Théo and Karl: Pulse of the Ocean
Sep. 19th, 2005 08:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rohansonThe truck finally comes to a halt, and I open the door, slipping out without a glance at you. Admittedly, this new truck is very comfortable, but I still prefer riding the bikes of this world to being so enclosed.
There is the unmistakeable tang of salt in the air, and a couple of steps up the shallow bank reveal the beach and the ocean beyond it. Already the smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves bring good memories to mind, making me smile as I remember time spent in a similar place with Mer, and the laughter I shared at the beach with Dave. Paris tried to talk me out of this when I asked him to arrange it. He said it would be too cold, but Karl agreed, so here we are.
The sound of the truck door slamming brings me back to the present, and I jump back down off the bank, following Karl to the back of the truck to unload our gear. I watch him as he pulls open the back of the truck as if it angered him beyond reason. He has spoken less than a handful of words since we set off, and I am beginning to think this was a bad idea. It is as if something is eating away at him, the few questions I asked him during the drive answered with little more than grunts.
I let out a long sigh. This was originally his idea. Well, surfing was his idea, being friends was my idea, but I cannot see much of a friendship forming if we are not going to speak to each other. He thrusts a surfboard at me, and I take it from him, noting the deep crease in his forehead that reminds me so much of Mer.
Then there is the matter of his hand. Broken in a bar fight, he told Mer, although that doesn’t sit quite right, given how adamant he is that Mer stay out of trouble when he is here. Perhaps that has something to do with his mood. For once in my life I stay silent, even though there are so many questions eating away at me, and I am more than a little concerned that this mood is not dissimilar to the one he was in when I first met him months ago. At least this time, it can have nothing to do with Mer and I … can it?
I follow his lead and plant the board in the sand, and can suddenly no longer keep quiet.
"Karl, have I annoyed you in some way?"
Karl: We park beside the rockwall on Paekakariki Beach that's been put up to prevent erosion. Beach is pretty deserted this time of year, but that's all right. I thought about arguing when Paris called about this. Nobody surfs in the fucking winter. But then I thought maybe I need to do this. As we pulled up I was hoping . . . I don't know. Hoping for healing maybe, hoping the sight of the ocean and the knowledge that I'm going to be in it in few minutes will give me the lift it usually does. But . . . nothing, no excitement, no anticipation. Nothing but the dull blankness I've been living with, when I haven't been screaming in my dreams. I sigh.
Your question pulls me back out of my useless meandering thoughts. Self-centered prick. I sigh again. This isn't your fault. Fuck, Urban, you're an actor, prove it.
"No, you haven't done anything." I finish getting the gear out of the truck, and pull out my wetsuit. "Get your kit on." The truck is blocking the worst of the wind, so I drop my clothes where I stand, not really caring if you look or not. The suit goes on easier than usual, I know I've lost weight these weeks, it's been hard to force myself to eat anything most days.
I've given you my old Malibu board, long enough to keep you out of trouble. I pitch both boards down on the sand, and prepare to lecture. "Every surf board has a center of gravity, you just have to find where it is while you're on it."
"But first, you've got to learn to come up on it." I lay down on mine, gripping it by the rails, ignoring the twinge of pain in my left hand, doc said to work it. And then I lunge up, all in one smooth motion, my feet on the stringer, my knees bent.
"Like that. Your dominant foot goes at the back. Which hand do you use to . . . " kill people with. I falter, and then realize I didn't say that out loud. " . . . to eat with or write with? Yeah, you try it."
Théo: So your mood is not down to us then. Fine, but you give me no clues as to what has caused it. Getting changed into Paris’ wetsuit, I glance across at you, noting that you do not seem to care about shedding your clothes in front of me, which surprises me. But this is definitely not the time or place to try and take advantage of that, and I would swear that you are thinner than the last time I saw you.
I listen to what you are saying, but there is something missing and my own brow furrows as I watch you. What drew me to this was your passion for it. Listening to you talk about surfing that night in the warehouse, I was mesmerised by the way you spoke, as if it was part of your soul, something you could not live without. It reminded me of the way any one of my countrymen will wax lyrical for hours when asked about riding, but now? Nothing. Blank, flat, that spirit that drew me gone, and it concerns me.
I know you enough to know you are not the sort of man to open up and talk about what bothers you and hope that when we are in the ocean, being tossed around by the waves, it may ease whatever is troubling you.
I follow your lead, lying down on the board you have given me, and pulling myself up into position. A handful of attempts later, and I think I have mastered the basic movement. It is easy enough on dry land, but know that out on the sea, it will be a different matter altogether. Once more I lie on my stomach, and with one fluid movement come up into the stance you have shown me, and look at you to see if it meets with your approval.
