Page 87 of Catch a Wave

Thisis my home.

I’ve been a nomad, drifting, uncertain. Now I’m home. Everything clicks inside me. One of the biggest smiles ever pulls at my face until my cheeks are taut. A sweet ecstasy courses through me.

I ride my wave all the way in. And then, without a moment’s hesitation, I turn and paddle out again.

When I reach Bodhi, I can’t believe what I see.

He’s crying.

Full blown tears are leaking down his joy-filled face. And the look in his eyes is filled with pride and … love.

“You did it!” He whoops, throwing a fist in the air. His voice cracks with emotion.

“I did! And now you better grab yours before I beat you to it.”

“Is that a dare, Mavs?”

“Mayyybe.”

We both laugh as Bodhi turns and sets off paddling for the next swell.

23

BODHI

Success is not final, failure is not fatal:

It is the courage to continue that counts.

~ Winston S. Churchill

We ride wave after wave, and it’s like Mavs never fell at Mavericks—like she’s been surfing every day without any lapse. My heart and head keep going back in time, remembering Bali, our year in Oahu, the way we believed nothing would ever hold us under.

Mavs sometimes used to ask me if what we had was too good to be true. Maybe it was. But now she’s back, and we’re reconnecting—maybe even giving our love a second chance. It’s like digging through the back of your closet to discover your favorite T-shirt’s been hanging in the dark recesses. Then you slip it on to find it only softened with age.

I need Mavs in my life in a way I couldn’t allow myself to acknowledge for these past two years. Now that she’s back, I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep her.

We take the last wave in. Shaka’s on shore wagging his tail in celebration of our return. But something else catches my eye.

“Megan?” Mavs says her name while I’m still trying to figure out what the magazine journalist we met with over two years ago is doing standing here on Marbella Island next to my dog.

“Kalaine! So good to see you.” Megan says this like they’re old friends. Not like it’s beyond weird that she’s standing here at dawn on a small California island interrupting a very private moment between me and my … whatever we are.

“Good to see you too.” Mavs’ face is still filled with the smile she’s had since she took her first wave. It’s not as broad of a grin now that we’re on land, but she hasn’t stopped smiling.

Mavs walks to the spot on the sand where I dropped our stuff when I first went out. She grabs two towels, handing me one and using the other to squeeze the water out of her hair.

“What brings you to Marbella?” Mavs asks Megan casually.

“You, actually.”

Mavs stops drying her hair and looks up at Megan. “Me?”

“I know you shunned reporters after the accident,” Megan says. “And I fully understand that. But the surfing world is itching to know how you’re doing. And … I didn’t expect to find you here too, Bodhi.”

My skin prickles. I don’t say anything—not really sure what I’d say if I could find the words.

Mavs and I are celebrities in a small way. Some people will never know us, and that’s for the better. Neither of us did what we did for fame or glory. Most surfers don’t. But we became famous—more famous than most pro surfers—because of our relationship. We were an anomaly, two young people in love with the ocean and one another. Between the inherent risks we took on a regular basis, and the fact that Mavs was one of the top women—and one of the few to take on giants, we became known.

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