To the Sea (Follow your Bliss) (12 page)

“This
weekend? Surf lessons?” she said.

“Then
sex?” he asked.

She
whacked him playfully with her bag.

“I’ll
put you on the schedule.”

“Can’t
wait,” Kira said over her shoulder as she skipped across the sand.

Chapter Sixteen

The
wind blew through Kira’s tangled hair as she drove past the beach to the
highway. Exhilarated and exhausted at the same time, she reeled in her newfound
freedom.

When
she exited, she found herself blinking to keep awake, but not from physical
fatigue. Processing what she’d done with Jamie, what she hadn’t done with
Jeremy, drained her. These dark thoughts accompanied her restless quest for
sleep.

The
following day at work, replaying the scene on the beach under the moonlight
electrified her. In the light of day, the late-night rendezvous with the surfer
stud carried a much brighter hue than the doleful doubts that accompanied her
back to Lilac Court.

By
dinnertime she hungered for Jamie. Just one more day she told herself. With
thoughts of surfing again and Ian, another kind of excitement joined the first.
Getting in the water with him cleansed her. It brought renewal and her courage
to try something new uplifted her spirit. For the first time in a long time,
she had someone and something to look forward to.

By
Friday, Kira had answers about the finances. Minus taxes, all the money
belonged to her. She wanted to jump for joy. She wanted to curse at Jeremy. But
it was more complicated than a simple transfer into her account.

Thousands
of dollars and yet, she didn’t feel good about it. With access to the checking
and savings, she fantasized about a shopping spree or fleeing the country and
leaving all her troubles behind. She considered stashing it in a treasure
chest, and burying it in the sand for a hapless sailor to discover, map and
all. She deliberated climbing to the roof of the office building and letting
cash flutter to the city streets like in a movie. She wasn’t sure what to do.
Her mind, already overflowing about two sides of several subjects, didn’t have
room for more. There was Jamie and Ian. There was sex and surfing. It was
Jeremy’s money and it kept her tied to him. As if she was still a puppet on a
string. Kira tucked the thoughts of money away. She let the others, namely
Jamie and surfing, fill her.

When
Kira returned to Lilac Court that night, a letter from her sister waited in the
stack of mail. It read,

Dear
Summer,

Are
you still alive? I’m sorry about the cocksucker. Really I am. We can talk about
the merits of playing for the other team if you’re tired of men. I hope you’re
finding ways to deal, aside from redecorating or reorganizing something. Let
loose. Live a little. Lord knows we are. I’m livin’ the life—chasing after four
kids with the fifth on the way. I’m cruising in a Mercedes, have a custom-built
house in the suburbs, loads of money in the bank from my high paying job… You’d
think I had it all. Oh, wait. That’s you.

But
seriously, despite the fact that Acacia and I share a rusty Subaru, live in a
two bedroom fixer-upper that we can spit from one end to the other in, with
almost seven of us, and there isn’t much more than a couple dusty pennies in
the bank, there’s love in our hearts and food in our bellies, so life isn’t so
bad. That’s enough for me.

So
give me a call, text, or whatever and let me know you’re still breathing. I
know I remind you of mom and dad and all that shit, but I’m your sister and
there’s a piece of you in my heart too.

Look
after yourself and keep happy. Love, Winter

She
also included the usual update on her passel of children and firsts: steps,
teeth, school, and so on. Kira knew Winter embellished a little because they
were quite comfortable in Greenwich, Connecticut. They didn’t live in a mansion
like their neighbors, but she made it sound far worse than the reality of their
cute Victorian. And for all the crap Winter gave her about her finely tuned
home organization skills she had the same ones, or at least similar enough to
be considered by some, in the realm of obsessive compulsive. Kira also knew when
her sister was being sincere, even if in her own way, and she appreciated the
sentiment about being part of Winter’s family.

***

On
Saturday morning, Kira jetted to the beach before first light hoping to join
Ian on the wall. He sat there, his strong shoulders squared to the sea. She
slid into the spot beside him, her pulse quickening.

