When Kira emerged from Jamie’s bedroom around midnight, she was surprised to see Ian and a few others playing cards around the kitchen table, littered with munchies and beer cans. Kira felt herself blush, like a teenager caught doing something forbidden. She gave him a weak hello before vanishing outside.
The rest of the week breezed by in a whirlwind of packing, preparing, and working. Kira managed to sneak away and pick up a new camera—a Canon Rebel with a 10-22mm lens and a water housing to protect it while taking surf shots. She wanted to capture every moment in Africa—on land and in the sea.
On Friday, when Kira closed the office door behind her, she practically floated to her car on a cloud of excitement. Although she didn’t consider herself a proficient surfer, South Africa, one of the top surfing destinations in the world, would surely offer her ample opportunity to improve her skills. The trip also entailed the safari, hiking, excursions, snorkeling, Jamie, and hopefully, at least for her, liberal time away from reminders of Jeremy, namely the house on Lilac Court.
Kira had the growing sensation that it was his house, or more precisely the place where he’d sequestered her. She considered moving back into the condominium in the city, but when she swung by earlier in the week she discovered a den of polyamorous deceit. Jeremy had a fully stocked bar, a collection of various underthings: bras, panties, garters, presumably left behind by his conquests, and other bachelor style accoutrements. Just when the wound showed signs of healing, it tore open again and left her feeling raw.
She scheduled an appointment with a realtor for when she returned from South Africa to put it up for sale. One by one, Kira slowly eliminated another tie to Jeremy, hoping for closure.
On Saturday morning, Kira hurried to the beach to get in one more surf lesson before her big trip abroad. When she arrived at the cement wall, the clouds overhead threatened rain. Ian’s wetsuit clad figure was noticeably absent. Disappointed, she looked to the waves that she wished to share with him.
She climbed back in the Mercedes, protection against the whipping wind, hoping Ian would soon emerge from the surf. Seven a.m., then eight a.m., and he didn’t appear. At quarter past eight, she walked over to the Boardroom. Neither Ian nor Jamie were to be seen. Andy, the owner, an unassuming guy with eyeglasses and curly hair, stood behind the counter.
“I have an 8:30 with Ian,” she told the freshly tanned stranger.
“Right. He should be along shortly. Have you surfed before?” She suddenly felt the place that had become so familiar to her, a refuge of sorts, shifting under her feet. She longed to hear Jamie’s baritone, Ian’s buoyant laughter, and see Lee skittering around keeping busy. A sun kissed woman Kira didn’t recognize took orders at the café counter, presumably Andy’s girlfriend, also back from Mexico.
While waiting for the usually punctual Ian, Kira browsed the racks of women’s clothing and picked out a few surfer girl clothes, including a hoodie to replace her Harvard crimson sweatshirt stained with memories. She also selected a floor grazing skirt and striped tank to bring with her on the trip. She browsed the bathing suits including a bunch of two-pieces in shiny metallics, but the smell of neoprene caught her attention. Kira bought a wetsuit in case she needed it overseas.
After paying, she went out to the front of the shop to wait for Ian. As she settled on a bench, steaming coffee in hand, a Honda Supra braked sharply in the lot. Ian emerged like a snail in the wrong shell, looking tired and forlorn. Vanessa, in the driver’s seat, pulled him roughly back for a kiss while looking directly at Kira. She recalled Jamie saying Vanessa had a thing for surfers, and her eye contact said, back off, he's mine. Kira looked away thinking cattily about how she and Jamie were jetting off to South Africa. So there.
As the Honda peeled out of the parking lot, Ian gave a short nod before ducking into the shop. Kira recognized that there was something special about him. She liked Ian, a lot; she felt at ease when they were together and he believed in her at a time when she hardly recognized herself in the mirror. But Vanessa, the kiss, his curt nod, put an undefinable distance between them that made her wonder if they could still be friends.
