by Rye Hart
And I was finally getting over my fear of looking stupid. Little by little.
“Think of it this way,” Emma told me once when we were alone in bed one night. “You're teaching me about sex. What to do, what you like, what I like. And yeah, I could look stupid and screw up, but you don't judge me, do you? You simply take it all in stride and we just move forward together, enjoying one another.”
“Never,” I said. “I'd never judge you in a million years, Emma.”
“Well, it's basically the same with surfing,” she said. “I might know what I'm doing, but I don't expect you to come in here being an expert. You have to start somewhere. And I've had a lot more practice on the water than you have. Sort of like the fact that you've had more practice – ”
I held up a hand to cut her off and laughed. “I got it,” I said. “Your analogy makes perfect sense.”
And it did. Her analogy absolutely clicked with me. It might not be easy to let go of my fears, to open myself up to the possibility of screwing up and looking like a fool in front of the woman I loved. But if Emma could be brave enough to do it when it came to being intimate with me, surely, I could hop on a surfboard and share in her hobby.
After all, of the two activities, being naked and intimate with somebody was, by far, the more terrifying of the two. And yet, Emma charged into it headlong, unafraid, and fierce.
So, there we were, a few weeks into surfing lessons and I was about to go out on the water for the first time. Emma was going to stay back with the kids and make sure they were doing okay. She walked me through everything I needed to do over and over again until I could recite it back to her verbatim.
We waxed the board, got everything ready to go, and I walked toward the water. It was ridiculous, but I felt a little bit nervous – and not just nervous about looking like an idiot in front of Emma and the kids. The ocean was a powerful, unpredictable force. I'd seen more than enough documentaries to know that the ocean killed a lot of people every year, many of them surfers. And being that I was a rookie at all of this, I think I'd rather face a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound linebacker than get crushed by a wall of water.
But, the waves weren't very big that day, thank God. As I watched the sets roll in, I figured that I probably wouldn't catch anything at all. Whether or not I actually got up on a wave was irrelevant at that stage of my progress to Emma. She wanted me to paddle out and stand on the board, in the water. That's what we were doing today. That was the whole plan. Baby steps.
I laid down on the board like she'd taught me and paddled out a few feet from the shore. I felt my cheeks flush when I heard Emma and Zoey cheering me on. I felt silly being out there and having them carry on like that – there wasn't even a real wave in sight.
But, I reminded myself, it wasn't about looking good. It was about learning. Practice and repetition were the keys to becoming proficient at anything. So, I put my hands to the side, like Emma taught me, and pushed my body up into a standing position. For the briefest of moments, I was standing on the surf board. Literally just standing there, but it felt good to be upright, and I felt prouder of that than anything I'd ever done on a football field. “Go daddy!” I heard from the shore.
Feeling confident, I turned to look back at my daughter and give her a thumbs-up, and realized a split second later that I'd made a terrible, horrible mistake. As soon as I shifted my weight to look back at Zoey, the board beneath me began to wobble and shake. Holding my arms straight out, I tried to steady the board, and myself, but overcorrected and ended up falling head first into the water.
Zoey screeched and laughed like a maniac, but I pulled myself above water and clung to the side of my board and waved at her.
“I'm okay,” I yelled back.
I saw Emma covering her mouth, doing her best to not let me see that she was laughing as hard as Zoey was. Unable to hide it, she simply shook her head as she motioned for me to come back to shore. I paddled back, letting the tide push me most of the way. I had to admit, it was nice being out on the water. I could see the appeal for both Emma and Zoey. Standing on the board, even if only for a brief moment, had been exhilarating. I had to give Emma that.
As I picked up my board and stepped out of the water, Zoey yelled, “My turn!” before I was even fully back on dry land.
“You okay?” Emma asked me, trying to hide her laugh, but having no more success at it than she had earlier.
“Yeah, only my ego is bruised,” I said with a wink.
“My turn! My turn!” Zoey said. “I bet I can stay up longer than daddy!”
“I bet you can,” I said, ruffling her hair. “I bet anyone could.”
“Hush, you did great,” Emma said, patting me playfully on the chest. “You had great form until you turned to look at Zoey. But that's going to be one of the next lessons, learning to maintain your balance once you're up and moving.”
“Come on, Emma,” Zoey said, pulling on Emma's arm.
“Okay, okay,” Emma said, “Let's go.”
Emma was going out with Zoey for her first time. Not only for safety, but also to guide her. I watched as my two girls – my girlfriend and my daughter – dropped their boards with a splash and paddled out in the water.
I was a tiny bit nervous as I watched them paddling out. But, I figured that was normal. Most anybody would probably be nervous watching the two women they loved out on the open water like that, but I had faith that Emma knew what she was doing. I trusted her with Zoey. She was probably the only person alive I trusted with my kids aside from myself. And as far as surfing went, there was absolutely nobody I trusted more than Emma.
