Love, Lucas (10 page)

They’re all liars. It’s freezing cold, just like the first time I touched the water. But that was only with my feet. Now that there’s more of me in it, it’s like standing butt naked in the snow cold. Not that I have any experience doing that, but I’m sure someone has and that they’d be just as cold.

We shuffle through the water and we’re about up to our waists when I start to feel nervous. I hesitate going any farther, and he notices.

“You okay starting from here?” he asks.

“Are the waves big enough?” Just as the words leave my mouth, a wave breaks about a foot from me. It pushes me toward the beach and I struggle to keep my arms moving and make myself go forward. Carson just laughs. He’s standing about chest deep and looks totally relaxed.

“We’re good right here.” He rubs his hands together. “Okay. Before we start, there’s something called surfing etiquette that I need to teach you. Number one. The surfer closest to the peak of the wave gets to go first. We don’t have to worry about it out here really, since most of the surfers are farther out, but when you get good enough, you have to remember that. You can’t just hop on any wave you want.”

I’m lost. “Peak?”

He grins. “When the white water starts falling from the wave.”

“Oh. Right.” Like white mountain peaks. Makes sense.

“Second. When someone’s riding a wave, you can’t just drop in front of them and cut them off. It makes for really angry surfers.”

Like I’d even try something like that. I won’t be able to drop in on anything. “Okay.”

“Third. When you’re paddling out here and someone is riding a wave, wait for them to pass before you paddle out farther so they don’t run you over.”

“Got it.”

“Hang onto your board. If there’s a huge wave while you’re paddling out that you want to avoid, don’t throw your board to avoid it.”

“Why would I throw my board?”

He stares at me for a second before grinning. “Some people do because they panic. I can teach you the rest later. Now turn around and let’s get started.”

I’m nervous, but manage to turn myself around and feel Carson grab my board. “I’m gonna push you the first few times until you’re used to it.”

“Okay,” I say.

“Here comes a good one. Get ready.”

I’m ready. At least I tell myself I am. I brace myself, memorizing the blue line in the middle of my board. My feet are supposed to go there. Right? Don’t stand up too fast. Don’t lean back too far. Everything jumbles together as I feel the wave push me forward. Before I can even think of getting to my feet, I fly off the side of my board.

A blast of cold hits me in the face and I get a mouthful of salt water. I struggle to the surface and feel my feet touch the bottom. I’m standing now, but coughing up water and cursing myself for thinking I could do it the first time.

My board is floating next to me, still attached to my ankle, as Carson wades over and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes. Wasn’t expecting the wave to go so fast.”

He chuckles and grabs onto my arm to lift me up and over the water as another wave passes by. “Climb back on. Let’s try it again.”

I wipe the water from my face and get back on. I’m lying flat again and, as soon as I see the next wave coming, Carson shoves my board ahead of it. I push my upper body up, put my right foot forward, and crash headfirst into the water. The wave slams me to the bottom but I manage to figure out which way is up and pop my head out of the water a few seconds later. My eyes burn, but at least I kept my mouth closed this time.

I glance at Carson, who’s wading toward me. He’s so patient. If I were the teacher, I’d probably tell my student to find a new hobby.

We spend hours in the water. My fingers look like raisins and my arms and legs protest every time I move. I’m about done but don’t want to admit it. If I can get up once, just once, I’ll feel like I accomplished something today. I can prove to myself that I can learn something new. I can make Lucas proud.

Carson is as patient as ever. He’s encouraging and doesn’t look bored at all. I’m sure he is, though. He’s been watching me wipe out all morning. I paddle back to where he’s standing and we wait for another wave. If I don’t get up this time, I’m done.

I wait for it, see the peak, and push myself to my feet as it comes down. It all happens so fast. One second, I’m shaky and wobbly, and the next second, my arms are out and I’m steady as can be. I’m surfing. Actually surfing! I stand up straight, turn back to look at Carson, and he’s clapping and shouting something. I let out a whoop and pump my fists in the air.

That’s when I lose my balance and fall. Of course.

The wave brought me almost all the way to the beach, so I jump to my feet and wave Carson in. I’m exhausted, but so excited. I actually got up on a wave. Even if it was only for a second, it was so worth it.

My body is too tired to do anything else, so I unhook my surfboard leash and push my board onto the dry sand.

Once Carson’s close enough, he runs over and wraps his arms around my waist. He swings me around and I laugh. “You did it!” he yells.