“Morning,”
he said brightly.

“I
thought I’d find you here,” Kira answered, surprising herself with the words.

“Glad
you did. Eager to get in the water?”

Kira
nodded. Ian went on to point out little nuances about the wind, the waves, and
the marine environment. Before Kira knew it, they waded back in the water. The
sun lit up Kira’s face. She got up on her board, though a bit wobbly.

“Popup,”
Ian called at just the right time when a wave curled behind her.

After
dropping into the groove, she felt as if she was flying.

“You’re
doing great,” Ian said after she paddled back out.

“I’ve
got a good teacher,” Kira answered.

Ian
splashed her then, and she splashed back, giggling. Being in the water was easy
with him; he had a tranquil playfulness about him, but was also gentle and
deep, just like the ocean. After a few more rides, the waves flattened out, and
Kira floated on her belly atop the board. Ian rested his arms and chin on the
front of the board, their faces inches apart.

“So
surfer girl, you can surf. How’s it feel?”

“I
don’t know. Amazing? No, not quite. Exhilarating? Like nothing else?”

“That’s
the truth.”

“But
it’s more than that—” Kira said vaguely recalling how for months she felt like
she was drowning, and now she could ride the waves.

“We
have a word for it. It’s called stoke. You’ve got stoke. You’re stoked. Kira’s
stoked!” he hooted for the world to hear.

Kira
called out, “I’m stoked.” She laughed and smiled. Then Kira’s eyes met Ian’s,
warm and inviting. They leaned toward one another, questioning the value of the
salt air gusting between them. Kira wondered if his lips were salty, what hers
tasted like. Just a breath away, the waves started to pick up again, bringing
in a set. Ian sniffed.

“We
shouldn’t. I’m sorry,” he said. The moment was lost.

With
confusion, Kira thought of Jamie, then worse, Jeremy. She remembered Ian was
working, her teacher. She lined up to catch a wave, letting her thoughts go
with the wind.

Nonetheless,
she was still stoked when she got out of the water, stoked when she returned to
the shop, and super-stoked when Jamie got her alone in the back room again.
Each time their lips touched, she felt breathlessly ravenous for him. Like she
couldn’t get enough, like he’d never fill her up.

“I
want you so bad,” Jamie said, exploring every inch of Kira’s exposed skin with
his lips until Lee hollered, needing assistance in the front.

“Will
you stick around?” Jamie asked.

“I
could grab a coffee and something to eat.”

After
Kira finished her egg and cheese bagel sandwich, she lounged on the splintered
and sea battered back deck off the shop. The sun shone against a nearly
cloudless sky. She closed her eyes and listened to the waves whispering their
ancient stories below. A chair pulled up beside her and opening her eyes, she
expected it to be Jamie, but Ian sat there, his dimpled smile reminding her not
to cross the line beyond friendship. It was in that, that she found strength,
in his reliability, in being able to trust in the simplicity of being a friend,
and not bringing complications into it. 

“Still
stoked?” Ian asked.

“Blissed
out,” Kira said, picking up on the surfer lingo.

“Awesome.
I thought so. You did great; you’ve really come a long way since that first
day—” he looked at her meaningfully, as if he knew, on a soul level, initially
how hard it had been for her to get in the water.

“Thanks.
I couldn’t do it without you,” Kira said, an unexpected longing drawing her
toward Ian, but she pushed against it.

“Will
you be back for another lesson?” he asked.

Before
she could answer, Jamie appeared and pulled up another chair, twisting it
around and sitting on it backwards, his sunglasses hiding his blue eyes.

“Of
course she’s going to be back.” Tossing his sunnies on the table, Jamie winked
at her. Ian noticed and bristled. “I’ll put you on the sched for tomorrow. The
waves’ll be firing in the morning. Building swell. Pretty rad.”

