“Got a medical marijuana license for it now.”
“Do you think you should be doing that? I mean with your health and all?”
“Don’t be a downer. Helps with the pain.”
“Are you in pain?”
She looked away. “Sometimes.”
“Where? I mean, where does it hurt?” I was desperate to do something to make her pain disappear.
“Can we not talk about it?”
Silent seconds that felt like hours passed. I stared at Rosalyn’s profile then closed my eyes wanting to memorize her image and remember her this way. Alive. I opened my eyes, and she held out the bong. “Light this, will you?”
I flicked the lighter, and she took a toke, and then leaned back against the bench. We rocked slowly, and she said, “So, what’d you think? Of Eugene, I mean.”
Even with my big wave preparation breaths, I was having a hard time dealing with the reality of a son. My son. “Jesus, Roz, I just can’t get over how much he reminds me of Tyler.”
“Guess I’ve gotten used to it some, but yeah, it’s pretty unreal.” She took another toke. “You know, he loved music right from the time he was old enough to pull himself up in his crib. The little guy would hold on to the rails and just dance and bounce and …” Rosalyn’s eyes were tearing up. She took another toke.
The only sound was that of the waves gently breaking on the shore. We watched the last of the Pleasure Point surfers packing up their boards.
Finally, I said, “Hey, remember that night when you talked me into breaking into that abandoned house to get that painting of the sunset?”
“I thought you were gonna have a heart attack,” she said, smacking me on the thigh. “You were such a good boy till I got ahold of you.”
“Can’t say I was all that good. Hey, what happened to your bimmer? That thing was cool.”
She faced me. “Ah. Ol’ Betsy. I loved that car. Had to sell her on Craigslist when the mileage got too high. I see her around town once in a while.”
“And remember the time I punched that guy out at Sunset Cliffs ’cause he was hot for you?”
Her eyes were becoming unfocused from the pot. She cocked her head sideways. “No. You did that?”
I looked down at my hands. “Yeah. Dude was being disrespectful.”
“Well, that was sweet of you.” She turned to me until our faces were just inches apart. And then she kissed me. It was a sweet, soft, light kiss on the lips. She pulled away. “Sorry.”
When she kissed me, everything stopped. I became hyperaware of the sound of the gently lapping waves on the shore, and my skin prickled from the breeze of sea air as my body flooded with warmth. I drank in her scent, my fingers tingling. I wanted to touch Rosalyn, to feel every inch of her body again.
Tentatively, I reached for her hand and held it lightly in mine. She didn’t pull away. We sat there for a while, not talking, just listening to the ocean. Rosalyn’s hand felt like it branded my skin even though we were barely touching. I was falling into a risky place. I knew that I’d better be careful, but at that moment it all felt so right. The two of us together. Rosalyn’s hand was soft, warm, and I felt myself becoming aroused. I shifted uncomfortably.
“And what’s going on here?” she said, her fingers moving gently to my crotch.
“Rosalyn, don’t.”
She smiled, and my stomach did that flip-flop thing. “I missed you too, sweetheart,” she said. And it sounded like she meant it.
When I lay on my makeshift bed on the sofa that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about Rosalyn who was only a few feet away. I kept stealing glances at her closed bedroom door.
I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be in love with Rosalyn. It had been so long since she needed me. My protective side emerged as my body filled with energy. I wanted to run around the block and wake people up out of their beds, wanted to shake them and tell them how incredible love could be. All it took was one small kiss for my body and soul to remember. But the giddiness was mixed with an unbearable sadness at the reality of Rosalyn’s situation. Just take a deep breath. After all those years of wondering what’d happened, she’d actually kissed me. I could still feel her lips on mine as though if I looked in the mirror, somehow I’d be able to see her mark on my lips.
From where I lay on the sofa, I could see Rosalyn’s and Eugene’s closed bedroom doors. I wanted to jump up and throw myself in bed with Rosalyn where I would convince her that everything was going to be okay, then grab her by the hand and take her into our son’s room, sit on the edge of Eugene’s bed, and just blurt out the truth.
