Free 03 - Three Odd Balls by Cindy Blackburn

She gestured toward the boards. “Chris rented these for the whole week. Isn’t that a thoughtful gift, girls?”
    “Thoughtful,” Louise and I mumbled in unison.
    Chris pointed down the beach. “The lady at Folly Rentals couldn’t believe it when I told her how old you guys are. But I said we’d have some fun anyway.”
    “Fun.” Louise and I blinked at the surfboards looming before us.
    “She couldn’t believe where we’re staying, either,” he continued.
    I tore my eyes from the surfboards. “She heard about the murder?”
    “She says it’s gonna hurt Buster and Ki more than all the other stuff combined.”
    “What other stuff?”
    “How should I know?” he said impatiently. “Something about a Rachel Somebody.”
    “Rachel Somebody Who?” I persisted, but Wilson came over and put his arm around me.
    “Leave it, please,” he whispered. He pointed to Chris’s board and spoke up. “Why’s yours smaller than the rest?” he asked. “Shouldn’t Tessie’s be the smallest?”
    “These are long boards,” my mother the would-be surfing expert stepped forward to explain. “They’re what we beginners are supposed to use. Isn’t that right, Chris?” She gave one of the boards an affectionate tap. “Can I have this one? It’s so shiny.”
    I grimaced at Tessie’s shiny surfboard and bit my tongue. The woman was a broken bone waiting to happen, but who was I to deny my eighty-two-year-old mother any joy, thrill, or adventure she wanted to try?
    Chris assigned the rest of us our boards. We were then instructed to lay them in the sand, and to lie ourselves, stomach-sides down, onto said boards.
    “And here I thought surfing involved water and waves and such,” Louise whispered to me as we got into position. “This isn’t so bad after all.”
    It got bad soon enough, however, when our lesson involved repetitious attempts to move from the lying-on-our-stomachs position, to the squatting-on-our-toes position. We were supposed to accomplish this feat all in one fell and graceful swoop. No, really.
    “Do a push-up and quick pull your feet up underneath your hips. Like this.” Chris demonstrated the maneuver several times. Mother smiled, Wilson looked mildly interested, and Louise and I frowned. Then we all lay back down and tried again.
    Wilson got the hang of it pretty quickly, which I chalked up to upper body strength. But Louise, who is a little plump and not exactly the epitome of physical fitness, was also up and squatting soon afterwards. No offense to Louise, but that was altogether aggravating. Here I keep myself slim and trim, and do hours of yoga every week for strength and balance, and I was the one struggling alongside my very elderly mother?
    For better or worse, Chris was a patient teacher. He had us two less-adept pupils stand up and watch again, and this time Wilson and Louise joined him in the demonstration. Indeed, the synchronized surfboard dancing was a rather entertaining spectacle. Mother and I tried again, and finally, finally, we sort of, kind of, got the hang of it.
    Speaking of spectacles, Chris announced it was time to catch some waves. He tossed Louise a life jacket. “This will give you confidence,” he told her. “And salt water is really easy to stay afloat in.”
    “And remember we have that nice coral reef to keep us safe,” Mother added.
    “Fantastical,” Louise said. She donned her jacket, picked up her board, and stalwartly headed out to sea.
    “You’re next, Jessie.” Chris waved toward the ocean in case I had forgotten where it was. I smiled wanly and took the plunge.
    The first wave crashed over me, taking with it all the sunscreen I had so carefully been applying all day. But no, not all the sunscreen. A goodly portion of it ended up in my eyes. Semi-blinded, I reminded myself I had always enjoyed frolicking in the ocean. But then another wave landed on top of me, and my head hit my surfboard. Or maybe my surfboard hit my head. Frolicking, I reminded