by Wade, Ellie
“Okay.”
Loïc proceeds to show me the steps to getting up on the board, and I practice—a lot.
Standing on the board with my hands out to the sides, I pretend I’m on the water. “I totally got this!” I giggle, proud of myself.
“Let’s get our suits on, and we’ll go out,” he suggests.
“Great!”
Loïc’s love of surfing has officially rubbed off on me, like everything that he introduces me to does. I’m actually excited to get out there in the cold ocean and try to get up on an actual wave.
We suit up. Lying on our stomachs, we paddle out into the water. It’s a little chilly, but honestly, with the suit on, it’s not that bad. Once we’re out far enough, we paddle the boards around so that we’re facing the beach, and we wait for a wave. We’re not too far out from land. Loïc is starting me on little waves, which is definitely for the best.
“Paddle!” Loïc commands.
I listen as I swipe my arms through the water on the sides of my board.
“Up, London!” he yells.
I try to do exactly like I did on land.
The truth is, it is a hell of a lot harder to get up onto your board when you’re balancing on the water. I fall to the side, splashing into the ocean. Beneath the water, I swim upward until my head breaks the water’s surface, and I take a breath. Looking around, I see Loïc riding the wave toward the shore. Using more arms strength than I thought I had, I pull myself out of the water and onto the board. I wait while Loïc paddles back out toward me.
“I suck,” I say, defeated.
He laughs. “You don’t. Of course you weren’t going to get up on your first try. You’ll get there. Come on, let’s paddle back out and try it again.”
We repeat this process nine times, the outcome always the same as the first time. I’m exhausted. My entire body is screaming in pain as muscles I’ve never used weep for mercy. My arms shake from exertion, and my lungs burn. My cheeks are drenched with salt water—from the ocean or my own tears, I’m not sure. But I’m done. I’m definitely not a surfer.
I lay my head on my board, unable to pull my weak body atop it, and wait for Loïc to swim out to me.
“You okay?” he questions when he reaches me.
“I can’t do it again,” I whimper weakly.
“Baby, you can do it. I know you can.” Loïc’s voice is lined with amusement, but I’m too tired to care.
I’m sure I look like a sniffling wimp, and I’m cool with that as long as I can be finished with this surfing adventure.
“Can I go in?” I plead.
“Look at me, London.”
I lift my head from the board and stare into his beautiful blues. “You can do this. I know it. Let’s try it one more time, and promise me that you’ll give it everything you’ve got.”
“Okay.” I nod.
So, we repeat the process again, swimming out a little ways before turning our boards toward land.
Loïc tells me when to start paddling as the wave starts to build. Then, he yells, “Now!”
I grab ahold of the sides of the board and hoist my body up into a standing position. My feet land exactly where they should, and I stand with my arms out to my sides.
Oh my God, I’m doing it!
I manage to stay atop my board as the wave carries me toward shore. With my arms outstretched and the ocean breeze in my face, I feel like I’m flying. It’s the most incredible, freeing feeling in the world.
The board hits the beach, and I bend to remove the Velcro strap attached to my ankle.
I sprint toward Loïc and throw myself into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. “I did it! I did it! It was so amazing,” I screech as I cling to him.
His strong body shakes with laughter beneath mine, and he hugs me tight. “Awesome, right?”
“So awesome. I loved it.”
“I knew you would.”
We head back out into the water, and I’m able to ride two more waves in. Though I desperately want to, I can’t manage another. I’ve never been so sore in my entire life.
Once again, Loïc urged me to do something that I would never have done without him, and I ended up loving it. I thought my life was perfect before Loïc, but the longer I’m with him, the more I realize that it was lacking in so many ways. He brings a zest for life that I didn’t have on my own. He helps me push my limits, and because of that, I’m a better person, a more fulfilled one. I was cruising through life on autopilot, but with Loïc, I’m actually living it, and it’s awesome.
“Oh my God, you have to try that, George. It’s so fun,” I say as I fall on the blanket. “You can use my wet suit. Loïc will teach you.”
“I know. I love surfing,” she replies.
“I didn’t know you surfed.”
“Of course. I live in California, Londy,” she says by way of explanation. “I’m good though. We should pack up and go get something to eat before heading back. I don’t want you to be running late for your flight.”
“Stupid flight,” I grumble.
Loïc and I are taking the red-eye back to Michigan tonight. I wish we didn’t have to. It would be great to hide away from life in California with the ocean and warm sun. Back in Michigan, we’re going to be stepping off the plane into coldness—in more ways than one. Not only is the weather freezing, but the looming date of Loïc’s departure also gives me a chill. I can’t even think about it.
I just want to flee reality and get lost here in paradise, but unfortunately, that’s not an option.
Loïc
Age Fifteen
Amarillo, Texas
“Because of everything I’ve lost, I can’t lose Sarah, too.”
—Loïc Berkeley
I wake with a start. My back pushes into the gravel beneath it before I jolt up. I reach my arm out to the side, patting the spot beside me, and I immediately notice that Sarah isn’t there. Her comforting warmth is unmistakably missing.
