I take the oar from his hand and march towards the boat. He jogs to catch me up. ‘You need one of these.’ A life jacket is hooked over his index finger.
‘Thank you,’ I say politely, taking it and putting it on and zipping it all the way up for extra life-saving ability.
I push the kayak into the shallow water at the shore and get in, wriggling into position. My exposed legs are a magnet for the sun and I want to kick myself for forgetting to apply sun lotion.
‘Okay, I have to give you a little safety briefing but first, do you have any idea what you’re doing?’ He pushes the back of the vessel far enough into the water that it’s no longer touching the sand. It bobs about in the waves and already feels unstable.
‘Left, right, left, right.’ I mimic rowing. ‘I think I’ve got it.
He rests his hands on his hips but doesn’t speak. He thinks I can’t do this and that makes me more determined to show him.
He shrugs. ‘Okay then. There’s a whistle on your life jacket if you get into any danger. Stay between the buoys and don’t go too far out.’
When I’m about two feet deep, I try the oars properly. The boat rocks side to side precariously and I have to wrestle with the oars to try and steady myself.
‘You know what? It’s pretty quiet. I’ll come out with you,’ he shouts over the sound of the surf.
‘It’s fine. I just need to get the hang of it,’ I shout back. Frustration builds inside me at the fact he thinks I’m incapable.
‘Nobody’s going to come and rent a kayak today, the place is dead, and I haven’t been out this week. Let me come with you.’
‘Fine,’ I shout. At least I’ll get the opportunity to show him how capable I am.
Moments later, he pulls another kayak over to the water. ‘I made a picnic last week, you know.’
My stomach aches with guilt. I hadn’t expected him to go to any trouble. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I make a mean chicken sandwich and I got to eat two of them, so really, you did me a favour.’ He pats his flat stomach, which doesn’t so much as twitch under the impact. When he’s not looking, I can’t resist patting my own out of curiosity. Beneath the life jacket, the soft squashy skin jiggles. Maybe one day I’ll do a sit-up or something.
‘Why don’t you have to wear one of these?’ I yank the strap on my life jacket.
‘Because I’m really good at this. And I was in a hurry. Plus, if anything goes wrong, I’m not going to sue myself.’
He slides into the kayak with the ease and grace I suspect I lacked. ‘Okay, first of all, find your centre of gravity, and just rock your hips a little to get used to how the boat moves.’
He demonstrates, and I copy. As the boat moves, I instinctively grab the side, but once it starts to feel natural, I slacken my grip, riding each gentle wave that knocks the side of the boat.
‘Good. Now, the trick is to keep the strokes light. Dance with the oars; don’t just jab them into the water. Next, engage your core.’
‘My core hasn’t been engaged in a long while,’ I say, recoiling at the memory of a bootcamp Bridget tortured me with before a trip to Marbs with the girls a few years ago.
‘Try it.’
I tense the muscles underneath the remnants of my winter blubber (which I’m totally saving for next winter by the way) and discreetly jab a finger into my stomach. This time, I can almost feel my abs beneath the soft flesh.
‘I’m engaged,’ I say. ‘I mean, my core is. I’m not engaged.’ I’m babbling.
‘Good. About your core, I mean.’ Our boats bob up and down in the gentle surf as Ethan surveys the water ahead. ‘We’ll head out that way.’ He points towards the horizon. I hope he doesn’t mean too far that way because if I lose sight of land there’s a good chance I’ll panic and that will ruin the whole ‘showing him I can do this’ vibe.
‘After you.’ I watch his biceps tense with each stroke as he glides the oars through the water with ease. I try my own. They need to dance. Lightly touching the surface does nothing but splash me, so I dig them deeper and I start to move, but it’s hard work. One big pull to the right and the boat turns sharply left.
‘Are you okay?’ he shouts. His boat is side on to mine and stopped in the water.
‘Yes,’ I wave flippantly. ‘Just dancing with these oars. One step at a time, yadda, yadda.’
‘You’re going in too deep. Watch.’ He sets off. I try to determine the correct depth of oar stabbage, or whatever the technical term is, but the few ocean droplets dotted around his chest are reflecting the rays of the sun, and it makes for quite compelling viewing. What has gotten into me?