“I know! It was so awesome!” He sets me back on the ground. “Did you see me fall? I’m surprised I didn’t swallow a bunch of water again. I closed my mouth just in time.”

“Swallowing salt water’s the worst. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“It’s disgusting.”

He chuckles and takes a step closer, his hand still on my waist. He searches my face for a moment and gives me a shy smile.

I tuck my wet hair behind my ear. “Thank you . . . for not laughing at me all day.”

He steps back and folds his arms. “I’ve seen worse surfers than you, I promise.”

“Probably little kids, right?”

He grins. “Maybe.” We walk over to our towels to dry off. I sit down and set my board next to me. The sun feels good on my skin. Well, my face I guess, since everything else is covered by a wet suit.

He crouches down and runs his fingers across the middle of my board. “We need to get you some Sex Wax.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

He raises an eyebrow before chuckling. “It’s wax for surfboards. You put it on the deck or the top of the surfboard so your feet get a little more traction. I put some on your board this morning, but we should probably get you your own since you’re gonna be out here a bunch. We have all sorts of flavors at the shop. You can swing by and pick a few out.”

“Okay. So . . . why do they call it Sex Wax? That’s . . . interesting?”

He shrugs. “Just a brand name.”

“Oh.”

Carson looks at a watch on his wrist and curses. “I’ve gotta get to work.” He unzips the top of his wet suit and rolls it down around his waist. I’m trying hard not to stare, like last time, but it’s hard. He looks good.
Really
good. “What are you doing later?”

I pretend to be interested in the sand on my feet and shrug. “Not sure. Probably sleeping. I’m so tired.”

“I’m sure you are. You did great, by the way.”

“I need a lot of practice.”

“Everyone does. You’ll get it. I bet by the time the summer rolls around, you’ll be a natural.”

“Isn’t a natural someone who actually does it perfect the first time?”

“Eh. Doesn’t happen. Besides me.”

I laugh and bury my feet deeper in the sand.

He glances at his watch again. “I’ve gotta go. My dad will kill me if I’m late.” He stands and grabs his board, which is still in the same spot he left it. I’m surprised no one stole it. He’s either really trustworthy or a lot of people know him and leave his stuff alone.

“Thanks for the lesson,” I say.

“Anytime. Let me know when my first guitar lesson is.” He smiles and heads toward his house.

My body hurts. I really don’t want to walk back to Jo’s house. Maybe I’ll just take a nap on the beach instead.

Then I remember what I’m wearing. People will probably mistake me for a dead sea lion or something.

I pick up my board and towel and head back home.

When I open the front door, a voice greets me. “Did you have fun?”

I glance at Mom sitting at the counter. Her hands are wrapped around a coffee mug and she looks tired. “Yes. I got up on a wave, so I sort of know how to surf now.”

“Good. I’m glad you had a good time.”

I hesitate, but ask anyway. “Are you okay, Mom?”

She smiles. “I’m fine, honey. Just tired.”

“You sure?”

She nods.

“Where were you yesterday? Jo said you went out but she didn’t know where you went. I was . . . worried about you.” It’s hard to admit that last part, but it’s true. I am worried about her.

“I just had to clear my head. I’m fine.”

“Oh.” I want her to say more. Explain to me why she had to clear her head. Because of Lucas? Dad? We stare at each other a moment before I clear my throat. “Um . . . I guess I’m gonna go change.” She’s acting weird. She never just sits around the house doing nothing. I know she hasn’t showered and she’s still in her robe from this morning.

“Oakley,” she says.

“Mom?”

She searches my face for a moment before looking back at the mug in her hands. “Never mind.”

Confused, I leave her alone. I’m not sure what to say to her anyway.

CHAPTER 9

DEAR OAKLEY,

HAVE I EVER TOLD YOU THAT HOSPITAL FOOD TASTES LIKE CRAP? NOT THAT I’VE ACTUALLY TASTED CRAP, BUT IF I HAD A CHOICE TO EAT EITHER, I’M SURE IT WOULD TASTE THE SAME. I’M SO READY FOR SOME HOMEMADE TURKEY NOODLE SOUP. OR MOM’S LASAGNA. YUM.

REMEMBER HOW MOM WOULD CUT OUR SANDWICHES IN TRIANGLES WHEN WE WERE LITTLE? OUR FRIENDS THOUGHT SHE WAS THE COOLEST MOM EVER. AND SHE WAS. MY FRIENDS LOVED COMING OVER TO HANG OUT BECAUSE SHE’D ALWAYS MAKE US SOME KIND OF TREAT.

