Phoebe kneels down to Gary’s ankles. She pulls on the fabric, or whatever it is, gingerly.
“I think you just ripped some hairs out,” he says.
“Surfing is pain, Gary.”
“Surfing is already too hard.”
She gets it over the mound of calf.
“Hooray,” Gary says, pulling the rest up with ease. “Now I’m a wet suit person.”
Phoebe zips him up in the back and Velcros it tight. The gesture is intimate, like putting a necklace on your wife’s neck. He is so lovely, Phoebe thinks. He is so good, standing there, getting ready to surf with his daughter even though he is hungover and his back is shit. He is looking at Phoebe like maybe she is good for the same exact reason. Maybe they are a team. She gives him a tiny high five as though the big task of the day is over. It’s friendly and sterilizes the moment between them.
“Ready to go,” Aspen says, as she rubs sunscreen on her face. She announces it has some sand in it. “Exfoliator!”
Then she does some stretching and says, “Okay, take your boards.” She shows them how to lie on it, bellies pressed against the board, legs centered for balance.
“Balance is everything,” Aspen says.
The movement is like yoga, Phoebe thinks. She feels glad, suddenly, for all that yoga she tried doing on Zoom during the pandemic. She feels like maybe that wasn’t a waste of time after all, if it allowed her to be present in this moment. And maybe that’s it: You do things in the moment for the person you hope you might be two years from now. You don’t kill yourself when you are sad because one day you might not be sad, and you might want to go surfing with a man you really like?
Phoebe uses her hands to push herself off the board into a plank, then jumps her feet up right in position. Gary looks at her with amazement.
“Very good,” Aspen says.
They enter the ocean. Phoebe likes the cool shock of the water against her ankles. Phoebe sticks a finger in and tastes it. She’s always been curious.
“It really is salty,” she says.
“That’s sort of its claim to fame,” Gary says.
The waves are small, and Phoebe is grateful. Aspen sets up Juice first, pushes her when a wave comes, and she stands up on the board right away. Gary and Phoebe cheer even though Juice probably can’t hear. It feels good to cheer. The cheering is in some way for the parents. It’s good to celebrate the girl for doing a thing the girl has passionately wanted to do since … Lila and Gary got engaged. Even Aspen is smiling.
“Who’s up next?” Aspen asks.
“Ladies first,” Gary says.
Phoebe slides onto the board, feels Aspen take it from behind.
“Okay, paddle!” Aspen shouts, as the wave comes.
But Phoebe does not know what it means when Aspen screams paddle. Does she use her whole arms at the same time like long oars? Or is it more like swimming? Does she just use her hands? Aspen didn’t say. For a minute, Phoebe feels foolish paddling, like a beached whale, but then the wave catches her, and she sees the water gliding over the board, over her hands, and she presses up just like she did on sand. She jumps and there she is, standing on the water. She can’t believe it. “Oh my God!” she shouts to no one, to herself, to Gary and Juice. She is balanced. Steady.
But then she falls into the water.
It’s been so long since she has fallen like that—she has never, she thinks, ever fallen like that. Totally and completely without any way of catching herself. Swirled up in the curl of the wave. And she loves everything about it, the cold water on her face, the ocean in her ears. It is life. It is up her nose and in her ears and she wants to swallow it all.
But it’s very salty. She stands up and spits out the water.
“You, like, did it!” Juice says.
“I know!” Phoebe says.
They watch Gary as he tries to stand up on the board, and Phoebe can feel Juice silently rooting for her father. Phoebe roots for him, too, out loud, and is this what it’s like, being part of a real family? Gary only gets halfway up, loses his balance immediately, then disappears into the water. He comes up nearby with a laugh.
“How was the ride?” Gary asks his daughter.
“Amazing,” Juice says.
“I think your daughter just acquired a very expensive new hobby,” Phoebe says, and Gary laughs. They watch Juice, who is already making her way back to Aspen beyond where the waves break.
“I’d need an entirely different body to be good at this thing,” Gary says.
But they keep trying. It’s just fun to try. It’s fun when the goal is to just surf and not to feel happier. For the rest of the hour, they take turns with Aspen as she sets them up for the waves.
The waves get bigger as the hour passes. While she waits for her turn, Phoebe swims out a little deeper so she doesn’t get toppled. She likes it. She likes the drama. The dark gray-green of the water when it’s not lit up by the sun. Each time a wave builds, Phoebe feels a swell of fear, dunks her head under like Juice instructed, and rises with the water. She can feel how easy it would be to get carried out to sea, but she resists it. She swims back to Aspen. She takes another ride, and then another, and then another. Each time she falls, she’s overwhelmed by the white foam, the sand in her ears. But she emerges.
They are all exhausted by the end of the hour. Phoebe is too tired to take off her wet suit, and when it gets stuck around her heel, she is the one who tips over this time. She laughs when she hits the ground. She feels like an overtired child playing in the sand. She feels like she could laugh hysterically or sob out of joy. She wants to stay on this sand forever, with Juice pulling at the leg of her suit, trying to tug it off. Each time Juice tugs, it makes them both laugh harder.
Eventually, Phoebe gets it off. She feels naked without it. Gary hands them towels. Sets out a blanket. The three of them fall asleep like that, the cool breeze drying them.
“I loved that,” Juice says when they wake up.
Phoebe did, too. She still loves it. No matter what happens, she’ll love it forever.
“Let’s do it again tomorrow,” Juice says.
“Never,” Gary says and smiles.
