Sisterchicks Do the Hula (16 page)

Laurie had pulled up her hair in a clip. Her mouth twitched back and forth, and she scanned the papers I handed her to sign.

“It says here they won’t let pregnant women take lessons,” Laurie said, looking up. “Did you see that part of the agreement? How discriminating!”

“Too bad. So sad. Oh well, it’s all up to you, Gidget.”

A half grin started in the corner of Laurie’s face and came over her like a Honolulu sunrise. “Okay,” she said resolutely. “You’re right. Time to go for the wish while I still have some swish. I’m going to do this.”

“Yes, you are! Get out there and show those boys how it’s done.” I realized I sounded like Darren when he launched into one of his coaching jags. “I’m with you all the way, Laurie. I’ll be right here, taking lots of pictures.”

“You better.” She rose to her feet. “Because the plastic surgeon is going to want proof of how my nose got broken in so many places.”

I settled comfortably in my front-row seat and made sure the camera was loaded and ready to go. Laurie had slipped on a pair of swim shorts over the bottom of her bathing suit and was standing by the surf shack, waiting for her private surf instructor to show up.

What would he look like? Would she get the bleached blond “dude” with sand permanently lodged in his brain? Or a huge, weight-lifting island boy who would hoist her onto the surfboard with the ever-popular knee in the back and arm support under the armpits? I secretly wished for the latter.

I’m happy to say I got my wish.

Laurie’s Big Kahuna, her private surf instructor, was as solid as a pillar and had a great, roaring laugh that I could hear from my sheltered position under the beach umbrella.

Laurie’s camera had a fantastic zoom. I could sit back and watch it all. Every so often I’d give the camera a click to capture Laurie trying out her stance on the board while it was still on the sand.

I knew Laurie would take to this sport right away. She had great balance and a skillful determination that I saw in college when she tried skateboarding for a relay event. It really was too bad she hadn’t tried to surf during the two years she and I lived in Santa Barbara. We knew lots of guys at school who surfed, but I guess neither of us was exactly beach-babe material. This trip would change that stigma for Laurie.

She hoisted the sunny yellow surfboard under her arm and followed the instructor and his surfboard down to the water’s edge. That’s when I realized this was my chance to confiscate her film. She kept all the rolls in a zippered pouch that had a special metallic lining. I guessed the lining was to protect the film from the X-ray machines at the airport. All I had to do was snag the pouch, put it in my bag, and the deed would be done.

I put the pouch in my bag and glanced around to make sure no one had seen me take it.
That was too easy
.

Convincing myself that my thievery was for a good cause, the best cause, I returned my attention to the surfing lessons. Laurie’s instructor pointed toward the water and made a rolling motion with his hands. Laurie nodded and turned to give me a lipless grin. I waved.

Timidly, Laurie approached the water. Sliding the board in front of her, she stretched out, tummy first, and daintily adjusted her legs so that her ankles were together. She started to paddle out to where her instructor was patiently floating, straddling his board as comfortably as if he were hanging out at a tailgate party. It almost looked as if he could fit a small hibachi on the end of his surfboard and cook up a few burgers while waiting for Laurie to splish-splash her way out to him.

The distance they had to paddle to reach the waves appeared to be much farther than when we were watching surfers make their way toward the shore. It looked like a lot of work.

As soon as Laurie stopped and repositioned herself on the board, I grabbed the camera again and focused in for a few shots. The instructor was right beside her on his board, showing Laurie in one fluid motion how to stand up. He lowered himself and demonstrated the procedure again. And again.

I felt nervous for Laurie because so many other surfers were out there in the same area, all vying to catch the same,
slow-curling waves. I predicted a traffic jam on the more desirable waves.

Laurie waited until the water was calm enough to try standing up. She made it on her fourth attempt and held her balance in the flat water. I shot a picture of her with her arms out like a scarecrow before she tumbled off the board. She got back on and balanced herself again, ready to stand when the next wave came.

“Look at you! You are about to surf your first wave, you clever girl, you!” I didn’t care if anyone heard me; I couldn’t subdue my cheerleading heart. “Way to go, Laurie!”

The instructor pointed to the rolling wave that was headed toward them. Laurie got into position and stood at just the right moment when the wave crested.

“Come on! You can do it!”

She was up!

I let out a cheer and snapped the memorable moment. Laurie was riding that wave like a pro!

In the close-up of the camera frame, I could see another surfer heading right toward her. He had what looked like a small bundle on the nose of his surfboard. Laurie leaned back slightly with her arms flapping like a marionette in slow motion. The other surfer did some sort of foot maneuver and cut his board sharply to the right just a second before he would have collided with Laurie.

The surfer went into the deep blue, but the hood ornament on his board leaped in the air and landed on the nose of
Laurie’s board. She wobbled like a tightrope walker caught in an earthquake. I zoomed in the camera and couldn’t believe what I saw.

It was a dog! Laurie had a confident-looking Chihuahua sitting front row on her surfboard with its ears pinned back, taking the ocean spray face first.

I started clicking shots like crazy. Awkwardly rising to my feet, I trotted down to the water and tried to focus so I could take a clear picture as Laurie came into shore. I captured a great shot of her face. Her expression was a wild mix of surprise, laughter, and pride. The dog remained stoically indifferent to the identity of its driver. He was in it for the thrill and apparently knew when to jump one ship and catch a ride with the nearest vessel heading to shore.

I waved and called out to Laurie. “You did it!” I don’t know if she heard me because she was in the process of falling off into the shallow water. Her instructor was right behind her, laughing deeply. The dog was still sitting on the surfboard.

