To the Sea (Follow your Bliss) (8 page)

Once
back in the hall, they both slouched against the wood paneled wall,
decompressing. Then with a big grin, Alice turned to Kira. “Yoga?” she asked.

“Yoga.”
Kira agreed.

Amber
highlighted the class with the theme of overcoming obstacles and transformation
as they did a series of hip openers and twists. Kira couldn’t help but be
impressed by how skillfully she wove big ideas into her instruction. It seemed
like each class topic applied directly to her. She discussed how water
overcomes obstacles by finding the path of least resistance.

Amber
said, “The path may still be difficult, a path of least resistance is not to be
confused with an easy go of it, though sometimes it may be effortless. Just
remember water will always find a way: through, around, up, or down. In our
lives, we meet resistance. Obstacles. Difficulties. But if we’re open, we’ll
find a way. There’s always a way.” She went on to discuss how water also has
transformative properties all the while guiding the students fluidly from
floor, to upright, to deep lunges, back and forth, up and down.

Kira
absorbed her words as she relaxed into Savasana. At first, she floated in and
out on the cushion of her breath, then she felt like she was sailing, moving
swiftly through water. The warm sun shone on her face making her feel fearless
and full. She longed to carry this feeling off the mat, but in a blink, it
disappeared.

Chapter
Twelve

Kira
took her time in evening commute traffic, not in a rush to return to the big,
empty house on Lilac Court.

She
grabbed a stack of mail, which she’d neglected all week and tossed it on the
kitchen counter. Standing in the hall, in a place of limbo, halfway to the
kitchen, halfway to the living room, Kira felt unanchored, torn between two
tides—the past and the future.

She
glimpsed the Mercedes in the driveway and on the roof, the long narrow
surfboard. It lit up brightly like a beacon in the moonlight. Surf.

Kira
scrambled outside to the car where she’d left the laptop that she promised
herself to replace on the weekend. Even from the driveway, she picked up the
house’s central Wi-Fi. She searched surf shops.

“Ah
ha. The Boardroom.” She laughed at the play on words having spent a fair amount
of time in a boardroom all week. She scrolled through until she found lessons
and rentals.

With
just a few clicks, she signed up for a morning lesson, feeling electric with
anxiety and excitement while filling in the requested information. She’d been
used to entering her hyphenated name, but Speranza-Annandale sounded clunky,
like something that didn’t belong to her. She was Kira Speranza again. There
was a drop down menu to select a preferred instructor if available. She looked
for Ian, the surfer from the wall, the surfer who guided her to the water.
Amidst a roster of names, there was Ian Ingram.
Click.

Normal
sleeping habits still hadn’t returned. Kira tossed until what she now
considered a somewhat reasonable hour of four-thirty. She took a leisurely
shower, which halfway through realized was silly, because she’d get wet later
that morning. Then through the murkiness of sleep deprivation that messed with
her head, she realized she was going to get wet, in the ocean. A toe in would
not suffice. She tried to talk herself out of the plan. She had bills and mail
to go through, a computer to replace, a house to clean.

When
she left the confines of the shower and dried off, remaining in the house all
day seemed emotionally dangerous. There was a greater likelihood of her
drowning within those empty rooms than in the ocean.

As
she boldly drove toward the shore for her eight-thirty lesson, she watched the
sun begin to rise, casting a coral glow across the surface of transient clouds.
Not until these excursions to the beach, did she fully appreciated the sunrise.
A new day. Possibilities. She had to give herself permission to live even if
that meant living through loss. She held tightly to the hope that there was
something on the other side of grief.

Early
for the lesson, Kira pulled into her usual spot. She spotted the brown-haired
surfer in his black wetsuit, Ian already seated on the wall. He glanced in her
direction, gave her a wave, and sauntered up to the passenger window.

“You’re
back.” He studied her for a moment. “You look different.” She brought her
fingers to what she was sure were dark circles under her eyes. “Lighter,” he
added. “But I don’t mean pale.” A grin hitched its way up the corners of his
mouth revealing his hidden dimples. “Did you just come back from a vacation?”

“Something
like that.”

“Are
you getting in the water today?”

Kira
looked at the waves, mellower than other days, but still the wild, churning
sea. “Actually, yes.”

Ian
raised his eyebrows. “Sweet.”

