Chapter 75 Is this another trick?
Saraphina
The words on my phone screen did not make sense. My brain could not hold onto them. The room tilted a little, a sickening swoop behind my ribs. Something was wrong with Ryan. The idea was a physical punch, knocking the air right out of me. I could not get a full breath.
My hands would not stop shaking as I called my mom. She answered right away.
“Mom?” The word was too fast, too thin.
“Honey, I have been trying to call you.” The strain in her voice was a live wire, shocking my system into a higher panic.
“Where are you? What is happening?”
“I am taking Clement to the airport. Honey, there has been an accident. Ryan is missing. Off the coast of Mexico. A surfing accident. They have been looking for hours. Clement is flying out tonight.”
“I am coming.” The decision was not a thought; it was a chemical reaction in my blood. All the information dissolved into one primal truth: Ryan. Accident. Go.
“But honey…”
“Tell Clement I am coming with him. I am on my way.” I did not let her finish. I ended the call and lunged for my closet. I pulled on the first clothes my fingers touched, dressing in frantic, noisy movements. The commotion woke Cole.
“Saraphina…?” His voice was thick with sleep. “What is going on?”
“I have to go.”
“What? Go where?”
“The airport.”
“It is the middle of the night. What is happening?”
“Ryan had an accident. In Mexico. I have to get to him.” The sentences came in short, painful bursts, like I could not find the oxygen for them.
Cole was out of bed in a second. He snatched up my phone, my wallet, my things, pushing them into my bag.
“Saraphina, stop.” His hand closed around my arm, a warm, firm pressure meant to anchor me. “You have to slow down.”
“I can not. I have to go.”
“It is too late. I will drive you in the morning.”
“Cole, I need to see him now.”
“Saraphina…”
“Cole! Let me go!” I twisted, trying to break his hold. “Please.”
He heard it then, the wild, final sound in my voice. He would not be able to stop this. His grip relaxed. I pulled free and was at the bedroom door in two steps.
“Hey, wait! I am coming with you!” he called after me.
I did not stop. I did not answer. I just ran. My thoughts were a roaring chaos with a single, clear command at the center: F’ind Ryan. Now.’
“Wait, Saraphina!” Cole’s voice followed me down the hall.
I kept running.
Pictures flooded my mind. Ryan, lost. Hurt. Alone. God, he had to be okay. He had to be. He just had to be.
I burst out onto the street. The night air was cool. I was not thinking, just moving. I had to get to him. It could not be over. I needed to see his face again. Just one more time. Please, just let me see him one more time.
I was in the road. Then a sound—a high, awful scream of rubber on pavement. I turned my head.
A blinding, white light swallowed everything.
“Saraphina!”
Then, nothing.
Ryan
The light was too much. It was the sun. It burned against my closed eyelids. I raised a heavy hand to block it out.
Where am I? Is this it? Is this being dead?
I was on my back. Sand, warm and soft, cradled me. The sound of waves was a steady rumble. A beach.
So, this is heaven.
It was strange. And this place… I knew it. A deep, old knowing settled in my bones.
“Ry?”
That voice. I knew that voice. I turned my head.
“Mom?”
It was her. She was smiling, a real full smile, as she walked toward me. She did not look tired or thin like I remembered last. She looked beautiful. Her eyes were bright.
Is this real? It must be. This has to be heaven.
“Ry, baby, what are you doing still sitting here? I thought you wanted to surf with the older boys?” She sat down beside me.
Oh.
This is a memory.
I am nine years old. My mom is not sick. All I want is to ride the big waves. I got my first real surfboard, a short one for serious surfers, and I carried it like a trophy. I took it to the beach every single day. And every single day, I just sat on the sand with it.
I was too fucking scared.
Then one afternoon, she found me. Just sitting there.
“I am not going,” I told her.
“Why not?”
“The older kids. They laughed at me. Said I was no good.”
“Oh, baby, that is not true.”
“You do not know that. What if it is? What if I really am no good?” I kicked at the sand, pushing my board aside.
My mom took a long breath.
“Do you love it, Ry?” she asked, her voice soft. “Do you love to surf?”
“I do.”
“Well, then that is the only thing that counts. You do what you love. The rest does not matter.”
“But mom, they said… they said there are sharks. Or I could drown. Even dad said it. He said surfing is for idiots.”
She shook her head, a gentle smile on her face.
“Ry, people will say all sorts of things to try and scare you off. You cannot stop them, any more than you can stop the waves. But you can learn to surf. You can learn to love the ride.”
The wind picked up, playing with her long brown hair. She looked out at the ocean like it was an old friend.
“Look at it, baby. Look how big it is. How much room it has. It is full of everything that could be.” She spread her arms wide. “You can sit here on the shore and worry for the rest of your life, like most people do. Or… you can go out there. And find the thing that makes you feel free. But you have to believe in yourself, Ry. Or none of it means a thing.”
Then she turned to me. She put her hand under my chin and made me look at her. “And if you need a little help to start believing… well, I believe in you. So much.”
Her words filled a hollow space inside me. I threw my small arms around her middle and buried my face in her shirt, holding on as tight as I could.
She was right. She was always right.
“Thanks, mom. I… I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.” She kissed the top of my head and messed up my hair.
I let go and grabbed my board, standing up.
I looked back at her. She was waving, her face full of a pride that made me feel ten feet tall.
“Go get it,” she said, and she winked.
I ran. My small feet pounding on the hard, wet sand. I threw my board into the whitewash and paddled out, my arms burning. I could see a wall of water building, coming for me. I held my breath, dove deep under the rolling force, and let it pass over me.
When I came up, gasping, the bad wave was gone. I was out in the deeper water, where the good waves began to rise. Now, I just had to wait. For the right one.
I learned something out there. Waves are like people. Some are fun to chase. Some you should let go. Some you wait for, patient as the moon.
Some waves make you so happy you could shout. Others knock you down and leave you gasping. And that is okay. Because there is always that one magic wave. The one that makes you feel like you are really living. The one that carries you somewhere new. To a place of total freedom. A perfect, endless summer. A feeling you cannot even name.
A wave like her.
It was quiet out there. Just me and the blue. Then, a new sound. A loud, beating noise from above. The wind kicked up, whipping the water around me. I looked up.
A bright, white light was shining down.
Is that… a helicopter?
“We found him!” A man’s voice boomed from the sky.
I shielded my eyes. A figure was coming down, dangling from a line. He was dressed in a bright red and yellow suit. The letters ‘SAR’ were printed on his back.
What is happening? Is this another trick?
“He is alive!” the man yelled into his helmet. He turned to me. “Do not worry, sir. You are going to be okay. We have you.”
Wow. Did you hear that?
The light from above got even brighter. Another rescuer came down. They put a harness around me, fixing the straps. Their hands were sure and strong.
Then, my feet left the water. I was rising.
Holy shit.
I was flying.
Author’s note: In a way of supporting me, comment your thoughts. It’s so important to me.