Cowabunga Christmas (7 page)

10 Cowabunga Time, Baby!

I
switched
the alarm off quickly, slipped out of bed, and put in a call to room service
from the phone in our sitting room. Dawn was just breaking and there was a nice
swell rising in the cove. Off in the distance, I could see two figures, dressed
head-to-toe in black, hanging onto their surfboards. The morning air was chilly
but fresh; the offshore breeze carried the scent of the ocean with it. I heard
a seabird’s call as the bells in the monastery tower struck seven.

In
minutes there was a knock at the door. The room service guy, who had to be a
surfer, brought in a tray and set it on the side bar.

“It
looks good out there in the cove, doesn’t it?”

“Excellent!”
he said, gazing longingly at the horizon.

I
signed for our breakfast and added a big tip. I could almost see “big tipper”
being entered into our profile. It was Christmas morning, for goodness’ sake,
so what the heck? The big tip got me a big smile and a Merry Christmas as I
closed the door.

I
carried the tray into the bedroom where Brien was still snoozing. I set it
down, took off my robe and put on that little polka dot bikini I had mentioned
to Brien. I added the Santa hat, and then stood at the foot of the bed.

“Merry
Christmas, Brien.” Brien did not budge. He does sleep soundly, so I tried it
again, louder. “Merry Christmas, Dude!” Still nothing. “Ho, ho, ho, time to
wake up, Surfer Boy!” Hmm, this called for more extreme measures. I wasn’t sure
what the window of opportunity might be out there in the cove, but it wouldn’t
be much of a Christmas present if he slept through it. I set the tray down.

“Surf’s
up!” I shouted, and sprang onto the bed next to him. He still did not move as I
knelt beside him. I was trying to decide what else I could do when a big grin
spread across his face. He reached out and grabbed me, pulling me down onto the
bed.

“Surf’s
up, alright,” he said, smothering me in kisses. I tried to get my breath.

“Not
this surf—
that
surf,” I said, pointing toward the open veranda. “It’s my
Christmas present, darling. One of them, anyway. Let’s hit the beach!” He
stopped and blinked away the sleep that still held him. Brien looked at me,
then out to the open veranda, and back at me.

“For
real?” he asked.

“For
real!”

“Whoa,
what time is it?” He peered at his watch. “You mean business, don’t you? You
never get up this early!”

“Not
if I don’t have to. I already got us coffee and smoothies. I looked it up. You
shouldn’t eat much before you hit the beach or the boards or the waves... you
know what I mean.”

“Wow,
I’m stoked, Kim. You’re the most epic wife, ever! Are you sure?”

“Absolutely!
It’s cowabunga time, Dude!” I said, standing up in the bed and striking a mock
surfer pose. I hoped surfers actually still said cowabunga, and it wasn’t just
a word I picked up from the Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Brien
bounded from the bed, slid open the closet doors and pulled out his wet suit
hanging in there. Then he pulled a beautifully-wrapped box from the shelf above
his suit and tossed it onto the bed at my feet.

“You’re
going to need this present, now, Dudette.” A huge grin was on his face as he stepped
into the legs of his wetsuit. I plunged to my knees and tore open the present.
When I pulled the top off the box I could not believe my eyes. A black wetsuit
like his, but with hot pink sections cut into it. Brien was serious about
getting me out there on the water with him.

“My
very own wettie,” I cried. “You love me, you really do love me.” In my heart, I
knew that to share his passion for surfing with me was a true act of intimacy. Now
I
was stoked! I didn’t even know I felt that way until I heard those
words spilling from my lips.

“Sure,
I do. Put it on—it’s cowabunga time, Baby! This is our first ever cowabunga
Christmas, together.” He put his arms into the sleeves of his wet suit and
walked over to me with it still unzipped. Then, he bent down and kissed me.
“Thank you, Kim.”