Karl: You're a quick learner, I'll give you that, with a natural ability to move your body the way you want it to go. "Very good." I try to remember to add a smile to my statement. I don't want you thinking you're causing my depression, but I don't know how to shake it off. Hopefully, if I pretend hard enough, I won't cause you any more concern.
The part of the beach we're on has a bar out several hundred meters that breaks the force of the waves, so even in this chill wind, the waves don't break very high. And the surf is shallow enough for the next part of the lesson without you have to contend with rough water. I show you how to secure the anklestrap and then after I pick up a cake of Sex Wax, we wade into the water.
Once we're about waist deep, I halt us and let my board drift, knowing the tether will keep it near. Your board floats between us, a big nine-foot Mal. "You've got to find the point where the board is balanced front to back and side to side." I help you climb onto the board, laying down on it, and then I get you situated to my satisfaction.
"You want to get into the same position every time you get on the board. Put your chin down." I scrape the wax across the place where your chin hits it and then hurl the wax back onto the beach. "This will mark your place until you get used to it. Now . . . try to do the same move you practiced."
Any other time, I'm sure I would have found the look on your face excruciatingly funny, as the board slowly sinks under your feet. But instead I nod. Time for a lesson on wave physics.
Théo: The chill air here does not bother me, it is nothing compared to a night spent out under the stars in the depth of a winter in Rohan, and this suit is remarkably warm. And being so close to the ocean has lifted my mood considerably, although yours still hangs around you like a cloud. I want nothing more than to throw myself headfirst into the waves, losing myself in its wild depths for a while, but bide my time, knowing we will get to that later.
Following you into the water, I admire the view as you go ahead of me, the wetsuit leaving nothing to the imagination. But I push those thoughts aside and follow your instructions closely, totally perplexed and surprised when the board begins to sink. I slip off it back into the water and grin at you, but you do not acknowledge it, so I shrug it off.
Before you can continue, I lean over the board and grab your wrist to get you attention, letting go as soon as I have it. You look me in the eyes for the first time today. A little taken aback at what I see there, I do not let it sway me from what I wanted to say.
“Karl, I have never seen this done. Will you show me? I think it would help to see what I am trying to achieve.”
While I understand the principle of this surfing, riding the waves on a board, and am enthralled by the idea of it, all I have to go on is that and your enthusiasm for it last time we met, which is sorely lacking at the moment.
Karl: Your impatience brings a real smile to my face, for the first time. Trust you to want to gallop off before you've been properly instructed. "Not here, the waves aren't big enough. We'll move down the beach in a minute. Sit on the board like this . . . and listen." I show you how to find the center while you're sitting on it.
"You just saw that the water alone's not enough to keep you up, so you've got to find the part of the wave that has enough power to take you. Which is the front, where it starts rolling. And then the most difficult part of surfing is finding the right wave. Takes patience."
I show you how to paddle your board and then we go in to move up the beach. I have a flask of hot cocoa, and I offer you some. Didn't bring any coffee cause trying to take a piss in a wetsuit's bloody difficult. Cocoa pushes back the chill a little and we go towards the Surf Club. The bar disappears here and there's a nice beach break, no inconvenient rocks and the wind is whipping the breakers pretty high today, so it should give us some nice rides.
Théo: I listen intently to the rest of your instruction before we move back to the sand, and you hand me something to drink. The hot liquid chocolate is certainly warming and good and sweet and I smile my approval. And then we are heading out into more open water, slipping onto the boards and paddling further. The sea is rougher here, and I gasp and laugh as the spray hits my face, shaking my head back to get the hair out of my eyes.
When you look back, I grin at you with a challenge in my eyes. “So, show me!”
Karl: I ignore you, but I do need to show you how it's done so I paddle my board steadily out to where I can get a feel for the waves, the rhythm of them. It's an old wives tale that the seventh is always the biggest, but there is a pattern, a combination of wind and tide, that you can find if you are patient enough to wait for it.
I go far beyond where I need to and I force myself to stop. The temptation to keep going until my strength gives out is there, like a wound that won't heal. I sit on my board staring at the horizon, wondering how far into the Pacific I could go before it takes me. Much as I want to fall into that, I know I can't, my promise to Jay one of the things pulling me back and once again, I wonder what darkness he's seen that he knew how it would try to get me.
I shake the impulse off as ridiculous self-pity, but I stare at the heaving swells and feel nothing, and my heart is breaking . . . again. My actions have put me beyond hope of any redemption and I know it, but this steady taking of everything that ever mattered to me hurts more than I can bear sometimes.
"I give up. I don't know what you want from me." I don't know who I'm talking to . . . the sky or the ocean or whatever. My parents' hypocrisy destroyed any belief that I might have had in any higher power. I close my eyes, not certain that I remember how to surf, feeling as though I've aged far beyond my years and I'm not sure my body knows what to do any more.
