To the Sea (Follow your Bliss) (13 page)

Kira
stared at the photo for a beat. Courtney wasn’t outstandingly beautiful or
difficult on the eyes either. She sat frozen in time, just as Kira’s memory of
Jeremy was, forever paused on that critical night, when she called him at the
office. The laughter she heard in the background likely belonged to Courtney,
not a janitor.

Kira
pulled a framed photo of Jeremy out of the newspaper she’d wrapped it in. She
removed the backing and then fit Courtney in beside him. If Kira held it far
enough away, it almost looked like the two images belonged together. She set
this aside and finished packing up everything until all that remained in the
room was the furniture. Kira reasoned she’d bring all the boxes to Jeremy’s
parents, they could figure out what to do with the memories of their son.

Later
that night, Kira unearthed a pint of ice cream from the back of the freezer and
did something she hadn’t done in a while; she watched a movie for
entertainment. She slid The Endless Summer, into the player.

The
peeling waves, continuous sunshine, and the quest for the perfect session had
her instantly hooked. Something about the pacing and tenor of the narrator and
characters had her relaxed and dreaming of adventure. Kira dozed off to the
soundtrack as the credits rolled and woke, refreshed, just before the sun came
up.

Chapter Seventeen

Kira
quickly packed the boxes she’d brought down from Jeremy’s office in the
Mercedes, grabbed her checkbook, and the photo of Jeremy and Courtney, along
with her camera.

After
several trips, the road to the shore was familiar, and she arrived swiftly.
Kira and Ian continued their usual routine of peacefully watching the waves as
the sun appeared, in a pink-copper blaze.

Ian
took a deep breath. “This is nice, being here with—” A car honked from behind
and Kira startled. He looked at her meaningfully. For a flash, she envisioned
him pulling her against his toned chest, wrapping his arms around her, and
telling her everything was all right.

A
couple of his buddies thumped him on the shoulders.

“Brah,”
one of them said.

Ian
gave Kira a smile, dimples and all, took up his board, and padded across the
sand. Just before tossing himself in the water, he looked over his shoulder at
Kira, and then paddled out to the lineup.

With
a thrill of excitement, she vaulted over the cement wall to her car and grabbed
her camera. She rushed toward the water and started clicking. When Ian caught a
wave, she snapped him in the surfer’s crouch. She captured him with his arm
outstretched behind him as his hand made an impression, like a trail, on the
wave. She took others of him as still as stone, the surging water propelling
him on. It felt good to see the world through her own lens again.

Before
long, it was Kira’s lesson. She gleefully bounded into the water. They started
with Ian pushing her into the waves and calling popup, just as they had been.

After
a few rides Ian said, “I have an idea.”

Kira
was as eager to hear what it was, as she was to be out in the water with him.
He was tuned to comfort and ease; all Kira had to do was be in his proximity to
receive the same signal. She’d never felt that way around a guy before. It was
different from Jamie. With him, it was carnal, pure pleasure, a glorious feast
for the senses, but Ian appealed to her in a different, more even-keeled way.
Their fingers grazed, and then he steadied her on the board, his broad hand on
her back. She felt an excited tingling, but it wasn’t urgent or self-conscious
like the one she experienced with Jamie. It was playful, yet patient, honest,
yet expansive.

“And
your idea is—”

“What
if instead of pushing you into a wave, we begin working on you paddling into
one on your own?”

It
had crossed Kira’s mind that was something she wanted to do, eventually.
However, she didn’t want to give up the connection they shared. Like using
training wheels when learning to ride a bike, when he helped her into the wave,
it felt like teamwork, companionship. She wasn’t sure she was ready to go it
alone.

“Not
to worry, I’ll be right here with you. I’ll tell you when to paddle and when to
popup; you just have to do the work. Sweating, toil, and labor are good,
especially when it’s for a good cause. And I would say you, Kira, are definitely
a good cause.” He smiled directly at her, their eyes, with wet lashes meeting,
and smiling faces kissed by the sun. His eyes landed on her lips and hers on
his. She let his bold and honest words settle over her like a blanket, snug and
contented. But a wave, the board, and the invisible threshold of friendship
stopped them.