As soon as they got far enough out, Emma and Zoey got into position. Slowly, they both stood up. Zoey managed to nail it on her first try, just as I thought she would. She'd been practicing for some time and was more than eager to show off her skills to everybody. Emma was talking to her, walking her through everything they needed to do to maintain their balance and not fall off. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I could see it.
Zoey wasn't up for long, though, she was still probably on her feet longer than I had been, before she fell off the board and splashed into the water. Emma quickly jumped in after her and I sucked in a breath. My heart raced as I waited for them both to come back up. It seemed to take forever and I was growing nervous as a wave crashed onto shore.
“Daddy, where are they?” Zack asked me.
“I'm sure they're fine,” I said, but my mouth grew dry. “You wait here, buddy. Daddy is going to – ”
I started to say I was going to help, but that's when I saw Emma and Zoey's heads pop up over the wave. They were fine, in fact, they were laughing together. Emma helped Zoey get back on the board and they tried again. This time, she stayed up even longer, raising her hands above her head, a wide smile plastered on her face. Emma applauded and cheered as my daughter stood upright, and then managed to fall off into the water again.
They practiced a few more times and each time, she stayed on her feet a little bit longer before they fell into the water again. And each time it happened, I felt my heart sink. But every single time, they popped back above water laughing together and were perfectly were fine. Zoey was a strong swimmer and she had Emma at her side, watching over her, as well. Emma had been trained as a lifeguard as well, she knew what she was doing. Still, the idea of losing someone else I loved weighed heavily on me every time one of them fell off. After losing Gina, it had become one of my biggest and most perpetual fears
Zack held my hand and looked up at me. “I don't want to do that, daddy,” he said.
“You don't have to, buddy,” I said, ruffling his hair. “If you don't want any more surfing lessons, you don't have to take them.”
“Good,” he said.
He plopped down in the sand and starting digging, building a sand castle instead. As I watched him, I marveled over my two kids. They really couldn't have been any more different from one another if they'd tried, but that was okay. I'd let them be
who they were and to never conform to somebody else's view of who or what they should be. I'd told them to never let people force them into doing things they just didn't want to do. I'd always let them make their own mistakes and discover what made them happy, even if it scared me. After all, it was their life to live, not mine, and they needed to be the person they wanted to be, to do the things that made the fires inside of them burn the brightest. All I could do was be there to support them, cheer them on, and pick them up if they fell.
I was going to let them discover who they were on their own without my interference. After all, being a father was so much more than just protecting them, you also had to know when to let go.
When Emma and Zoey came back to shore, Zoey was out of breath but was grinning like a fiend. She ran up to me and smiled wide.
“Did you see that? Emma says I'm a natural!”
“She really is” Emma said. “Not to sound cocky or arrogant, but she reminds me a lot of myself when I was her age. She's got really good balance and coordination for someone her age. I think with some practice, she can be really, really good.”
My kids were happy. I was happy. For the first time in my life, I'd taken some risks, big risks, and they'd paid off big time. Not only were my kids discovering more about themselves, I'd somehow managed to find love again. It wasn't easy and it was scary, but opening myself up to those emotions again had been the best thing I'd ever done. And I'd even managed to balance myself on a surfboard for a few moments.
No matter what else came after, I'd call that a win.
EPILOGUE
A YEAR LATER
MARCUS
“Here we are!” I said, opening the door to our new home.
I looked over at Emma, who was smiling wide, as we walked through the door to our new beachfront home. With things getting serious between Emma and myself, living next door to her parents was no longer ideal. Her father, while not outwardly hostile anymore, hadn't quite warmed up to me. Whenever he looked at me, I could see the anger in his eyes, and relations between me and her folks, not to mention many of the others in the neighborhood, had grown decidedly frosty.
It hurt to leave the home I'd bought with Gina behind, but in the end, it was time for a new chapter. With Emma now a part of my life a fresh start, in a fresh place was the best thing for all of us. The last thing I ever wanted her to feel was that she had Gina's ghost looking over her shoulder, something she might have felt had we stayed in my old house.
That fresh start and new chapter in life also included leaving my old job behind and doing something I always dreamed of doing, owning my own restaurant. Business was booming, it had been a smart choice to do it when I did. My restaurant was a hit around the city and I couldn't be happier.
“Daddy! Emma! The ocean is right there!” Zoey said, screaming with delight as she stared down at the beach from our cozy little hilltop. “We can surf whenever we want now, Emma!”
Emma laughed and looked over at me. Zack lost interest and ended up quitting the surfing lessons after a while. That became Emma and Zoey's thing and Zoey was getting really good at it too. Emma kept telling Zoey that she was going to be really, really good and that sponsors would be knocking down her door any day now, something that never failed to make Zoey beam with pride
Zack just didn't have any interest in surfing. He preferred walking along the sand and collecting shells on the beach to playing in the waves, much like his daddy. That was exactly why when he told me he wanted to quit, I hadn't forced him to stay. I was just grateful that Zoey had someone in her life to share that newfound passion with.