You are staring at me, puzzled, I can almost feel the weight of your gaze on my back.
"Take what you will." And I turn my board around and study the waves. There is a big one coming and I paddle for all I'm worth until I'm on the down slope of it and I feel the familiar surge beneath my belly. My mind goes blank and my legs come under me without thinking and I'm on the edge, riding the face of the breaker. I lean over into it, unconcerned about my balance, my surrender to it complete. I'm not fighting it anymore, I'll either ride it or crash and I don't care which it is.
I stay on the fine edge of disaster, but I never falter and the wave finally releases me in a swirl of foam and I lay in the sand, whispering, "Thank you."
Théo: I sit and watch, legs dangling over the side of my board as you paddle out much further than I had anticipated, and stop. Minutes tick by, and it looks for all the world as if you are offering yourself up to the ocean. I remember your words … if you don't give all you've got, you never get below the surface, never get to the heart of it, never see what it'll show you once it's taken everything from you. But if you thrust yourself to the very edge … it may take you for real …
And then it hits me. Whatever is pulling you down may go deeper than I thought, the sorrow and pain were clear in your eyes. My chest tightens … I should have pressed harder, pushed you to tell me what is wrong … not pushed you out into the unforgiving sea. But it is too late to do anything …
The wave starts to swell and I hold my breath as you begin move with it. I watch completely mesmerised as with one flowing movement, you rise onto the board. It is as if time has slowed down as the wave takes you, and you go with it, body moving as if you were part of it, you and the board and the water twisting and turning as one, taking my breath away. As the wave curls, you turn and I see your face, and there is nothing in your life at this moment other than this union with the ocean … a shiver that has little to do with the chill of the water crawls down my spine, and I ache to taste this for myself.
When the wave finally leaves you lying on the beach, I begin to paddle slowly back to the shore. I do not get very far before you are on your feet and retrieving your board, heading back out to join me. It seems that this could have been what you needed after all. Your eyes are clearer, a little of the tension gone from your face. I smile as you approach. “I think I have a better understanding now, although I think I will be spending more time in the water than on top of the board to begin with!”
Karl: That ride has restored my confidence some and I realise that, in my misery, I haven't been a very good teacher for you. This day should be about you, not my issues. So I push everything away, relieved to know that this at least is still mine. I duck my board under an oncoming breaker and join you.
"Everybody falls at first, don't worry about it. Not even Laird Hamilton got up the first time he tried it and he's the best surfer in the world." I show you how to angle your board so you can judge the incoming swells.
"These waves are the heartbeat of the ocean, just feel it, feel which one is strong enough to test yourself against. The hardest part about surfing is finding a wave that's right for you. Pick one and go for it. Paddle down the slope until you feel the power of it taking you, and then stand up like you practiced. And keep trying until you know what works for you."
Théo: I keep everything you have told me in mind, and nod, waiting until I feel the swell of a wave, and decide it is time to see how hard this actually is. My heart beats wildly as I paddle as I saw you do, feeling the wave build, feeling the energy rising, and I move smoothly onto my feet.
For a single moment, I think I have done it, and the rush is incredible … but my balance falters, the board slipping from beneath my feet, so I throw myself back into the water, laughing from the sheer joy of it. I let myself be tossed around by the sea before pushing myself back to the surface, breaking it with a whoop, shaking the water from my hair.
I grin across the waves at you, eyes sparking as I grab my board and slip onto it, paddling back out towards you. “This I like!”
Karl: I make a mental note never to take you anywhere that has a reef break, because you're going to get yourself killed if you let a wave roll you like that. I've seen people launch themselves straight into the bottom, thinking they were heading up, just from the disorientation of a breaker roll. One of the reasons I chose this beach . . . no rocks or coral.
Luckily you're a good enough athlete to compensate for most problems, and your enthusiasm is gratifying. But if something happened to you because of my neglect . . . I really don't think I could live with myself anymore. The list of people I've hurt would be too overwhelming.
"Next time you fall, don't let yourself get swirled around. You'll get dizzy and not realize what you're doing. Just swim under it. Now, catch another one. When you ride it until it bows to you, then . . . then you'll understand."
While you're waiting, I pull my feet out of the water and have a look at them. I'll give us about fifteen more minutes before we need to take a break and get warm.
Théo: Your tone is serious, a contrast to how I feel right now, but I put myself in your position. If I were teaching someone to ride a horse for the first time, I would expect them to take in everything I said, and take it seriously, however enthusiastic they were, so I concentrate on getting this right.