Kira recalled a hot debate held in her sorority, could girls be friends with guys without there being a suggestion of something more? Some argued that no, there was always underlying sexual tension. On the other hand, over the years Kira had known women who appeared to be just friends with guys. She and Ian had become friends, but if Vanessa turned out to be possessive, she’d have to handle the situation carefully. Then there was that feeling she had when they were together. She couldn’t quite identify it, but she somehow felt full.
“Morning,” Ian said quietly as he emerged from the shop wearing his wetsuit. He didn’t utter a word as they walked down to the beach. It felt strained and peculiar not to chat about whatever came to mind and then fall into comfortable silence. This was just silence, and it unnerved Kira.
When they stood at the edge of the water, gazing out at the waves, Kira asked, “How are you?”
“Fine,” he said stiffly.
“Tired?”
“Yeah.” He ran his hands over his face.
“Anything on your mind, surfer to surfer?” She knew she wasn’t a true surfer just yet, just a kook in surfer parlance, a newbie, a beginner, but she wanted the happy-go-lucky, jolly, silly Ian she’d grown accustomed to spending time with.
“Let’s get in,” he said. Kira started with her paddle, popup, and proceeded to get waves completely on her own.
“Looks like you’ve worked yourself out of a job.” Kira laughed at her attempt to lighten the mood.
“I can see that,” he said before a big rush of water washed over them. Kira bubbled up to the surface and as she smoothed her hair back, Ian came up with his eyes still closed. For a moment, instead of looking irritable, she saw sadness written in the lines at the corners of his eyes and his downturned lips.
For the rest of their session, Ian offered dry instruction. His heart wasn’t in it. Kira thought sullenly how instead of a we out in the waves, a team, it felt like a him and a her. She’d never been lonely in the water until then. The steely clouds overhead underscored the mood. The waves became disorganized. After waiting for something ride-able in the silence that stood between them like a wall, Vanessa waved frantically from the shore.
“So what’s up with her?” Kira asked candidly, and annoyed that Vanessa virtually cut in on her lesson yet again.
Ian started to say something in reply, but Kira’s board tore loose from around her ankle. He went after it. She un-Velcroed the board-less leash and reeled it in. Ian rescued the longboard.
“You were saying?” Again, Vanessa cut him short as she waded into the water to greet him, wearing a dangerously short sundress that whipped in the wind.
“Hey, baby,” she said reaching for his neck. She leaned in for a kiss, but between the board, the waves, wind, and fluctuating sand, she pitched forward and fell into the water.
“Oh gosh.” Kira bent down to help her, but Vanessa swatted her away.
“I’m fine,” she said dripping wet, mascara running, clown-like, down her cheeks.
Returning to the shop was awkward. Ian and Vanessa walked apart from Kira, but Vanessa hung onto his arm, pouting.
“Thanks for the lesson,” Kira called.
He offered a tight-lipped nod in reply.
There was no sign of Jamie at the Boardroom or at Dune Road. He didn’t answer his cell. Kira figured last minute planning and preparation had him busy.
She hardly slept the night before departure, packing, repacking, and then reviewing her luggage and documents several times. She’d only told Alice, her sister, and Nicole exactly where she was going; and in turn, they each said her journey was bold, crazy, and an adventure of lifetime.
Chapter Twenty
At the airport, Jamie greeted Kira with a big kiss when they met at the gate. “We’ll be meeting the others at the resort, but we’ll have to be a bit cool when we’re around the
other travelers, if you know what I mean.”
Kira understood, but his words dashed her visions of them making love under a canopy-net and sipping icy mixed drinks in a hammock. Too much Bachelorette, she chided herself as they waited in line.
Once onboard the plane, Jamie relayed some stories from his last trip to South Africa and surfing the famed Jeffreys bay.
“Daring,” Kira said. It was wild, rocky, and Jamie gave her the sense that spectating would be enough. After a while, they dozed. Kira woke to Jamie’s hands reaching under her shirt.
“Getting frisky?” she asked sleepily.
“Mmmhmm.”