I called Butch. When he answered, I whispered into the phone, “You will not believe how much Eugene looks like Tyler.”
“You okay?”
“Just in shock, I think. Butch … I’ve got a son. Man, this is not the way I planned to spend the year.”
“And how exactly were you planning to spend the year?”
“What do I know about raising kids? And what if Rosalyn doesn’t make it? And what am I going to do for money? And, Jesus—”
“Slow down, buddy. One thing at a time.”
“But I’m not a dad.”
“Looks like you are, actually.”
I took another deep breath. “Eugene seems like a great kid.” I didn’t want to admit how intimidated I felt by the reality of a son. Would I make a good parent? “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Jax. Listen to me. You can. Sometimes life throws curve balls. You’ve got a son. I’d say that’s a pretty great curve ball. Take it one day at a time.”
“I’ve got a family. I really and truly have a family.”
“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”
I hesitated before answering. “Yes. But what the … She messed me up bad.”
“Jax, listen to me. Forget about the past. Those two need you.”
“Yeah, well I needed her too, and where was she?”
“Will you stop it? I haven’t even met them yet, but I know you. And you, my man, are not the type of person to walk away from a good challenge. Think about it like riding a hundred foot wave. So what if you wipe out? So what if you don’t live through it? It’ll be one heck of a ride.”
“Why do you always have to be so damn philosophical?”
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
We talked for a few more minutes, and when we hung up, he texted me a joke:
Did you hear about the girl who swallowed bullets? Her hair came out in bangs.
I rolled my eyes then checked the rest of my texts. It was more of the same messages:
Christy: Hey lover boy, thinking of you and melted chocolate.
Jenna: Saw some Stand Up Paddlers today, and guess what? I got wet. When you coming home?
Cassandra: Wanna fuck?
Sandy: Going to bed now with my vibrator and dreams of you, Surfer Boy. Hurry home.
Olivia: I don’t know how much longer I can be trusted to behave. I’m a very bad girl.
I smiled at Olivia’s text. Sweet, vulnerable Olivia. She needed me most.
I didn’t want to hurt these women who’d put trust in me, so I answered every single one of my Janes. But my heart wasn’t in it. I knew I’d be quitting the business.
The last thing I did was text Holly. Tuck yourself in and get a good night’s sleep.
I would deal with one thing at a time.
Eugene
After that first dinner my mom and me had with Jax, I went in my room and called Nelson. I’d already told Nelson about Jax because it was kinda big news. Other than Mom’s friend Carissa, who visited like once every other year, we never had anybody stay with us. Jax seemed okay, kind of quiet, but I wasn’t sure if I trusted him.
“Wussup? Did you meet him?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what’s he like?”
“He’s okay, I guess.”
“What’s the dude’s name again?”
“Jax.”
> “And what’s he look like?”
“Kinda tall, blond. My mom says he surfs big waves.”
“Well, that’s cool,” Nelson said. “Sitting at my computer right now. I’m gonna do a search. How do you spell Jax?”
“I don’t know. J-A-X, I guess.”
A few seconds went by while Nelson typed, and then he said, “Holy shit! You know who this guy is?”
My head snapped up, and I said, “What? No. Who?”
“He’s one of those guys on the Big Wave World Tour. Holy fuck, this is unfuckingbelievable. Jax Priest. There’s this cool picture of him taking off on a gnarly huge wave then there’s a picture of his face. At least he’s smiling.” Nelson kept reading. “Jax Priest, Encinitas, California, ranking number eight. Not bad. Gotta be the same dude, right? How many Jaxes can there be? Think he’ll take us surfing?”
“You know my mom won’t let me,” I said.
“Screw your mom. She’s being nice to this guy right?”
“Guess so.”
“Well then, she’ll let him. You know how soft your mom is,” he said.
“Sometimes.”
“And she’s feeling all sorry for you right now cuz she was sick.”
