“I knew there was something up, the way you packed your board bags. Not the usual configuration, is it?”
My grin widens. Manny knows me so well. I always pack my own boards, not trusting anyone else with them, making sure they’re stacked properly, the fins carefully stored. I turn to the porter who’s waiting, his gaze moving between us both. I tuck some money into his hand, then lift the top bag from the trolley. It only holds two boards; a gamble, I know, but I’ve never minded taking chances. I grab the smallest bag from Manny’s trolley; an Ocean’s Curl bag, monogrammed with my initials, the fabric black with a tropical floral pattern I helped design.
“I have a plane to catch,” I say. “And I want you to have a holiday. So take the suite at the hotel— No, I already cancelled your room,” I continue, as he begins to protest. “You look after me so well, Manny, you deserve it,” I say, my voice rough. “Now I need to look after myself.”
Manny regards me for a long moment. “Where are you going?”
“Indo,” I say. “Anna’s place. I need a break.” My voice cracks. “From… From everything. And everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“You were right.” I blink back tears. “He’s no good for me.”
Manny nods, once. Then he reaches out, pulling me into a hug. I can smell his aftershave, his clean male scent that always reminds me of home, of a time when I had one. “You taking your phone?” he rumbles.
I nod, my head against his chest. “Only because I have to,” I say. “But I won’t be answering it. Message me if it’s really urgent.”
“What about Sol?”
I lift my head, gently pushing against Manny’s hug until he lets go. “I sent him an email. Asking for some time off. He has plenty of other clients to deal with, anyway.” My manager is known as Sol the Shark for a lot of reasons, and I want to keep him onside. “He seemed okay with it.”
“Well, I guess there’s nothing else to do but tell you to be careful. And have a good time. Call me, if you need me. I’ll be there for you.”
“You always are, Manny.” I reach up to kiss him on the cheek. “Have fun relaxing. I’ll be back in time for the next comp.” I shoulder my bag, my board bag in my other hand. “See you later,” I say before I start crying, before he can say anything to dissuade me, before I change my mind. But at the same time something flutters in my chest, something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Excitement.
I head towards the check-in desk, not looking back.
Axel
The beach is almost deserted. I stroll along the golden sand, my feet crushing spiral patterns left by bubbler crabs painting the beach overnight with their designs. Today feels as though it’s going to be a good day, a day where the shadows of my past might stay away. Still, I don’t let the hissing waves touch my bare feet, sticking close to the sandy pathway beneath the palms.
I might live alone, but I’m never completely alone. There’s always someone to talk to if I want to be around people, and having my own small business helps to keep me part of the community. After I lost Susie and everything fell apart, I needed to keep myself busy. I’ve always worked with my hands, and building something beautiful felt like a good way to heal. It helped, a little. The private cabins are built along the stretch of beach facing the surf, shaded by whispering palms with hammocks strung between them, pebbled pathways leading from one to the other. They’re not for just anyone; I let them out to those few friends who still bother with me, offering them somewhere to come and relax, get away from it all, whenever they need. Or, as I’m doing for Anna, friends of close friends. I stop to replace a couple of white pebbles that have been knocked out of place, restoring the serenity, the sinuous lines of the path. I prefer things to be orderly, everything in its place.
The cabins are raised on stilts, positioned so each has a view of the water, yet doesn’t overlook its neighbour. Anna’s cabin isn’t locked. I don’t lock any of them. The locals know me and what I do. They wouldn’t abuse me or my hospitality that way. But it never hurts to check, so I turn the handle and open the carved wooden door. Inside it smells slightly musty, mixed with the tang of the beach. There’s sand on the floor and, as I open the shutters to let in fresh air, I make a mental note to bring the broom when I come back to stock up the linens and food. Otherwise, the place is in pretty good order. I wipe down the small kitchenette, open the cupboards and large closet to make sure nothing is lurking inside. A few small lizards scuttle out, disappearing between cracks in the wide floorboards. Then I stick my head in the bathroom, with its sink and toilet, a washing machine and dryer concealed in a tall cupboard. The shower is outside, hidden behind a carved screen like the one at my place. There’s something about a tropical island that makes showering outside seem like the most natural thing to do, I guess. I continue cleaning, adjusting bits and pieces until I’m happy with how it looks. Then I turn to the bed. The huge four poster is hung with snowy white mosquito nets, which are knotted around the timber uprights. I undo them, shaking out the folds, making sure they’re clean and insect-free. I wonder for a moment about Jade, and why she might be coming here, what she might be looking for. If she’s a friend of Anna’s, she should be all right. I’ll leave her in peace. Hopefully she’ll do the same for me.
ChapterThree
Jade
Iblink as I exit the chaos of Denpasar airport, so different from the serene majesty of Changi. I stand outside the terminal, my bag slung over one shoulder, board bag in my other hand, and bucket hat pulled down low to hide my face as much as possible. It’s always like this whenever I come to Bali: a shift of consciousness, a hit of culture shock. I check the time on my phone. Anna sent me a map of where I was being met, and when. I timed the flight in so I wouldn’t miss it; it’s about a twenty-minute drive from the airport, and I have an hour or so. Still, the roads around here tend to be chaotic, so I’m keen to get going. The scent of clove cigarettes fills my nostrils as I head over to the taxi rank.
“Serangan Port?” I ask the first taxi driver, a slightly built older man with a wrinkled face. He nods, grinning, revealing gapped teeth. He grabs my surfboard bag, sliding it into the back of his five-seater van, dropping one of the seats to fit it in.
I hop into the front passenger seat, holding my bag as we pull into the snarl of traffic surrounding the airport. There don’t seem to be any lanes; just a cluster of trucks and motorcycles and cars all moving in one direction, parents clutching small children, loads balanced precariously on flatbeds, and a seeming complete disregard for road safety rules. I remember how stunned I was the first time I came here, back when I was a Sand Star and the world was just opening up for me. Now I take it in my stride, settling back into the rhythm of things once the initial shock has passed. As we head further away from the airport it’s as though the ties around me are loosening, everything connecting to the life I left behind slipping away.
I check my phone again. Zach was coming into Singapore on a later flight than mine; said he had some things to sort out. More like girls to shag, if I know him. I sigh.
I need to break up with him.
I still love him. But it’s a tattered and broken kind of love, shredded by too many betrayals, too many nights watching him bury himself in some other girl, when all I wanted was to be loved. When we first got together, I thought he was everything, and so I gave him everything in return. For a while it was just the two of us, and it was bliss. But then other girls started hanging around and, eventually, came into our bed. Yet he would go crazy if any other guy so much as tried to talk to me, always insisting that the other girls meant nothing, that it was me who he loved.
And I ate it up, every single time.
Until now.
I lean back in my seat and close my eyes, letting the traffic noise, the tinny music from the taxi radio, the heat coming through the windscreen, swirl around me. Hopefully taking this time away will give me the clarity I need. I’ve been with Zach for almost four years, much of my professional surf career. I don’t know who I’ll be without him. It’s time I figure that out.
