Holly

Falling

Note: if you read the preview in Atticus, I changed Amanda's name to Ira.

•••••
If only my legs would stop shaking.

The wave curls and I watch as the right one approaches me.

I wish my feet would stay on the board.

I throw my arms in the water and start paddling towards it. The waves are large this evening and I can smell the salty electricity in the air. A storm is coming.

I take a deep breath as I bring my knees onto the board. The wave starts to bend, and I hold my breath as I try to stand. For the first few seconds, I think I got it.

Shit!

Of course, I fell.

I crash into the wave and feel it toss me around. The board hits my hand but if there is any pain, I don't notice. I am too distracted fighting the aggressive waves. When I feel the rough shells under my feet, I know I am close enough to the shore.

I failed again.

The saltwater hurts my nose as I cough it up.

"FUCK!"

I slap my hand against the wet sand. It has been a year since the incident, and I have been out of the hospital for 9 months. The frustration I feel makes me want to try it again.

The waves crash heavily on the shore, and I spot my surfboard a few feet from me. I've been trying for hours today, and I haven't gotten any better. The doctor told me that I'll be able to walk and function normally.

But I'll never have enough balance to surf again.

For the last 9 months I have been trying to prove the doctor wrong. No matter how hard I try, I can't stay on the damn board.

"You did great out there!" Ira has been trying hard to make me feel better every time I fall, "You improved since a month ago." but it's annoying now.

I roll my eyes and look up to her. Ira is standing next to me on the beach. "No, I didn't", I gruff.

She gives me her hand and I take it, standing up. Ira is just a little shorter than me, 5 foot 6 inches. But she has the curves I wish I could have. Her pink wetsuit makes her look like a model.

"Yes, you did, dip shit."

She squeezes the salt water from her straight blonde hair and her blue eyes turn to the sky. My hair is way too curly to even try to tame when surfing. It is going to be hell to brush when I get back as usual.

"The storm is coming in quickly. We better head home", she says.

We grab our bags and surfboards before heading up the beach and waving goodbye. The clouds darken and A rumble shakes the wind before a bucket of water comes down on my head. I wouldn't mind since I'm already wet except for the fact that the wind is making it hard to see in the rain.

I hold my board above my head and start to jog home. After less than a mile, I finally reach the wooden wet steps that lead up to the porch of my home.

A loud clap of thunder and lightning has me turning my head back to the sea. The waves are huge now and I can see how animalistic it looks. Suddenly, I feel something strange in my chest. It is like a deep echoing drum that beats with the thunder. The ink black waves become hard to look away from. It is like a black and cold fire that my eyes cannot pull away from. Something feels off. I have always loved the sea, but it has never felt so...

Predatory.

It is like something is lurking in the angry waves watching me. Another loud clap of lightning breaks me from my trance and I quickly climb the stairs and enter the enclosed porch.

"What are you doing? You are going to get everything wet!"

"Abuela, you should be used to this by now."

Just to add salt to the wound, I squeeze my wet hair over the doormat and grin playfully at her.

"Eek! I have to wash that now! You are just like your father," she shuffles over to me and throws her old arms at me, ushering me towards the bathroom, "he never disrespected me like you, but he was a cocky man."

"But I got the sass from you, Abuela."

The old woman rolls her eyes at me and tells me to hurry and get in the shower before I soak the rest of the house. Abuela is my mom's mother and not my dad's, but she saw him like a son. It was after the incident that she moved in with my mom and I to help us.

I'm glad she hasn't left. She helps me forget what happened a year ago.

After my shower I put on some comfortable clothes before entering the kitchen to help my grandmother cook.

"Sit down, woman!" she yells at me before I can even wash my hand.

"I'm cooking dinner."

"It's already in the oven. I was hungry and you were taking too long."

I sit down at the kitchen table as instructed and she waddles over to me with a shoe box. "I was going through the attic and found these pictures. They are old so I thought you would want to see it."

I reach into the box and pull out one of the smallest photos. It is an image of my immediate family. My mom is sitting in the front yard with my older sister and me. My dad is behind her.

"Look at this one." She hands me another larger photo. It is of my dad and I on the beach smiling.

"I didn't even know we had these. Where they tucked away in the back of the attic?"

"Yes. I thought you might want to see. You look just like a combination of your parents, yah know?"

"I thought I looked more like my dad."

"Well, you do for the most part. Your little nose and round eyes you got from your mother. But instead of blue eyes and fair skin, you look more like your dad. I have always been jealous of your Hispanic skin."

"Roslyn looks like dad too. Look how much darker her skin is than mine. And her hair is almost black but mine is brown." I pull out an image of Roslyn's high school graduation photo. She is beautiful with her black wavy hair. She never had to deal with the same crazy curls I do.

"Yeah, well you turned out better than her."

"Abuela!"

"She hasn't spoken to us in two years. Didn't even come to your dad's funeral!"

The door buckles and swings open as my mom stumbles in the door with way too many groceries for her to carry. I quickly stand and go to help her, but she places them on the counter before I can.

"Mom, it smells so good. What are you making?" my mom asks.

"Something edible."

"Always so obscure", mom mumbles.

"Mom, let me unload the groceries. Sit down, you just finished a 10-hour shift", I tell her, taking the bag of potatoes from her hands.

"Jesus, Lauren. 10 hours? Just let me apply to the grocery store!" Abuela says putting away the photos.

"You're too old, mom."

"I was born yesterday!"

After dinner, I head to my room to study for an exam. I used to attend college full time but since a year ago, I am now a part time student. I was sad to slow down my education, but it just means I can work more hours at my job.

The storm has stopped, and my room is dark besides my desk lamp. The words on the page about the anatomy of a starfish begin to blend. I rub my eyes, but I can tell it is hopeless. The room is too warm and the house too quiet for me to not want to fall asleep.

Grabbing my textbook and my bag, I throw on a hoodie and quietly leave the house. The cold night air wakes me up immediately. It is humid and sticky, but it just helps me stay awake.

Heading back to the same spot on the beach I was surfing at earlier, I sit down in the cold sand. The sky is oddly clear after a storm and the moon is just perfect for me to read my book.

As I read a few pages and make my way to crustaceans, I feel the wind shift. On a dime, it feels like the wind started to blow in another direction. This feeling is familiar. It happens every time I sit out here late at night... and he shows up.

I look up and as usual, I see the outline of someone standing close to the water line. The same guy goes out for a night swim every night. I have never seen him come back to the same spot on the beach, so I guess he swims down a little before getting out at a different spot.

As usual, I feel comfortable watching the guy walk into the water. I can tell he is very tall and fit. His figure is only a black outline, and I cannot see any features besides his build.

His head turns and I feel a feeling I cannot describe. It is deep and heavy but exciting. He never looked back at me before. I always assumed he never noticed me. This time, he looked directly at me. Like he knew exactly where I was.

I can't read anything in his face still, but I can feel his eyes on me. The wind suddenly feels still and thick. I can't look away. The same predatory chill creeps up my spine when I was looking at the waves during the storm.

Something isn't right.

Just as soon as he turned his head, he looked away and dove into the waves. The moment must have only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours.

I gasp for air and look down at my textbook. I was holding my breath the whole time and the pages of my textbook are crumpled in my hand.

My eyes snapback to the man but I see nothing. Not even the splashing of someone swimming.

I see nothing but black, calm waves.