I grew up with people who made the world ugly. Dora showed me that it could be beautiful, too. And that I was worth something, after all.
I clutch her board under my arm as I head down to the shoreline. It’s the first surfboard I ever owned, a generous gift from my long-gone friend. When I made my plan to come here, I knew I had to bring it with me.
The beach is only a few short steps from my cabin, the sand silk-soft beneath my bare feet. I scan the waves, shading my eyes with my hand. There’s a nice break at the rocky point, which I guess is the tip of the peninsula. It’s not busy, either, just three other surfers out there, black shapes bobbing in the waves.
Still, I’ve been surfing a long time, and I know how this works. I’m a newcomer to the break, so I’ll take my time out there. It’ll be nice just to get in the water. See if I can wash some of my pain away. I fasten my leg rope then wade in, dropping my board once it’s deep enough and, lying on it, paddle out towards the break.
For the first time in a long time, I exhale.
Axel
The sun is up when I finally roll out of bed. I don’t sleep much; some nights are better than others. But last night, after dropping off the towels to my new guest, I fell into bed, exhausted.
I stretch, falling into my usual morning routine, feeding Nimue and brewing fresh coffee. After yesterday’s relative calm, it feels as though a storm is brewing, though I’m not sure why. It’s as though my mysterious guest has brought wild weather with her, her tears stirring up echoes from the past. Still, the day is bright and clear, the sky the kind of blue you see in paintings, perfect puffy white clouds floating high up, the line where it meets the ocean barely visible to the naked eye.
I make breakfast and pull out my laptop, waiting for it to connect to Wi-Fi. I could get an upgrade, but it’s more trouble than it’s worth to be honest. People don’t come here to sit on their phones, anyway.
But it does come in useful sometimes. I curse, as it kicks out just as my emails are downloading. Irritation sits like a spike under my breastbone. I take some deep breaths, trying to calm myself. The email I’m waiting for should have come in when I was at work yesterday, but it didn’t. More emails appear.
Finally. I click on the one from Bank Indonesia. I blow out a breath, frowning as I skim through the contents.
“Fuck!” I slam my laptop closed. Nimue, sitting in her usual sunbeam, blinks at me then rolls over, stretching her paws. I scrub a hand through my hair, trying to figure out what my next move will be. I still have options, but they’ll take time. And time is the one thing I don’t have.
I reopen my laptop and quickly type an email to the island collective. Sembuh is run by a council made up of a mix of expats and locals, making decisions on what’s best for the place and its inhabitants. Ensuring we have the amenities the island needs to continue functioning independently, with everyone who lives here contributing to the upkeep. It’s why we’ve been able to resist major development; we understand that if we want to keep our lifestyle as it is, we need to make decisions that are sustainable.
At least, that’s been the philosophy so far.
I hit send on the email, then pull up my messaging app. My father is online, no doubt working late. I find his thread, and type a quick question.
Are you sure you won’t reconsider?
There’s no answer.
Not that I expected one. I wait for a few minutes, just in case, then slam the laptop closed once more. I need to get out of here.
ChapterFive
Jade
The water is beautiful, turquoise and clear, the bottom mostly sand with a few scattered rocks closer to the point. I note where they are, and the best route back in. Coral scrapes are nasty and can easily get infected, so I’d prefer to avoid one if I can, especially somewhere as remote as here. It’s not busy, though, so I should be all right.
I reach the break, sitting up on my board and nodding to the surfer nearest me. He nods back. Then I sit and wait, letting everyone else have their turn. It’s peaceful, just bobbing here surrounded by blue, letting the ocean carry me. I relax a little more, and it feels as though something is unfurling, a tickle of feeling beneath my breastbone. It’s like when I was at the airport, but even more so. Excitement. The way I used to feel when I started out surfing, when the possibilities seemed endless.
Finally I think I can grab a wave– I’m in the right spot and it’s just starting to break, a gleaming curl of turquoise water fringed with white. I lie on my board and start to paddle, angling myself for take-off, pushing down and bringing my feet beneath me as I stand, knees slightly bent, shifting my weight as I ride the wild water, feeling it move beneath me. And for a moment, it’s perfection. I feel weightless, free as a bird, as though I’m leaving all my troubles behind. Like this wave is the start of something n?—
Someone slams into me, dropping in from above. I fall off my board, getting churned up as the lip of the wave breaks over me, and tumble around in white water. My leg rope stretches, pulling me to one side as my board gets taken by the currents. There’s a sharp pain in my leg, and I finally surface to find I’m on the rocks, my board smashing into them, a jagged edge scraping me. I push away, as best I’m able, pulling my board to me. Dora’s board. It’s damaged, dinged along one side, the tip broken off.
Rage pours through me.
“What the fuck?” I scream. The surfer who knocked me down has ridden the wave almost into shore, and is now paddling back out. It’s a woman, I realise, as she gets closer to me. I get onto my board, my leg stinging, and paddle towards her.
“What the hell is your problem? You just dropped in on me!” I yell, sitting up. It’s basic surf etiquette, for god’s sake. Maybe she didn’t see me, although I don’t know how she couldn’t have.
She turns her head, scowling. “Fucking tourist,” she snarls, and keeps paddling.
Part of me wants to go after her, wants to take this further. But my board is damaged and my leg is on fire. “Fuck you!” I scream after her. She raises her middle finger.
God. I’m this close to violence. But I have to remember who I am, what it would mean if it got out I was brawling with someone over a wave, what my manager, my fans would say. And once again my old life drops in on me like a ton of really shitty bricks. Even here, when I feel so free, I can’t escape it.