I try again and manage to gain some momentum and balance, and once I find my groove it’s quite easy. I follow Ethan as we head out further. Each wave knocks me a little, so I focus on them, anticipating what the next one will do and what I need to do to correct it. After a while, we stop for a break, and I start to feel a bit queasy with the relentless rocking to and fro.
‘Look. A bluefish.’ Ethan points to a large dark thing that darts beneath us.
‘Wow,’ I say, rather quite glad of the boat. As we bob up and down my nausea increases, and my skin starts to feel warm and clammy with the churning in my stomach.
‘Are you okay?’ Ethan asks. ‘You’ve gone pale.’
‘Um.’ I nod. My mouth has become too watery and tingly to speak. I know it’s coming.
My stomach lurches. I lean to the right to avoid throwing up down myself, forgetting the precarious centre of gravity I was keeping with my core. Instinctively, I reach out to grab the side with my left hand, but all that does is tip the kayak over even faster. The very moment the bile reaches my lips, my head hits the water and I’m in. I flail my arms about, trying to reach the surface and gasp for breath, but it’s too soon, I haven’t fully emerged and instead get a lungful of saltwater.
I cough and splutter in the confusion. I’m aware of rough hands on me, yanking me out of the water and laying me over the fronts of the two kayaks. I lie there for a moment, still coughing. Ethan swims around and clamps his hands on the side of the boat.
‘Shit, Sam, are you okay?’
‘Why? Don’t I look it?’ I joke once I’ve caught my breath. I’m pretty sure I snorted some mucus out through my nostrils, and there’s a good chance the sea hasn’t rinsed all the chunks of vomit away.
‘Not really.’ He laughs, running a hand through his hair. ‘What happened?’
‘I think I got seasick.’
‘Seasick? But you’ve been travelling here by ferry.’
‘I know. It hasn’t happened before. Maybe it’s the small boat.’ I let my head flop down to rest on my arm as my stomach continues to waver. My body starts shaking violently. I’m not out of the woods yet.
‘I don’t think I can paddle back,’ I say, quickly, because I’m not quite sure what else will accompany the words.
‘It’s okay, I’ll push us in.’ He tethers the kayaks together and pulls himself back into his. I get back in mine and rest the oar across my lap and my head in my hands. The quickest route back to the shore means we land a little way down the beach from the rental place. The ground feels so solid beneath my feet, and I feel so heavy and cumbersome being out of the water that I fall to my knees straight away, taking a few deep breaths to calm me.
‘Are you okay?’ He kneels down beside and puts his hand on my shoulder. The heat from it makes it hard to think of anything else.
I swallow hard. ‘I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting to fall in. Or throw up.’
‘Well, there’s a story to tell Harry and Barney at the party later.’ He pats my back and takes his hand away, but I can still feel it. ‘You are going, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, definitely.’ The thought of going gives me a tightness in my chest and all I really want to do is curl up in a ball and hide.
We walk back to the rental hut, leaving the kayaks. Ethan says he’ll sort them and instructs me to go in the ca
bin and get something to eat or drink. All I want is for one of the nearby whales to swallow me whole like Geppetto in Pinocchio but since going back out to sea will make me vomit again, the opportunity to hide in the hotel would do. ‘You’re not leaving until I see some colour back in those cheeks,’ Ethan says as he starts closing up the shop.
‘I’m fine, honestly,’ I say. I’m surprised I don’t have a lovely crimson colour in my cheeks to be fair.
‘You swallowed a lot of water back there, I want to make sure you don’t start coughing, there’s a risk of secondary drowning.’
I frown.
‘It’s true.’ He reaches up to hang my life jacket and I watch his arm muscles ripple beneath his skin. ‘I was a lifeguard in my younger years. The job helped put me through college, or beer, if you want the absolute truth.’
I laugh. ‘I don’t think I’m secondary drowning. I’m suffering with nothing more than a good old-fashioned bout of primary embarrassment.’
‘It happens all the time,’ he says.
‘I’m sure it doesn’t.’ I raise my eyebrows and he flashes me a grin.
