“I’m here, aren’t I?” she said with more force than she intended. A set approached and Cassidy jumped to action. The bright light made her squint as she paddled forward. A swishing sound, followed by the crumbling roar of the wave, focused her mind. The wave lifted her up, and she punched to her feet, soaring down the face. She arced her body in a smooth upward turn, towards the center of the wall. The water shone like a silvery blue mirror as the light bounced off it. She could see her shadow out of the corner of her eye, trailing her. Speeding water tickled her toes, and that playful optimism sprouted inside her.
The wave was beginning to curve over her, and she crouched low, savoring the sensation of flying. Bright sunlight dappled the water, its colors changing from indigo to pale blue, and then the wave spilled over her head in a spinning coil, closing her inside. Leaning forward, she shrunk lower and grabbed her outside rail. Trailing her other hand in the wave, her fingertips bounced against the powerful, up-heaving water. She was almost to the channel and the curtain over her head pulled back, basking her in beaming sunlight. Curving her body upwards, she flew over the lip and dove over the back of the wave. Unexpected tears sprung from her eyes as she reached the surface. Those few moments of joy and delight were intoxicating. If only they could have lasted just a little longer, she thought.
By the time she rejoined the lineup, the Trinity’s other guests were either paddling out or getting ready to. She squinted at the big boat bobbing outside of the wave, its metal railings and finishes shining in the low sunlight.
“Nice ones,” she heard one of them say. It was Marissa, the first to arrive.
“Yeah,” Cassidy said.
Marissa gave her a wink and sat up.
Libby and Jillian soon joined them, but the mood was quiet, mellow, as if they all had a silent agreement not to spoil the glorious morning with conversation.
Cassidy stared at the green hills rising up to dark mountains in the distance and wondered if Reeve was there somewhere.
Cassidy was the first guest to return to the boat—her head was beginning to pound from the lack of sleep and the glare of the sun. As she came on board, she found a stack of freshly folded towels and several jugs of fresh water for rinsing. She stood on the swim deck and rinsed her head and face before grabbing a towel and drying off as she faced the sun. Descending into the lounge, she caught the rich scent of coffee and helped herself to a cup. Jesus was chopping onions and peppers.
“Good waves?” he said in his careful speech, grinning with his crooked teeth and laughing eyes.
Cassidy nodded, then took her coffee to her bunkroom where she quickly dressed, and downed some Tylenol. Then she pulled out her neatly stashed knapsack and removed the stack of papers she planned to proof. Normally, she would make these corrections on her laptop, but she had known that wouldn’t be possible on the boat, so she had asked permission to use the camp’s printer. While this would require an extra step once she returned, it was better than doing nothing. When she returned, the pressure to publish would be immense—that and the imposing reality of nailing down a job—a real job at a university. Tucking the stack of papers under an arm and gripping her mechanical pencil, she hopped to the floor, picked up her coffee, and went to the galley. She fished out a bagel from a basket covered in plastic wrap and nibbled on it, her focus wandering back to her work as she sliced the bagel and smeared it with cream cheese. Had Héctor downloaded the latest data set yet? Would their seismic stations stay operational? She knew that last thought was unlikely—equipment had a bad habit of walking away. Stuff like solar panels and car batteries made sense; they were valuable. However, even things as seemingly useless to the average citizen as specialized electronic cables and ammo boxes disappeared too. The toughest loss was the seismometer. They were extremely expensive, and fragile. Sometimes looters would find her station, strip its guts and leave the seismometer, not knowing exactly what it was; but the damage would be too extensive to fix it.
“You play ukulele?” Jesus asked, wiping his hands on his apron.
Cassidy put the lid back on the tub of cream cheese. “No, why?”
Jesus lifted his eyebrows to indicate something above.
Cassidy was at a loss. Then the meaning slid into place. “You mean, you don’t?” she asked carefully.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. He indicated with his hand, just like the day before, to enter his room.
Cassidy abandoned her breakfast and approached the narrow door, then stepped through it. The bed was made, neat as a pin just as before, everything shipshape. She looked up. The ukulele case was there. “Do you know Reeve?” she asked, as goosebumps traveled down her arms.
Jesus continued to smile his big, soft smile. Did he nod? She couldn’t tell.
She placed one foot on the corner of the bed, and braced her other leg against the wall, then reached up to the hammock.
“Just the ukulele?” she asked him as her fingers found the edge of the backpack.
“Sí,” he said in his deep voice. “Mi bolsa,” he said to indicate that the backpack belonged to him.
Cassidy removed the ukulele from the netting and worked her way back to the floor. She sat on Jesus’s bed and paused, running her fingers over the black worn case. The clasps were weathered, maybe it was all the salt air; one was extremely tight and while prying it open, it sliced