I could hear Laurie talking since they were only a few yards away. “What do I do with this little guy? Can he swim?”

“I’ll take ’im. Come ’ere, Moku. He surprised you, big time, eh?”

“I didn’t see where he came from.”

“Dis is Moku. He’s a big-time surfer like Duke Kahanamoku. He likes to take a ride any time he can get it.” The instructor scooped up the wet little dog and planted him on the front of his surfboard. “You ready for another one?”

“Are you talking to me or to Moku?”

“Both.”

“Sure, I’m ready.” Laurie turned and waved to me. The smile on her face was a sunbeam machine, shooting out happy particles in every direction. She tossed me a big kiss and got back on her board in the forward paddle position.

“You go, Gidget!” I yelled at the top of my voice. I couldn’t wait to get this roll of film developed. I clicked shots like crazy, planning to use up the roll.

Laurie caught two more waves. Neither of them brought her as close to shore or turned out as memorable as the first one. I stood and applauded, as she wearily lugged her surfboard back to the surf shack.

“Wait! One more picture,” I called out. She stood in the hot sand, dripping wet, with that triumphant smile on her face and the yellow surfboard under her arm. “Look at you, surfer girl! You did it! Way to go!”

Laurie gave me a dazzling smile before tromping through the sand to return the board. Dripping and gleaming, she returned to her towel and caught her breath.

“You did it! What a little Gidget you are.”

“Did you see me, Hope? I surfed!”

“I know. I got it all on film. Even the hitchhiker.”

Laurie breathed out a giggle. “I couldn’t believe it when that little dog jumped on the board!”

“I couldn’t believe you kept your balance.”

“It’s much harder than it looks.”

“You did great, Laurie.”

“My arms are so sore.”

“I noticed you went for the half-hour lesson instead of the hour.”

“It was a good thing, too. I wouldn’t have lasted an hour. Getting out to the waves is hard work. I’m exhausted.”

“But you did it, Laurie! You went surfing. In Hawai’i. I’m so proud of you.”

Laurie laughed. “Yes, I did, didn’t I? Oh, wow.” She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and lay on her back, with her beaming face turned toward the late afternoon sun. Her smile had not yet diminished. “Thank you, Hope,” she murmured on her slow float to dreamland.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“You’re the one who made it happen. I wouldn’t have tried surfing if you hadn’t talked me into it.”

“Well, thanks goes to you, too. Neither of us would be sitting here on the beach at Waikiki if you hadn’t talked me into it all those years ago.”

Laurie reached over to where I sat in my low beach chair and gave my ankle a squeeze. “I don’t know where I’d be if it weren’t for you.”

“I feel the same way.” I drew in the salty tang of the sea air. A fresh breeze came skittering off the waves and went to work as a tireless weaver, pulling invisible threads from my heart to Laurie’s and back to mine, knitting us together, closer than ever.

“Hey, before you fall asleep,” I said. “Can you tell me how to take the film out of the camera? I used up the whole roll.”

Laurie leaned over, and with a few snaps, she had the film out. Then she opened her straw bag in search of a replacement roll.

“Hope, where’s the pouch with the film?”

Busted.

I
handed Laurie the pouch and watched a look of relief come over her face. My mistake had been in removing the entire pouch. I should have just removed the used film. She had so many rolls, a few wouldn’t have been so easily missed. Next opportunity, I knew what to do.

As Laurie fell into a sleep of sweet contentment, I watched the surfers and thought about how I really wished I could have tried surfing with Laurie. My husband and sons would have been so proud of me. I would have been proud of me.

Oh, well, little Emilee and I would have to find something else that the two of us could do that didn’t require extra insurance coverage. Perhaps the contentment season I was entering meant I should be satisfied with sitting back and watching my “older” friend while she did all the swimming with the dolphins. Or at least with the Chihuahuas.

I reached into my bag for the book about Juliette Cooke
that I’d bought at the Mission Houses Museum. At least I could comfort myself with some soothing history of the Victorian era. I flipped open to one of Juliette’s journal entries near the back.

I grinned. Not only did this woman serve tea to Hawaiian royalty and teach their children to read and write music, but also, just like me, she had another baby later in life.

A following journal entry caught my eye because the word
Waikiki
was listed next to the date. I wondered how different this beach I was sitting on had been when Juliette made the entry on October 10, 1860.

I read a bit more and learned that Juliette’s baby had been a ten-pounder. Then I leaned back, letting the information sink
in. Juliette had bobbed in the waves on this very same beach almost 150 years ago. She apparently didn’t let life happen to everyone else while she sat back and watched.

That’s when I realized I couldn’t wait another minute. If that New England missionary woman could have a baby at the age of forty-four and go swimming in the Pacific at the age of forty-eight, what was I doing sitting in this beach chair? I was only thirty-nine!

With a strong-armed push, I stood, flipped off my sunglasses, kicked off my sandals, and set my face toward the deep blue sea. “Laurie?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going in the water.”

“Okay, have fun,” she murmured.

“I will.”

With my chin high, I sallied forth into the ageless Pacific. I didn’t stall or take the water inch-by-inch to acclimate myself. I stepped right into the shimmering blue until it was up to my thighs, and then I dove under.

Oh, the sensation of coming up, covered in glittering drops of warm salt water with all the tiny liquid diamonds forming rainbows on my eyelashes. Being careful to find an area where the surfers weren’t charging toward the shore, I hauled my little Emilee out to sea, where we kicked and floated and splashed around with abandon. Several times I heard myself laughing aloud.