ONE
White froth rolled shoreward and dissipated. A tall, slender form unfurled from the water and stood in defiance of a stiff wind. The body turned to the sea and dove against an oncoming wave, then surfaced as the wave passed.
His eyes were two black opals panning the seascape. An insatiable desire to see, to feel, to experience, could be seen in their crystalline intensity. Bronzed only slightly by the sun, the face held a look of wayward independence under thick waves of dark brown hair. He was twenty-four.
The noon sun blazed overhead, easing the chill of the ocean air. Visibility was perfect, the sky cloudless and clear, rare in Northern California's Half Moon Bay. This beach was always empty when he came. He thought of it as his beach.
A crest loomed, capped with white. The young man's arms plunged into the water with force, and his legs kicked up to a horizontal, carrying him against the tide until he reached the base of the mounting arc. An engine hummed in the distance; he ignored it. He took in a sharp breath and flipped around, holding his body in the shape of the curved wall as he timed his launch, and thrust his torso forward.
The wave engulfed and propelled him. A surge of cold streamed through the layer of water caught inside his full-length wetsuit, flushing across the skin of his chest and back. He laughed under the surface, his mind filled with the awareness of his own body; he could feel the vibrations of his laughter in a mix with the tumult. Soon the wave became a gentle hand stroking the sandbank.
He stood again, a six-foot-three silhouette of slim musculature. Then he dove back, arms churning to catch another.
The sound of the engine grew louder. When he surfaced, he realized the source was practically riding on top of him. A deluge of saltwater splashed over his face, and the humming diminished.
A female voice spoke.
"Looking lean and mean in neoprene, Austin Hardy."
Blond curls fluttering behind her as she jockeyed the water scooter head-on into the crosswind, Rachel Mason was grinning. The passenger behind her was not. Sitting on the pad and still clinging to her waist, a young Japanese man had wedged his feet inside the Jet Ski for safety, his expression laced with queasiness and regret. The life vest hugged so tightly around his waist and aloha shirt that his cheeks were flushing red.
His name was Ichiro Yamada, and his face had pulled taut. "Austin, hurry! Save me from this madwoman!" he shouted.
Rachel tossed her passenger a pitiless glance, her dimples caving with amusement and condescension. "You haven't lost any limbs. That's good enough for me."
Austin smiled back at them.
"Hello, Rachel, Itchy. How are you two enjoying your romp around the Bay?"
"You've told us about this place for too long," Rachel said. "We had to see the swimmer in his element."
"You make a grand entrance."
She tossed her hair, and a cascade fell over a strap of her light green bikini. "We rented the Jet Ski for the hour. Unfortunately, Itchy here may be too scrawny to last."
"Don't call me that," Ichiro said irritably, removing a pair of goggles.
Austin asked, "How has my brave roommate fared?"
"Your brave roommate loves his life and wishes to keep it," Ichiro said. "Which means it's time for him to disembark."
Ichiro pinched his nose and jumped into the water. He came up shivering.
"Cold?" said Rachel.
"Torturous, but better than riding with you."
Austin took two strokes and came up alongside the scooter. He kicked his legs to impel himself upward, then hoisted himself aloft. The Jet Ski wobbled until he gained his balance. In one motion he swiped the lanyard from Rachel's wrist and placed it around his own. She yelped as he lifted her onto the passenger seat behind him.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
With a hand on the controls, he gunned the motor and twisted the throttle clockwise. The craft pitched and kicked up a misty spray.
"Riding off to an undisclosed location, where I can take advantage of you under the hot sun."
"And then what?"
"I'll drop you as far out as I can to hide the evidence. But I'd better get busy. Class starts soon."
They were gone before she could protest.
Ichiro watched them shrink in the distance as they glided over the surface like a rock skipping a lake.
"Nice to see you, roomie," he said. "I do hope you'll come back for me."
