“Yeah, I guess.”
I’ve lived my entire life in Southern California. I was born and raised in the small coastal town of Isla Azul parked about an hour up the shoreline from Malibu. Katy and I have lived next door to each other since we were born. I’ve been going to college at Santa Barbara twenty minutes to the north, and when I graduated high school I went with Katy and three other girls to Mexico to celebrate. It was the farthest from home I’ve ever been.
That will change tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll get on a plane that will take me over halfway across the country to Boston, Massachusetts where I’ll study music at the New England Conservatory. It’s a huge deal. It made the front page of Isla Azul’s tiny little paper. My dad framed it and hung it on the wall so we could see it every day. So I could be reminded of where I was going.
Of the ticking clock running out on the life I’ve always known.
“We should stay then,” Katy tells me decidedly. She lays back down on her towel next me, fanning her long brown hair out above her head. “We’ll soak up the last of the sun. Send your butt to Boston looking tan and hot. Give those pasty white east coast girls something to be jealous of. Show ‘em what a real true California blond looks like.”
I smile, but I don’t respond. I close my eyes, listen to the sound of the waves, embrace the burn of the sun, and I reach out my hand until it brushes against hers. Until she lifts her pinky, wraps it around mine, and I lock them together tightly.
It’s another ten minutes before I can’t take the heat anymore. The sun is going down but the summer is just getting started, just heating up, and that warmth is embedded in my skin. It’s getting dark but there’s enough light for one last swim. One last kiss of the crisp ocean cool before I say goodbye to it for an entire year.
Katy stays on shore, opting to go mingle with the surfers and scope out who’s here. I know who she’s looking for. They do too, and even though she’s not going to find him or get any information about him, they welcome her with open arms. As I walk down to the water I see Baker hug her firmly, draping his arm over her shoulder while holding a beer loosely by the neck in his other hand. The other guys offer her a beer, nod in greeting, but I frown when I realize someone is missing. Just as much as Lawson Daniel’s presence stands out, his absence does as well.
It shouldn’t surprise me to find him out in the water. He’s nothing but a dot on the darkening horizon, bobbing on his board with his legs dangling in the water, but I know what he looks like. Every girl in a hundred mile radius knows what Lawson looks like.
Sex and sun.
Golden brown hair and sea green eyes.
Sly smiles and broken hearts.
I’ve known him as long as I’ve known Katy and I’m more proud of the fact that I’ve never tangled with him than the fact that I got into the NEC. I’m in the minority in both respects. Exceptional. Smart. Skilled.
Alone.
There’s no one else in the surf when I step inside the waves. The white foam curls up frothing and eager over my feet, and I sigh as my body instantly starts to cool from the touch. Everyone else has gone up to the shore to find beer and food and other bodies. Everyone but Lawson and me. As I wade into the water I watch him sit patiently, waiting for the next big wave. The last one of the night. But unlike me, I know he’ll do this again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. He and that board are as constant as the tide, as sure as the sun, and I envy him that. I wish more than anything I could have one more day. One last summer.
When I’m in far enough I dive down. I face a wave head on and I slip expertly beneath it, kicking hard to go farther and deeper. My skin aches with a burn I won’t see until the morning when I’m getting ready to get on the plane. My flight will leave LAX before dawn and I bite down hard on a sob that tries to escape my throat as I realize I’ve seen the last of the California sun for an entire year. I won’t come back at Christmas or Thanksgiving. My family can’t afford it. Once I’m in Boston I’ll be locked in. No room for doubts or reservations. No retreat.
I kick toward the surface, my lungs screaming for air, but once I give them what they want I go under again. Then again. It’s not until I come up that third time that I realize I’ve gone farther out than I planned.
A wave crashes into my face, sending me down again, but I don’t panic. I’ve been swimming this ocean since I was a toddler. I can handle it. I can take a wave to the face or a long swim back to shore. The key is to stay calm.