IT’S KIND OF SAD. SHE’S CHANGED A LOT. IT’S MY FAULT. IF I WOULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN SICK, SHE’D BE THE SAME AS SHE USED TO BE. HAPPY. SHE DOESN’T SMILE MUCH ANYMORE. I KNOW IT’S BECAUSE OF ME. I DIDN’T MEAN TO MAKE EVERYONE SAD.

WHEN I’M GONE, TRY TO MAKE HER SMILE AGAIN. DAD, TOO. I’M SORRY THEY HAVEN’T BEEN THERE FOR YOU. I’M NOT MEANING TO TAKE ALL THE ATTENTION. PLEASE DON’T BLAME THEM FOR IT OR BE TOO HARD ON THEM. THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH A LOT, TOO.

ANYWAY. EAT SOME LASAGNA FOR ME. AND SCONES. SCONES AND HONEY BUTTER ARE MY FAVORITE. BUT OF COURSE YOU KNOW THAT.

LOVE, LUCAS

I let out the breath I’m holding as I set the notebook down and sit on the edge of my bed. I stare at the floor. Don’t be too hard on Mom and Dad, he says. It’s hard not to be. I understand they’ve gone through a lot but at least they have each other. Or
had
each other. Lucas was the one person I had and now I have no one.

The nights Mom and Dad fought come back full force. Lucas taking me outside when we were ten and twelve, trying to shelter me from the reality of our lives. My parents didn’t always fight. When we were younger, they were happy. We were all rather close. But as we got older, Mom and Dad cared about their careers more than each other, it seemed, and it built a wedge between them. And us.

They weren’t bad parents. I know they loved us. But we weren’t “close” like some families I know. “Close,” to them, was living in the same house together and talking for a bit each day, but not supporting us in our hobbies and things. Not really
knowing
us, I guess. But while my parents weren’t there, Lucas always was. He helped me with my homework all through middle school, came to all of my swim meets when I was a sophomore and a junior. Made me dinner half the time, since I’m a terrible cook and Mom and Dad were always home too late. He was the one who comforted me when he got diagnosed and my parents freaked out and shut down. He was always there for me. It didn’t matter what it was. He was always there.

Was.

I shake my head. I don’t want to think about that right now. Instead, I lie back on my bed and look up at the ceiling.

My cell rings on the nightstand and I lean over to see who it is.

Dad. He hasn’t talked to me since I got here. I’m sure he’s been busy but he could have at least called to see how I was doing. Or I guess I could have called him too. I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, pumpkin. How’s it going?”

I smile at the word
pumpkin
. He’s called me that since I was a little kid. “Hi, Dad. I’m good.”

“You adjusting to Jo’s house?”

“Yep. It’s nice here.” It takes me a minute to think of the right word. “Relaxing.”

“Good. I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I’ve talked to your mother a few times, but not you.”

“Thanks. I was wondering when you’d call.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation but he continues. “They put up Lucas’s headstone today.”

I can’t say anything because of the sudden lump in my throat.

“It looks nice. There’s a basketball on it and a car. He loved working on his car.”

“I know. His stupid, crappy car. I don’t know why he loved that thing so much.” My lip trembles and I fight to keep myself together. I clear my throat and blink, forcing the moisture in my eyes away. “I’m glad it looks good. Can you text me a picture?”

“Sure.” He’s quiet. “I think about him every day. I visit his grave after work. There are still a lot of flowers there. It looks nice.”

As nice as a grave could look. “Thank you for visiting him, Daddy.” I sniff. “I miss you.” It’s true. Even though we have our days, Dad has always been around. It’s weird not having him here with us.

“I miss you too.”

“Are you gonna come visit?” I have a sinking feeling that he won’t be coming any time soon. If at all. But I have to ask.

“I’m not sure. Your mother and I . . . I’ll talk to her. I’d love to come see you. It just depends on work.”

Of course it does. “Well, I hope you can come before the spring’s over. I can teach you how to surf.”

“Really?”

“No. But I sort of learned how to stay up for five seconds yesterday. It was fun.”

“I’d love to see that.”

I smile. He could see it if he’d stop being so stubborn and just hop on a plane.

“Well, I’ll talk to you later. I have some things I need to take care of. I love you, pumpkin. Call me anytime you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”