To the Sea (Follow your Bliss)

by Deirdre Riordan Hall

  “Screw sleep. We need to talk,” Alice said looking aghast.

  Alice led Kira directly to a pub down the street. It was filled with raucous business professionals letting loose after a long day. The two women sought out a quiet booth in the back. Alice ordered a beer and onion rings, Kira the same, only fries.

  “Your husband was cheating on you? What the eff?” Having only seen Alice out of context in the yoga studio, Kira had come to think of her as a peaceful person; a calm, centered yogi, but the slew of expletives that she emitted after Kira told her the whole story made her think twice.

  “If he was still alive I’d hire the best divorce lawyer and take him for everything he was worth. Just on principle, he seemed like the kind of person who valued money and prestige above everything. I’d run his name through mud, I’d—” She ran through a list of terrible things she’d do to destroy him. Then her face crumbled. “Though I suppose he’s dead, so there’s that.” The tears welling in her eyes reflected Kira’s.

  “I’m so sorry. It’s one thing to lose someone you love. It’s truly another to then have your heart broken with no recourse, no apology, no opportunity to talk about it.”

  Her sentiments meant a lot to Kira, but rehashing the story didn’t help. Her mind floated elsewhere.

  “What do you think of the ocean? Surfing?” she asked. She’d been thinking about the weightless, watery sensation, moving with her breath like the ebbing and flowing of waves that she’d experienced in Savasana all week.

  “Huh?” Alice asked.

  “Nothing,” Kira said shaking her head. “We should probably head out now. Otherwise, we’d be better off just overnighting in the office.”

  Alice laughed and the mood shifted to join the gaiety coming from the front of the bar.

  “Good to drive?” Alice asked when they were back in the parking garage.

  Kira nodded. “You?”

  “Yep.”

  “See you bright and early?”

  “In just a few hours.” Kira breezed back toward Laurel Court, the roads free of traffic at that time of night.

  Alice wasn’t Nicole, but Kira hadn’t allowed herself to get close to other women or have many friends after she’d gotten together with Jeremy. She now saw one of his many flaws was how hyper-critical he was of people. No money meant no good. No letters indicating some level of expertise before or after their name equaled not worthy. No shiny, expensive, state-state-of-the-art things, not good enough. Although she and Alice worked insane hours, it was refreshing to connect.

  When she returned to the empty house, misery left a chalky residue that became clearer as the night passed. Anger and sadness collided. Jeremy should have been there with her. Thoughts of sharing his love and attention with countless other women crowded out everything else.

  The next morning, despite ample amounts of coffee as a tonic to her headache, Kira and Alice dove into finalizing the project. Frank buzzed in and out of the office checking on them, urging them to make the deadline. A minute before it was due, Kira handed him the completed Foster-Davis project.

  “Well done, ladies,” he said. “Have a good weekend.”

  Once back in the hall, they both slouched against the wood paneled wall, decompressing. Then with a big grin, Alice turned to Kira. “Yoga?” she asked.

  “Yoga.” Kira agreed.

  Amber highlighted the class with the theme of overcoming obstacles and transformation as they did a series of hip openers and twists. Kira couldn’t help but be impressed by how skillfully she wove big ideas into her instruction. It seemed like each class topic applied directly to her. She discussed how water overcomes obstacles by finding the path of least resistance.

  Amber said, “The path may still be difficult, a path of least resistance is not to be confused with an easy go of it, though sometimes it may be effortless. Just remember water will always find a way: through, around, up, or down. In our lives, we meet resistance. Obstacles. Difficulties. But if we’re open, we’ll find a way. There’s always a way.” She went on to discuss how water also has transformative properties all the while guiding the students fluidly from floor, to upright, to deep lunges, back and forth, up and down.

  Kira absorbed her words as she relaxed into Savasana. At first, she floated in and out on the cushion of her breath, then she felt like she was sailing, moving swiftly through water. The warm sun shone on her face making her feel fearless and full. She longed to carry this feeling off the mat, but in a blink, it disappeared.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kira took her time in evening commute traffic, not in a rush to return to the big, empty house on Lilac Court.

