by Mari Madison
twenty-two
ASHER
Piper’s mother was good to her word and three days later she was still residing at Safe Harbor. I’d called my buddy there last night to check in on her, and he told me she was actually already through a good portion of her detox, though she still had a long way to go. He told me she’d been in terrible shape when she’d come in and I’d most likely saved her life by getting her in when I had. I considered telling Piper that, but I didn’t want to freak her out too badly. She was already suffering so much—as people did when their loved ones engaged in substance abuse—and I didn’t want to add insult to injury. I still remembered all the apologies I’d had to make to various friends and family while going through my steps. I probably had a few more to make, come to think of it.
But it was a start. And now Piper’s mother had her start. That was something, at least. In fact, it was a lot.
And my charity, it would seem, was becoming a habit, as I arrived at the beach at the crack of dawn that morning, waiting for Piper and her young charge to show up. I’d hit the surf shop yesterday, picking up a six-foot soft board for the boy—one of those foam ones that were incredibly buoyant and easier to catch waves with. It was also, the proprietor informed me, very stable, making it simpler for a novice rider to stand up. If the boy didn’t have much experience with the water, the first lesson would be more about boosting confidence than actual skill.
I was actually pretty excited about the whole idea. I’d taught people to surf before—mostly hot girls who seemed more interested in strutting around the beach in tiny bikinis than actually learning any moves. But I’d never taught a kid.
I remembered being taught as a kid, however. It had started one Sunday morning with me sneaking out of my parents’ beach house while they slept off the rager they’d thrown the night before. I’d walked the shore, soaking in the sun and the salt and the sand, until I came to a beat-up old shack—very out of place amongst the multimillion-dollar mansions lining the rest of the beach. There I found an old man, with more wrinkles than hair, sitting on a stoop waxing his board. He’d looked up at me and smiled. He’d been missing quite a few teeth.
I asked him if he’d teach me how to surf. He made me finish waxing his board instead. Then he told me to come back next week. I did. And I waxed his board again. It was like something out of Karate Kid—and it took three Sundays before he’d let me in the water. But once I got in, I never wanted to get out again.
Mr. Chang considered surfing more of a religion than a sport. He told me the ocean was where life had begun on this planet and was mother to us all. He said the act of riding a wave allowed a surfer to become part of the collective unconsciousness of planet Earth.
Even today I believed there was truth to that. Over the years surfing had become more than just a passion to me—at times it had been my salvation. The ocean, my church. A place of refuge when things got bad at home. No one could hurt you out on the water. And it was the only place where I could truly feel free.
Which was partially why Piper’s water phobia was so foreign to me. The idea that the very same ocean that had given me so much—had so cruelly stolen from her. The very same waters that had brought me back to life offered her nothing but darkness and death.
When she’d said she would be coming today, I was surprised, and also impressed. It couldn’t have been easy for her to do—to push past her crippling fear for the sake of this boy. But she’d agreed to do it anyway, knowing how much it would mean to him. Just like she’d done with Beth at her wedding, putting her own fears aside as best she could, to be there for her friend.
Which said a lot about the kind of person she was. A person I still wanted to know better. I knew she was still completely embarrassed about the whole thing with her mother, even though I told her a hundred times it didn’t matter to me. If anything, it had explained so much about her—puzzle pieces I’d been desperate to find, finally sliding into place. She’d been a child, subjected to the one-two punch of addiction and tragedy. Two forces that could have easily defined the rest of her life and excused any shortcomings. But she hadn’t let them defeat her. Instead, she had used them as reasons to keep fighting. Which made her even more amazing in my eyes. And made me want to know even more.
It was funny, really. With most girls, I just cared what was under their clothes. Yet with Piper I wanted to see so much more. I wanted to crawl inside her head to see what made her tick. To peel back her layers—to see who she was underneath, scars and all.
My secret hope was that this beach adventure would benefit her as much as the boy. If she could just stand on the sand, a safe distance from the water, her fear might start to ebb with the tide. Not like I expected her to be carving a wave anytime soon. But even sticking her toe in the water might be a start. Mr. Chang believed that the ocean was the world’s greatest healer. Able to cleanse a person from the inside out. Maybe Piper’s wounds weren’t as mortal as she assumed. Maybe with time and patience they could begin to heal.
And maybe—just maybe—I could help her with that.
“Asher!”
Piper’s voice jerked me back to the present and I almost choked as I caught sight of her and the boy crossing the sand. Holy crap. What was she wearing? Was a bathing suit like that even legal?
I shook my head, trying to get my mind back on the game. To avoid dragging my gaze up her long legs, taking in the flare of her rounded hips, her trim stomach, the small scraps of fabric barely covering her breasts. Suddenly my mind treated me to a vivid flashback of how soft those breasts had been, cupped in my hands back at the country club, and I let out a frustrated groan. Seriously, how the hell did she expect me to concentrate on a surf lesson with her standing on the shore looking like that? It was cruel and unusual punishment to say the least.
I held up a shaky hand in a wave, trying to calm my libido. “Hey!” I cried. “There you are.”
