To the Sea (Follow your Bliss)

by Deirdre Riordan Hall

  “I’d love to, maybe a long weekend next month, but there’s work and—” But there was no and—and they both knew it.

  “The offer stands,” she said.

  “Oh, and if you ever want to sell your place in Newton and move here, we’d love having a neighbor. Auntie Kira.”

  “I’ll consider it,” Kira said. She felt stuck, somehow glued to the past, unable to move forward, and certain New York City was not for her—not with her newfound love affair with the ocean.

  Kira drove straight back to Lilac Court, but before she allowed the heaviness of the house dampen her mood, she grabbed her board, wetsuit and gear, and kept on driving.

  She’d only ever surfed at her spot in the morning, and when she got to the beach, people with blankets, coolers, and beach chairs dotted the coastline, a much different scene than the quiet and introspective mornings she usually spent there. Kids played, umbrellas were rooted in the sand, and body boarders slid on their bellies in the white water toward the shore. A sizeable number of beginners took surf lessons too, but Ian was not among the instructors.

  Kira toted her new board to the sand and watched the waves for a little while before jumping in. She caught some great rides, and even tried walking forward a couple steps on the board, to bring her toes to the nose. She wiped out a bunch, but had fun on her own, independent, like the holiday she’d just celebrated.

  The following workweek dragged Kira along with it. Each night she felt as though she was drowning and by morning, she surfaced to do it all over again.

  On Friday, Alice asked her out for a drink, having recently broken it off with the latest guy she dated.

  “I’m not going to lie, you seem like you might be,” Alice paused, carefully choosing her words, “depressed. And it’s no wonder, after the last few months, but—”

  “When I surf, I’m fine. I can stand on my own two feet, when I’m at work, I feel like a robot, marching along to the rhythm of footsteps that no longer belonged to me. And when I’m at home I can barely hold myself upright,” Kira said confessing.

  “So it’s not twenty-four-seven. There are times you feel okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do more of that.”

  Kira gave Alice a withering look.

  “I know. You want to feel good all the time. Life isn’t always like that. But I understand what you mean. Have you thought about seeing someone?”

  Kira thought about Jamie and then Ian.

  “A therapist or a life coach?”

  Kira’s eyes grew wide at her mistake and then she shook her head.

  “It’s something to consider.”

  Kira shifted the conversation to Alice’s dating life. Although she was eager to get back in the waves Saturday morning, she stayed out as late as possible only to postpone the confining walls at Lilac Court.

  In the wee hours of the morning, the familiar sleeplessness, kept Kira from resting so she checked out the wave report and then clicked over to the Boardroom homepage. Shortly after, she left for the beach, just before sunrise.

  When Kira pulled into the lot, she sat in the Mercedes watching the rolling waves, recalling the quiet mornings spent with Ian on the wall just in front of her, wondering if he’d moved away or took up surfing elsewhere. Maybe he laid tucked in bed with Vanessa, she thought darkly.

  As the sun spread like molten liquid across the horizon, a knock on the passenger side window startled her. Ian stood there, wearing his wetsuit, smiling, his eyes rekindled with their old warmth.

  Kira got out.

  “Hey,” Ian said.

  “Hi,” Kira said softly stepping toward him.

  “So, where were we?” he asked.

  Kira thought about their last encounter, Vanessa, the gulf that formed between them, and the sadness he tried to hide.

  Without answering, she put her arm in his, knowing that in his smile and her simple gesture, they mended the fissure in their friendship.

  “We’re okay,” she said returning his smile.

  They walked down the beach, arm in arm, and then settled on the sand, close to the shore, watching the waves, letting the ocean do the talking.

  Being with Ian again was like joy, light, and ease that burned away the blemish of the last months. He wore his feelings plainly in his expression, with his kind eyes and quick smile, looking pleased to see her.

  Welcoming him into her life at that precise moment was the kind of perfection she could never have planned. Before her life resembled an attic packed tightly with hidden meanings and feelings. Who she was, her authentic-self, lay hidden under years of storing those things away, albeit in tidily labeled boxes, concealing them even from her own sight.