Three more waves, three more attempts. First time, I keep my footing on the board long enough to begin to move with the wave … but cannot hold it for long. This time I do as you say, swim out from under it, and try again. Second time, too confident, I am in the water a second after getting my feet in place, but the third time …
Rising smoothly to my feet, I let go, let instinct take over and stop trying to match my movements to the wave, just let it happen instead. A feeling of exhilaration courses through my veins as I go with it, riding the wave and for a short time, a far too short time, feel connected to the ocean in a new way, really feeling it’s heartbeat, its strength …
This time when I paddle back towards you, it is with a slightly smug smile, happy to have achieved so very little, and eager to do more, but right now wondering if you have any more of the chocolate drink left in your flask back on the beach.
Karl: After your successful ride I think we need to get some feeling back in our feet, or we're going to be worthless. We can't surf all day like we could in the summer time, the risk of hypothermia is too high. But we can probably put in another hour or two, if we're careful. So when you start back out, I gesture you on to the beach instead.
"We need to warm up some before we do more. Being in the cold water like this can catch you unawares. It's not like being cold on dry land." I have several pairs of heavy, thick wool socks in my bag and I hand you a pair. "Put these on."
I put socks on my own feet and then get some food out of the cooler, giving you the flask of cocoa to sip while I get things organized. I brought cold cuts for the beach cause it's too hard to keep anything warm. I left some lamb stew in the slow cooker at home for when we get in this evening, it should warm our bones. I wrap the meat in some flat bread and hand it to you, taking a bottle of water for myself, drinking it slowly and towelling my hair.
Théo: I give my feet a quick vigorous rub with a towel to dry and warm them, then slip the socks on, grateful for the warmth. My toes had almost gone numb in the water they were that cold.
Again, the chocolate warms me, and I take the offered food gratefully, passing the flask back to you as I take a large bite, wolfing it down. “I did not realise how hungry I was while we were out there. Thank you.” I sit and stare out over the water while I eat, wrapped up in my own thoughts until you nudge my arm with a bottle of water, and I take it from you with a smile, glancing down at your fingers as I do so.
“Is your hand fully healed? Mer told me you broke it in a bar fight.” I am concerned for your health but will admit to being curious about the circumstances you broke it in too.
Karl: I look down at my hand, flexing it in response to your question. "The bones are knit, but the muscles were held still for so long that they got weak." I shrug. "Just a matter of rebuilding my strength. Hurts a little but it's just healing."
I make another sandwich for you and finish my water. The wind has died down a bit, and I'm not cold anymore, but we've passed noon and the day isn't going to get any warmer. "We can't do this much longer, maybe an hour or so, because of the cold. If we come back tomorrow, I think you'll find that it goes a lot better. I dunno, your body seems to learn things in your sleep."
Théo: Even though I would like nothing better than to spend the rest of the day here, I agree that it is too cold to do so. It was a good idea not to camp, and I admit that I am looking forward to the comforts of a warm house tonight, even though it will be the first time I have spent a full night in this world and not woken up wrapped around Mer, or on occasion, Faramir. I am not sure of the sleeping arrangements, though. I know you only have one bed, and although it is an ample size for two to sleep in, lovers or not, it would surprise me if you agreed to share. No matter, you have a comfortable couch in case it comes to that.
You pass me more food and I tuck in to it with relish, only realising halfway through that you have eaten nothing. Something ails you that you try to hide, and it concerns me.
“Why are you not eating? You need to keep your strength up if we are heading back out, and as you say, you are still healing.” I turn round to face you, sitting cross-legged on the blanket/sand, openly scrutinising you. “You have lost weight since we last met, and I do not think it would be wise to lose more.” Thrusting my half-eaten sandwich at you, my words are edged with humour, but I am serious in what I say. “Here, eat. If you were one of my riders, I would make it an order.”
Karl: I take the food grudgingly and snort at your comment. I've never met anyone who seems to think they have the right to get in my face the way you do. I'm lucky I'm not one of your riders. The weird thing is that you remind me of June, in your attitude maybe, she never takes any shit from me either. Thinking of her sends a spasm of grief through me and I take a gasping breath. I've been avoiding her, knowing she could get the whole story out of me and not wanting to endanger her. I'll go to her when I'm better, but now it's best to not think of her.
Trying to evade your eyes and your questions, I take a hesitant bite, testing my stomach. It seems all right and I slowly finish the sandwich, a small bite at a time, making sure my gut isn't going to betray me.
When I'm done, I look at you. "Ready for more?" At your nod, we go back into the cold water, my balls immediately pulling up as far as they'll go. It's seems like it's always much harder to get back in after getting warm than it does to get in the first time.
Théo: It is indeed cold when we enter the water again, but no doubt the cold will be pushed back as we surf. I paddle out behind you, catching another glimpse of your face before you catch a ride on a large swell, knowing you evaded my questions as to why you are not eating.
So you ate what I offered you. Good, but after hearing the tiny gasp of almost pain and watching you nibble at the sandwich, I am more determined than ever to find out exactly what is wrong. But this is not the time or the place. There will be time for talking later, and we will talk, whatever it takes.
