Cryonic (25 page)

“Hey, I invited Mom and Gary to dinner tonight. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, that'll be great. Hey, Mom, you mind if I borrow Dad for a bit?”

“Of course, honey. I should probably give Gary a call and let him know it's safe to come home now.”

“Safe? What's that supposed to mean?” Colt asked.

“Nothing,” I said. I gave her a sarcastically dirty look and ushered Colt toward the open door. “Where are you taking me?”

“Come on, it's a surprise.”

“Ooh, I like surprises,” I said, rubbing my hands together in anticipation. We stepped out front and closed the door
behind us. “Hey, come check this out.” I led Colt onto the deck and pointed at a wave that danced across the reef below. “Look how good it is. And there isn't a soul out!”

“That's the thing, Dad. I got off work early because the freaking commandant himself called me. He said that you and the woman you were with are war heroes.”

“War heroes? That's silly. We aren't even soldiers.”

“The president himself is going to give you the Presidential Medal of Freedom.”

“This whole world is off its rocker.” I shook my head. “I guess if it gets you off work it can't be all bad.”

“Ya, that's the thing. The commandant told me I've been reassigned. He says my new job is to make sure you get acclimated and get plenty of R&R. He said nothing is off limits. We can do whatever you want.”

“Cool, where's the nearest strip club?”

“Hardy, har. Just stay here for a second, okay?”

I stayed on the deck, mesmerized by the waves. I don't know how long Colt was gone, but he returned with a surfboard under each arm. Towels and wetsuits were draped across them. I recognized the board under his left arm as my own.

“No, you didn't!” I grabbed it from him and studied it. I remembered every curve and indentation down to the slightest crack in the fiberglass. “Where did you get this?”

“I kept it. You know, to remember you by.”

“That's awesome, son.” I gave him a hug. “So I take it we can go surfing?”

“Nothing's off limits. Here, put this on.” He handed me what looked like a fullsuit, but it was thin and light like a Lycra rash guard.

“You know I don't like rash guards. I'll just trunk it.”

“That's a wetsuit. You're not going to believe how warm it is. You're going to need it, too. I checked the buoys, and there must have been some upwelling because the water is really cold for summer.”

I grabbed a towel, threw it around my waist, and stripped off my clothes. The wetsuit slipped on like a pair of skintight silk pajamas. Colt was right—it was impossibly warm and flexible. We shared a bar of wax, then ran down the street to the beach access. After a quick paddle out to the break, we were taking turns on the rolling, pristine waves the ocean churned out like a machine. Surfing with my son in perfect waves at an empty break where I'd battled crowds most my life was an impossible treat. It was just like that wonderful, fateful day we shared in Mexico, but the flavor was so much sweeter after everything we'd endured to get there.

Colt caught a long wave, and behind it, the ocean went flat as a lake. As I sat on my board alone, waiting for another set to come, I was overcome by my good fortune. Life sure had its ups and downs, but as long as there was life, there was opportunity, and I was going to make the most of what I'd been given.