  She grabbed a stack of mail, which she’d neglected all week and tossed it on the kitchen counter. Standing in the hall, in a place of limbo, halfway to the kitchen, halfway to the living room, Kira felt unanchored, torn between two tides—the past and the future.

  She glimpsed the Mercedes in the driveway and on the roof, the long narrow surfboard. It lit up brightly like a beacon in the moonlight. Surf.

  Kira scrambled outside to the car where she’d left the laptop that she promised herself to replace on the weekend. Even from the driveway, she picked up the house’s central Wi-Fi. She searched surf shops.

  “Ah ha. The Boardroom.” She laughed at the play on words having spent a fair amount of time in a boardroom all week. She scrolled through until she found lessons and rentals.

  With just a few clicks, she signed up for a morning lesson, feeling electric with anxiety and excitement while filling in the requested information. She’d been used to entering her hyphenated name, but Speranza-Annandale sounded clunky, like something that didn’t belong to her. She was Kira Speranza again. There was a drop down menu to select a preferred instructor if available. She looked for Ian, the surfer from the wall, the surfer who guided her to the water. Amidst a roster of names, there was Ian Ingram. Click.

  Normal sleeping habits still hadn’t returned. Kira tossed until what she now considered a somewhat reasonable hour of four-thirty. She took a leisurely shower, which halfway through realized was silly, because she’d get wet later that morning. Then through the murkiness of sleep deprivation that messed with her head, she realized she was going to get wet, in the ocean. A toe in would not suffice. She tried to talk herself out of the plan. She had bills and mail to go through, a computer to replace, a house to clean.

  When she left the confines of the shower and dried off, remaining in the house all day seemed emotionally dangerous. There was a greater likelihood of her drowning within those empty rooms than in the ocean.

  As she boldly drove toward the shore for her eight-thirty lesson, she watched the sun begin to rise, casting a coral glow across the surface of transient clouds. Not until these excursions to the beach, did she fully appreciated the sunrise. A new day. Possibilities. She had to give herself permission to live even if that meant living through loss. She held tightly to the hope that there was something on the other side of grief.

  Early for the lesson, Kira pulled into her usual spot. She spotted the brown-haired surfer in his black wetsuit, Ian already seated on the wall. He glanced in her direction, gave her a wave, and sauntered up to the passenger window.

  “You’re back.” He studied her for a moment. “You look different.” She brought her fingers to what she was sure were dark circles under her eyes. “Lighter,” he added. “But I don’t mean pale.” A grin hitched its way up the corners of his mouth revealing his hidden dimples. “Did you just come back from a vacation?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Are you getting in the water today?”

  Kira looked at the waves, mellower than other days, but still the wild, churning sea. “Actually, yes.”

  Ian raised his eyebrows. “Sweet.”

  “I have a surfing lesson scheduled for eight-thirty.” An unfamiliar wavering in her stomach told her not to reveal that she’d selected him for her instructor, if he was available.

  �
�Excellent. First time?”

  Kira nodded.

  “You’ll love it.” He gazed out to the shore. “It’s always a good idea to watch the waves before you go out. Get a sense of what kind of mood the ocean’s in.” A couple surfers pulled up in a rusty Chevy on the other side of the Mercedes.

  “Bro,” one called. “Suited up. Gonna throw some buckets?” He laughed. “Come on, I’m frothin’. Dude.”

  Ian nodded as they quickly took their boards off the roof of the car.

  “Hey, have fun,” he said to Kira, tapping the edge of the door. Then, he trotted across the sand, joining the other guys, glancing back at Kira and flashing his irresistible smile.

  Kira replaced Ian’s spot on the wall and watched. The surfers paused and strapped something around their ankles. Without hesitating, they plunged into the frigid water. She tried to pick Ian out of the crowd that had assembled out past the breaking waves, but they appeared like little dots bobbing in the water. She watched as the figures paddled, got to their feet, and rode along the breaking waves. A good number fell off their boards, and then the churning foam slapped them around. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to be one of them.

