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The marine layer was thick, and we were soaking wet and shivering in the few minutes we had been standing on the beach.
“Wouldn’t be the first time we froze in the name of sick sets.” I picked up my board and jogged to the water, peeking back to see Bridger smiling and chasing after me.
“First one out gets to ride the first wave,” I yelled, but Bridger was remarkably faster than me, even now, and had already caught up and waved as he passed.
I took a moment to admire him as he jumped on his board and swam out. He had lost a lot of muscle definition over the past year, but you would never know he had lost strength as his arms powered through the water.
He looked back at me. “What are you waiting for? Come on!”
I jogged in, my toes aching immediately from the frigid Pacific water, and raced out to him. We floated side by side, watching the clouds recede into the horizon and giving birth to a warm and beautiful day. A perfect day.
Watching Bridger surf, I knew it would quite possibly be for the last time, and it would be mine as well. I wanted to remember every smile, every bail, and the sound of his laugh carry over the whitewash. This was our thing, together, and I could never do it without him. I could never imagine doing any sort of life without him.
“Promise me you’ll keep surfing.” We lay on our backs on our boards next to each other under the setting sun. He reached for my hand and clasped it tightly.
I tried to shake away the pain tightening my chest. “I can’t,” I replied, barely audible.
He squeezed my hand. “Char, listen to me. I know it won’t be easy to come out here when I’m gone, but this,” he motioned his free hand across the ocean, “this is where you will always find me.”
I sobbed until the trauma of our fate wracked my body with uncontrollable shivers. We swam back in and he held me on the shoreline, planting kisses on my head, cheeks, lips—all through tears. We stayed there wrapped up in each other until our stomachs ached of hunger and our bodies shook in the cool evening air.
“I don’t want to go,” I whined tiredly, sniffling away empty tears. I didn’t want to leave behind this memory, because I knew it could be the last of its kind.
“Charlee, I will never truly leave you. Not even death could keep me from you.”
I allowed a short laugh. “So, you’ll haunt me?”
“Until your dying day,” he whispered.
The brevity of his promise didn’t hit me until I felt him all around me after he died. In the cabinet where we kept our favorite coffee mugs, in the bathroom where his electric toothbrush lay on the counter rather than on its base, his sweet cedar scent that was so uniquely him replaced by peppermint for his headaches, ginger for the nausea, and eucalyptus to assist his breathing. All woven into his clothes and the pillow I slept next to every night. I could have washed his things a hundred times and his scent would still linger. It’s why I ran, but no matter where I went and what I left behind, he still chased me. When I realized I would never be free of our past, I came here—to say goodbye.
“I didn’t know you could skip shells.”
Drew’s voice startled me, causing me to drop the last of the shells from my hand.
He bent down quickly and started picking them up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine.”
He held the shells out, and I opened my palm for him to drop them in.
“Ever get one to skip?”
“Yes, but rarely. You have to find the flat heavy ones and then wish upon the water gods.” I smiled.
“Is that right?” He laughed. “May I try?” He held out his palm.
I dug through them and handed him the best one in the bunch.
He moved his hand up and down, testing the weight of it. “Is this the best you got?”
“You’re welcome to search for others.”
“Do normal skipping rules apply?” He started to twist his body.
“Yep.” I marveled at how carefree he was.
Drew reached far back and then jerked his arm forward and released the shell. We both sucked in a breath and held it, holding on to hope, but as soon as it hit the water, it sank.