On
the first try, Kira paddled, but the wave crashed over her. On the second try,
she paddled, tried to get up, but the wave fizzled out beneath her. She sank
off the back of it like an elevator slowly lowering to the ground floor. On the
third try, she got to her feet, but did a backward flop into the water before
she got her footing. Frustrated, Kira made her way out to where Ian waited. He
had so much faith in her, and she failed.

“You
look disappointed,” Ian said.

“It’s
just harder than I thought.”

“Most
good things are,” he said looking over his shoulder at the incoming wave after
the words slipped out of his mouth.“Remember what I said about practice?
Patience? We’ll try again,” he said with a steadiness that reminded Kira of how
far she’d come.

Again,
she couldn’t get to her feet without the push Ian gave her board, thrusting her
into the wave. Ian looked at Kira carefully and intently when she reached him.

“What
I think might be helpful, and correct me if you think I’m wrong, is to let go
of trying to control your experience. Let the waves come to you, catch you, and
pick you up. Just trust the ocean and trust yourself.”

Kira
sunk back into the water letting her head slip under. Ian had a point. His
words cut to the truth. This wasn’t something that she could do perfectly every
time. Her ever-present Type-A mentality set her up for failure. Kira couldn’t
control the ocean or each wave. Perhaps that was the gift the sea offered.
Encouraged, she surfaced and got back on the board.
            “Okay,” she said determinedly angling herself into position. Ian
smiled. Kira closed her eyes. She let the salt air wash through her. She felt
the stiff board beneath her as she lay on her belly, and the wave undulating
beneath it. She borrowed Ian’s grounding, yet fluid presence, steadying her
breath.

Kira
tried and tried again.

She
found a still point in her mind and dropped into it.

She
failed and failed.

Then
with her awareness tucked into the ocean beneath her, she summoned courage and
trust. She paddled, paddled, and popped up. That ride, the one she took without
a push, with Ian’s belief in her ability, trusting that space of peace, made
the burning muscles, tarnished pride, and sweat intermingling with droplets of
water on her forehead worth it.

Kira
whooped loudly as she breezed across the cresting wave. When she deftly hopped
off the board near shore, Ian ran through the water against the current,
clapping and hooting. In her moment of triumph, he lifted her up out of the
water and swung her around, her toes skimming the surface.

“You
did it!”

“I
did it!” Ian set her down, and with her tethered board loose nearby and the
waves breaking around them, they both lost their footing. Kira slipped forward
in the water, still in Ian’s arms, laughing. They splashed into the shallows.
He lay beneath her, his body hardly underwater and their legs in a tangle. Ian
looked at Kira softly, his eyes smiling.

“You
are—” he started to say, but Vanessa’s shouting and flagging arms distracted
Kira.

“I
think someone’s waiting for you.”

He
shook his head and sighed.

“Guess
so.” He emerged onto the sand heavily.

With
the lesson over, Kira practically skipped to the Boardroom as cheery and light
as one of the droplets of water that dripped off her wetsuit. She had surfed.
She’d really done it. She contemplated blowing off work the next day, but with
one more week until her would-be honeymoon vacation, she thought better of it.
She entertained scheduling an entire week of lessons with Ian instead of Paris.

After
Kira had taken off her wetsuit, and all that remained was her itsy-bitsy,
teeny-weeny bikini, Jamie wrapped his arms around her low back and pulled her
hips into his. Lee busied himself with a rack of board shorts and the
soundtrack to a surf video played on the TV in the otherwise quiet shop. Jamie
lowered his lips to Kira’s and they disappeared into the back room.

“What
do you say you and I head back to my place?” he whispered into her ear between
kisses. 

***

As
Kira and Jamie lay in his sandy bed after having steamy sex, she quietly
evaluated him like a scientist who’s discovered a rare specimen. His body
stretched long beside her, with variants of blond and brown hair clinging to
his skin. He dozed lightly, his breath slow and steady. He had one toned arm
around Kira’s waist, and his bent knee rested on her leg. Jamie’s muscular
physique and all-over tan, except for a patch of skin below his bellybutton,
could pass for a bronze statue of museum quality. He had streaks of
sun-bleached blond hair, an alluring accent, perfect teeth, bright blue eyes,
and a propensity for knowing exactly where to touch her: the total package.
Also, his package—she trembled, envisioning their bodies rocking together.