And with that thought, I rise to my feet, and let the ocean do as she will with me.
There is the unmistakeable tang of salt in the air, and a couple of steps up the shallow bank reveal the beach and the ocean beyond it. Already the smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves bring good memories to mind, making me smile as I remember time spent in a similar place with Mer, and the laughter I shared at the beach with Dave. Paris tried to talk me out of this when I asked him to arrange it. He said it would be too cold, but Karl agreed, so here we are.
The sound of the truck door slamming brings me back to the present, and I jump back down off the bank, following Karl to the back of the truck to unload our gear. I watch him as he pulls open the back of the truck as if it angered him beyond reason. He has spoken less than a handful of words since we set off, and I am beginning to think this was a bad idea. It is as if something is eating away at him, the few questions I asked him during the drive answered with little more than grunts.
I let out a long sigh. This was originally his idea. Well, surfing was his idea, being friends was my idea, but I cannot see much of a friendship forming if we are not going to speak to each other. He thrusts a surfboard at me, and I take it from him, noting the deep crease in his forehead that reminds me so much of Mer.
Then there is the matter of his hand. Broken in a bar fight, he told Mer, although that doesn’t sit quite right, given how adamant he is that Mer stay out of trouble when he is here. Perhaps that has something to do with his mood. For once in my life I stay silent, even though there are so many questions eating away at me, and I am more than a little concerned that this mood is not dissimilar to the one he was in when I first met him months ago. At least this time, it can have nothing to do with Mer and I … can it?
I follow his lead and plant the board in the sand, and can suddenly no longer keep quiet.
"Karl, have I annoyed you in some way?"
Karl: We park beside the rockwall on Paekakariki Beach that's been put up to prevent erosion. Beach is pretty deserted this time of year, but that's all right. I thought about arguing when Paris called about this. Nobody surfs in the fucking winter. But then I thought maybe I need to do this. As we pulled up I was hoping . . . I don't know. Hoping for healing maybe, hoping the sight of the ocean and the knowledge that I'm going to be in it in few minutes will give me the lift it usually does. But . . . nothing, no excitement, no anticipation. Nothing but the dull blankness I've been living with, when I haven't been screaming in my dreams. I sigh.
Your question pulls me back out of my useless meandering thoughts. Self-centered prick. I sigh again. This isn't your fault. Fuck, Urban, you're an actor, prove it.
"No, you haven't done anything." I finish getting the gear out of the truck, and pull out my wetsuit. "Get your kit on." The truck is blocking the worst of the wind, so I drop my clothes where I stand, not really caring if you look or not. The suit goes on easier than usual, I know I've lost weight these weeks, it's been hard to force myself to eat anything most days.
I've given you my old Malibu board, long enough to keep you out of trouble. I pitch both boards down on the sand, and prepare to lecture. "Every surf board has a center of gravity, you just have to find where it is while you're on it."
"But first, you've got to learn to come up on it." I lay down on mine, gripping it by the rails, ignoring the twinge of pain in my left hand, doc said to work it. And then I lunge up, all in one smooth motion, my feet on the stringer, my knees bent.
"Like that. Your dominant foot goes at the back. Which hand do you use to . . . " kill people with. I falter, and then realize I didn't say that out loud. " . . . to eat with or write with? Yeah, you try it."
Théo: So your mood is not down to us then. Fine, but you give me no clues as to what has caused it. Getting changed into Paris’ wetsuit, I glance across at you, noting that you do not seem to care about shedding your clothes in front of me, which surprises me. But this is definitely not the time or place to try and take advantage of that, and I would swear that you are thinner than the last time I saw you.
I listen to what you are saying, but there is something missing and my own brow furrows as I watch you. What drew me to this was your passion for it. Listening to you talk about surfing that night in the warehouse, I was mesmerised by the way you spoke, as if it was part of your soul, something you could not live without. It reminded me of the way any one of my countrymen will wax lyrical for hours when asked about riding, but now? Nothing. Blank, flat, that spirit that drew me gone, and it concerns me.
I know you enough to know you are not the sort of man to open up and talk about what bothers you and hope that when we are in the ocean, being tossed around by the waves, it may ease whatever is troubling you.
I follow your lead, lying down on the board you have given me, and pulling myself up into position. A handful of attempts later, and I think I have mastered the basic movement. It is easy enough on dry land, but know that out on the sea, it will be a different matter altogether. Once more I lie on my stomach, and with one fluid movement come up into the stance you have shown me, and look at you to see if it meets with your approval.
Karl: You're a quick learner, I'll give you that, with a natural ability to move your body the way you want it to go. "Very good." I try to remember to add a smile to my statement. I don't want you thinking you're causing my depression, but I don't know how to shake it off. Hopefully, if I pretend hard enough, I won't cause you any more concern.