“I
have a surfing lesson scheduled for eight-thirty.” An unfamiliar wavering in
her stomach told her not to reveal that she’d selected him for her instructor,
if he was available.

“Excellent.
First time?”

Kira
nodded.

“You’ll
love it.” He gazed out to the shore. “It’s always a good idea to watch the
waves before you go out. Get a sense of what kind of mood the ocean’s in.” A
couple surfers pulled up in a rusty Chevy on the other side of the Mercedes.

“Bro,”
one called. “Suited up. Gonna throw some buckets?” He laughed. “Come on, I’m
frothin’. Dude.”

Ian
nodded as they quickly took their boards off the roof of the car.

“Hey,
have fun,” he said to Kira, tapping the edge of the door. Then, he trotted
across the sand, joining the other guys, glancing back at Kira and flashing his
irresistible smile.

Kira
replaced Ian’s spot on the wall and watched. The surfers paused and strapped
something around their ankles. Without hesitating, they plunged into the frigid
water. She tried to pick Ian out of the crowd that had assembled out past the
breaking waves, but they appeared like little dots bobbing in the water. She
watched as the figures paddled, got to their feet, and rode along the breaking
waves. A good number fell off their boards, and then the churning foam slapped
them around. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to be one of them.

Kira
steadied herself as she wavered between thoughts of
Oh my goodness what have
I agreed to do?
To,
I can do this. I can live.
She took a deep
breath.

The
sun warmed her shoulders when she took her shoes off and put her feet in the
sand. She told herself that baby steps were better than none at all. One foot
in front of the other. She encouraged herself forward as she made her way to
the water’s edge. The waves danced around her feet. She looked at her toes
through the trickling water. The path of least resistance. The water flowed up
around her ankles. She stood firm. The sand bolstered her feet. She became the
water’s obstacle. It wasn’t hers. A surfer glided toward her on a wave. As he
came into focus, it was Ian, his face relaxed, looking completely at one with
one with the ocean.

Once
on shore, he snapped up his board. “Made it in this far, eh?” He teased, and
then shook his head, spraying beads of water off in all directions.

Kira
flinched, but his smile pierced any hint of annoyance. Side by side, they stood
facing the ocean.

“Beautiful
day,” he said. “Hey, look there’s Brody, did you see that cutback. Not easy to
do on this mush. Ack. He bailed.”

Kira
looked at him blankly.

“The
wind’s changing, making the waves choppy. It should let up in a bit. So your
lesson?”

Kira
nodded. “At 8:30.”

“The
Boardroom?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“I
just so happen to be heading there right now.”

They
walked along the shoreline. Something beneath Kira’s skin tingled. She was
nervous about the water, but walking with Ian brought up an unfamiliar kind of
excitement, almost an eagerness to hear him talk, for his eyes to land on hers.
They headed inland to a battered wooden building with a sign made of driftwood
painted in wavy letters that spelled out,
Boardroom
. Arranged outside
stood a rack of surfboards, marked-down clothing, and other beach accessories.

Inside
the shop, crammed from floor to ceiling was surf gear, clothes, sunglasses,
beach towels, and flip-flops. Toward the back, a counter, piled high with baked
goods and coffee, ran the length of the shop. The aroma of coffee mixed with
coconut carried Kira back to that morning she first met Ian. Beyond that,
tables and a large deck provided a panoramic ocean view.

Ian
motioned Kira over to a display case, topped with a cash register, computer,
and brochures. A guy in his mid-twenties, with brown hair overlaid with
bleach-y streaks that reached just beneath his ears, typed on the laptop.

“Ian,”
he said looking up and speaking in a booming Australian accent.

“Jamie,
you’re here. Andy didn’t mention anything.”

“My
stoke is up and I’ll be gracing you with my presence for the next couple weeks
then I’m off and running again. Live free and surf, bro.”

“Nice,”
Ian said, lacking enthusiasm. Jamie bent over to pick up a pen that rolled off
the counter. The sunglasses perched on top of his head rattled to the floor by
Kira’s feet.

“Oops,”
Jamie said. They both reached for them and softly knocked heads. Jamie grinned
at Kira. Something about the slant of his lips made her unsure where to look
and her cheeks flushed.

Where
to this time?” Ian asked.

“South
Africa.”

“Sweet,”
he said.