‘Maybe not.’ He hands me a blanket. ‘Put this on.’ He must have noticed me shivering. I look at him with intrigue but he carries on tidying up the shop as though it was nothing.
‘I had you all wrong,’ I say, ‘you aren’t a bad person at all.’
‘Well, I knew that all along.’ He winks at me with good humour and it makes my stomach flip.
‘I’d better go,’ I say before anything else flips. My stomach has had enough exercise for one day.
Once in front of the mirror in the privacy of my hotel room, I assess the damage. It’s worse than expected. How is it that some people have runny mascara and manage to make it look sexy, whilst I, on the other hand, didn’t even put any on but somehow have yesterday’s smeared all around my eyes and look like I’ve gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson? Or one round. I can’t honestly say I’d last much longer than that and I’d only last one round if he took pity on me and didn’t actually fight back. I make a mental note to invest in a better eye make-up remover.
I can’t believe another person saw me like this. Somehow, it feels worse that it was Ethan who did. And I threw up too. I let out a groan and hit the shower. Under the heat of the water, I start to feel human again, and that comes with some uncomfortable thoughts. Why am I so bothered about Ethan seeing me in such a state? He’s just a guy. So what if he’s good-looking, or he intrigues me a little? Why can I still feel his hand on my shoulder? He’s ‘off limits’, whatever that means. I pinch myself on the back of my arm as I’m washing it with my pouf. It doesn’t matter that he’s off limits. I’m off limits! I don’t even know why I’m thinking about this stuff.
After a power nap and a can of Coke, I’m able to drag myself to Harry and Barney’s house. Heading into a room full of people I don’t know isn’t exactly at the top of my list of ‘things to do’ on a good day, but on a day like today, it’s more akin to hell.
‘Hi Barney.’ I beam as he opens the door and pulls me into a warm, cuddly hug.
‘Oh, honey, I heard all about kayaking. Are you feeling any better?’ he asks, holding me at arm’s length to look me over animatedly.
‘I’m fine, but if the story has already done the rounds, I’m probably going to need a drink.’
He holds his own out to me. ‘Here, take this. It’s a Harney.’
I raise my eyebrow.
‘Delicious, exotic and fun, just like your two Provincetown BFFs. Drink that and you’ll be fine.’ I’m not sure being American counts as being exotic to a Brit, but I take it gratefully. He shepherds me through to the open plan kitchen-dining area, which opens out onto a large wooden balcony overlooking a small, well-stocked garden.
‘Hey Sam!’ Harry calls as he heads outside carrying a tray of shrimp.
I give him a wave and down my Harney. The house is already quite full. It’s not exactly what I’d call ‘intimate’ with about twenty-five people all squashed in, but I suppose these guys are so open and welcoming they’re just a magnet for people. Ethan is out on the balcony chatting to the brunette I recognise from the beach. She’s laughing and twirling her long hair with her fingers. Going over to say hello seems a little intrusive, so when I can’t catch his eye, I wander to the kitchen area and pour myself another Harney from the jug of green liquid, all the while feeling a little bit disappointed that Ethan has some woman fawning over him. It must be homesickness that’s tampered with my chi or something.
A few people I recognise from the barbecue say hi, and some make polite conversation before heading over to talk to their actual friends. The moments I stand there alone, my skin prickles and I’m tensely aware of myself. I shuffle about, trying to find a way to stand that looks casual, but every position feels uncomfortable, unnatural. Harry and Barney are working the room, scattering their smiles, gesticulation and warmth around flamboyantly like confetti. Ethan is still chatting away to the brunette. I watch the clock, wondering what would be an acceptable length of time to stay before making my excuses and heading back to my hotel.
After polishing off a salmon blini, I finish my drink and prepare to say my goodbyes when I feel a warm hand on the small of my back.
‘Sam?’
‘Ethan.’ He’s smiling, and it’s genuine, broad and natural. I wonder how many ‘Harneys’ he’s had.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Oh, you know … I’m fine now. Nothing some full-fat Coke couldn’t fix.’
‘Maybe next time we should stick to dry land.’ His eyes glint. Next time?