  Kira steadied herself as she wavered between thoughts of Oh my goodness what have I agreed to do? To, I can do this. I can live. She took a deep breath.

  The sun warmed her shoulders when she took her shoes off and put her feet in the sand. She told herself that baby steps were better than none at all. One foot in front of the other. She encouraged herself forward as she made her way to the water’s edge. The waves danced around her feet. She looked at her toes through the trickling water. The path of least resistance. The water flowed up around her ankles. She stood firm. The sand bolstered her feet. She became the water’s obstacle. It wasn’t hers. A surfer glided toward her on a wave. As he came into focus, it was Ian, his face relaxed, looking completely at one with one with the ocean.

  Once on shore, he snapped up his board. “Made it in this far, eh?” He teased, and then shook his head, spraying beads of water off in all directions.

  Kira flinched, but his smile pierced any hint of annoyance. Side by side, they stood facing the ocean.

  “Beautiful day,” he said. “Hey, look there’s Brody, did you see that cutback. Not easy to do on this mush. Ack. He bailed.”

  Kira looked at him blankly.

  “The wind’s changing, making the waves choppy. It should let up in a bit. So your lesson?”

  Kira nodded. “At 8:30.”

  “The Boardroom?”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  “I just so happen to be heading there right now.”

  They walked along the shoreline. Something beneath Kira’s skin tingled. She was nervous about the water, but walking with Ian brought up an unfamiliar kind of excitement, almost an eagerness to hear him talk, for his eyes to land on hers. They headed inland to a battered wooden building with a sign made of driftwood painted in wavy letters that spelled out, Boardroom. Arranged outside stood a rack of surfboards, marked-down clothing, and other beach accessories.

  Inside the shop, crammed from floor to ceiling was surf gear, clothes, sunglasses, beach towels, and flip-flops. Toward the back, a counter, piled high with baked goods and coffee, ran the length of the shop. The aroma of coffee mixed with coconut carried Kira back to that morning she first met Ian. Beyond that, tables and a large deck provided a panoramic ocean view.

  Ian motioned Kira over to a display case, topped with a cash register, computer, and brochures. A guy in his mid-twenties, with brown hair overlaid with bleach-y streaks that reached just beneath his ears, typed on the laptop.

  “Ian,” he said looking up and speaking in a booming Australian accent.

  “Jamie, you’re here. Andy didn’t mention anything.”

  “My stoke is up and I’ll be gracing you with my presence for the next couple weeks then I’m off and running again. Live free and surf, bro.”

  “Nice,” Ian said, lacking enthusiasm. Jamie bent over to pick up a pen that rolled off the counter. The sunglasses perched on top of his head rattled to the floor by Kira’s feet.

  “Oops,” Jamie said. They both reached for them and softly knocked heads. Jamie grinned at Kira. Something about the slant of his lips made her unsure where to look and her cheeks flushed.

  Where to this time?” Ian asked.

  “South Africa.”

  “Sweet,” he said.

  Kira detected his comment was less sweet than the baking cinnamon rolls she smelled wafting from the café in the back. She sensed a hint of tension between the two of them.

  This is Kira; she has an eight-thirty lesson,” Ian said.

  She smiled, surprised that Ian remembered her name.

  “First one of the day. Make hay while the sun shines, they say. Your lesson will be with—” Jamie looked at the laptop screen. “Perfect. Looks like Ian’s taking you out,” Jamie said pointing.

  After Kira paid, Jamie pointed to the backroom. “Ian’ll get you suited up.”

  “Thanks,” she said, feeling Jamie’s eyes lingering on her.

  Kira poked her head through the double doors. She noted the muscular angles of Ian’s bare back as he riffled through a box and then stacked a few. He turned when she entered.

  “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “First a suit. Let’s see—” With his warm brown eyes, he looked Kira up and down. She suddenly felt naked, but like she wanted to tear off her polar fleece and jeans. Her cheeks grew warm. Underneath, she wore the bikini she got from Saks with Nicole. Despite its impracticality, it was the only one not packed away with her summer clothes.

