Beyond the Rising Tide (23 page)

The waves roll in, one after another, and the water rises to my hips and then drops to my calves. A bass drum pounds in my chest.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The waves crash into us, pushing us toward shore, then pulling us farther out to sea.

Rise, drop. Rise, drop. Push, pull. Push, pull.

This is where the boy died. Not in this spot, or on this beach. But the ocean is one, big connected mass. This is still his grave.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The water is frigid, cutting to my bones. But my body is on fire, every cell burning with guilt.

I shut my eyes, trying to push the thoughts aside. I feel Kai’s fingers, warm and steady, wrap around my hands.

“Look at me,” he says, and when I open my eyes, his clear, aquamarine gaze holds me in place. He’s standing in front of me, a barrier between me and the sea, and I feel safe here in his harbor. “Ask me another question.”

“Why are you doing this?” Of all the things I want to know, this has suddenly become the most important.

He studies me for a long moment, then says, “Because I can see how much you want it.” A breeze pushes my hair into my face, and Kai reaches up and brushes it back. “It’s time to stop punishing yourself, Avery. It’s what he would want. It’s what
you
want. Let yourself
live
.”

He’s right. It
is
what I want. To live again. To embrace life, even when it’s scary. To chase the things I love, even when they seem unobtainable. I can do this. For me. For Kai. And most of all, for the boy who saved my life.

The waves are rolling around my waist now, and I feel a different kind of tug. A tugging in my heart, the ocean tugging me toward it like it used to. Instead of wanting to flee, I feel the desire to go deeper.

“Want to go back?” he asks softly.

“No,” I say with a slight shake of my head.

One corner of his mouth tips up. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

The other corner of his mouth rises, completing his smile. He pulls me into a hug, and now my heart is pounding for an entirely different reason. He dips his head and murmurs in my ear, “You did it.”

“No.” I shake my head, my cheek rubbing against his bare chest. “
We
did.”

grew up on a skateboard,” Kai says tiredly after I make him show me a good surfing stance for the eighth or so time. He’s standing on my surfboard in the dry sand, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. One arm is extended toward the nose of the board, the other bent at his shoulder like he’s a ninja preparing to fight. “Surfing can’t be that different.”

“First of all,” I say, hands on hips, “steering a surfboard is nothing like steering a skateboard. It’s all about how you throw your shoulders and waist. And look at how big of a surface you’re standing on compared to a skateboard. So many more places to put your feet. How do you know your feet are even in the right spot?”

“Because … this is where you told me to put them.”

I look down at his feet, and they’ve migrated since I told him where to stand. I give him a good shove in the chest, and he staggers backward onto the sand to catch his balance. “If you’d been standing where I told you to,” I say with a smile, “you would’ve stayed on your board. And bend your knees more next time.”

His eyes dance with amusement. “I’m a kinesthetic learner, okay? Let’s stop talking and start doing.” He scoops up the board and starts toward the water, looking over his shoulder at me in a beckoning way.

“Okay,” I say. “Just remember—”

“I got it.” He turns and walks backward toward the water. “Duck dive under the breakers to get out. Head to the peak of the swell. When I see a wave and feel it start to lift, turn and paddle like crazy and pop up. Piece of cake.” His tone is bored, as if he’s already done this a thousand times.

“Yeah—and all the other stuff I just told you. And one more thing—you’re surfing over shallow reef. The tide is heading out, so don’t fall head first.”

“Who says I’m going to fall?” He bites his lower lip and gives me a crooked grin that sort of makes me want to go over and kiss it off his face. Instead, I look at his feet, because at least I can do that without wanting to kiss him.

Something is dragging in the sand near his feet—his leash, which isn’t strapped to his ankle. “Wait!” A jolt of terror rushes through me, and I go to him and crouch down to strap it on for him. “Don’t be reckless,” I say soberly.

His smile fades. “Hey … don’t worry, okay? I’m a good swimmer.”

So am I, but that didn’t stop me from getting into trouble. And the boy who jumped off the pier must have been a strong swimmer to get through the waves to me, but that didn’t stop him from drowning.

Kai must guess my thoughts, because he says, “I’ll be careful, okay?” The sun is right behind his head, making the tips of his hair glow. “Go get your board. Come in with me.”

I stand up, hesitating. An hour ago after I got in the water with him, I felt so brave and determined. But as soon as we got out, all my courage fled. I’m trying to summon it back now, but it’s still cowering somewhere behind my left rib cage. “You go out first,” I say. “I’ll watch from here to make sure you’re doing it right.”

His smile returns. “Way to lay on the pressure.”

I give him a shove toward the water. “Just go.”

“Okay then,” he says, laughing. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

He paddles out, diving under the breakers like I instructed him, though he gets caught and rolls a couple times when he doesn’t go deep enough. When he finally gets past the break, he sits up and looks back at me, chest heaving and hair dripping wet. I feel that pull again, and it occurs to me that maybe it’s not a pull toward the ocean. Maybe it’s a pull toward Kai. I want to be where he is, and I’m willing to cross any obstacle to get there. I back up to my board, keeping my eyes on Kai, and pick it up.