* * *
Virtually airborne, the racer banked and twisted, skimming the wave crests. After staking off a mile-wide loop of ocean, the duo traversed a self-styled slalom, chasing gulls in figure eights.
"So this is where you come to bodysurf?" Rachel asked, shouting to be heard over the wind.
"Once a week," Austin said.
"Pretty luxurious, having a beach to yourself."
He had grown up in Malibu, spending many a high school sunset bodysurfing at Zuma Beach. After moving to Northern California, he had claimed this spot off Highway 1, a sanctuary for mulling over puzzles and projects.
"Helps me think," he said.
He slowed the Jet Ski and cut the engine.
"Is this where you take advantage of me?" she asked, wringing out her hair.
"Of course not. We go way out to sea for that. If I tried anything here, you could just swim ashore and get away. That's what the last one did."
She cocked her head. "Oh? There was another?"
"Actually, you're number fifty-five, but I like you better than the others. They put up a fight." Rachel leaned down to the water and splashed a handful in his mouth. He coughed, adding, "I didn't deserve that, and you better remember I retaliate."
She flailed as he picked her up and tossed her into the water. She made a small splash and rose to the surface struggling to control her laughter through chattering teeth. He dove in after her.
"Too bad Ichiro jumped ship," he said, smiling at her with affection, as he would a sister. "He's missing out."
"We should go get him."
"Good idea. I'd rather not hear news of a human-shaped ice cube washing ashore." He paused. "What's the matter?"
She looked beyond him. "I thought you said this beach was private."
"Not officially, though I've never seen anyone else. Why?"
She pointed. Treading water, he turned around to follow her finger.
"Looks like a small daytime campfire," he said, though he wasn't sure if he believed his own words.
"Look harder."
A head of blazing red hair had tricked his eye. A man was standing at the edge of the water. The red color bled down to his shoulders and moved with the breeze, giving the appearance of a flame dancing on a candle. The man's arms were crossed, hands tucked and hidden. Wearing a knee-length woolen coat, he stood with solemn stillness. His legs bore into the sand like monoliths, giving Austin the impression that it would take more than rough tides to remove this man's physical connection with the earth; he could have kicked any wave back into the sea.
"You've never seen him before?"
"Never," Austin said.
He noted the man's vehicle, a black sedan parked behind a cluster of trees.
"Is he staring at us?"
"Don't think so."
"You sure? We can't see his eyes."
"He looks like someone who loves the sea, and came to meditate."
Not buying Austin's tranquility, Rachel felt a sharp frisson and said, "Yeah, and I wonder how long he's been there."
"I'd say the cold is giving you the willies. Let's head back." He checked his watch as he helped her climb onto the Jet Ski. "And we better go fast. I'm already running late, and now I'm thinking about the winding roads back to school. I'll have to drive like a maniac."
"Ichiro and I just got here!"
"Come earlier next time."
She began to pout. "You can miss one class. Just one class."
He found it difficult to refuse. "Not this one."
Austin had graduated two years before with a bachelor's in mechanical engineering. He had spent one year traveling and completed one year of aerospace research, studying turbulence mechanics with a professor in Bologna, before returning to Stanford to begin the doctoral program in aeronautics and astronautics.
"Don't you want to stay?"
"And skim the wave tops with a fiendishly attractive creature clad in scanty swimwear? Desperately. But it's important I attend this lecture. I haven't missed one all quarter. If you knew the professor, you'd understand."
She sighed. "You live the life of three people. Which class is it?"
"Aircraft and Rocket Propulsion."
The motor groaned under his directive. Austin veered toward the beach and teased the break line, then spun the Jet Ski around to face the open water. They found Ichiro bobbing a half-mile down, and he and Austin traded places.
Austin gave Rachel a playful bite on the neck before swimming ashore and changing out of his wetsuit. She watched as he slipped into his car and drove off into the forest. For a few minutes, she stayed on the scooter, staring wistfully at the beach.
Copyright © 2009, 2014 by Matt Cook