  Ian pulled a stiff neoprene wetsuit off a loaded rack, and he held it up in front of her. “This one should fit. Um, we don’t have a changing room or anything. Usually we just change behind the rack, so—”

  Kira carefully stepped over a basket of water bottles bearing the Boardroom logo along with other display items. Ian returned to looking for something in the mess of boxes while she got undressed then redressed in the sticky and tight wetsuit.

  “How’s it?” he called over his shoulder.

  “Tight.” She stepped out from behind the rack of suits and gathered up her things.

  “Just how it’s supposed to. Looks great,” he said smiling broadly.

  “Um, the zipper?” Kira said feeling a draft on her back.

  “Right.” He reached down for what she hadn’t noticed was a long ribbon-like tether attached to the end of the zipper. She was acutely aware of his steadying hand resting on her shoulder as he pulled it up, realizing she could have done it herself.

  “Thanks.”

  “Surfer girl,” Ian said, his cheeks dimpling with a smile.

  “That we have yet to see,” Kira said.

  She left her clothing with his in a small locker even further into the packed back room. Kira dodged boxes, boards, and cases of lemonade and iced tea.

  “The owner, Andy, keeps talking about expanding, but it’s hard with zoning laws here by the ocean,” he said by way of excusing the jumble.

  Without thinking Kira said, “What they could really use is a good organizational system. It would create more usable space and—” She paused realizing this might sound rude. Clutter made her claustrophobic. Like she wanted to throw open the windows, tuck her hair behind her ears, and make a home for each item. “I mean, that might just be helpful,” she said to excuse her blunder.

  Ian just shrugged. “Shelving,” he said added.

  “Exactly,” Kira said a little too enthusiastically.

  Back in the shop, Jamie whistled. “Lookin’ good.”

  Kira caught Ian grimace. Meanwhile, her cheeks flushed pink again. Ian kept walking so she followed. Once back outside, he selected a surfboard that would have easily stood up in the nine-foot ceilings in Kira’s house.

  “We won’t start you out on that charger on top of your Mercedes. I’m guessing it isn’t yours. Where’d you get it
anyway? Did it belong to your brother or an old boyfriend?”

  Sadness cracked its way through her foundation.

  “I’m sorry, did I say something—” He lightly touched Kira’s arm.

  She wanted his fingers to wrap around her, his strong arms to pull her into him, just to feel his firmness, his strength, and solidity. She imagined the gusts of wind ruffling her hair would never be able to knock him around, but she let it brush away the trembling in her jaw, along with the fire in her throat that rose up at the thought of Jeremy. However, she allowed the warmth in her chest, the result of Ian, so close, to remain.

  “No. I, um, I noticed the shop buys used boards. I was thinking I’d sell it,” Kira said quickly.

  “Brand new beauty like that, un-waxed, you’ll get a fair price. You can talk to Jamie when we get back in. I guess Andy is away for the week with his girlfriend.” He shrugged. “I suppose they’re surfing down in Mexico and got Jamie to cover for him,” Ian said with an irritated sigh. He shook it off as they neared the water.

  With his long arms, he easily carried the board along the beach, and then he plunked it down in the sand. “So, have to ask, what brings you here to surf?”

  The honest answer appeared on Kira’s tongue. She wanted to tell him the truth, as strange as she knew it sounded.

  “I was at a yoga class and afterward, there’s the resting pose.”

  “Savasana?” Ian asked.

  “That one. Settled deeply into it, I felt like I imagine what riding a wave is like. It’s hard to describe, but it happened repeatedly over a week. It was like I was floating and moving, and just had this, lightness.” Kira looked to the rising and falling waves for a better way to explain, but all she saw there was a vast openness that drained her jumbled mind. “So I decided, why not. Why not try riding a wave in real life?

  “Sounds like the best kind of reason.” Ian said nodding. “Ready to get started?”

  Kira nodded.

  “First, we’ll orient you with the board, then the ocean, and then take a ride.” Kira observed that he was completely at ease down by the water, like he was home. “This is a longboard. It’s best to begin on because it’s buoyant, more stable, and nice in the gentle surf closer to the shore.”