Beach Glass (7 page)

Carson reaches into the storage shed and brings out a pink board. He stands it up next to me. “Looks about the right size,” he says. “Too girly?”

I shake my head. “I’m a girly girl.”

He grins at me. “Okay then, meet your board.”

I take hold of the surfboard, which is indeed a very girly bubblegum pink. Mitigating its high cuteness factor are two thick black racing stripes that lead up to a big white star at the top. For something I never wanted, I kind of love it. I remember my dad giving names to inanimate objects, like calling his car Marilyn, and I decide to call my surfboard
Estrella,
Spanish for star.

Now that we have our boards, Evan tells us it’s time to talk about the proper surfing stance. “So, how do you know whether you’re going to stand on the board with your left or right foot forward?” he asks. “Easy test.” He goes behind Randy and gives him a small shove, forcing Randy to take a step forward. “See how Randy landed on his left foot? That means he’s going to stand on the board with his left foot in the front, right foot in the back. That’s called a ‘natural’ or ‘regular’ stance. As opposed to my buddy Carson here.” He pushes Carson, who lands on his right foot. “That’s known as standing goofy foot,” Evan says, “and it’s no dis, even though Carson can be a little goofy sometimes.” Carson smirks good-naturedly.

“Okay, everyone grab a partner,” Evan says. “William, can you help me out here?” Brigitte’s husband goes over to Evan. “Stand behind your partner,” Evan instructs, “give him or her a little shove, like this, and see which foot they fall on.”

The bride and her maid of honor partner up, as do the two bridesmaids. The honeymooning couple jokingly shove each other around then hug and kiss. Brigitte’s busily snapping photos. William would have been my partner, but Evan has demonstrated with him, and now they’re chatting about stance. And I’m standing alone by my board, not knowing whether I’m natural or goofy, and definitely feeling left out.

Carson notices my predicament and sprints over to me gallantly. “I don’t usually say this to women I’ve just met,” he says, “but would it be all right if I pushed you around?”

I smile gratefully. “I don’t usually say this to men who are pushing me around, but please, go right ahead.”

I turn my back to Carson and prepare myself for a shove. But instead of just pushing me, Carson rests his hand between my shoulder blades. Tingles form on my skin, moving from right under his fingertips and spreading out with the rest of his hand. My eyes start to close with the warmth of the feeling. Just then, he gives a gentle but firm shove, and I land on my right foot.

“Well, I
do
say this to a lot of women I’ve just met,” Carson tells me. “No offense, but you’re goofy.” I have to laugh. That’s exactly how I feel right now.

The last part of our lesson is learning how to go from lying on the board to kneeling on it to eventually standing up like a real surfer. Randy demonstrates as Carson explains. Finally, I feel like I have an advantage here! Some of these moves look so much like what I do in yoga. I’ll bet all my upward-facing dogs and balancing poses are going to help me get into position when I’m on the board and actually riding a wave, or at least attempting to. I’m so relieved. Maybe I’m not going to be a total spazz at this.

Once we see how it’s done, we get on our sand-parked surfboards and practice. “Nice form, Kate,” Carson says as he walks by.

He likes my form. And he shoved me. I hope the pink of my surfboard hides the blush I feel coming to my cheeks.

UH OH. DREAMY part of vacation officially over.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Carson says as we all gather around after our stance practice is done. “We’ll be in groups of two surfers and one instructor. You’ll study the waves, paddle out, count the sets, and when you see white water at the top of a wave, you’ll take that one and work on getting to a hands and knees position on the board. Surfers go one at a time, and your instructor will be right behind you, literally, launching you into the wave. Sound good?”

Everyone nods, and a few people say, “Yeah, let’s do it!”

I am not one of them. I’m busy looking out at the waves, which are pretty from this distance. And I’d like very much to stay here on the beach and look at them, not attempt to ride them on this board, however cute it may be.

Okay, let me, or rather Kate, try that again. Yes, I’m ready to start surfing.

People gravitate toward whichever instructor they’re standing closest to, but Allegra, the bride-to-be, zips right in front of Carson. I was already standing near him, mostly because he seemed to wander my way while he was talking.

“You guys ready?” he asks us.

“You bet,” I say.

“Always,” Allegra says heavily. I marvel at her lack of subtlety.