  In that quick instant, she unpacked; inside she saw beauty, goodness, worthiness, strength, and courage. Ian allowed her to unfurl; his very presence challenged her to be true.

  “So you’re back. How was your trip?” he asked genuinely interested.

  “To tell you the truth—” Kira started to say. She resolved only to tell the truth no matter how wonderful or difficult. “It was amazing and awful.” She sighed.

  “Surfer to surfer?” Ian cocked an eyebrow inviting her to talk about it.

  Kira smiled. He was so purely honest, so Ian.

  “That thing with Jamie was just a fling.”

  “Really?” He brightened.

  “Really,” she said with certainty.

  “It stung a little seeing you with him,” he said, clearing his throat. “Actually, a lot.”

  “Why’s that?” Kira asked playfully.

  “Because you’re better than a fling.”

  Flattered and flattened by that admission, this time, Kira raised her eyebrows.

  “But you’re not?” she asked referring to Vanessa. “Why the double standard?”

  He grimaced, and then his expression turned serious. “After I saw the two of you together I just needed to cool off. Meeting you heated me up, inside. You made my heart beat faster. You filled my thoughts. Then I saw you at the Boardroom together and at his place. I felt like I was going to combust. And maybe I figured something mindless, pointless, and meaningless would dampen the place where it felt the flame of missing you would burn me alive.”

  Kira’s breath came in hurried bursts. She wasn’t expecting to hear those words. Honesty indeed.

  He went on, “I knew when we first met, for you, it wasn’t the right time. I could tell something big had happened, and you were in deep dealing with it. Then you went off with Jamie, and I thought I’d been a fool. But thinking about you every day, your smile, your courage, then seeing you out on the waves the other day on your own—you caught some good ones—and your car parked here this morning, I felt drawn to you like the tide. Seeing you here again right now, I realize you’re just you. No pretense, nothing fake or assuming. Funny how seeing you with Jamie tricked me into thinking there wasn’t something incredibly special about you. I’m only sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.” They looked at each other then, openly, unhindered by discomfort, trepidation, and bridged they the gap since the last time they’d been together.

  “Are we still talking surfer to surfer?” Kira asked unsure what to do with all that he just revealed.

  He nodded.

  “Wanna catch a wave?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The ocean brought Ian and Kira into harmony with one another; being with him, whether in the water or land, was as near to her as breathing.

  “You make me feel like flying,” she said, quietly.

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “Very,” she said before paddling and coasting along a cresting wave, flying through the water. She didn’t know that was possible with someone until Ian.

  He caught the next one and she watched him do a fluid frontside turn and then cut back, spray catching the sunlight like jewels spraying in every direction and shattering it, dramatically, like glass. The both paddled back out, seagulls calling overhead.

 
; “I guess I did work myself out of a job after all,” he joked from where they sat outside the breaking waves.

  “You saw me out here the other day?”

  “Maybe,” Ian said with a boyish grin. “I saw a wicked hot chick tearing it up on a bright blue board.”

  “Why didn’t you say hi?”

  “Didn’t want to interrupt your flow.”

  Ian expressed how impressed he was at how much Kira had improved as she caught wave after wave, skimming along right down the line of the curl. When they sat side-by-side, straddling their boards, between sets, their legs brushed, sending a quiver right up to her chest. She let her gaze linger on him, his full lips, strong jaw; she longed to be closer. It was a fun early morning session; but all too soon, Ian rode in to shore.

  “I better get to the shop, check the schedule for students.”

  Kira played along. “Has it been busy?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said absently bending over to take off his leash.

  “I’ll grab some coffee,” she said joining him.

  Leaving their boards outside, Kira followed Ian into the store, and waited in the short line to get a coffee. Kira couldn’t resist a fresh blueberry muffin, just out of the oven, cooling on the counter.