The two of them were the sole occupants in the seats. The dim cabin lights offered some privacy while a movie played. Jamie and Kira discretely made out. His hands worked their way under the waist of her jeans. He fumbled with the button and then the zipper, his fingers sliding onto her bare skin. He was as eager for her as ever; she set aside the doubts his comment about them being reserved around each other caused. As heat pulsed across her skin, Kira left the trappings of Lilac Court, everything it stood for behind, and entered bold new territory. The fleece blanket she spread over them concealed Jamie’s hands working on her and then hers on him. She held in the moans that longed to escape.
All too soon, the plane descended. Jamie had arranged a rental to get them from the airport in Cape Town to the resort in Saint Francis Bay. Their last moments alone together were spent navigating abysmal traffic that opened up to breathtaking views, lush greenery, and something in the air that was uniquely African.
The few times she and Jeremy traveled or took day trips, he’d liken the place they visited to somewhere familiar to him, which she supposed was a common thing to do, but the South African coast was like nothing she’d ever imagined. Maybe it was the light in the southern hemisphere, the dome of the blue sky, the smells of the earth as it cascaded in gentle greens right into the sea, or maybe it was just magic.
Finally, they pulled up at the resort, a white stucco building with exposed wooden framework and large windows planted on a verdant hillock surrounded by stubby palms overlooking the ocean. Jamie gave Kira one last mega-kiss.
Uniformed employees welcomed the pair as they entered the resort, with beautiful dark wooden floors, creamy, cushioned chairs, and couches where several people waited, their eyes glued to their electronics, while others looked out the window at the scenery, and one couple played cards.
“Welcome to Big Break tours. I’m pumped that you’ve all made it from around the world, and I’m really excited to get to know you all,” Jamie said after everyone had gathered.
As he went on with his greeting, Kira received the full blast of his enthusiasm. In addition to the affable surfer-dude hat he wore, he was like an ambassador. He greeted the guests like old friends, even though they’d never met, offering coffee, and tea, as if everyone arrived at his home and not a resort. He promised great waves and adventure.
Shortly after, Kira received her key card, and a porter brought her bags up, no Jamie in sight.
Waiting for her in the deluxe suite, a welcome basket contained a rash guard with the Big Break Tours logo, sunblock, chap stick, a few bottles of water, energy bars, and a friendly little note. After rinsing her face, reapplying her makeup, and changing for dinner, Kira listened for a knock on her door, but the rush of the surf was the only sound that broke the silence.
She unpacked, hanging onto the possibility that Jamie would come up to her room to finish what they’d started on the plane. When the clock indicated it was time to meet in the dining room for the meal, Kira dutifully excused Jamie; the details of getting everyone settled in, arranging special needs, and moving forward with the plans for the tour itself was his job.
When Kira went downstairs, she found him, beer in hand, whooping it up with some of the guests and employees while watching the end of a soccer match. The bamboo bar he stood in front of, topped with thick glass and backlit tastefully in yellow and green, looked more like pleasure and less like business.
The tour group assembled around the long teak dinner table with Kira taking a seat near Jamie, but remembering his request to keep things cool around the guests, she wasn’t so close that she’d make things obvious. She also wanted to avoid temptation.
The food passed around, family style, was fresh and delicious. Kira started with a micro greens salad, topped with pears, walnuts, and native goat cheese. Locally caught rainbow trout with fingerling potatoes, and green beans with pistachios and mint, followed as the entree. Everyone exchanged polite banter as they got to know one another, Jamie, with his booming voice, taking the helm.
A Wall Street banker, named Baker, sat across from Kira explaining he took a surf trip once a year to get his head straight. A young Canadian couple was on their honeymoon, which made her heart ache for longer than she wanted it to. Next to her sat, Nigel, a retired schoolteacher from England who surfed the same break since he was ten years old and decided it was time to see more of what the ocean had to offer. Down the table, Kira met three college-bound girls who seemed alternately interested in Jamie and themselves.
Finally, Emanuela, a woman with a sibilant accent exclaimed, “I’m a professor and being an unconventional kind of gal, I decided it would be fun to see Africa from a surfboard.” Kira learned that very few of the guests were accomplished surfers, but were equally excited about hitting the water as they were seeing lions on safari.