I didn’t like it when Nelson started talking about my mom’s cancer. “I don’t know if—”
“Quit being a wuss. This is our chance. I’ll bet he’s got some really cool surfboards and everything. So, here’s the plan, how long did you say he’s gonna be there?”
“Few days, I think.”
“So, you just tell your mom that you wanna learn to surf. And then you bring her the bong and make her put her feet up.”
I laughed. “Dude, you always got the plans.”
I’d been begging my mom to let me learn how to surf forever, and it made her so mad. “No! It’s too dangerous,” she’d always say. “Don’t ask me again.”
After we were done with homework and played our guitars, Nelson and I’d usually go over to Pleasure Point and watch the surfers. Nelson didn’t have a surfboard, and he wanted to learn just as much as I did, but my mom always thought I was gonna drown or something.
“What’re they doing right now?” Nelson said.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, Einstein, look out your room and tell me.”
I cracked my bedroom door open and saw my mom and Jax washing dishes and kind of whispering to each other. “They’re washing dishes, okay?”
“Well, call me later. This guy’s our ticket to surfing. Un-freaking-real. I gotta go,” he said. “See ya in school tomorrow.”
I hung up the phone and played my guitar, but something didn’t feel right. My mom had been acting all gushy and over-nice at dinner, and I had this weird feeling that she was lying to me.
I knew a lot more than my mom thought I knew.
Here’s some of what I knew: I knew where she kept those purple and pink plastic sex toy things (that was super embarrassing). Even before she got one of those licenses to smoke weed, I knew where she kept her pipes and stash. And I knew that the tea she made out of those poppy seed pods she ordered from some lady in Washington was really opium and not what she told me it was, “just a tea to help mommy sleep.” She told me not to drink the tea, and I wasn’t planning on it because it made her really woozy. I knew, because I looked it up on the internet, that opium was for pain, and it gets people high. And I knew that my mom had cancer. She told me all about that.
But I didn’t know what was in that metal box she kept in her closet. The one with the lock on it.
Lately she’d been drinking too much of that poppy seed tea and at night, and after she thought I was asleep, sometimes I’d get up in the middle of the night and see her sitting by the fireplace with her bong. She’d be crying and looking through that metal box where she had some kind of notebook she liked to write in. A lot of nights I’d crouch down real quiet behind my bedroom door and want to go hug her, but I couldn’t because that would’ve upset her more.
When my mom was at work, I’d started going through her stuff, and that’s when I’d found those gross sex toys and her pipes and that metal box that she kept in her closet. But I couldn’t find a key anywhere.
I set down my guitar and crept over to the window because I heard my mom laughing. I hadn’t heard Mom laugh in a long time, and it was kinda nice. She and Jax were sitting on the bench swing talking, laughing, and looking pretty darn comfortable. And that’s when I saw my mom turn to Jax and kiss him. It was just a little kiss, kind of a peck, but I’d never seen my mom kiss anyone before. She’d never had a boyfriend. “You’re all I need, honey,” she’d say, if I ever asked her about it. Most kids’ moms had boyfriends or husbands. But not my mom.
When I saw her kiss Jax, I jumped back from the window like I’d been shocked, kinda like when I tried to get my piece of toast out of the toaster that time with a fork. And then I saw Jax hold hands with my mom. I couldn’t move for a long time, so I watched, but that was about all that happened. Then they finally got up, and I raced to my bed before my mom came in my room to tell me to brush my teeth.
Something wasn’t right.
I knew more than my mom thought I knew, but some things I didn’t know. And I was planning on finding out.
Jax
“Nice ride, Rosalyn,” I said, as I slid behind the driver’s seat of her black Explorer.
“I know it’s not the bimmer, but it’s better for Eugene and me.” She turned around, patting Eugene’s hand. “Buckled in, baby?”