The part of the beach we're on has a bar out several hundred meters that breaks the force of the waves, so even in this chill wind, the waves don't break very high. And the surf is shallow enough for the next part of the lesson without you have to contend with rough water. I show you how to secure the anklestrap and then after I pick up a cake of Sex Wax, we wade into the water.
Once we're about waist deep, I halt us and let my board drift, knowing the tether will keep it near. Your board floats between us, a big nine-foot Mal. "You've got to find the point where the board is balanced front to back and side to side." I help you climb onto the board, laying down on it, and then I get you situated to my satisfaction.
"You want to get into the same position every time you get on the board. Put your chin down." I scrape the wax across the place where your chin hits it and then hurl the wax back onto the beach. "This will mark your place until you get used to it. Now . . . try to do the same move you practiced."
Any other time, I'm sure I would have found the look on your face excruciatingly funny, as the board slowly sinks under your feet. But instead I nod. Time for a lesson on wave physics.
Théo: The chill air here does not bother me, it is nothing compared to a night spent out under the stars in the depth of a winter in Rohan, and this suit is remarkably warm. And being so close to the ocean has lifted my mood considerably, although yours still hangs around you like a cloud. I want nothing more than to throw myself headfirst into the waves, losing myself in its wild depths for a while, but bide my time, knowing we will get to that later.
Following you into the water, I admire the view as you go ahead of me, the wetsuit leaving nothing to the imagination. But I push those thoughts aside and follow your instructions closely, totally perplexed and surprised when the board begins to sink. I slip off it back into the water and grin at you, but you do not acknowledge it, so I shrug it off.
Before you can continue, I lean over the board and grab your wrist to get you attention, letting go as soon as I have it. You look me in the eyes for the first time today. A little taken aback at what I see there, I do not let it sway me from what I wanted to say.
“Karl, I have never seen this done. Will you show me? I think it would help to see what I am trying to achieve.”
While I understand the principle of this surfing, riding the waves on a board, and am enthralled by the idea of it, all I have to go on is that and your enthusiasm for it last time we met, which is sorely lacking at the moment.
Karl: Your impatience brings a real smile to my face, for the first time. Trust you to want to gallop off before you've been properly instructed. "Not here, the waves aren't big enough. We'll move down the beach in a minute. Sit on the board like this . . . and listen." I show you how to find the center while you're sitting on it.
"You just saw that the water alone's not enough to keep you up, so you've got to find the part of the wave that has enough power to take you. Which is the front, where it starts rolling. And then the most difficult part of surfing is finding the right wave. Takes patience."
I show you how to paddle your board and then we go in to move up the beach. I have a flask of hot cocoa, and I offer you some. Didn't bring any coffee cause trying to take a piss in a wetsuit's bloody difficult. Cocoa pushes back the chill a little and we go towards the Surf Club. The bar disappears here and there's a nice beach break, no inconvenient rocks and the wind is whipping the breakers pretty high today, so it should give us some nice rides.
Théo: I listen intently to the rest of your instruction before we move back to the sand, and you hand me something to drink. The hot liquid chocolate is certainly warming and good and sweet and I smile my approval. And then we are heading out into more open water, slipping onto the boards and paddling further. The sea is rougher here, and I gasp and laugh as the spray hits my face, shaking my head back to get the hair out of my eyes.
When you look back, I grin at you with a challenge in my eyes. “So, show me!”
Karl: I ignore you, but I do need to show you how it's done so I paddle my board steadily out to where I can get a feel for the waves, the rhythm of them. It's an old wives tale that the seventh is always the biggest, but there is a pattern, a combination of wind and tide, that you can find if you are patient enough to wait for it.
I go far beyond where I need to and I force myself to stop. The temptation to keep going until my strength gives out is there, like a wound that won't heal. I sit on my board staring at the horizon, wondering how far into the Pacific I could go before it takes me. Much as I want to fall into that, I know I can't, my promise to Jay one of the things pulling me back and once again, I wonder what darkness he's seen that he knew how it would try to get me.
I shake the impulse off as ridiculous self-pity, but I stare at the heaving swells and feel nothing, and my heart is breaking . . . again. My actions have put me beyond hope of any redemption and I know it, but this steady taking of everything that ever mattered to me hurts more than I can bear sometimes.
"I give up. I don't know what you want from me." I don't know who I'm talking to . . . the sky or the ocean or whatever. My parents' hypocrisy destroyed any belief that I might have had in any higher power. I close my eyes, not certain that I remember how to surf, feeling as though I've aged far beyond my years and I'm not sure my body knows what to do any more.
You are staring at me, puzzled, I can almost feel the weight of your gaze on my back.
