Page 36 of Deliverance

Yet the stories yearned to come out. They begged to be told.

“So…you approve?” I ask, stepping inside the vault.

“Sweet child.” Tina gives my shoulder a light squeeze as we tread toward the framed canvases. “This collection is gold. I can’t wait for the world to see it.”

I heave out a sigh and stare at the piece in the center, its uneven surface riddled with creases and bumps, gleaming beneath the spilled overhead light.

Jordynn.

Twenty-five.

Her boyfriend put out cigarettes on her arms and stomach.

Pulse racing, I move to the next one.

Mack.

Thirty-six.

His partner broke his nose and jaw two years ago.

Nausea churns in my stomach as the memories of that evening—when Mack finally shared his story with the group—sweep me under. The air leaves my lungs, and for a long moment, my entire body is frozen. Hundreds of weeks of bruises remind me of themselves all at once, and stupid tears prick my eyes.

“Drew?” Tina’s voice pierces the dark clouds surrounding my mind. “Everything okay?”

I blink back the watery blur and push all the worry away. “Yes.” Crying is for the weak, and I’m not one of them. Not anymore.

“You’re tired. Are you sleeping?”

I turn to look at her, my newly-found confidence swelling inside my chest. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Am I, though?

7 Zander

“Get the fuck out of here!”Avery laughs at my latest joke as we paddle through the water, bellies flat against our surfboards.

It’s still early and the sun is barely peeking from behind the hills, shyly pushing the night farther west.

Ahead of us, the rolling waves carry the promise of another wild morning, and the first surge of adrenaline thrums through my body, slithering through my veins and heating my blood. Every muscle in me tenses with anticipation and my wetsuit feels as if it’s melting into my skin. The taste of salt on my lips is pleasantly toxic, familiar, like a trusted companion.

Avery picks up his speed and heads straight into the madness while I watch him with a trained eye, my heartbeat steady, my breathing calm.

I bumped into him shortly after my move to OC on a foggy October morning during my second surf at Aliso Beach. He rode like a psycho, defying all laws of physics, and I felt the need to befriend the dude. Turned out, he lived right down the street from me, and we’ve been buddies for over ten years now.

My pulse kicks up a notch as my gaze follows the rise and fall of the ocean, its movements rough yet elegant. Splashes blur Avery’s silhouette once he’s on the come-up. Then he’s gone, vanished into the foaming vortex, leaving only a savage shrill in his wake.

I stare at the billowing water, waiting, my hands submerged. Seconds later, Avery’s surfboard and the rest of him break through the surface.

“Fuck yeah!” He tosses his head back, his hair slapping all over. “Don’t you miss this, bitch?” Grinning like a fool who’s never seen the ocean before today, he drags his lithe body back onto his board and floats over.

I paddle forward and give him the finger when we level.

The foreboding rumble of a sick wave growing on the horizon gets me riled up and I rise. Knees bent. Arms out. Cool wind slaps at my face and snakes through my fingers. The water continues to rage on and for the next few moments, it’s only me and the unknown since there’s no way to predict what will happen. A wave is a woman. Moody and capricious, and by choosing to take it on—no matter how skillful you are—you’re still gambling. Because you’re at her mercy.

I catch the crest carefully but quickly. The ride is just like sex. Intimate. Passionate. The symbiosis of two beings that consists of the prelude, the acts itself, and the climax. And during these seconds that I’m one-on-one with the ever-changing goddess, I know no pain, no worry, no anger.

I’m fucking free.

---