2
Nothing compares to the calmness I feel out here, sitting on my surfboard, feeling the power of the ocean beneath me. It’s how I choose to start and end my day. Except this afternoon might be cut a little short. The rumble is getting louder coming from behind me. It’s a fine balance. The storm makes the swell bigger which makes the surfing better. But with it comes the danger of lightning. I didn’t pay much attention in high school, but I do remember the lesson about lightning. The highest point is what attracts the electricity. Pretty simple equation. Don’t be the highest point!
I’m looking for that one last wave of the day, the perfect one. Glancing around, I see that while I’ve been watching the storm coming and in my own bubble of thought, all the others out here have cleared out. Guess I’m the last man standing.
Fuck, that means I’m the highest point!
I need to get out of the water and head home before things get too dangerous.
Lying flat on my board, my arms are ready as the swell of the wave starts to lift my board up higher. Paddling as fast as I can to match the momentum of the wave, my board starts shooting forward, and my heart is beating fast. I love the adrenaline rush of being one with the water rushing to shore.
Pushing my body up and then jumping to my feet, I steady my balance which is no mean feat with a moving board underneath you. Slowly standing to my full height of six-foot-two, I take control of the way I’m skimming across the wave. I guide the nose of the board and ride the wave just below the crest that is holding off just in the slightest. One wrong move and I’ll be thrown headfirst down the wave towards the ocean floor with a sharp pointed fiberglass board following me. It’s designed so that the board is strapped to my leg, so I can’t escape it. Even though that strap can stop me from drowning, that’s only if I manage to dodge being speared by the board in all the craziness. I’ve wiped out plenty of times before, but today I’m determined will not to be one of them.
I might be a grown man, but the kid inside me is still high-fiving himself for a perfect ride all the way to the shore. Standing up in the shallows and tucking my board beneath my arm, I’m satisfied that once again I beat the ocean. While it might be the place that calms me, it also feeds my competitive nature that I try to keep just to myself these days.
As I stand next to my truck, peeling my wetsuit off, the first of the lightning flashes across the sky. I’m looking forward to getting home and taking that first sip of my cold beer while I sit and watch the storm roll in. Slipping my boardshorts up my legs under my towel, I catch movement down near the shoreline. The noise of the wind and the thunder is getting louder as the raindrops fall.
Damn, it’s that stupid dog. I can’t hear the woman’s voice, but I know she’s screaming for it to come back. The storm must have frightened Coco and made the dog take off. I don’t know her, but I’ve heard her screaming the dog’s name every day, even above the noise of the waves. For once that stupid dog needs to listen. As Coco finally slows up and plonks down into the sand, I watch the gorgeous woman stop and try not to scare her dog again. By now the rain is really starting to fall heavily, and I can see her clothes getting wet. My feet start moving towards her, but I can’t rush straight down the sand because it will send the dog running again. This woman is so tiny, and I wonder why someone as small as a pixie chose such a large dog. Her mastiff is almost the same size as her.
Whatever she’s saying must be working, as her hands creep closer with the lead. Coco is lying as flat as she can in the sand, like she’s trying to hide from the storm and doesn’t know how to. I see the look of victory on her face when she attaches the lead to Coco’s collar. I feel like cheering for her, because now she can get back to the safety of her home, before things really break loose.
I’ve got to be honest, I don’t like the look of the clouds forming out over the ocean. As I’ve stopped just at the edge of the sand dunes, she still hasn’t noticed me, so I wait to watch her make her way back up the beach. But the harder she tries to get Coco to get up and move, the more the damn dog is determined to keep lying as flat as she can to the sand.
Trying to drag the dog is not working. The weight ratio means that she’s got no chance. That’s when I know it’s time to step in and help. Racing towards her across the sand, I almost laugh at her trying to lift Coco up to carry her. If she weren’t in so much danger, then it would almost be comical.
“Coco, please, baby, we need to go. I’m so scared of the storm, but I can’t leave you.” Her voice sounds petrified as I come up beside her while she is trying to lift her dog.
The howl of the wind is getting louder, but her voice is clear as anything.
“Let me help you,” I shout, trying to be heard above the storm. Not meaning to, I’ve frightened her even more. Her sole focus on Coco means she didn’t see me running to her.
I’m not sure if the water running down her cheeks is from the rain or crying as she looks up at me with her pleading eyes.
“Please, I can’t do this on my own.”
“You’ll be okay, I’ll make sure you’re both safe,” I say, knowing in my gut that these words mean more than she’ll understand. Right as I reach down to put my arms under Coco, a huge clap of thunder rumbles around us and the now-dark sky lights up like the middle of the day for a split moment.
“Run!” I scream to her as we both take off down the beach.