"Take what you will." And I turn my board around and study the waves. There is a big one coming and I paddle for all I'm worth until I'm on the down slope of it and I feel the familiar surge beneath my belly. My mind goes blank and my legs come under me without thinking and I'm on the edge, riding the face of the breaker. I lean over into it, unconcerned about my balance, my surrender to it complete. I'm not fighting it anymore, I'll either ride it or crash and I don't care which it is.
I stay on the fine edge of disaster, but I never falter and the wave finally releases me in a swirl of foam and I lay in the sand, whispering, "Thank you."
Théo: I sit and watch, legs dangling over the side of my board as you paddle out much further than I had anticipated, and stop. Minutes tick by, and it looks for all the world as if you are offering yourself up to the ocean. I remember your words … if you don't give all you've got, you never get below the surface, never get to the heart of it, never see what it'll show you once it's taken everything from you. But if you thrust yourself to the very edge … it may take you for real …
And then it hits me. Whatever is pulling you down may go deeper than I thought, the sorrow and pain were clear in your eyes. My chest tightens … I should have pressed harder, pushed you to tell me what is wrong … not pushed you out into the unforgiving sea. But it is too late to do anything …
The wave starts to swell and I hold my breath as you begin move with it. I watch completely mesmerised as with one flowing movement, you rise onto the board. It is as if time has slowed down as the wave takes you, and you go with it, body moving as if you were part of it, you and the board and the water twisting and turning as one, taking my breath away. As the wave curls, you turn and I see your face, and there is nothing in your life at this moment other than this union with the ocean … a shiver that has little to do with the chill of the water crawls down my spine, and I ache to taste this for myself.
When the wave finally leaves you lying on the beach, I begin to paddle slowly back to the shore. I do not get very far before you are on your feet and retrieving your board, heading back out to join me. It seems that this could have been what you needed after all. Your eyes are clearer, a little of the tension gone from your face. I smile as you approach. “I think I have a better understanding now, although I think I will be spending more time in the water than on top of the board to begin with!”
Karl: That ride has restored my confidence some and I realise that, in my misery, I haven't been a very good teacher for you. This day should be about you, not my issues. So I push everything away, relieved to know that this at least is still mine. I duck my board under an oncoming breaker and join you.
"Everybody falls at first, don't worry about it. Not even Laird Hamilton got up the first time he tried it and he's the best surfer in the world." I show you how to angle your board so you can judge the incoming swells.
"These waves are the heartbeat of the ocean, just feel it, feel which one is strong enough to test yourself against. The hardest part about surfing is finding a wave that's right for you. Pick one and go for it. Paddle down the slope until you feel the power of it taking you, and then stand up like you practiced. And keep trying until you know what works for you."
Théo: I keep everything you have told me in mind, and nod, waiting until I feel the swell of a wave, and decide it is time to see how hard this actually is. My heart beats wildly as I paddle as I saw you do, feeling the wave build, feeling the energy rising, and I move smoothly onto my feet.
For a single moment, I think I have done it, and the rush is incredible … but my balance falters, the board slipping from beneath my feet, so I throw myself back into the water, laughing from the sheer joy of it. I let myself be tossed around by the sea before pushing myself back to the surface, breaking it with a whoop, shaking the water from my hair.
I grin across the waves at you, eyes sparking as I grab my board and slip onto it, paddling back out towards you. “This I like!”
Karl: I make a mental note never to take you anywhere that has a reef break, because you're going to get yourself killed if you let a wave roll you like that. I've seen people launch themselves straight into the bottom, thinking they were heading up, just from the disorientation of a breaker roll. One of the reasons I chose this beach . . . no rocks or coral.
Luckily you're a good enough athlete to compensate for most problems, and your enthusiasm is gratifying. But if something happened to you because of my neglect . . . I really don't think I could live with myself anymore. The list of people I've hurt would be too overwhelming.
"Next time you fall, don't let yourself get swirled around. You'll get dizzy and not realize what you're doing. Just swim under it. Now, catch another one. When you ride it until it bows to you, then . . . then you'll understand."
While you're waiting, I pull my feet out of the water and have a look at them. I'll give us about fifteen more minutes before we need to take a break and get warm.
Théo: Your tone is serious, a contrast to how I feel right now, but I put myself in your position. If I were teaching someone to ride a horse for the first time, I would expect them to take in everything I said, and take it seriously, however enthusiastic they were, so I concentrate on getting this right.
Three more waves, three more attempts. First time, I keep my footing on the board long enough to begin to move with the wave … but cannot hold it for long. This time I do as you say, swim out from under it, and try again. Second time, too confident, I am in the water a second after getting my feet in place, but the third time …
Rising smoothly to my feet, I let go, let instinct take over and stop trying to match my movements to the wave, just let it happen instead. A feeling of exhilaration courses through my veins as I go with it, riding the wave and for a short time, a far too short time, feel connected to the ocean in a new way, really feeling it’s heartbeat, its strength …
This time when I paddle back towards you, it is with a slightly smug smile, happy to have achieved so very little, and eager to do more, but right now wondering if you have any more of the chocolate drink left in your flask back on the beach.