The plan was that I’d drop everyone off at school and work then pick them up later. “That way you can see where Eugene goes to school,” Rosalyn had told me. Honestly, there didn’t seem to be much of a plan in place, but that was only our second day together so I was following Rosalyn’s lead.
Our first stop was to pick up Eugene’s friend Nelson. “It’s right here on the left,” Rosalyn said, pointing out a modest, white, one story home that could’ve used a fresh coat of paint. A few forlorn roses strained toward the sun from a rose bush that’d been planted under the picture window.
A boy Eugene’s age with blond hair, faded jeans, and a Nirvana T-shirt waited on the front porch. Spotting us, he slunk toward the car, leaning forward to balance his heavy backpack.
He slid into the backseat and started talking right away. “You’re Jax Priest, right?”
I smiled and reached my hand around for a shake. “Pleased to meet you. And you must be—”
“Nelson, at your service,” he said with a big grin.
I put the truck in gear, and we were off.
“So, you surf big waves, huh?” Nelson said.
“Yep. I guess Eugene told you.”
“Dude, that is flippin’ awesome! Do you get to surf Mavs?”
“Only my favorite surf spot in the world.”
“And you get to surf Jaws?”
“Yep, I like to surf Maui in the winter.”
He slapped the back of the seat and said, “Un-flippin-believable. Will you take Eugene and me out there?”
“I don’t think so. Not safe for beginners. Maybe we could go out on some of the smaller waves.”
Rosalyn piped up and said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Boys, Jax is pretty busy—”
“Yeah?” Nelson said. “Busy doing what?”
“He’s just busy, Nelson.”
Then Eugene said, “Mom, come on, let’s go down to the beach while Jax is here, and maybe he can take us out.”
I said, “I give surf lessons.”
Rosalyn shot me a look. “It’s not safe for Eugene out there. And I don’t know if Nelson’s mom wants him—”
“My mom don’t care,” Nelson said. “So maybe we can go, right?” He leaned forward until his head was right between Rosalyn’s and mine. “I mean, you might not be here that long. We want a lesson.”
“It’s this next right,” Rosalyn said. She tapped me on the arm. I turned down the driveway where all the other parents were
lined up to drop kids off, and soon we were in front of the school.
Eugene and Nelson unbuckled their seat belts, grabbed their backpacks, and hopped out of the car.
“You got your lunch, honey?” Rosalyn said.
Eugene blushed and said, “Yes, mom.”
Nelson stuck his head through the passenger window, his face inches from Rosalyn’s, and said, “So, maybe Jax can take us surfing?”
“He’s busy,” she said.
“But he’s on vacation, right?”
“No, Nelson, he’s not on vacation.”
“But he’s got time off. How long’s he gonna be here?”
Rosalyn said, “You guys need to get to class.”
Nelson directed his attention to me. “So, you’ll be here a few days? Can we hang out?”
Eugene tugged at Nelson’s shirt. “Come on, we gotta get to class.”
I laughed. “Yes, we can hang out.”
Nelson pumped his fist twice. “Right on! See ya after school.”
The two boys raced toward the school, Nelson in the lead.
I gripped the steering wheel and faced Rosalyn. “Why won’t you let him surf?”
She folded her arms in front of her and stared straight ahead. “I already told you. It’s too dangerous.”
“Not with what they’ll be doing. I’ll take them out on a nice easy day.”
“Eugene can’t swim that well. He’s … fragile.”
Why was she treating him with kid gloves? “Doesn’t seem that fragile to me.”
“And I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“He won’t get hurt.” I studied Rosalyn. “Roz, you already know what I’m going to say. If Eugene were my kid … I mean if I’d raised him, he’d have been surfing from the time he was a toddler.”
She uncrossed her arms and whirled around to face me. “But he’s not—I mean, he hasn’t been your kid … I mean, oh just stop making this difficult. Surfing’s dangerous.”
I glanced at Rosalyn. “Did you stop surfing when you moved here?”
Her mouth was a firm line. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I had a child to raise.”
Pleasure Point: The Complete Series Page 47