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It was a little after five in the morning and the storm had picked up considerably over night. Although the burden of grief had started to feel lighter over the past couple of weeks, my mind still couldn’t focus on anything past today. Storm or no storm, I had to go out there. It was the only way for me to truly say goodbye.
I quietly peeled away the sheets and tiptoed into the bathroom, putting on my swimsuit underneath my wet suit. On my way outside, I grabbed the wooden box that held Bridger’s ashes.
The chill snaked through my bones as soon as I stepped outside, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark since the sun wasn’t quite rising yet. The rain fell heavily, with gusts of wind occasionally pelting the water drops into my eyes. At least I would have the cover of darkness. I needed to get on the water before anyone else. Surfers would soon be racing out to ride the waves from the approaching storm.
The weather today matched the storm inside me. It was fitting, really, and if I were lost at sea, the authorities would blame the weather. Every surfer takes a risk going out in a storm, but hopefully I would be the only casualty. I hoped the others would be safe. Bridger had warned me about the adrenaline junkies. He was always worried I would follow them out, because I was stubborn and loved a good rush, but I was also smart. I would never risk my life in something like this if it weren’t on purpose.
I pulled Bridger’s surfboard from underneath the trailer. Before I had joined Levi, Evie, and Genesis down by the bonfire, I had grabbed it from my truck. I couldn’t get through today without his board. Using it would help me feel closer to him.
Tucking the board under my right arm and carrying Bridger’s wooden box in my other hand, I did my best to rush down the beach without dropping anything. On a clear day, anyone within ten trailer spots could see me, but I doubt even if my closest neighbor were sitting on his front porch, he would be able to see me in this weather.
It took me twice as long as normal to get to the water, but once I did, I didn’t hesitate. I tucked the small wooden box in my wetsuit, next to my armpit, the corners digging painfully into my skin, and rushed in. The choppy waves broke violently against me, pushing me back on the beach, as if the ocean didn’t want me to follow through with my plan.
I dove onto the board and swam my hardest against the current, the choppy water spraying my face incessantly. My eyes stung from the barrage of salt water assaulting them, but I charged on. The water would be choppy even after I got past the break, but not as bad. My arms were already tired. Not only were they working harder than normal, but I hadn’t surfed in over two years and didn’t exercise at all after Bridger died. My stamina was terrible, and I thought I might drown before I had a chance to even spread his ashes.
A face full of water pummeled me and I choked violently, the wooden box cutting me with every jolt. I should have planned a better way to transport his ashes out in this weather. I finally paddled out far enough, so I carefully maneuvered off my stomach and sat on top of the board with my legs dangling on either side. My lungs burned and my eyes stung.
“Are you trying to kill me?” I yelled at the ocean.
I needed a few minutes to catch my breath, all the while balancing to stay on my board as the water rocked under me violently. The rain pounded me, and every few seconds the wind gusts would try to knock me off my board as if it were playing a game: let’s see how long Charlee could stay on.
I pulled out the wooden box, flinching from the bruising it left behind.
I tried to look out into the distance, but the ocean appeared infinite. The sunrise and storm were competing, and even though my surroundings were becoming easier to see, it was still too dark to make out the shoreline.
“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” Again, asking the ocean as if it would suddenly come alive and hold a civilized conversation with me.
I wiped my face and carefully opened the wooden box with one hand while the other was gripping it for dear life. Thankfully, it was small. Looking at the plastic bag that contained everything that was left of Bridger broke me a little more. I couldn’t get myself to open it before, trusting that the funeral home had done their one job, but maybe I should have prepared for this moment better.
My ribcage seemed to close in on itself and all the moisture dried from my throat. The anxiety was building and I knew an attack was imminent. I closed my eyes and took in slow, deep breaths and whispered, “Please help me, B. Please help me do this.” My body shook with endless tears.
I bobbed on my board for a few moments, working on steadying my heartbeat. Slowly, everything in my body began to release the tension and relax. As I opened my eyes, I thought I heard shouts from the shore, but I couldn’t be sure over the pounding rain and crashing waves.
As soon as the water settled for a second, I untied the plastic bag, pulled it out of the wooden box, and watched the box tumble into the choppy water. I squeezed the bag tightly closed as I spun my board around to wait for a good wave. When I saw one approaching, I rotated onto my stomach, put the bag in between my teeth and began paddling so the wave would catch my board. I popped up smoothly, took the bag from my teeth, and flipped it upside down as I rode what turned out to be the perfect wave.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and as I released Bridger’s ashes into the wave I was riding, a feeling of pure joy overtook any anxiety I was feeling and an unbidden smile lifted my spirits. Briefly glancing behind me, I noticed a tunnel starting to form. I was never very good at riding barrels, but this one was calling to me. Quickly tucking the empty plastic bag into my wetsuit, I pushed my hand into the wave to slow down to where the barrel was forming, and I tucked inside.
It was beautiful in here despite the storm raging outside. Inside the tunnel it was dark, but calm and my ride was smooth. I popped out just before the curtain closed and then rode another one. I had seen pros barrel surf before, but never attempted it myself. It was incredible.
A bright light suddenly lit up the barrel I was currently in and a warmth surrounded me like someone placing a blanket around my shoulders. I knew Bridger was here with me, riding the barrel and keeping me safe. I could feel him inside my heart and soul. He was the water and the light and the storm. He was everywhere, including in all the memories locked tight in a corner of my mind, never to be lost.
Bridger would never be lost.
“I love you, B,” I said as the curtain started to close on me in my last barrel. I had chosen my fate and Bridger had come to see me off. He promised to always be with me even after he was gone, and he had kept his promise as I had kept mine.
I fell in love again and I surfed again.
Promises kept and never forgotten.
Levi
I felt my stomach drop as Genesis ran to my side, screaming Charlee’s name.
“Oh, my God. What is she doing?” Genesis was frantic.
“I don’t know. I just got out here. Does she really know how to surf?”
Genesis looked at me dumbfounded. “You’ve slept with her twice and surfed with her late husband and you didn’t know she’s practically a pro?”