We downed our
coffee and smoothies in no time. It took me only a few minutes longer to wiggle
into that wetsuit. I wasn’t as fast as Brien had been. I looked like the real
deal—in the mirror, anyway, standing with my surfboard at my side. Brien packed
a bag with bottled water, towels, sunglasses, and our reef booties. We slipped
on our Rainbows and carried our boards to the elevator. I considered bringing
the cell phone.
Leave it alone
, I thought. If Mitchum decided to call us
on Christmas day he would just have to wait
.

By the time
we got to the beach I was exhausted. Brien offered to carry my surfboard for
me, but I was determined to do it myself. The board wasn’t all that heavy. It
was bulky and awkward for a newbie like me. About halfway there Brien offered
to carry me
and
the board. He could do it—the man can bench press way more
than his own weight.

I can
be stubborn and I’m still not all that comfortable with the girly-girl turn my
life had taken. It was taking a while to get used to being in love and going
all mushy on a regular basis, as I had just done in the hotel room over that
wettie. I declined Brien’s offer to help. Besides, what self-respecting surfer
lets someone else carry her board? I suspected those hardcore Dudes and
Dudettes from Sanctuary Grove were the ones already down in the cove at dawn.
No way was I going to walk onto the beach empty-handed.

When
we arrived, Brien was fresh as a daisy. “Amped to the max,” as he put it. He
kicked off his rainbows, slipped on his booties and headed for the water.

“I’ll
be right there,” I called after him, lying through my teeth. I let my board
slide down onto the sand where Brien had dumped his Rainbows and that bag he
had packed for us. I slumped down next to my board, trying to catch my breath.

“You
okay?” a voice asked, startling me—so much for catching my breath.

“OMG,
Willow—I am now that I know it’s you.” She was wearing a wettie, her hair was damp,
but she had no board. “I’m so glad to see you. I take it you’ve already been
out there.”

When
my eyes followed where my arm pointed, I lost my breath again. The morning
stole it from me—the girly-girl unleashed again. No, that’s not true. The
sunrise tapped into my artistic side. The part of me that had still believed in
the music my former employer produced, even after he turned out to be one of
Satan’s minions. The morning was a work of art.

The
sun had not quite made it into the sky and appeared to sit on the water. It
cast an explosion of golden light, threw out oranges, pinks and purples. Those
colors cut across the sky in every direction. The waves picked up bits of color
and light, tossing them around as they moved on shore.

There
in the middle of a fat, rolling wave was my Brien. A black silhouette against
all that color, he moved with grace in perfect sync with the wave. When he sank
into the water beside his board he saw me watching him and beamed. He turned
and headed back out, paddling along on his board. It was only then I realized
Willow had spoken to me.

“What?”
I asked, as I gazed up at her.

“I’m
so sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to put you into a daze. Mele
kalikimaka—Merry Christmas, Aloha style, Sistah.”

“Merry
Christmas, Willow. Don’t worry. You didn’t scare me much. I’m just dopey. I’m not
used to being up this early.” I stood and set up two stubby folding chairs
Brien had grabbed along the way, took one and invited Willow to take the other.

“Too
bad that bonehead Owen isn’t around. I can’t believe the guy is dead—and in
that Santa suit. What a way to go.” Willow shook her head, like she was trying
to shake off that image of Owen. I felt a twinge of guilt about our decision
not to spend the day snooping into Owen’s demise. Willow watched as Brien sat
on his board waiting for another wave. “He knows what he’s doing. That was a
nice ride,” she said, as she settled into the chair beside me. “You look like
you’re ready to rock.”

“I’m
going to give it a try. Brien’s been helping me build upper body strength, and
we’ve determined I’m goofy-footed. I’ve gone out a couple times to get the feel
of the board and practiced paddling on it—which is where I learned I needed
biceps. It ain’t going to be pretty, but I’m going to try to get up on my feet
and avoid eating too much sand.” Willow laughed.

“We
all eat our share of sand, Kim. Even after you’ve been surfing for a while a
big, churning wave will grind your face in it and you’ll come up spitting. You
just learn to take it in stride. That’s one thing Owen was good at. He’d get
ground into the bottom, come up smiling, and do it all over again. What a
Barney.”