  From across the room, Ian laughed buoyantly. In an instant, he swooped in next to her stealing a bite of the muffin in her hand. She playfully wrestled him to get it back, and without realizing it, his arms wrapped around her waist in a hug.

  As Kira leaned back to look up into his eyes, any lingering uncertainty that they didn’t want something more between them disappeared. She let her wet-suit clad body lean into his, offering him another bite of the muffin. He leaned in so close she almost tasted his minty breath. Instead of a kiss, he offered a smile that melted her heart.

  “So I guess I didn’t work myself out of a job.”

  Kira laughed.

  “I see you’re on the schedule. Still a student, eh?”

  “I couldn’t sleep last night so I figured what better way to spend a tired morning than surfing with my favorite teacher.”

  His laughter filled the room.

  “And I had to try again,” she said, running her hand along his arm, letting it rest there. If Ian wasn’t so tan, she would’ve been sure he blushed a little.

  “Ready to go back out?”

  “Absolutely.” Kira guzzled her coffee.

  Ian helped her improve a few skills especially turning, but mostly they goofed off, splashing each other, and trying to ride tandem. Ian had a few other students that day, so Kira intermittently lounged in the sand, read a novel, caught some more waves, and then met up with him when his workday was over.

  “Want to have dinner together?” Ian asked shyly.

  Kira nodded as she struggled out of her wetsuit remarking how it never got easier. She tumbled over a jumbled heap of boxes; the mess reminded her of the first morning in there with him.

  “I figured with the owner back he’d have cleaned this up,” Kira said, still somewhat poorly affected by clutter and chaos.

  “He has his own way of keeping track of where everything is, darned if I know. I’ve thought about opening a surf shop someday. Yanno, just dreaming.”

  “You could hire me to keep things organized,” Kira joked.

  Once changed, they hopped in Ian’s pickup truck. After a quick stop at a farm stand, he wove through the narrow beach streets and parked. “We go on foot from here.”

  They crossed the dunes and then came out down the beach by a large break wall that jutted out into the sea. Unless they were fishing for their dinner, Kira didn’t see a restaurant in either direction. They continued walking, arriving at a wooden set of stairs with an elegant script spread out on each of the risers that read, If there is magic on the planet, surely it is found in the ocean.

  The stairs led up to a semi-enclosed deck with flowering vines growing up the side, connected to a small cottage. “Welcome to my place,” Ian said opening the door. “I wanted to cook you dinner, if that’s okay.”

  “The farm stand. Right.” Kira said putting it together. “That would be wonderful.”

  “Any allergies, extreme dislikes?”

  “Clams. They really don’t like to be eaten. If you have to pry it open, no thank you,” Kira said making a face.

  “No clams then, which works out perfectly because I was going to make us burritos. And I’m a vegetarian.” He set to work in the kitchen and Kira sat on a stool at the small center island. While Ian chopped tomatoes and onions, he asked her about Africa. “Just leave out the Jamie parts.”

  Kira laughed. “That won’t be difficult.”

  “I’m not jealous of him, he’s a good looking dude, works the ladies and all that, and I’ll give him credit, he’s an amazing surfer.” Ian paused. “But he doesn’t respect the, surfer code, ya know?”

  Kira tilted her head, unsure what he meant.

  “He snakes waves, drops in on people, he’s a bully out there. If he’s the only one out, fine, he gets center stage, but if there’s a lineup, he doesn’t know how to share. He gets aggressive about it too. Once, he chewed out this kid, one I actually taught how to surf, who’d just gotten the courage to go out past the breakers, and Jamie let loose on him for getting in his way. The kid was in tears. This isn’t the Superbank. I mean, Jamie could’ve just cut back. I’ve seen him act that way a lot. Out of the water, he’s all right, but in the surf, he gets mean. That’s not the way of the ocean, well not my way.”

  She’d made peace with Jamie, but learning this new detail didn’t surprise her. He certainly loved the spotlight, and when she saw him surf in Africa, he rode the waves solo.

  “That’s not cool,” Kira said.