In
an alternate life, perhaps he was a person she would’ve passed Jeremy over for,
had she known men like him existed, and hadn’t jumped at the first one who
offered her the slightest bit of attention.

Jamie
seemed to be attracted to her too, but she also thought Jeremy was making her
unsure whether to trust her judgment. But if she was honest, even early in
their relationship he approached her as if she was a required class in college.
They kissed, but it was so tame compared to Jamie’s leonine advances.

When
Jeremy finished in bed, he quickly took a shower and then went about his
business. There was no warm cuddling, no absentmindedly kissing her belly, no
telling her before, during, and after how hot she was. However, she never knew
any different, she was a late bloomer.

As
Kira and Jamie tossed and turned. He’d called her a “vixen.” He brought things
out in her she didn’t even know existed. It wasn’t the quick and tidy sex that
she and Jeremy had. It was dirty and hot. She giggled. But Jeremy had been with
so many women. Blain used the word fuck, which Kira understood the meaning of
now. She and Jeremy had intercourse, not sex, not fucking, not making love.
When she and Jamie pressed together, it was somewhere between sex and fucking.
It was respectful and consensual, yet wild and juicy.

Jamie
let out a contented sigh and Kira chastised herself for bringing thoughts of
Jeremy into the bed.
Out, out, out,
she silently chanted.

Kira’s
stomach growled betraying hunger. Slowly, Jamie blinked open his sleepy eyes,
they landed on her lips.

“Hungry?”
he asked, sliding his hand across her belly.

“I
think so,” she said laughing.

“I’m
hungry for you, but I guess brunch?”

After
a shower together and round two in the tiled bath, they walked down the street
to a fish and chips shack, ordered, and found a picnic table; it was afternoon
by the time they’d left the house on Dune Road. The sun couldn’t decide whether
or not to stay behind the clusters of clouds.

Jamie
filled Kira in on his childhood in Australia learning to surf with his mates,
riding for Team Australia, traveling the globe competing, lately leading tours,
occasionally judging comps, and always seeking out top breaks.

Kira
tried to act natural out of the bed and in public with him, just as she did
with Ian when they talked on the wall, in the shop, then played and surfed in
the waves. Her experiences in the back room with Jamie and between the sheets
prevented her from feeling completely comfortable being herself.

She
talked a little, but skipped over her failed marriage, which left her feeling
like there wasn’t much else to say. She figured decorating and organizing would
be mind-numbingly boring to someone as cool and adventurous as him. Agency
projects and the suits she wore by the likes of Stella McCartney and Oscar de
la Renta would be equally uninteresting, so what did that leave her with, she
asked herself as she tried to come up with something. Still high from the super
wave she caught earlier, she mentioned her upcoming time off from work.

“What
do you think about a week’s long surfing intensive, lessons with Ian in the
morning and afternoon?”

Jamie
pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. Kira couldn’t avoid thinking about how
sexy he was.

“I
think that’s an idea, but I’ll be gone so that means no time with me
afterward,” he said coyly. “Would you consider say,” he paused dramatically,
letting the last word lengthen across his Australian tongue, “surfing in South
Africa for a couple, with me?”

Kira
nearly choked on her lemonade. Jamie rubbed her leg under the table,
tantalizingly close to the inside of her thigh.

“I
could arrange for there to be room for one more space on the trip.” He smiled
at her. Jamie’s Aussie accent and bold confidence bowled over her self-doubt.

“I’ll
think about it,” Kira said demurely. With a rare flash of excitement, she
promised herself she really would.

Even
though her long anticipated honeymoon ceased to be an option, she hadn’t
cancelled the trip. A week of surf lessons was tempting, but the idea of moping
around the house before and after lacked the same appeal that a trip to Africa
with Jamie did. Suddenly, Kira had options to consider. Choices, unless
bookended by a blueprint, weren’t her forte. She operated best with a single
plan, well laid out, analyzed, and systematized. This sudden bushel of
possibilities threw her off kilter. Jamie’s tempting smile pulled her back to
him.

“Fair
enough, but you have exactly two days to decide. Booking closes Tuesday night,
and we leave next Sunday, a week from today.” He chewed on some ice, Kira
thinking of how easily she melted into him. “Let’s go back to my place now and
I’ll try to convince you.”