eighteen
We had one more day in Santa Barbara and one more night before we’d make the drive up to Palo Alto for the last leg of the
trip. Once we went to Palo Alto, Alan and I would split up with two different Stanford students hosting us in the dorms. Then
up to Berkeley for a visit and we’d make the long drive back home.
Today was a free day. I was planning on trying to catch up on the pit of schoolwork that seemed impossible to dig myself out
of and write my personal essays (really this time). Baba’s words from the previous night echoed roundly in my skull. I would
need to get over this hurdle. I couldn’t keep pushing it off forever. Maybe it would be easier if I sat outside in the light
of day, rather than working at it in my bed at night, insomnia bearing down on me. Maybe the bright bluish air and sea breeze
would brush away my neuroses.
I had mentally committed to this in full, until Alan came into my room midmorning sometime after breakfast and plopped down on the edge of my unmade bed.
“What are you up to?” he asked, which I knew was the prelude to ruining all my plans.
“A lot. I’m so behind.”
“I’ve just been thinking, you’ve moved to California, and you haven’t even done anything fun while you’re out here. You haven’t
gotten any kind of welcome tour.”
“I don’t think people normally get a welcome tour when they move to another US state.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “This isn’t just another US state. We used to live in a cornfield, Stella. This is like moving
to a different world. Especially Santa Barbara. Isn’t it magical here?”
“My parents are super mad at me,” I said. “I shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
I mumbled something unintelligible. I didn’t want to recount any of it, especially since he’d encouraged me to speak up in
the first place. For some reason, I didn’t want to disappoint him.
He didn’t press. He just leaned in and grinned. It lit up the entire room. “Look, sitting here miserable is not going to help
you work faster. Spend the day with me. I’ll help you catch up later. I can be your sounding board. Maybe getting some sun
will inspire you.”
If getting some sun were all it took, my creative tank should’ve been overflowing.
I couldn’t even remember experiencing a day of rain so far, since we’d moved.
The weather in California was like copy-paste into infinity.
You didn’t even need to check the weather app to know what tomorrow would be like.
Another difference from Illinois, where sometimes in the summer, even if the app said clear skies in the morning, you could get caught in a thunderstorm in the afternoon.
I should’ve said no. If I did, I knew he would leave me alone. But all those good reasons fell by the wayside when I looked
at his expectant face.
With him, I always found some way to say yes.
I didn’t know at the time exactly what I was saying yes to, but once I did, I had to follow through with whatever Alan was
planning as a “welcome tour” to the state of California.
That was how I ended up standing on a foam board, clutching an oar as though it could save me, in the middle of Santa Barbara
Harbor in a last-minute bikini I’d bought an hour ago from a sandy beach shop with limited options.
Standing was, maybe, a generous description. I was mostly kneeling and occasionally rising to my feet, quickly to tumble back down
hard into the water.
I sputtered as I fell for the ninth or tenth time and climbed back onto my board. This time, at least, I hadn’t inhaled any
water.
Alan watched me from his board. He was perfectly balanced. He seemed to exert as much effort as a person standing on dry land. “You stood for longer that time,” he said, as a form of encouragement.
“Is this a welcome tour or some form of hazing?” I asked, trying to regain my bearings for a minute before rising again.
“Isn’t this the best?” He was fully sincere and bursting with enthusiasm. “You would definitely not get to do this in Illinois.”
“Lake Michigan exists.”
“We didn’t live near Lake Michigan. Besides, the entire ambiance is different. You’re in the ocean. Look at the sun. It’s
February! Sure, it’s unseasonably warm this year, but still! You’re not dodging lake-effect snow.”
He had brought his swim trunks on this trip. I wondered if this was part of living in California too. Being prepared to go
in the water at any given moment if the occasion called for it. He had no self-consciousness at all. But why would he? He
was an athlete. He physically looked great, which was something I would never openly admit to. He had a level of body awareness
and poise that meant he wouldn’t know how to be awkward, even if he tried.
I, on the other hand, felt like a flailing wet puppet. Too many limbs and no ability to control them. My hair was drenched
and tangled around my shoulders. I was too pale and too angular. The bikini mostly fit, but it wasn’t the cut I would’ve chosen.
The gapping cups made me feel like a flat child, and although I didn’t want to focus on this, I did anyway.