When we get in the warm, teal-colored water, I find out that the waves are stronger than they look. They’ve got a good pull under what seems so gentle on the surface, like the ocean is tugging us in. Allegra and I get pushed around a little as we wade out, but Carson shows us how to dip the noses of our surfboards under the waves to keep them from knocking us over. Then we get to a point where we can hoist ourselves onto the boards and start paddling.

Allegra volunteers to try to catch a wave first, which I think is brave. Gradually, though, I see it was actually a genius ploy to monopolize Carson’s attention. After what feels like half an hour of listening to her squeal, “No no, not yet, not yet!” in a voice like nails on a chalkboard, Carson tells her to get ready and launches her into what looks like a perfectly easy, beginner-friendly wave. Allegra squeals and immediately falls off the board.

I stifle a giggle, hoping Carson doesn’t notice. But he’s busy making sure that Allegra, who has surfaced sputtering with her hair in her face, is okay. He tells her she’s got the hang of it and she just has to keep practicing. Then he submerges, disappearing under a wave.

Seconds later, he surfaces right next to me, looking like some handsome mythical sea creature. “Kate the Great,” he says, smiling and holding the board with his hands on either side of my leg.

Of the nicknames I’ve been given, like Daniel’s “Pretty Katy” and my sister’s “Scaredy Kat,” I like Carson’s best.

His eyes, rimmed with black lashes that are sparkling with seawater, are so green it’s ridiculous. “Did you get the idea of what we’re trying to accomplish here?” he asks. I nod. “Okay then, let’s get into position.”

That means me lying on the surfboard on my belly, waiting to be launched into a wave by Carson, who’s holding the back of my board, so his two main views are of my feet and my butt. I’m so grateful I gave myself a decent home pedicure before I came here and that I had the sense to buy cute and butt cheek-covering swim shorts.

“Kate, what can you tell me about the wave sets?”

“Um
 . . .
sets of three?” I’m totally guessing here.

“Good job,” Carson says. “So, next set, if the third wave has white water on top of it, that’s your wave. Try to get to your hands and knees. Okay?”

I give him the thumbs-up. He surprises me with a quick squeeze on my ankle—and not the one with the thick leash band around it.

First wave. No white water. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Carson kind of liked me. I mean, there was that deeply meaningful moment when we first met, but maybe that was only meaningful for me, and I still don’t know why.

Oops, second wave, but there’s no white at the top. Then there was the way he was so focused on our conversation at lunch and how he ditched Allegra to help me find a wave. Yeah, but teaching us how to surf
is
his job, after all. Besides, why should it matter to me? I mean, it does feel nice to have some attention from a hot guy, especially after a big bad breakup.

Third wave, white water. Whoa, wait, what?

“Okay, Kate,” Carson says, shoving my board toward the wave, “here we go!”

Here we go
. Isn’t that all anyone wants in life? To be a “we” and to be going somewhere? But it’s just me now, being swiftly carried by this wave as it rolls toward the shore. Yikes
 . . .

And wow. Wow! This is
amazing
! Instead of being freaked out, I’m totally excited. The wind is rushing past me, the wave is carrying me, and I feel steady enough to push up to my hands and knees. When the board pitches, my body self-corrects automatically.

“That’s it, Kate!” Carson yells encouragingly.

Of course, that’s when I fall off the board.

When I come back up to the surface, Carson is right by my board, waiting for me. “Nice going!” he says, giving me a high-five. “Want to try again?”

“Absolutely!” I say, thrilled by my early surfing achievement. And yes, by Carson’s amazing grin.

WHEN I’M AT HOME, I eat like a girl. Egg whites for breakfast, salad for lunch, steamed vegetables, fish, and rice for dinner. Here at the surf camp, I’m eating like a dude, and a hungry one. My dinner plate is crowded with two burritos, rice, beans, salsa, guacamole, and a brownie, which I’m already scarfing on the way to the table. I’m ravenous from my very first afternoon of surfing. I pulled myself on the board, counted sets, found my waves, and launched. And fell off the board more often than not. But at the end of the afternoon, I actually stood up and rode a wave all the way to the shore. Me, a surfer!

I’m so stoked that I don’t even sip the single-girl Haterade when Allegra starts telling our group the story of how she and her fiancé met. “Craig and I were friends in school for, like, ever,” she says. “When we went to different colleges, he sent me the sweetest, most adorable emails. There was this totally different side of him I’d never seen before. When he came home for Christmas, he gave me this.” She flashes her disco-ball ring.

