In the rain the beach was almost empty. Sand swallowed steps as toes dug in, compressed particulate, sprayed. Each step, descending littoral rake, punctuated the shedding of clothes—sun blanched hoodie, unnecessary knit cap, burnout tank, lavalava. The suit stayed on. Plantar fascia fired: Achilles, gastrocnemius pushed.
Push.
Push.
Push.
Push.
Samantha planted her butt and read the rolling heft of the sea. A foaming tidal arc skimmed up to her thighs, soaked the yellow grains beneath. Taking less than her prescribed ten-minute meditation upon rip, swell, break, barrel, and rest, she wrinkled a tickling raindrop from her nose, shook droopy bangs from her view. As the ocean took a breath, the seal-skinned surfer slid swimfin straps around each heel and bolted. Fins flapped up chunks in her wake as she ran headlong into a churning froth. The weight of the sea pressed in around her calves then pulled her close. Hands swept above head, she dove, sent shoulders below the break; the brine became her.
Head up. Air in.
Another emerald crest surmounted. She dipped back down, kicked, reached. Dug. And again—head up!
Breathe.
Breathe.
Duck.
Reach.
Dig.
All the way out, this pattern, until virescent waters deepened, blued. Warm: the furnace of lungs igniting flesh.
Press.
Beyond the break: space. She floated sculling atop the swell. Each surge grew, mounted between her and the shore. Sam lingered behind its ferocity. Eyes in the sky, rain melted easy in the drink. Each drag against her fins lifted her heart above the top. She drew breath in slowly, calm. A few more drops, another lift into the clouds—the swell. In a switch of her hips, she cast back to catch the crest.
KICK.
STROKE!
Rigid. Reaching over the break, her outstretched palm cut across the glassy walls of Atlantis. Propellant. Porpoise-like, she shot through the barrel.
Dig.
She shouldered into the tourmaline tube racing the peeling curl at her feet and rode. Hips trailed up behind her where the wave rallied into spume.
Glide.
And just before the wave was spent her head and shoulder quick darted into the face of the wave. The muted rush behind, above, her arms inviting turbulence pulled her into the underwater tumult.
KICK.
Head up!
SHIT!
Smashed in the face by her miscalculations, her rag doll body back flipped without warning and the violent spin cycle sucked her under. Flailing useless limbs relaxed into an odd surrender. No need for up. No down. Only around. Around. Agitate. Rinse. Spin.
Surrender.
Gasp.
Down. Around. Flounder.
Sand.
The beach approaching joined her brutal dance as the hand of the sea tossed her up only to punch her repeatedly up to shore. At the edge she pawed herself away from the break and hauled out breathing, at last, long and deep. As the sea spilled from her matted lengths of hair, the heavy rain pooled, brackish at her knees. A lost fin washed past. It was hers. Lurching forth she leapt upon it before the next wave could reclaim and tumble it back into the water. She looped it over her heel, watched the next wave thrash and settle. Then Samantha raced into the surf.
No comments:
Post a Comment