There’s a lull before the next set. Then, when he sees it coming, he lies down on his board and turns the nose toward shore. When the first mound of water swells up behind him, he’s ready.

“Go! Go! Go!” I shout, cupping a hand to my mouth. He paddles hard shoreward, then springs to his feet. He’s a bit too late though, and the wave passes under him. He drops off the board into the water and then climbs back on, ready for the next one.

The next time, he paddles sooner and faster, pops up at the right moment, and sails down the face of the wave on his board. Just before the tip of his surfboard hits the trough, he throws a hard left turn and glides horizontally along the swell, pumping the tip of his board to pick up speed. My jaw drops, and all I can think is that either he’s done this before, or skateboarding must have more in common with surfing than I realized. He veers upward and launches off the lip, going airborne for a second before disappearing behind the crest.

I hold my breath, waiting for him to resurface. But after a few seconds, I don’t see him. I crane my neck, trying to see over the peaks. There’s no sign of him. With a spasm of panic, I rush for the water with my surfboard and dive in, paddling hard toward the spot I last saw him. I dive and pull under the breaking waves, a heaviness in my belly that has nothing to do with water pressure. Every time I resurface, I scan the water, searching for a sign of Kai. But I can’t see over the peaks when I’m in the valleys. So when the next wave comes, instead of diving under, I paddle to the peak. And finally, I see him. Just beyond the next crest, halfway out of the water, arms spread across his board.

I exhale in relief, catching his eye before dropping into the next trough. I dive under the coming wave and kick hard, and when I resurface, Kai is a few feet away. He slides his board under him and sits up, shaking the water out of his hair. The way he’s sitting, surrounded by rolling hills of water and speckled with reflected sunlight, makes him look like some sort of sea god.

“You scared me,” I say, out of breath. “Slow down. No more aerials until I teach you how to do them safely.”

He gives me an apologetic look. “I don’t have time to slow down. If I’m going to surf, I’m going to
surf
.”

I swat the surface with my palm, sending a big splash his way. “If you don’t want me to have a heart attack, slow down.”

His eyes soften, and after a long moment, he nods in concession.

I glance back at shore, realizing how far away it is, and then it hits me, really
hits me
, that I’m out here, in the ocean, on my surfboard. A tingling sensation makes its way from my stomach to the tips of my fingers and toes, and I feel a surge of energy inside of me, an ache on the threshold of fulfillment.

Another set is approaching, and I study the shape of the incoming swell, looking for the peak. I lie on my board and paddle north, positioning myself where the wave will be fullest.

The first one feels too weak, so I let it pass under. There’s a humming under my skin, as though I’m plugged into some great source of power. As the next wave approaches, it grows louder, more powerful. I feel it in my muscles, in my bones. I turn the tip of my board toward shore. When the water starts to swell, and I feel its energy surging inside of me, I know this is the one. It’s moving fast, so I paddle hard, then spring to my feet in one swift movement. My arms spread out like wings, and then I’m flying. The waves are the wind, and I’m a bird, soaring over the face of the sea. I sail toward the crest, throw a hard turn, then speed back down a clear wall of water. I feel alive and free. I reach out and drag my fingers through the water, proving to myself that it’s real. That
I’m
real. That I’m really doing this.

The wave curls over me, and I crouch down, barreling through a crystal blue cylinder. I come through and launch over the crest, then plunge into the foaming water. When I resurface, I’m breathing hard. I climb back on my board and straddle it, sitting up. My eyes roam the water for Kai, and I find him back where I left him. He’s watching me, his gaze piercing mine even through the distance. For a long moment he doesn’t smile, but when he does, it’s a broad grin that reaches into me, and even though I didn’t think it was possible, I feel even more alive now than a moment ago.

I watch him catch another small but smooth wave, and this time he doesn’t try anything fancy. He rides the wave’s energy toward me, making gentle turns here and there before losing momentum and letting the wave roll under him. He paddles over to me and sits up.

“You’re amazing,” he says breathlessly, his expression completely serious. I want to say the same, but I can’t seem to get any words out. My whole body is humming, my chest full to bursting, and it’s all I can do to get air in and out of my lungs.

I dip my hand in the ocean, letting the crisp water run through my fingers. I feel the pulse of the sea beneath me, a repetitious, soothing rhythm. Lifting me, dropping me. Up and down, sliding over hills into valleys and back again. This is home to me. The one place I belong. The place where I can be
me
.

I’m shivering, but not from the cold. I look over at Kai, who’s still watching me, and I whisper, “Thank you.” Only, the words aren’t just for him, but also for the boy who saved my life. Because without him, I wouldn’t be here in this perfect moment, on this perfect swell, with this perfect boy. And it occurs to me that the best way to honor him isn’t to stay out of the water, but to immerse myself in it; accept his gift and live my life to its fullest.