“I’ll redefine
Barney for you today. Don’t expect me to smile about eating sand, though. I’m
more a curse the deep kind of Barney, I’m afraid. Brien’s convinced I can
learn. He says I’ve got good balance and quick reflexes. Here I am at the crack
of dawn on Christmas day ready to make a fool out of myself. The things you’ll
do for love... ” I stopped myself, thinking about how that might sound to a
woman who recently learned a guy she once had feelings for had been killed.
Because she broke up with him didn’t mean she had written him off completely. That
was clear from the way she spoke about him the day before.

“Tell
me about it,” Willow said. “If Owen had gotten his head on straight, and asked
me to go with him, I would have left all this behind. I had never seriously
considered living in an apartment away from the beach, making the 9-to-5 scene
day in and day out, until Owen showed up.”

“You
never know who’s going to awaken your inner Juliet, do you?” As I spoke, I
caught sight of Brien up on his feet again. My Romeo was in his element.

“Nope,”
Willow sighed. “Of course all that went up in smoke when Owen started breaking
bad on me. I still can’t believe what a scam artist Opie turned out to be. It’s
like he had enrolled in the scheme a month club. You know what made it worse?”

“No.”
I wanted to ask what other schemes he had going. I’ve worked hard to develop a
few social skills, like only speaking when it’s my turn. That also means listening
when others take their turns. Besides, what business was it of mine? Brien and
I had decided to let Mitchum do the detecting. He could quiz her about Opie’s many
schemes.

“He
tried to make me believe he was doing it for me—for us! One big score and we
were going to be on easy street. What a poser.” Willow blinked back tears. In a
flash she was on her feet. “Come on, I need to get back in the water. You come
with me. Put those booties on—it’s cold out there!” She ran to retrieve her
board that was maybe fifty yards away—close to the clump of trees that marked
the entrance to the Sanctuary Grove shanty town. How could I refuse?

I
pulled on the booties. Then, I picked up my board and held it up over my head
like Willow was doing. The board wobbled, pulling me backwards and off balance.
I stabilized the board, collected myself, and took off. I had almost caught up when
Willow plunged into the water. I did as she did—dropped my board onto the
surface of the water, hopped on it with my belly to the board.

“Holy
Moly, cold is right,” I said through gritted teeth. I was awake now! I let
Willow set a course as we paddled through the waves and out to the line where
Brien and several other surfers were bobbing up and down.

She
slid in beside them and sat up on her board. I did the same—paddled over in
between Brien and Willow and pushed myself up into a sitting position. What
Willow had done in one easy motion took more work for me. I felt like I had
extra elbows or something and scooched on my behind to get in position, after sitting
up and straddling the board. My efforts got me a delicious kiss from Brien.
Yes!

“Dudes,
this is Kim, the most excellent woman in my life,” he said. By that he better
mean the ‘only’ woman in his life, excellent or not. I said nothing. Social
skills, right? The ‘dudes’ included the irksome Mick who barely acknowledged
me. I’m not sure how much that had to do with dismissiveness because of my rank
amateur status, or to the fact that he was taking a sneaky, sidelong glance at
Willow.

There
was a Benny, a TonyO, and a Snaggy in the group, too. Snaggy as in
snaggletooth, I presumed, given the smile he flashed at me. There had to be a
story to the TonyO name, too, but no one was telling at the moment. Benny must
be short for Benjamin, so no big story there. Introductions over, the men
sprang into action and paddled to catch a big rolling wave that was building.
How had they seen it? Willow reached out and held my arm.

“Next
one will be sweeter,” she said. We sat there seconds longer. “When I say go get
on your belly and paddle. Watch my rhythm and when I do the pop up you’ve been
practicing in your room, go for it, okay?” I nodded my head, praying I wouldn’t
kill her or me. I didn’t have long to worry about it.

“On my
mark, get ready, set, go!” Willow took off and I got onto my belly—expelling a
big gasp of air as I flopped. I did my best to keep up and watch her through
splashes of water from my frenzied paddling.