Chapter 36 Maverick
CHAPTER 36
MAVERICK
I ’ve lived many places, but nothing has ever compared to the ocean for me. Raging tumult one minute and placid the next. Fickle and fathoms deep. It was fascination at first sight.
No matter what chaos the world is in, surfing has always been my own retreat. So much of it is watching and waiting. Watching the water to gauge its mood, and then waiting for the waves to toss and churn and break. I’m itching to hop on my board and strike out to catch one of the huge waves I’ve been seeing all day. Even more appealing, though, is teaching Hendrix to surf.
Though at this point she may not agree.
We’ve spent a long time practicing the pop-up on dry land, and her patience with sand is waning.
“When do we get to the water part?” she whines, pulling her board up and holding it under one arm.
“I had to drag you out here, and now you want to get to the water part?”
“I wanna see what all the hype is about.” She tugs her one-piece down to cover her ass cheek and lightly kicks sand at me. “You’re supposed to be teaching me how to surf. Not how to stand up on the sand.”
“Can’t have one without the other. Come on, then, if you think you’re ready.”
She’s not ready.
The next hour is her trying to “catch a big one,” as she keeps calling it, and capsizing on her board every time. I can barely respond when she screams for me to “rescue” her in about two feet of water I’m laughing so hard. We’re both soaked head to toe and covered in sand when we flop onto the beach towel, winded and really happy. Or at least I am. Judging by the huge smile on her face, she is, too.
“I told you surfing is great.” I nudge her with my elbow.
“I don’t think what I did out there,” she says, tossing a hand toward the ocean, “would be considered surfing yet. I need a better teacher.”
“Nah.” I roll over onto her, caging her with my arms on either side of her head. “Ain’t nobody teaching you but—”
“Oh, shit!” She shoves me aside and takes off toward the water.
By the time I’ve rolled over and stood up, she has already run into the ocean and scooped up a little blond toddler, no more than two years old, who had wandered out a little too far. A woman runs up, her expression panicked.
“Oh, God,” the woman says, voice shaking. “I turned my head for just a second and she was gone. Thank you so much.”
“No problem.” Hendrix hands the little girl over, who is laughing, blissfully unaware she may have taken a year or two off her mother’s life. “I think it scared us more than it scared her.”
They’re still chatting when my dad walks up beside me. At sixty-two, he appears nearly as fit as he when he played in the league. Still got a few inches on me, and if his abs aren’t as washboard as they used to be, he’s still trim and firm.
“She’s a good one,” Pop says, watching Hendrix laughing with the mom as the little girl scurries around their feet. “Your mama would have liked her.”
My smile is involuntary because Mom would have loved my Hendrix.
“You think so?”
“Oh, I can hear Priscilla now,” Pop says, and shifts his voice to a higher register to imitate my mother. “Look at them pretty white teeth and it’s about time you brought home a girl with some meat on her bones, Mav.”
“God, that is exactly what she would say.”
“And she would immediately have dragged her in the kitchen and started making her something to eat and talking about her soap operas, even if Hendrix doesn’t watch. She would get an earful about Victor Newman.”
We both crack up laughing because it’s so true, and it feels good to remember Mom without the miasma of grief. Just to recall and celebrate how amazing she was and how rich she made our lives while we had her.
“You only get one like that in a lifetime,” Pop says, the smile lingering on his face. “Like your mama, I mean. Yeah, she would have liked Hendrix a lot.”
“I do too,” I say, watching Hendrix now being recruited to help build a sandcastle.
My father’s deep chuckle forces me to give him my full attention.
“What?” I ask, frowning. “What’s that look for?”
“Like her?” he scoffs. “Come on, son. We both know you more than like her.”
Since it’s useless to deny it, I figure I may as well spill it and get my father’s advice.
“I’ve never felt like this,” I confess, keeping my voice low and one eye on Hendrix in case she wraps up with the mom and kid.
“Like what?” My dad turns to me, powerful arms folded over his chest and one brow piqued.
“Like… when I met LaTanya, I was attracted to her, sure. Liked her a lot and we made Tamia, the most perfect human ever, obviously, but I never told her I loved her.”
“You talked to my grandbaby? Haven’t heard from Tamia in two weeks. Got over to Ghana and acting all grown.”
“Pop, focus, and she’s fine. We texted yesterday. So, like I was saying, I’ve been in plenty of relationships, the most serious of which, of course, was Zere.”
“How’s she doing? Does she know about Hendrix yet?”
“Yes, and it did not go well.” I bend to scoop up a shell, tracing its ridges.
“Not surprised,” my father says with a sigh. “That woman loved you. She thought you were the one. I coulda told her it wouldn’t last.”
“Why do you say that?” I frown, though I agree.
“You saw yourself marrying Zere?” Pop asks, genuine surprise etched into his features.
“No, but I wasn’t thinking When is this going to be over? ”
“That’s not love.” Pop shakes his head and angles an assessing look at me. “Matter of fact, I think if you had loved Zere, you would have compromised on the baby thing.”
“Nah. I’ve known for a long time I didn’t want another kid. The time and attention and focus you should give a young child, I don’t have that anymore. Fatherhood is not something you half-ass.”
I catch Hendrix’s eye and she gives me a discreetly exasperated look that says This woman won’t let me go.
“What if Hendrix said she wanted kids?” Pop asks.
My heart sputters instead of beats. The blood sloshes in my veins and then surges like the waves at my feet. It’s one of those moments where you’re presented with a truly clarifying question; one that delineates priorities you didn’t even know you held.
Like when you realize the woman walking toward you, covered in sand and soaked by sun, wearing a smile more breathtaking than the horizon—that woman, her you’d probably do anything to keep.