An
awkward pause passed. Kira had compartmentalized her relationship with the two
of them, and therefore the way she acted around each of the guys was different.
She wasn’t sure who to be when both lust and friendship joined her at the
table. Thankfully, the bell to the front door jingled and Jamie stood up, slid
his chair back into place, and confidently strode back into the shop.

 “Oh
here, got this for you, thought you might like it.” Ian handed Kira an
Endless
Summer
DVD. On the front, it bore the iconic image she’d seen on a poster
in the shop with two guys and their surfboards in bold shades of orange,
yellow, and pink. “This is the epitome of stoke.”

“Thanks,”
Kira said. “So, I guess tomorrow then.”

“Looking
forward to it,” he said hesitating and then getting to his feet.

She
didn’t want him to leave, a part of her wanted to sit there and talk, let them
see where a languid day might take them. She turned to call his name, but
Vanessa cut him off by the door, her ponytail bobbing as she talked animatedly.

Kira
lingered, letting the fresh sea air blow away her confusion. When she walked
through the shop to leave, Jamie explained the difference between a single-fin
and tri-fin board to a customer, but broke away when he saw her approaching.

“Busy
today,” he said apologetically. “Tomorrow. I’ll make up for it tomorrow.” He
discreetly tapped her butt and went back to business. A lump formed in her
throat at his choice of words, reminding her of Jeremy, but she let the
excitement that followed it run through her. Once outside, she put her hand to
the phantom impression where his had touched her bum, and once again, warmth
blazed between her legs.

As
Kira traveled down the highway, dingy buildings replaced the grey-white
shingled cottages of the seacoast. The short exchange on the deck with Ian and
Jamie nagged at her. She couldn’t narrow it down to just one thing.
Guilt?
Uncertainty about how to act around both of them at the same time? Sexual
feelings? Emotions? Vanessa?
Money?

Growing
up, money was an off topic; there wasn’t much of it. At least on the surface,
this was by choice in the hippie community. As Kira got older, she knew that
what she wanted from her life wasn’t found cohabitating and living in commune,
which meant sharing everything from her bread and butter to her soap and shower
with a bunch of hairy hippies.

She
set her sights on a career goal, getting serious in thinking about her future.
It was less a result of wanting to achieve a certain economic status, but more
a desire for independence.

The
money from Jeremy would ensure, that at least for now, she could continue to
live comfortably, keep her current job, and afford the mortgage. But it felt
off, like it wasn’t really her money because she wasn’t really Jeremy’s wife.

Later,
sitting in the kitchen with her thoughts on repeat didn’t prove productive, so
Kira went to the basement to retrieve a few boxes leftover from the move to
pack up the items in his home office.

She
spotted a box of her own on the top of a shelf, labeled, “Kira-Photog.” A
welcome glow of nostalgia brought a smile to her lips.

Upstairs
again, she removed her old manual camera. In high school, she worked all summer
on a farm picking fruit and vegetables to save up to buy it second hand. She
put the viewfinder to her eye and adjusted the lens, transporting her back to
her high school years when she’d taken an interest in photography. Kira mostly
took shots for the school newspaper, but also enjoyed the artistic side of it.
Her art teacher even entered several black and white photos she’d taken at
homecoming into a contest, winning her first place.

Once
at Harvard, Kira continued her hobby until she met Jeremy, then it fell away.
It was as if she wasn’t able to see life through that same lens anymore, her
unique lens.

She
set the camera aside and poked through the box at a few prints of friends
snapped laughing, a hemlock iced with snow, and her father, before he fell ill.
Kira slid her finger along his figure, and a tear plopped onto the matte paper.

When
Kira went upstairs to pack up Jeremy’s things, her sobs of loss accompanied
her. All of the items in the office spoke to her of him, the Jeremy she
believed she knew, not the double-timing douche bag Nicole had taken to calling
him. She fitted the remaining pieces of his life into the boxes like a jigsaw
puzzle, one never to be completed. When gathering the last items from his desk,
she gasped when she found a photo of Courtney tucked into files from work.