Hand-in-hand with Emma, we walked over and opened the patio door. Both kids rushed out with us, nearly knocking us over in their haste to get to the patio. The sound of the crashing waves was heavenly, and I knew Emma appreciated it as much as the kids. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath of the fresh sea breeze and smiled.
“Life is wonderful,” she said.
“Yes, yes, it is,” I said, kissing her hand. The ring on her finger caught the sunlight and sparkled dazzlingly.
“When you and daddy get married, you should do it right here, on the beach,” Zoey said.
“That's the plan,” Emma said, squeezing my hand.
“Yes!” Zoey said, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Now let's go see our rooms!”
We followed the kids inside and upstairs, although, they were in such a rush, they beat us upstairs by a wide margin. The kids each had their own rooms with a shared bathroom between them. They marveled at their rooms, obviously pleased, and then we showed them the rest of the house.
“And this will be daddy's office,” Zoey said.
“No, my office will be downstairs,” I said. “Off the living room.”
“Then what will this room be for?” Zoey asked. “It's just extra.”
With a smile, Emma knelt down, putting herself eye level with my little Zoey and said, “Well, we were thinking it would be a nursery someday,” she said. “For a little brother or sister. Would you be okay with that?”
Zoey's eyes went wide. “Really? A baby?”
“Maybe,” Emma said with a laugh. “One day. Hopefully once we get settled in and after the wedding, we'll talk about it.”
Emma had told me she wanted lots of kids. We agreed to maybe having three or four total, including Zoey and Zack . Our new house was big enough to allow us to grow if we wanted to. And we did want to, which was something that surprised me. I didn't think I'd ever have the desire to have another child, especially since that child wasn't going to be mine and Gina's.
But as she'd done with so many things in so many ways, Emma had helped me see it all very differently.
Emma stood up and I kissed the side of her head. I so badly wanted to grow my family with her, but she was right; we needed to wait. The first step in our plan was to buy a home for us. Now that we’d done that, we could look forward to the rest. The next of our plan was the wedding, and that was happening in a few months. After that, we'd start trying for a baby of our own right away. By that time, Emma would have her early childhood education degree and could work with kids or she could stay home with our little horde. The choice was up to her.
Either way, this was our family.
The End
Tough as Nails
Chapter One
Have you ever met someone so royally screwed up that they could lie and cheat without feeling any morsel of regret? Well, if you haven’t - allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brittney Dale and I try hard not to blame others for the way I turned out, but then again, I can’t really take all of the credit myself either.
My mother was, for lack of a better word, a whore for Chaos Theory, the local motorcycle club. She used to tell me stories from before her dark days - stories of my father. She claimed he was a fine, upstanding man with plenty of money and a big house. When I was younger I liked to live in that fantasy, but as I got older I began to realize it was all a lie.
I eventually found out who my father was. His name was Billy and he was one of my mom’s Johns. When she came to him for help after discovering her pregnancy, he drove her to a women’s shelter and that’s where she lived for the nine months she carried me. She always boasted that she stayed clean during her pregnancy, though I didn’t believe that for a second. It was a miracle I had both ears and two working arms.
After I was born, mom got kicked out of the shelter for using drugs and she started wandering from hotel to hotel, turning tricks to try and keep us off the street. For years that’s how it was. We wandered from city to city, scrounging through dumpsters and sleeping on park benches. Sometimes she managed to pool enough money to get us a hotel room for the week. I remember how much I loved that. I would sit in the hot bath water until my skin turned an angry red. It was the only time I felt clean in those days.
I never went to school because we never stayed in one place long enough for the government to catch up with mom. Whenever the local cops came knocking, we
took off to another city. We spent my entire childhood bouncing around wandering through the Deep South until we eventually made it to Tennessee.
When we started living in Nashville, I was only about nine. According to my mother I was old enough to take care of myself. She would go away for days and leave me without food or money, so I did the only thing I could. I would go to the local grocery store and take what I needed. No one really suspected that a young girl was coming to their store to steal, so it was always rather easy to just walk in and grab whatever I wanted.
The day I was caught, was the day my life changed forever. One of the stores I’d been frequenting finally caught onto me and the store owner snatched my arm and called the cops. When I explained the situation to the police, they started snooping around. While they never found mom, they did discover my living situation and took me into protective custody.
I was put into the foster system immediately and that began the worst eight years of my life. And considering how the first nine years were, that’s really saying something. They never found my mother and so she never went to jail. I was left trying to navigate a system I didn’t understand with tools that weren't considered acceptable.
My mother, when she was around, never got angry when I lied or stole. There were no repercussions. Now I was suddenly living in a world with incredibly strict rules that I struggled to conform to.
All of a sudden there was dinner time, bath time, and bedtime. I couldn’t take three showers a day like I'd been used to doing, and I had to eat what the foster home made, when they made it. If I wasn't hungry at dinnertime, I didn't eat until breakfast.
Looking back on it, I understand that everyone did their best. They were trying to provide structure and discipline, but that wasn't how I understood it. You couldn't take a kid who'd spent their entire life trying to survive on their own and expect them to just assimilate. That's just wasn’t how it worked.