“I look ridiculous,” I said.
“You don’t,” he said. “You are doing great. You haven’t given up. I’m impressed you agreed, to be honest. It was brave to try something new. I had a backup activity if you didn’t want to do this.”
I hit the water in mock indignation. “You had a backup activity? Why didn’t you offer that?”
“Because it was a backup.”
“You tricked me.”
“You had full freedom to decline. And I’m glad you didn’t. You haven’t gotten to swim in the ocean since moving here, have
you?”
I shook my head, tendrils of hair slapping my skin wetly.
“I didn’t think so. It’s so refreshing. Don’t you love the salt and the sound of the waves? I’ll never get tired of it. Tell
me you’re not having fun. Even a little bit.”
I put my hand up to my forehead to shield my eyes and peered up into the sky. The lightest wisp of cirrus floated around the
periphery, skirting far enough away from the sun as if to reassure us that there would be no chance of cloudiness today. The
air was lightly cool. A small distance away, a pelican bobbed on the waves, utterly unperturbed by our presence. He was busy
fishing. Or maybe just enjoying being alive. Out here in the bay, we felt isolated from the rest of the world. And I felt,
at least in some ways, free to be myself in a way that I rarely did.
“This is nice,” I conceded finally, smiling at him.
“Good. I’m glad you like it. I wanted to do something you would enjoy.”
“Oh, really? Are you sure you didn’t just want to get us into swimsuits?
” The second the words came out, I recoiled in horror so hard that my hand actually clapped over my mouth.
I had meant it in the way of implying that he enjoyed being in the water too much, but it obviously had a second, sleazier meaning that was now the only thing the two of us could think about.
“I didn’t mean— That wasn’t what I was trying to say,” I rushed out quickly. “This suit is terrible on me anyway.” The follow-up
was, possibly, worse than the initial line. I wanted to dive under the surface and hold the board over my head until all the
water boiled off from the heat of my face.
“You look amazing,” he said mildly, although he was flushing too. “You look good in everything.” He coughed. “Not, you know,
like my opinion is the one that matters.”
I thought that we might fully combust from embarrassment, but mercifully, right then, there was a big spout of water from
about fifty yards away. We both turned to look in that direction. A hulking dark shape breached the waves for a moment.
“A whale,” I breathed. I swiveled toward Alan. “Right?”
In real life, it seemed so much larger than you’d expect from seeing pictures or watching a documentary. It brought our insignificance
into sharp relief, and it was impossible not to feel threatened when placed next to something that could crush you with a
flick of its tail. I felt a thud of real fear. The ocean was truly deep and unknowable, to be able to contain an animal such
as this and much else, besides.
He was in awe too. “Looks like it. I’ve never seen one so close. But it is peak whale-watching season here.”
“Should we get out of the water?”
His forehead crinkled in amusement. “No, it’s fine. It’s not a shark. Besides, I think it’s headed away from us.”
“What if it turns around and comes up right underneath us?”
“This is not a sea-creature horror movie. We should respect nature, but we don’t need to be afraid.”
He paddled to be closer to me, our boards touching. We watched in unison silently as it breached again—this time farther away—sending
the seawater up in sparkles against the light. Then it headed back out toward the open ocean. People all around us, even far
away on the beach, whooped and cheered, their sounds small and far away. It felt like we were all collectively together in
this single precious slice of wonder.
I knew without a doubt that this was the best welcome tour anyone had ever gotten. I would remember this forever. “Beautiful,
huh?” I said, staring out at the horizon in the direction of the whale.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him looking at me. “Yeah. Beautiful.”
We finished our paddleboarding escapade and returned to the shoreline, where we baked out on the beach to dry for an indeterminate
period. As long as it took, and then some. With nothing specific on our agenda, time felt like a luxury.
We wandered down the magnificent boardwalk, two happy and sandy fleas. We stopped to pick up fried things to eat when we got hungry and ended up getting two very handsome ice cream cones to boot.
“So,” I said. “What other skills, besides paddleboarding, have you picked up since moving out here?”
We licked our cones and meandered along the water. Every once in a while, I bent down to pick up an interesting-looking shell
or a piece of blue-green sea glass. I put them in a canvas bag I bought at the same shop where I’d purchased the bikini. I