Something’s wrong.
I’m surrounded by darkness, save for the tiny tease of light rising from the horizon in the distance, indicating dawn’s impending arrival. It’s early.
Sarah would never just leave me. She wouldn’t.
“Sarah! Sarah!” I call out.
A sad echo of my voice bounces back from the metal above me.
We’ve been staying under this overpass for about a week now. I found some temporary work in town that pays me cash to sort and load produce onto trucks. It’s long hours and tiring work, but I can’t turn down money. Plus, I’d rather be working than standing on a street corner, holding up a cardboard sign, begging for handouts, even though the latter scenario has been more familiar as of late. Not too many people are willing to hire a teenage boy with no identification and a less than desirable appearance. I’m hoping my current employer will keep me around long enough, so I can afford to get a few clean sets of clothes and some newer shoes for Sarah and me from the Salvation Army, and we could each use a haircut. I’m sure I could get more work if I looked better.
Sarah and I try to stay clean. Every day, we brush our teeth and wash up at gas station restrooms, and at least twice a week, we pay to take showers at truck stops.
Maybe she had to go to the bathroom? I walk to the edge of the overpass. The loud traffic sounds overhead, and the metal shakes as large trucks zoom across.
“Sarah!” I call out.
Nothing.
I pace around, continuing to call her name. There’s no response.
Where could she be?
Sarah and I are very careful. We don’t split up often, and when we do, we make specific plans as to when and where we will meet up. It’s not like I can just call her. She’s never just left without telling me before.
A vague memory from when I was young surfaces. My dad and I were standing in front of an amusement park of some sort, and he was going over what I should do if I got separated from him. I remember him telling me to stay put, that if I stayed right wher
e I was, then he could backtrack to all the places we’d been until he found me.
Stay put.
Should I just wait here and hope she returns? This thought doesn’t sit well with me. What if she’s hurt? In trouble? Lost?
I can’t imagine the latter. Sarah’s better with directions than I am. She’d be able to find her way back here.
Unless…
All the ways in which Sarah could need me enter my mind. What if she was found? What if she’s been picked up by social services? What if she’s screaming for me to help her?
I have to find her. But where do I start?
With my arms raised to my head, my fingers grasp my hair, pulling.
Where do I look? Where do I look? I think as I bend at the waist, the feeling of dread pulling me down.
Suddenly, I think about the corner where she panhandled a couple of times this week while I was working. I remember her telling me about a guy who works at the grocery store right there.
Pedro is his name.
Yes, Pedro, and he brought her a delicious deli sandwich from the store for lunch the past two days. She spoke about him like she had developed a friendship of sorts with him.
Maybe he’s seen her today? Or perhaps she mentioned something to him yesterday when she was there?
It’s somewhere to start at least.
I stash my backpack and our bedding between where the beam from the bridge meets the ground. A large section of metal is bent up away from the earth at a ninety-degree angle, creating an ideal hiding place for our belongings. It’s come in handy this week, allowing us to leave our heavy satchels behind while we worked.
It only takes a moment to put our things away, and then I’m off, walking toward town. With each step, I pray that I find Sarah. I’m hoping this is all an oversight on my end. Perhaps, she mentioned to me that she had work early this morning, and I simply don’t remember her telling me.
Maybe I was half-asleep when she mentioned it? It has to be something like that. Nothing else makes sense.
I replay our conversations in my mind as I walk, desperately trying to remember anything that I missed. I reach the small grocery store and almost walk into the sliding glass doors when they don’t automatically open.
Crap. The store hasn’t opened yet.
My jaw clenches, and my posture is stiff and rigid as I pace in front of the closed doors. I start walking and scan the area. It’s not much, but it’s something until I can talk to Pedro. I make my way around the store until I find myself in a side alley full of rusted blue dumpsters. I turn to head back in the other direction when I see it.
A foot.
It’s bare, lying against the paved ground, as it peeks out from the other side of the waste receptacle.
I run to it, and when I come around the large metal container full of trash, I gasp. It’s Sarah. Her eyes are closed, and she’s naked from the waist down.
“Sarah!” I call out as I fall to my knees and shake her shoulders. “Sarah!” My voice is heavy with emotion, and my vision blurs.
She grunts, and I let out a sigh of relief, a small one at least. Why in the hell is she lying here, half-naked and unconscious? I continue to gently move her shoulders back and forth as I say her name over and over.
Eventually, she stirs and opens her eyes. She blinks heavy, once…twice, and then she stares. Her eyes widen with fear. “Loïc?” she asks, her voice broken and gravelly.
“I’m here, Sarah.” I pull her chest up to mine and hug her against me. “What happened? Are you okay? Why did you leave? Where are your clothes?” The questions come out in rapid succession. I shake my head, expelling a large breath, before asking again, “Are you okay?”
She nods against my chest as I hold her to me.
“Where are your pants?” I ask softly.
She pulls back and looks down at her exposed skin. “Um…” She looks around. “I’m not sure. They should be…” She leans to the side to look around me. “They should be close?” Her statement sounds more like a question. “I don’t know.”