Amazingly, I feel good enough about my surfing success to join in the group
Awwww,
especially when I remember Allegra leaving the water after her second wipeout, saying she’d had enough. I felt kind of bad for her, but she was pouty, like if she couldn’t have Carson to herself, she was over the whole surfing thing. I notice she was much better at getting into position at the dinner table, sliding into the seat right next to him.

“I miss Craig so much,” she says. “I mean, I’m having the best time, but I can’t wait to see him again.”

“The next time you see him, you’ll be wearing your wedding dress,” says Lucene, one of her bridesmaids.

This time, I abstain from the group
Awwww
, preferring to chomp on my burrito.

Nicholas is getting fussy, so Brigitte and William pick him up and say goodnight. The Honeymooners rise to go back to their bungalow and, I guess, do what honeymooners do. Evan, Randy, and Carson also get up to leave, telling us they’ll see us at breakfast tomorrow. Carson’s last look and smile is for me. “’Night, Kate the Great,” he says. Since my mouth is full, I just give him a little wave.

The only ones left at the table are the Bridal Party. As soon as everyone else is gone, Allegra turns to her girls and widens her eyes dramatically. “OMG, he is
sooooo
hot,” she says, fanning herself.

“Oh please, which one?” Lucene says. “All three of them are gorgeous.”

“Are you kidding?” Allegra rolls her eyes. “I meant Carson!” Her friends give girly shrieks of delight and high-five her.

“You know it, girl,” says Jeanine. “He is
hot
.” Then they all start discussing Carson, or, rather, dissecting him, talking about everything from his cute butt to the size of his hands and what that might mean about the rest of him.

Then Allegra says, “I wonder if Craig would mind if I put Carson at the top of my list,” as she twists her engagement ring thoughtfully.

“What list?” asks Krystal, the only member of the bridal party who doesn’t have a Texas-sized engagement or wedding ring on her finger.

“You know, the list of famous people it’s okay to have sex with even when you’re in a relationship,” says Allegra. “Like for Craig, we joke that if he ever met Fergie, I’d have to give him a pass and let him have sex with her. I wonder if I could move Carson up over Justin Timberlake.” She and the girls giggle.

I’m beginning to feel like this second burrito wasn’t such a great idea as my stomach tightens. How could Allegra be so obviously in love with her fiancé and considering a fling with Carson? When I was with Daniel, I never looked at other guys. Okay, maybe I peeked if someone was really good looking, but I’d never have even thought about cheating. Maybe she’s just kidding.

But as she goes on and on about Carson, my thoughts turn as bitter as my stomach feels. If she knew how lucky she was that her boyfriend loved her enough to propose and marry her, she wouldn’t be lusting after our surfing instructor, no matter how hot he is. When I feel tears burning my eyes, I stand up suddenly. The squeak of my chair being shoved back makes a noise that silences the women. I leave quickly, tossing the rest of my dinner before they can see me crying.

WHEN I GET downstairs, I wipe my eyes quickly when I hear someone calling my name. “Señorita Kate,” calls the desk clerk. He comes outside and hands me a key. “We have a room for you now. We can move your things from your tenalow to a bungalow, if you like.”

I take the key. “That’s okay. I’ll take care of it, thanks.”

Crickets and other nocturnal musicians serenade me as I walk back to my tent house. Before I go in to get my luggage, I look up and see constellations of twinkly stars. It gets foggy here at night, so only the brightest stars cut through the mist. The sky tonight is a dark purplish grey, so completely beautiful that I just stand outside and stare at it for who knows how long. A crescent moon, tilted sideways, looks like a smile.

I can hear the waves lapping against the sand, the sound that lulled me to sleep last night. I remember the crazy guttural shouts of the howler monkeys in the morning, but I don’t think any bungalow walls can shut them out. I let the tent flaps close and walk down to the beach.

The current here is gentler than where we surfed today, but as I look out at the water, sparkling even with that thin smile of moonlight, I can’t believe I rode those waves. On a normal night, what would I be doing right now? Waiting for Daniel? Sitting at my table, eating alone?

Back at the front office, the clerk looks up in surprise when I hand him the key to the bungalow. “Is something wrong?” he asks.

“Not a thing,” says Kate. “In fact, everything’s great.”