The Burnout(68)

But! Is this because I told him I’m off sex? Is he deliberately not allowing himself to “go there,” even though he maybe—just maybe—could find me attractive? I curse myself furiously for dropping that bit of paper and wonder how I might remedy my error. I could do another manifestation, maybe. I could write:

Dear universe, thank you for the returned libido, much appreciated. All working! Now, as previously mentioned, if it’s not too much to ask, I just need a man. Named Finn.

Then I’d let it flutter away it in the wind and Finn would pick it up … he’d read it … look up at me, his eyes burning with a new desire … we’d move toward each other … his lips would …

I cringe. No. No. None of this would happen. Terrible idea.

“So!” I say quickly, trying to gather my wits. “Do you have any plans for today?”

“Not a one.” Finn raises his eyebrows. “How are you going on with the twenty steps?”

“Haven’t had any noni juice yet. And I don’t know when I’ll get onto the two-day fast, if you wanted to join me on that?”

“Hard pass,” says Finn, making an appalled face. “How about skimming stones on the sea?”

We head down to the sea together and skim a few stones, but the waves are getting raucous in the wind and it’s hard to make the stones bounce. I’m about to suggest we call it a day when the Wests come into sight.

“Hello!” I say in my most friendly voice, and Finn lifts a hand in greeting.

“Hi,” mumbles Adrian, and Hayley just gives us a tight smile. They walk down to the edge of the waves and stare out silently, while I exchange glances with Finn. For a few minutes we stand awkwardly, all four of us, then Hayley murmurs something to Adrian. She gives me a nod, then they turn and start walking away along the beach.

“Jeez.” Finn breathes out, when they’re out of earshot. “The friction between those two.”

“It’s awful.” I watch them walking, their misery apparent in their stiff backs. “I wonder what happened? Did one of them have an affair? Did they fall out of love with each other?”

“I think he still loves her,” says Finn slowly. “He has a way of looking at her when she’s not paying attention. I noticed it at dinner.”

“I think she still loves him,” I reply, slightly fixated by her birdlike steps along the beach. “It’s the way she runs after him. If she didn’t care, she’d just let him go.”

“They’re walking together,” adds Finn, following my gaze. “Look, he keeps slowing down to wait for her.”

“Together but apart. They’re not touching.”

We watch, mesmerized, for a minute longer, then turn back to look at the sea. The waves are swelling up on the horizon, one after another, without pause. I can hear Terry’s voice in my head: Infinite waves. Infinite chances. And then Finn’s voice from last night: You’ll get a great job.

A job will rise up on the horizon. I have to believe this. I have to make it happen. I gaze at the infinite waves, trying to tap into their strength, trying to visualize the job that’s out there for me, if I only believe in it. Then an idea comes to me, and I swivel to Finn just as he turns too.

“We could surf!”

“Surf’s up!” he says simultaneously. “And guess what? The Surf Shack is open. The owner’s in there—I saw him earlier when I went for a walk. There are boards for rent, if you need one. I brought mine.”

“I know you did,” I say, and he has the decency to look abashed. He seems much more relaxed than that moody guy on the train, snapping at a toddler. “Bit early for a walk, wasn’t it?” I add, letting him off the hook.

“Before breakfast,” he admits. “Saw the dawn.”

“Don’t you sleep?” I joke—then realize it isn’t a joke. He doesn’t. “Anyway, thanks for the tip; I’ll rent a board.”

“You’ve got a wetsuit, right?”

“Er … yes,” I say, wondering for the first time whether this is a good idea. “I mean, I haven’t tried it on. And I haven’t surfed for years. Maybe you should surf and I’ll have a coffee and watch.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Finn stares at me. “Look at this sea. Look at it!” He gestures at the waves, and as though to bolster his argument, a shaft of sunshine appears from behind the clouds, making the surf twinkle and look almost blue. “We have the beach to ourselves, practically. We have waves. We have sunshine. We have boards. You are being offered the keys to heaven—literally heaven—and you’re considering having a coffee?” He sounds so like Terry that I laugh.

“Fair enough. I’ll surf.”


OK. Reasons I should not be attempting to surf in front of the guy I have belatedly realized I have a crush on:

1. I’m in a wetsuit, which makes me look not like Wetsuit Girl but like “Sasha squashed into a wetsuit.”

2. I’ve forgotten how to surf.

3. Every time I wipe out, my hair gets plastered all over my face.

4. Every time I try to stand up, I wipe out.

5. Finn can surf.

6. Really well.

But on the other side of the argument:

1. Terry was right. Nothing beats this.