They stopped in front of me and I somehow forced my eyes away from Piper to concentrate on my new pupil. He was Mexican with large dark eyes and a shock of thick black hair. Stocky, on the short side, wearing a faded bathing suit that looked a few sizes too big. While he looked excited, he also looked a little nervous and his eyes held a trace of suspicion. My heart squeezed a little at that. Piper had told me some of his history—about his drug-addicted mother who was always breaking her promises. About how he would probably remain in the group home until he turned eighteen. I could see why she cared so much about him now. He probably reminded her of herself back when she was a child.
I stuck out my hand. He stared down at it, not reaching out to grasp it until Piper nudged him and he grudgingly obeyed.
“Hey, man,” I said, giving him a firm shake. “You ready to do this?”
“I guess,” he said, staring down at the sand. As if he didn’t want to be here. And yet, somehow, at the same time I could tell that he did. He was excited, but he was wary, too. Like he didn’t quite believe this was really happening. That it was some kind of trick and if he showed his enthusiasm, he’d be laughed at and told it was just a joke.
I thought back to what I must have looked like to Mr. Chang that first morning on the beach. An overprivileged white boy who didn’t appreciate all he’d been given. That was what most people saw when they looked at me, anyway, and I couldn’t say it wasn’t true. But Mr. Chang had looked beyond my exterior—to the lonely desperate boy beneath. And in the end, it was that Asher he’d taught to surf. That Asher he’d brought back to life.
“Great,” I said. “We’re going to start the lesson on land. And then when you’re feeling good about the basics we can head out into the water, okay?” I paused then added, “You can swim, right?” I actually hadn’t thought to ask that first.
Thankfully he nodded. I slapped him on the back and grabbed the board I’d gotten him out of the sand, pushing it in his direction. “Here you go. Grab your board and we’ll head down
to the shoreline.”
He took the board from me, holding it awkwardly, as if not sure what to do. Instead of helping him, I grabbed my own board, demonstrating how to properly hold it, then headed down to the beach. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t wait to see if he was following. If he wanted to do this, he would. If he didn’t, well that was okay, too.
But a few moments later he had caught up to me, stepping into place at my side. We walked down the beach, not speaking, as Piper trailed a few yards behind. It took a lot not to ask her if she was okay. But I could tell the kid looked up to her and I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of him. Instead, I just shot her a quick look to make sure she wasn’t in full-on panic mode. She gave me a weak smile and a thumbs-up. I had to take it.
I turned back to my student, catching him examining his new board with great interest. “This is, like, brand-new,” he blurted out, seemingly despite himself.
“It is,” I agreed. “Piper said you didn’t have your own board so I picked one up for you last night.”
His eyes widened into saucers. “This is mine? For keeps?”
“No, Jayden. It’s to borrow,” Piper interjected.
“Actually . . .” I gave her an impish shrug. “It’s for him to keep. I mean, if that’s okay with you?”
Jayden turned to her, an expression on his face that I was pretty sure no mere mortal human being would be able to deny.
“Please, miss? Can I keep it? Please?”
She shook her head, laughing. “I guess so,” she said, holding her hands up in defeat. “But, Jayden, we need to keep it in the locker room when we get back, okay? Away from the other kids. They might not understand.”
“Hell yeah, we’re keeping it locked up,” Jayden declared, looking offended that she’d even assume otherwise. “I’m not letting any of those fools touch my board.”
The way he said it, the pride in ownership, made my heart squeeze. It also made me remember all those boards I’d gone through over the years, never truly appreciating any of them. I’d busted them, I’d lost them—what did it matter to me? I could always get a new one.
Even yesterday, I had barely even given it a second thought when I’d bought him this board—it was just easier than going to a rental shop. But looking at the light in his eyes now as he ran a hand along the board made me realize it meant so much more than that.
“Just promise me you’ll take good care of it,” I said sternly, attempting to channel my former mentor. “A surfer always needs to keep his board clean and properly waxed.”
He nodded solemnly and when he looked up, his eyes were shining with newfound respect. “I will,” he said. “I promise.”
“Excellent. Then let’s begin.” I tossed my own surfboard down onto the sand and instructed him to do the same. “Go ahead and lie down on the board,” I told him once he’d done it. “Try to center yourself so this line . . .” I dragged a finger down the center of the board, where a small stripe had been drawn. “This is the center of your body.”
I waited as the kid complied, dropping down to the board and trying to align his body to the stripe as instructed. In the meantime, I glanced over at Piper. She was keeping her distance from the ocean itself, but looked okay overall.
Okay, fine. She looked more than okay. She looked freaking stunning. But that was beside the point, really.
“Go ahead and scoot down a little,” I said, turning back to Jayden. “You want your toes always touching the back. The sweet spot, they call it.”
I watched as he wriggled his body back. “How’s that?”
“Good.” I nodded. “Now, imagine you’re in the water. You’re paddling really hard.” I mimicked the paddling in the air and he tried to imitate from down on the sand. “You’re catching up with the wave, you’re paddling really hard—like a hundred miles an hour. And suddenly the wave catches you.” I gave Jayden a questioning look. “What happens next?”