Karl: After your successful ride I think we need to get some feeling back in our feet, or we're going to be worthless. We can't surf all day like we could in the summer time, the risk of hypothermia is too high. But we can probably put in another hour or two, if we're careful. So when you start back out, I gesture you on to the beach instead.
"We need to warm up some before we do more. Being in the cold water like this can catch you unawares. It's not like being cold on dry land." I have several pairs of heavy, thick wool socks in my bag and I hand you a pair. "Put these on."
I put socks on my own feet and then get some food out of the cooler, giving you the flask of cocoa to sip while I get things organized. I brought cold cuts for the beach cause it's too hard to keep anything warm. I left some lamb stew in the slow cooker at home for when we get in this evening, it should warm our bones. I wrap the meat in some flat bread and hand it to you, taking a bottle of water for myself, drinking it slowly and towelling my hair.
Théo: I give my feet a quick vigorous rub with a towel to dry and warm them, then slip the socks on, grateful for the warmth. My toes had almost gone numb in the water they were that cold.
Again, the chocolate warms me, and I take the offered food gratefully, passing the flask back to you as I take a large bite, wolfing it down. “I did not realise how hungry I was while we were out there. Thank you.” I sit and stare out over the water while I eat, wrapped up in my own thoughts until you nudge my arm with a bottle of water, and I take it from you with a smile, glancing down at your fingers as I do so.
“Is your hand fully healed? Mer told me you broke it in a bar fight.” I am concerned for your health but will admit to being curious about the circumstances you broke it in too.
Karl: I look down at my hand, flexing it in response to your question. "The bones are knit, but the muscles were held still for so long that they got weak." I shrug. "Just a matter of rebuilding my strength. Hurts a little but it's just healing."
I make another sandwich for you and finish my water. The wind has died down a bit, and I'm not cold anymore, but we've passed noon and the day isn't going to get any warmer. "We can't do this much longer, maybe an hour or so, because of the cold. If we come back tomorrow, I think you'll find that it goes a lot better. I dunno, your body seems to learn things in your sleep."
Théo: Even though I would like nothing better than to spend the rest of the day here, I agree that it is too cold to do so. It was a good idea not to camp, and I admit that I am looking forward to the comforts of a warm house tonight, even though it will be the first time I have spent a full night in this world and not woken up wrapped around Mer, or on occasion, Faramir. I am not sure of the sleeping arrangements, though. I know you only have one bed, and although it is an ample size for two to sleep in, lovers or not, it would surprise me if you agreed to share. No matter, you have a comfortable couch in case it comes to that.
You pass me more food and I tuck in to it with relish, only realising halfway through that you have eaten nothing. Something ails you that you try to hide, and it concerns me.
“Why are you not eating? You need to keep your strength up if we are heading back out, and as you say, you are still healing.” I turn round to face you, sitting cross-legged on the blanket/sand, openly scrutinising you. “You have lost weight since we last met, and I do not think it would be wise to lose more.” Thrusting my half-eaten sandwich at you, my words are edged with humour, but I am serious in what I say. “Here, eat. If you were one of my riders, I would make it an order.”
Karl: I take the food grudgingly and snort at your comment. I've never met anyone who seems to think they have the right to get in my face the way you do. I'm lucky I'm not one of your riders. The weird thing is that you remind me of June, in your attitude maybe, she never takes any shit from me either. Thinking of her sends a spasm of grief through me and I take a gasping breath. I've been avoiding her, knowing she could get the whole story out of me and not wanting to endanger her. I'll go to her when I'm better, but now it's best to not think of her.
Trying to evade your eyes and your questions, I take a hesitant bite, testing my stomach. It seems all right and I slowly finish the sandwich, a small bite at a time, making sure my gut isn't going to betray me.
When I'm done, I look at you. "Ready for more?" At your nod, we go back into the cold water, my balls immediately pulling up as far as they'll go. It's seems like it's always much harder to get back in after getting warm than it does to get in the first time.
Théo: It is indeed cold when we enter the water again, but no doubt the cold will be pushed back as we surf. I paddle out behind you, catching another glimpse of your face before you catch a ride on a large swell, knowing you evaded my questions as to why you are not eating.
So you ate what I offered you. Good, but after hearing the tiny gasp of almost pain and watching you nibble at the sandwich, I am more determined than ever to find out exactly what is wrong. But this is not the time or the place. There will be time for talking later, and we will talk, whatever it takes.
And with that thought, I rise to my feet, and let the ocean do as she will with me.