Kira
detected his comment was less sweet than the baking cinnamon rolls she smelled
wafting from the café in the back. She sensed a hint of tension between the two
of them.

This
is Kira; she has an eight-thirty lesson,” Ian said.

She
smiled, surprised that Ian remembered her name.

“First
one of the day. Make hay while the sun shines, they say. Your lesson will be
with—” Jamie looked at the laptop screen. “Perfect. Looks like Ian’s taking you
out,” Jamie said pointing.

After
Kira paid, Jamie pointed to the backroom. “Ian’ll get you suited up.”

“Thanks,”
she said, feeling Jamie’s eyes lingering on her.

Kira
poked her head through the double doors. She noted the muscular angles of Ian’s
bare back as he riffled through a box and then stacked a few. He turned when
she entered.

“Ready?”

“As
I’ll ever be.”

“First
a suit. Let’s see—” With his warm brown eyes, he looked Kira up and down. She
suddenly felt naked, but like she wanted to tear off her polar fleece and
jeans. Her cheeks grew warm. Underneath, she wore the bikini she got from Saks
with Nicole. Despite its impracticality, it was the only one not packed away
with her summer clothes.

Ian
pulled a stiff neoprene wetsuit off a loaded rack, and he held it up in front
of her. “This one should fit. Um, we don’t have a changing room or anything.
Usually we just change behind the rack, so—”

Kira
carefully stepped over a basket of water bottles bearing the Boardroom logo
along with other display items. Ian returned to looking for something in the
mess of boxes while she got undressed then redressed in the sticky and tight
wetsuit.

“How’s
it?” he called over his shoulder.

“Tight.”
She stepped out from behind the rack of suits and gathered up her things.

“Just
how it’s supposed to. Looks great,” he said smiling broadly.

“Um,
the zipper?” Kira said feeling a draft on her back.

“Right.”
He reached down for what she hadn’t noticed was a long ribbon-like tether
attached to the end of the zipper. She was acutely aware of his steadying hand
resting on her shoulder as he pulled it up, realizing she could have done it
herself. 

“Thanks.”

“Surfer
girl,” Ian said, his cheeks dimpling with a smile.

“That
we have yet to see,” Kira said. 

She
left her clothing with his in a small locker even further into the packed back
room. Kira dodged boxes, boards, and cases of lemonade and iced tea.

“The
owner, Andy, keeps talking about expanding, but it’s hard with zoning laws here
by the ocean,” he said by way of excusing the jumble.

Without
thinking Kira said, “What they could really use is a good organizational
system. It would create more usable space and—” She paused realizing this might
sound rude. Clutter made her claustrophobic. Like she wanted to throw open the
windows, tuck her hair behind her ears, and make a home for each item. “I mean,
that might just be helpful,” she said to excuse her blunder.

Ian
just shrugged. “Shelving,” he said added.

“Exactly,”
Kira said a little too enthusiastically.

Back
in the shop, Jamie whistled. “Lookin’ good.”

Kira
caught Ian grimace. Meanwhile, her cheeks flushed pink again. Ian kept walking
so she followed. Once back outside, he selected a surfboard that would have
easily stood up in the nine-foot ceilings in Kira’s house.

“We
won’t start you out on that charger on top of your Mercedes. I’m guessing it
isn’t yours. Where’d you get it anyway? Did it belong to your brother or an old
boyfriend?”

Sadness
cracked its way through her foundation.

“I’m
sorry, did I say something—” He lightly touched Kira’s arm.

She
wanted his fingers to wrap around her, his strong arms to pull her into him,
just to feel his firmness, his strength, and solidity. She imagined the gusts
of wind ruffling her hair would never be able to knock him around, but she let
it brush away the trembling in her jaw, along with the fire in her throat that
rose up at the thought of Jeremy. However, she allowed the warmth in her chest,
the result of Ian, so close, to remain.

“No.
I, um, I noticed the shop buys used boards. I was thinking I’d sell it,” Kira
said quickly.

“Brand
new beauty like that, un-waxed, you’ll get a fair price. You can talk to Jamie
when we get back in. I guess Andy is away for the week with his girlfriend.” He
shrugged. “I suppose they’re surfing down in Mexico and got Jamie to cover for
him,” Ian said with an irritated sigh. He shook it off as they neared the
water.