Jayden grinned. “I ride the shit out of that mother.”
“Jayden! Language!” Piper scolded. I laughed.
“That’s right, my man,” I said. “You pop up. And you ride like the wind.” I dropped down to my own board to demonstrate. “Put your hands next to your chest. Then push up.” I popped up on my board. “Then, you bring your front foot forward and stand up on your back foot.”
Jayden nodded, following my lead. He popped up then tried to fix his feet. He wobbled and lost his balance, crashing into the sand.
“Aw, man!” he cried, slamming his fist into the sand. “I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can,” I assured him, hopping off my own board to help him. “It just takes practice. Trust me, you should have seen how much I sucked when I first got on a board.” I grinned. “And now I’m totally elite.”
I helped him back on his feet then adjusted him on the board, kicking his feet into proper position. “You want this line to go down the middle of your arches,” I explained. Then I grabbed his hands and stretched them out so they were over the board in both directions.
“You feel that?” I asked.
He nodded grimly. He was concentrating with all his might to stay in position. I studied him for a moment, then nodded my approval.
“Good. Now drop down and pop up again.”
He glanced over at me. “Are we ever going in the water?” he asked.
I grinned, remembering my own eagerness when Mr. Chang had first taken me on. The kid was lucky I wasn’t making him wax my board for the next month. “Not until I see at least five perfect pops,” I told him.
He groaned loudly. Piper shot him another warning look. He rolled his eyes, but got back down onto the board. This time when he popped up, his position was ten times better.
“That’s how it’s done!” I cried, giving him a fist bump. “Four more times like that and we go surfing!”
twenty-three
PIPER
And go surfing they did. While I watched from a safe distance on the beach.
At first Jayden was ridiculously bad—he could barely climb onto his board on his belly, never mind stand up and ride a wave. The ocean showed no mercy to the beginner either, crashing over him and knocking him off balance each time he attempted to swim to deeper, calmer water. It was almost like a Three Stooges episode and at times I had to stop myself from laughing.
But Asher never laughed. Not once. Instead, he encouraged Jayden to keep trying, to shake it off and get back on his board. Told him this kind of thing happened to him all the time—even after years of practice. And that it was no big thing.
He had no way of knowing, of course, that this was exactly the right way to talk to Jayden. To treat him like a person, a peer—rather than some charity case. To set expectations high and let him claw his way tooth and nail to meet them. Most people never bothered to give Jayden anything to work for—and so he didn’t usually work. But when he truly wanted something, he went after it with all cylinders fired.
And right now he clearly wanted to surf.
There were a few times where I was forced to turn away. Unable to watch as the waves crashed over his head, tossing his little body around in the soup. I tried to tell myself that he was fine, that he was in good hands. That Asher would never let anything happen to him. But my heart beat a little faster every time he fell off his board and in the end I was forced to grab a book from my bag and concentrate on that instead.
After all, what good would stressing out do? It wasn’t as if I could charge into the water and save him myself if things went south. And if I told him to come out now, cutting short what was probably the best day of his life because of my insecurities? He’d never talk to me again.
Jayden deserved this. He’d worked hard all week and hadn’t scored a single demerit. In fact, Toby had pulled me aside the day before to marvel at his improvement. Whatever I was doing, she said, keep on doing it.
&nb
sp; So I tried my best to concentrate on the words on the page and ignore the sounds of the sea. I’m not sure I absorbed a single sentence, but at least I didn’t run screaming from the beach. That was something in and of itself. In fact, for me, that was a lot.
Finally, after what seemed like the longest lesson in eternity (but was probably no more than a couple hours) the two boys emerged from the water. Jayden was grinning from ear to ear, running over to me, clutching his precious board. I still couldn’t believe Asher had actually shelled out the money to buy someone he didn’t even know a brand-new surfboard, and I wondered if he had any comprehension of just how much a gift like this could mean to a child like Jayden—who had almost nothing in the world to call his own.
“Miss!” Jayden cried. “Did you see me out there? Did you see how I rode that last wave? I was up for, like, ten seconds at least.”
I rose to my feet. “I saw it all,” I assured him, reaching out and hugging him. He was soaking wet but I didn’t care. “You were amazing. I was so impressed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this kid was a natural?” Asher demanded, rubbing Jayden’s head. I winced for a moment—Jayden usually hated being touched like that—but the kid didn’t even seem to notice now. “He’s like the next Kelly Slater!”
“Aw, I don’t know about that,” Jayden said, looking a little sheepish. “But maybe someday!” He looked up at Asher and my heart squeezed at the worship I saw in his eyes as his newfound hero gave him a fist bump. Asher had no idea, I realized, just how much this small kindness could mean to a boy like Jayden.
But I did.
“Do you have something to say to Mr. Anderson?” I prompted.
Jayden turned to Asher and grinned. “Can we do it again?”
I laughed. “I meant you should thank him.”
“Oh, right.” Jayden blushed. “Thank you, sir,” he said.