‘I don’t think you can kayak on dry land,’ I say in a playful tone, easing into the different feel of the conversation.
‘You don’t get as far, but it’s much harder to capsize so, y’know …’ He makes a balancing-scales gesture with his hands.
‘Thank you, but I think my kayaking days are over.’ Though the thought of not having an excuse to see Ethan next time I’m here gives me a sludgy feeling in my stomach that I’m not entirely comfortable with.
‘Sam!’ Barney makes a beeline for us. ‘Ethan told us how he saved your life! I’ve visions of the Hoff in his Baywatch days.’
‘I didn’t say I saved her life.’ Ethan’s cheeks flush.
‘Manhandled me more like,’ I laugh. ‘It wasn’t quite as glamourous as Baywatch.’
‘Hey! I was just making sure you got out of the water quickly. It’s cold in there and it can disorientate you.’
‘Hmm.’ In all honesty, vomit and drowning aside, I quite enjoyed being rescued.
‘You, Ethan, are far too modest,’ Barney says, before heading towards his next target.
‘Are you coming over next weekend?’ Ethan asks when Barney is gone. ‘I have Saturday off and was wondering if you wanted to go for a bike ride? I’ll pack some of my signature chicken sandwiches.’
Instinctively, I want to yell ‘yes’ because I can’t think of a better way to spend my Saturday. But at the same time, I’m turning into someone I don’t recognise, and experiencing sensations that I shouldn’t be. I don’t like it at all and now all I can think about is Kev and my throat is thick.
I’ve met good-looking, kind men before, but I’ve always managed to remain unaffected. Whatever this weird feeling is I feel between us is new and it’s ruining everything.
‘I’m sorry, Ethan, I don’t think I’ll make it next weekend. Since this project took off at work, the guys want me around. It’s a work hard, play hard thing.’ I bite my lip before I can say, ‘Maybe some other time’, because there will not be some other time.
He glances down at his shoes before his eyes come up to meet mine.
‘Maybe some other time?’ he asks with a hopeful look.
‘I’m sure I’ll be back again,’ I say, but it’s a thin response which I don’t thicken with feeling. ‘I’m still not feeling great. Can you thank the guys for me? I need to go.’
‘Wait!’ He takes my elbow ge
ntly. ‘It’s late. Let me walk you.’
‘Don’t be silly, you’ll miss the party and I’ve just seen Harry making a new jug of Harneys.’
‘I’ll come back. C’mon, I’ve probably had too many Harneys as it is. The air will do me good.’
Without reason to argue, I agree and once we say our goodbyes and step outside, everything feels different. The warmth of their small house is replaced by a fresh, salty breeze and the background chatter is now silence punctuated with the odd squawk of a seagull.
‘It can get a bit much can’t it?’ Ethan says after a few moments of walking in silence.
‘What?’
‘The party scene. Especially if you don’t know many people. I love those two but sometimes I just want to sit back and watch TV rather than make conversation.’
‘Yet here you are having to make conversation with me through choice.’ I make sure my tone is light and I glance at him, catching the hint of a grin.
‘It doesn’t feel like so much of an effort with you.’ His words linger, and little bubbles pop in my chest. ‘You don’t ask the same old questions about how business is going and if I’m heading off anywhere for winter.’
That makes sense.
‘So, are you?’
‘What?’
‘Heading off anywhere for winter?’ I tease. He nudges into me playfully as a few tipsy revellers spill out from a bar across the street singing a Lady Gaga song I can’t quite place.
‘I actually like it here in the winter. It’s quiet, like the tide has gone out leaving just a special few …’
‘Crustaceans?’ I giggle. ‘I’ll be sure to let Barney know you called him a crab.’
‘Yeah, I’m not quite sure where I was going with that.’
‘Well, here we are,’ I say, coming to a stop outside my hotel.
‘Great views.’ Ethan nods his head towards the building, which is bathed in the warm glow of the external lighting.
For a moment, we stand, staring at one another, like the awkward end to a first date or something. I know I should say goodnight and walk inside but for some reason I can’t pull myself together. All of a sudden, Ethan leans forward and kisses my cheek.
A Summer to Remember Page 9