  “But other than that, like I said, he’s alright. Mostly. I guess it’s hard for me to get past his weird territorialism,” Ian said. “And that he seduced you before I had a chance.” Ian looked up from an avocado, his cheeks dimpling in a huge smile.

  “With Jamie out of the picture, you are, if you’re still interested, allowed to seduce me.” Kira’s cheeks turned pink at her candor. Honesty indeed. Throughout the day, she’d grown increasingly more attracted to Ian, her pulse quicker in his presence, heat building below her belly. She hadn’t been able to ignore his extreme good looks before, but Jamie hijacked her attention, and she didn’t think of Ian as much more than a friend. Now the roles of the men switched, and Kira pictured Ian in his wetsuit, all muscle and brawn, those first times she saw him. However, now her attraction to Ian was more than skin, or wetsuit, deep. Ian was soulful. He knew how to talk and listen, he laughed easily, loved the ocean, and by the looks of it, knew how to cook.

  Ian dipped a tortilla chip into the guacamole, and offered Kira a bite. It tasted limey, salty, and fresh.

  “What is it they say? The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. My theory is the same is true for women.”

  As he continued preparing the meal, the amber sunset glowed through the living room windows. Kira told Ian about Africa, surfing, the Karoo, and safari, the hike up Table Mountain, the characters who she’d met on the trip, and then the drum circle.

  “It was transformative. Just amazing, something I never expected. Like magic.” She paused drawing the feeling of the experience back into her being. “To get out of my surroundings and get a new perspective shifted something inside me. I was supposed to go to France, but was destined for Africa. Even though someday I really want to go there, I’m thankful I changed plans,” Kira said.

  “You know, there are some great breaks in France, Hossegor, Biarritz, La Basque,” Ian said.

  “Really? When I think of France I think Paris, crepes, the Eiffel tower, and enchanting little villages in wine country.”

  “And surfing,” Ian said enthusiastically. “Let’s do it someday, I’ve never surfed in Europe, it’ll be a first for both of us.”

  “Okay,” she said, knowing that after spontaneously going to South Africa on a s
urfari anything was possible.

  As Ian fried onions, peppers, and black beans, Kira studied his house. A large bookshelf spanned nearly an entire wall, but from where she sat, she couldn’t quite read the titles. A well-worn couch sat behind a coffee table stacked with books and magazines, and a bowl full of seashells and sea glass. Kira noticed the absence of a TV. In the corner, she saw a dog bed, but no dog. An acoustic guitar leaned against the wall in another corner. Hanging on the wall there were a few framed photographs of surfers, one in a huge cerulean wave and another riding a green tube. There was also a collage of family photos and an old wooden tide clock. By a side door rested a couple surfboards and a stack of towels. It was simple and tidy.

  “So why did we take the super-secret way to get here?” Kira asked also noting the front door window held a stained glass rendition of a mermaid.

  “My neighbor is having a family reunion, and they asked if they could use my driveway. And the beach path is a bit more romantic,” he said smirking.

  “You have a nice place, lucky to be here right here on the beach.”

  “My family’s old beach house. I usually head out west in the winter.”

  “Really?”

  “My grandfather left me a houseboat in Sausalito. I stay there for the winter, surf, shape, write.”

  “You write?”

  “When I’m not surfing or shaping boards, I’m a writer. Freelance. Articles. Working on the proverbial book.” He ducked into an adjacent room, and brought out a magazine. “My latest.”

  Kira thumbed through to a dog-eared page. Across the top, it read Into the Mist by Ian Ingram. While he continued to cook, she read the article about wave culture and weather, and how it affected indigenous tribes across the globe.

  “This is fascinating,” Kira said when she finished. “I’m looking forward to your book.”

  “It’s not entirely about surfing, but incorporates the lifestyle, the heart and soul of wave culture, some history, and lots of food, recipes, stuff on health and fitness. I think you’ll dig it,” he said as he rolled two big burritos. “No worries if you can’t eat it all, I give doggie bags.”