Love, Lucas

by Chantele Sedgwick

  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

&nbs
p; 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.”

  We say goodbye and I hang up the phone.

  Normally, when I was feeling down, he’d give me a hug or pat me on the shoulder before leaving me. My stomach drops. I wonder if going from parent to parent and being in the middle of their fights will be a permanent thing. I hope they’re working it out. I’m sure the stress of losing their only son has taken its toll on their marriage, but we’re a family. Families are supposed to work things out.

  The rest of the day is uneventful. After running to the store, getting a few pictures developed, and hanging them on my wall, I spend most of my time pacing the floor in my room, trying to figure out what to do with myself.

  By the time ten o’clock rolls around, everyone’s in bed. Jo was at work all day, Mom spent most of the day in her room again, and I haven’t seen Carson since he went to work yesterday. I don’t want to admit I miss hanging out with him. Especially since it’s only been a day since I saw him. I don’t want to feel like that. It seems needy. And I’m not a needy person.

  I should probably change into my pajamas and go to sleep. Maybe I’ll practice my surfing stance tomorrow morning on the beach. Or I could stand in the small waves and practice balancing. It’s not like I have anything else to do.

  A small tapping noise comes from my French doors. Curious, I walk over and peek through the curtain.

  It’s Carson. Holy crap—I look hideous.

  I brush my hair out of my face, take a quick glance in the mirror next to me, decide nothing will help, and open the door. “Hey,” I say.

  “Hi.”

  “Sneaking into Jo’s backyard now?”

  He grimaces. “Sorry about that. I should get your number so I can text you.”

  “No worries. What’s up?”

  “I know it’s late, but I saw your light on and wondered if you wanted to go for a walk with me.” He swallows and his lips part slightly.

  It is late. But it’s also really tempting to leave. A hot guy sneaking out just to hang out with me? Like I’m not going to go. “Let me grab a jacket or something. You can come in.”

  He steps inside and looks around. His eyes go to the pictures on the wall above my headboard. “Wow. You really do take awesome pictures.”

  I shrug. “Not really.”

  He eyes me with a strange expression. “No. Really.” He walks over to my bed and inspects them. “I recognize this guy,” he says. His expression is strange. He’s smiling but looks a little annoyed.

  “Yes, that’s Dillon. But I have a bunch of other surfers on there too.” I’m not sure why I say that. I doubt he’s jealous or anything but I find myself wanting to make sure he doesn’t think my focus is ever on Dillon on purpose.

  He laughs. “These are really good. You should sell some of them to a magazine or something.”

  I laugh and grab a hoodie out of the closet. “Trust me. No one would want those.”

  When I turn around, he’s right in front of me. He stares down at me with a frown on his face. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he says. “Why can’t you just say thank you when someone compliments you?”

  I’m not sure what to say, but I do know I’m staring. His gaze is unflinching and serious but I can see a hint of a smile as well. “I—uh—thanks. I guess.” I avoid his eyes and step around him. “You ready to go?”

  “Do you have to let your mom know where we’re going?”

  “She doesn’t care.” I slide on my flip-flops and walk out the door. He follows me and shuts it softly behind him. It’s dark but we head down to the beach anyway. There are some lights on the boardwalk, so we can at least see a little bit. I slip on my hoodie. It’s not too cold but I feel more snug in it. “So, where’re we going?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I just like the beach at night. It’s not as . . . eventful as it is during the day. No people running around splashing in the water. It’s nice. Relaxing.”

  “Makes sense.”

  We walk in comfortable silence as I kick the cold sand and smile. I haven’t felt this calm for a while. I attempt to
keep my worries and thoughts of Lucas away for a moment and just think of the beautiful place I’m living. Carson’s right. It’s much more relaxing at night.

  We keep walking and I glance up. The lights on Huntington Pier grow bright as we get closer and I can hear the waves crashing into it as well. “This is such a pretty place,” I say.

  “It is. Why don’t you tell me what your place is like?”

  “Utah?”

  He nods. “I’ve never been.”

  “It’s not as cool as here. Lots of mountains, grass, a lot of snow in the winter.”

  “I may take you up on having your dad ship you some snow.”

  “Trust me. It’s nice to look at but it gets old quick. And it’s so cold. I’m not a fan of the cold.”

  “You chose the wrong place to live then.” He chuckles.

  “My parents chose the wrong place to live.” I smile. “But it’s home, I guess.”

  “Maybe I can convince you to stay here longer. Since you can’t stand the cold and all.”

  “I do enjoy warm weather.” I laugh. “I sound like I’m fifty.”

  “You don’t look it.” His fingers brush my hand and before I know it, they’re entwined with mine. He looks over and gives me a small smile. “Is this okay?”

  I smile a little too and nod. His hand warms mine and I can’t help but notice how well they fit together. Which is stupid. I’m sure all hands fit together the same. I think back to the only guy I’ve ever held hands with. Back before Lucas got sick. It wasn’t like this at all. He was kind of weird. And his hand was sweaty and gross. Obviously things didn’t work out.

  Carson points up ahead. “My sister and I used to play under the pier when we were little. Not at night since the tide is so high, but my mom would bring us down and we’d run around the posts and hide from each other. Or we’d try picking barnacles off them with sticks. That was always fun.”

  “Barnacles. Those weird little shell things, right?”