By the time Kira’s head landed on the pillow, in the four-poster bed surrounded by gauzy material, she had little hope Jamie would sneak into her room. He acted like a salesperson, only he wasn’t selling anything other than a good time. He became the great entertainer. Regretfully, this reminded her of Jeremy and his antics when in a crowd— always the ham, or rather, swine, Kira thought darkly.
She woke up the next day, bleary, with jet lag throwing off her already irregular sleep-cycle. Along with the local newspaper, a crisp sheet of paper slipped under her door with the sunrise. She read the itinerary:
Days 1-3: The resort and the beach (Surfing, hiking, kayaking—optional.)
Day 4-7: Travel day to the Karoo, the nature preserve, and safari.
Day 8: Travel day back to the resort.
Days 9-11: Three more days at the resort and beach (with optional afternoon activities—TBA)
Day 12: Travel day back to the airport.
That afternoon they were to spend time relaxing at the resort surfing, enjoying its amenities, and acclimating to the time difference.
Kira wandered downstairs, hoping to run into Jamie. The smoothie bar at the yoga studio had broken down her defenses against consuming green extraterrestrial-like concoctions reminiscent of her commune days. With a nod to Alice, and her hippie heritage, Kira forwent her usual morning coffee in favor of the “Rise and Shine” juice bar. After taking a shot of each freshly pressed juice on offer, she selected the Green Machine, containing celery, apples, spinach, and mint. Because she was on vacation, she also indulged in a sampling of the fresh baked pastries to energize her for the hour and a half surf lesson.
Once out on the water, Kira buddied up with the college professor, Emanuela. Although she’d surfed in her native Argentina, she was as much a novice as Kira. They each caught their fair share of waves as they cheered each other on.
Never having seen Jamie properly surf, Kira watched him go farther out than the beginners, the lone man in the sea. He ripped it up charging the waves with hot fury, gliding, twisting, turning into cutbacks, and even catching air. She snapped loads of pictures of him in action, looking forward to drooling over them later.
When he emerged from the water, carrying his short board under the crook of his arm, Kira wanted him even more, but Baker caught his attention, asking for some pro-tips. He acted casual around Kira, and for the most part, he focused his attention on the other guests.
On the second day, Jamie and Kira ended up sitting together on the shuttle bus to the portage station for t
he kayaking trip. He offered information about the landscape and sights to the group as they drove upland to the drop off point.
Kira felt small and insignificant, but then reminded herself it was his job, the guests didn’t pay him to throw himself at her. She laughed at the image of him, in his board shorts, waltzing into a boardroom and giving her a big smooch while she gave a presentation.
Kira quickly got the hang of paddling the kayak. Almost level with the water, she had a similar view of the marine life and aquatic environment as when on the surfboard, but instead of having to focus on waves, she took in all the natural beauty as she glided through a lagoon and ventured into coves.
As she rounded a rocky headland, a group of seals greeted her, lounging on the sea-battered rocks, a picture perfect moment. She whipped out her waterproofed camera, getting as close as she dared without disturbing them. Watching their sweet whiskers twitching in the sun, Kira felt free, unburdened, and could breathe deeply without the risk of tears. She snapped away, distinctly in her element.
On the third day, the group took a long and sweaty hike in one of South Africa’s diverse microclimates. They observed the native wildlife, and loads of dogs shepherded them on the paths as they followed the trails. One dappled male took a liking to Kira, nuzzling her for scratches behind the ears.
“Looks like you’ve got a new friend,” Jamie said.
Just then, she wished for an old friend, Ian, and all the fun she knew they’d have together if he were there. Kira patted the dog’s head.
“I’m going to call him Woody,” she said. For the rest of the hike he trotted happily by her side while Jamie caroused with the college-bound girls.
That night, once back at the resort, Kira and Jamie finally stole a few moments together in her ultra-cushy, king-sized bed.
To the Sea (Follow your Bliss) Page 14
