there and having them carry on like that – there wasn't even a real wave in sight.
But, I reminded myself, it wasn't about looking good. It was about learning. Practice and repetition were the keys to becoming proficient at anything. So, I put my hands to the side, like Emma taught me, and pushed my body up into a standing position. For the briefest of moments, I was standing on the surf board. Literally just standing there, but it felt good to be upright, and I fel
t prouder of that than anything I'd ever done on a football field. “Go daddy!” I heard from the shore.
Feeling confident, I turned to look back at my daughter and give her a thumbs-up, and realized a split second later that I'd made a terrible, horrible mistake. As soon as I shifted my weight to look back at Zoey, the board beneath me began to wobble and shake. Holding my arms straight out, I tried to steady the board, and myself, but overcorrected and ended up falling head first into the water.
Zoey screeched and laughed like a maniac, but I pulled myself above water and clung to the side of my board and waved at her.
“I'm okay,” I yelled back.
I saw Emma covering her mouth, doing her best to not let me see that she was laughing as hard as Zoey was. Unable to hide it, she simply shook her head as she motioned for me to come back to shore. I paddled back, letting the tide push me most of the way. I had to admit, it was nice being out on the water. I could see the appeal for both Emma and Zoey. Standing on the board, even if only for a brief moment, had been exhilarating. I had to give Emma that.
As I picked up my board and stepped out of the water, Zoey yelled, “My turn!” before I was even fully back on dry land.
“You okay?” Emma asked me, trying to hide her laugh, but having no more success at it than she had earlier.
“Yeah, only my ego is bruised,” I said with a wink.