“Here.” I stand, pulling her up with me. I take off my T-shirt and hold the neck hole open wide. Bending on one knee, I position the shirt in front of her feet. “Step in.”
She does as I said, and I shimmy the T-shirt up her legs. I have to rip the fabric a little to get it up over her hips, but the shirt is old and worn and actually stretches fairly easily.
I look down at her makeshift skirt and shrug. “Well, it will have to do until we get back. Let’s get out of here.” I take note of her bare feet. “Do you want me to carry you?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’ll be careful. I’ll watch where I’m stepping.”
I nod. “All right, let’s go.”
I lead us back toward our spot beneath the bridge as quickly as I can without risking Sarah hurting herself.
Once we’re there and she’s dressed in some of her own clothes, we sit next to each other against the coarse grassy hill on the side of the bridge.
“What happened? Why did you leave?”
“I’m sorry. I meant to get back before you woke up.” Her voice is quiet.
“Please just tell me what is going on,” I plead softly.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “Well, I went to meet Pedro last night. I left after you fell asleep because I didn’t want you to worry about me.”
“Did he ra-rape you?” I struggle to get the word out.
“No. I offered, I think.”
“You don’t remember?”
She sighs. “Not much, no. I took some stuff. I was kind of out of it.”
My heart pounds fiercely in my chest as I register her words. “What kind of stuff? Like drugs?”
She nods.
“You met him for drugs?” I ask, my voice quivering in disbelief.
She nods again.
“Why?”
“He offered, and I wanted it…to escape, you know? Just for a bit. I won’t do it again. I just needed a break from it all for one night.” Her voice is so hollow, and it causes my heart to shatter.
I wish I could kill every man who has ever hurt her.
“I’m here for you, Sarah. You can talk to me about anything. I’ll help you, and if I can’t, I’ll figure out how. You’re not alone.”
She leans her face against her knees. The palm of my hand splays across her back as she shakes violently with her sobs. I don’t know what else to say, so I remain silent as she cries, and I continue to rub her back.
After a while, her sobs abate, and she rocks to the side, allowing her body to fall into mine. I wrap my arms around her back and hold her tight.
“We’ll get through this. You know that, right? It’s going to get better. I’ll help you. I’ll do anything to make things better for you, Sarah, but I can’t help you if I lose you. You can’t leave me like that again. What if I hadn’t been the one to find you? What if the cops had found you, and they sent you back? We have to be careful.”
“I know.” She sniffles. “It was stupid. I won’t do it again.”
“Okay,” I sigh. “Good. Do you need anything?”
“Just this. Just you. Please hold me for a bit. Don’t let me go just yet,” she whispers.
“Sarah, I’ll never let you go. As long as I’m alive, I’m going to protect you. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll make everything better. You just have to trust me.” Even as I say the words, I know they’re empty promises. They sound immature and naive as they come from my mouth. But that doesn’t change the fact that I want to believe them.
The reality is that, in this world, one can want to do something with the greatest desire, but the fact is that one has very little control over the actual trajectory of their path. I know because I’ve wanted many things in my life, and I’ve lost them all.
Regardless, I want my words to be true this time. Because of everything I’ve lost, I can’t lose Sarah, too.
And, as much as I want my promises to be true f
or Sarah’s sake, I want them to be true for mine as well. I’ve tried so hard to be brave my entire life, and I do have the courage to fight for us, for our happiness. But I know that I’ll lose it all if I fall short. If I fail Sarah, I won’t have the courage to fight anymore.
London
“True love is forever, but so is true friendship, and I can’t live without either.”
—London Wright
I light the last candle atop the triple-layered cake that I picked up from an incredible little bakery down the street. The soft glow of the flames dance across the icing, illuminating the edible sugar flowers that adorn the cake. It’s almost too pretty to eat, but with the chocolate mouse filling inside, I know it’s going to taste even more spectacular than it looks.
Placing my hands beneath the dish that holds the cake, I slowly walk it out to the living room where the birthday girl sits, surrounded by a group of our girlfriends. The room fills with the traditional “Happy Birthday” song as we serenade Paige.
“Make a wish,” I say when the song is finished.
Paige closes her eyes as she blows out the candles, and we all clap.
“Love you, Paige.” I smile down to my best friend.
“Love you, too.” She grins up at me.
As I take the cake back into the kitchen to slice it up, our sorority sister Kristyn comes out of the kitchen with a cooler of her famous Jell-O shots, yelling, “It’s party o’clock!” to which the group of girls in the living room cheer.
Paige and I don’t hang out with our old sorority sisters very often, but every time we do, it’s so much fun.
I put pieces of cake onto plates and smile to myself as the music from the living room and the laughter of our friends gets louder. There’s nothing like an all-girl celebration. The presence of guys makes girls stupid. It’s a sad fact. It never fails. If guys were here, at least one of our friends would end up crying. The list of possible emotions causing the tears is endless—jealousy, anger, hurt. The list goes on. A no-boys-allowed party is so much better.
Yet I miss Loïc so much. He leaves in less than a week, and I’m starting to panic. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.