AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Never better. Actually…” I let the word trail off and pull my pajama shirt tight against my stomach so my bump is visible. “Got knocked up.”
He releases me and puts a hand on his forehead. “Lord, Tilly. I knew those dates would catch up with you. Jesus.”
Instead of being offended like I probably should, I laugh. “It’s not like that. Tommy’s the dad.”
Now he really looks confused. After a long spell, he shakes his head. “I can’t keep up with you kids. So, are you here to work then?”
I shake my head. “Actually, I was hoping to rent a board and wetsuit.”
He jerks his head. “Then step into my office,” he says with all the charm he has.
***
Twenty minutes later, we’re both in the water. I haven’t stopped crying since the first bit of sand squished between my toes. It’s a silent sob of relief. To his credit, Ron hasn’t spoken. He seems to understand that I’m having a moment. The ocean is my happy place. It’s buried in my soul as somewhere I am safe, understood, and comfortable. All things I haven’t felt in so long. Having Tommy hold me is about the only thing that can compare. But even then, I see the worry in his eyes. It’s half the reason I wanted to come out here without him. But the ocean? There’s no worry or concern. Just peace.
I haven’t even tried to catch any waves yet. After paddling through the small break, foam in my braided hair, I sat up on the giant board and looked out to the open ocean. The pink of sunrise is now a brilliant orange, painting the sky with rays of beauty I had forgotten existed. But it’s the smell that is rejuvenating me. Salt, carried on the mist, coats my face and hair. The solitude, interrupted by only a few other surfers and some loud seagulls, is all-encompassing.
And I’m ready. A four-foot wave is coming, the perfect reintroduction to surfing. I lean back on my board, and my feet churn beneath me. I use my right arm to pull until I’m facing the beach. My stomach doesn’t feel much different, maybe a little bloated, but it doesn’t hurt, so I start to paddle.
Lord, it’s been a while. I’m barely five feet away when my muscles start to protest. But I keep it up until I feel the tail of my surfboard lift. I give one final two-handed paddle before jumping to my feet. Like riding a bike. Nothing’s changed. I’m gliding down the face of the small wave, feeling like I’m on top of the world. It’s a short forty-second ride, but it’s everything I needed. I let my entire body fall back into the white wash.
As the water finally eclipses my head, I have one thought: It’s fucking cold but in the best way. Fuck snow. This is the kind of freezing I embrace. I stay under for longer than normal, and when I finally stand, Ron is by my side.
He’s got a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Feel good?”
I smooth some of the escaped wet hair back and nod. “Like a fucking queen.”
“Right on. Let’s get some big ones then.” He’s already paddling back out, and I hop on my board. This. This is where I belong.
In the water, we sit side by side, each of us silent in our own reverence of the ocean. Occasionally, I'll comment on the size of a passing wave or the shape of a cloud. Ron mumbles out replies, but his focus is on the water. I catch a few more easy lefts with him cheering me on. It’s perfect.
Mission beach has the perfect beginner waves, but that also means there’s a lot of people that are all trying for the same thing. Right around nine o’clock, the pancake dads show up. You know the ones that have to get their kids breakfast and to school before they can come out. Shit. Tommy’s going to be a pancake dad! Oh, I can’t wait to tell him that. He hates those guys crowding his break. They aren’t as bad as kooks, people with no business being outside the white water, but they have a sort of desperation to them. Like if they don’t catch the next one, they’ll die or something. Guess I’ll be a pancake mom too.
Ron and I call it quits when he gets dropped in on by a wobbly guy on a Costco board. Figures. Fucking snake. We ride a final wave in on our stomachs and start the short walk back to the shop.
But when we get there, a police car with its lights on is in the parking lot. “Shit,” I say.
Ron looks at me. “Think there was a break in?” he asks. But I know it has nothing to do with stolen goods. There’s a high probability that someone noticed I was gone and maybe panicked.
“Uh, might be my baby daddy. I might not have mentioned I was surfing this morning,” I say somewhat sheepishly. The shack looks as good as ever. No shattered front window, and the door is still intact. Though if I’m being honest, that might help with curb appeal.
Sanderson Surf is a little beat-up store that needs a coat of paint and maybe a scrub brush on the front window. I almost laugh at the thought. Months ago, when I left, I would never have given the appearance a second thought. But being a maid for a few months really taught me the value of keeping things looking their best. Though my mind is on the bored-looking officer, I do make a mental note to put some elbow grease into the shop in the near future.
Ron purses his lips. “Tilly, come on.” He sounds as exasperated as I already feel. We both hustle over the warming pavement to where the cop is standing near the front door.
“Ronald Swensen?” The cop asks, eyeing us both carefully.
“Yes, can I help you?” Instead of answering, the officer looks at me. “Any chance you’re Tilly Jacobs?”
I nod. “Tommy call you?”
With a loud sigh, he looks down at his notebook. “Mr. Thomas Hillcrest, yes. Said your life was recently threatened and you’re at a medical risk.”
I set my surfboard next to the door of the shack and cross my arms. Medical risk my ass. “I’m pregnant, not infirm.”
The officer doesn’t respond to me, only talks over his radio for a few seconds. When things are settled, he lets out a breath. “Call your man, lady.”
With that, he walks away. Setting his board next to mine, Ron unlocks the door. I flick on the lights and bring both boards inside. It’s something I’ve done hundreds of times after a session and feels right. Since I don’t have my burner phone, I decide to call him using the surf shack’s line. He doesn’t answer, so I leave a quick message to let him know where I am. Afterward, I get to work on helping Ron set up for the day. I’m barely through rinsing them down when I hear the bell over the door. “Where is she?” Tommy asks, his voice full of rage.
