Page 22 of Hula

When she said we should surf today, I did not question the why. Suddenly, my daughter is interested in picking up the sport as quickly as she dropped it? No problem. Wanting to do it on an early morning of a day when her friends are taking a class in the afternoon? No problem.

Pretty certain it is not the call of an athlete. Must be the boy. She likes that Cash kid, by her behavior when they are texting. Giggles. Saw some hair twirling yesterday. Jeremy actually uses his voice and calls. I hear random pieces of conversation. Until she retreats to the bedroom. She is herself when they talk. I don’t even know if that is any kind of an indicator. I am different when Leilani and I talk, and it does not mean I am being inauthentic. Bottom line. I know nothing.

The girls talk on the daily. They have lots to say to each other and there is so much laughter. Lots of texting. They must all have an aversion to actually speaking to each other. Within weeks, a sea-change has begun to happen. Not going back to what was before, but forward to an actual occasionally happy teenager.

Mom and I are the interested observers. Watching Alana’s guffaws and snorts of laughter, we pretend to go on with whatever we were doing before, feigning disinterest. The crappy part is overhearing and watching a one-sided conversation. I hate filling in the blanks. I know how boys think. Little shits.

I made her show me the texts, until I was satisfied they were not talking inappropriately. It was all dude, and bro, surf lingo and teen speak. Now I let her have some privacy. Tutu Nani told her not to betray my trust. I still don’t know with certainty if I am doing the right thing. They could be playing us, planning a heist or an orgy, right under our eyes. Or sending nude pictures from their rooms. Oh God. Alana is not comfortable in her own body right now so probably not. A small part of me is glad she isn’t.

She gives me a smile and I am grateful for that much. Ignoring her outfit is harder. A loose t-shirt over another tighter T and bicycle shorts. She hides her developing breasts like a nun.Don’t say a word.

“Glad we’re the only ones out here. Won’t last long with this giant swell,” Alana says, breaking my parental paranoia fantasies.

“Yeah. I heardSurf Magazinehas a shoot here today. We better get to it.”

We wade into the water, boards under our arms until we are hip high. Then with boards flat, gripping tightly, we tip the noses upward guiding them over the whitewash of waves heading for the shore. We each hop onboard, chests flat, and paddle, moving past the breakers. Facing outward toward the waves, we sit upright and wait.

“This is great.”

“I’m really happy to be here with you,” I say, breaking my promise to shut the hell up.

“Yeah, Dad.”

I will take that thrown bone.

“Here it comes.” I state the obvious. She sees it.

Let her have this one. Watch. She eggbeaters her legs like I taught her, and lines up to the beach. Paddling deep and strong, to match the wave’s speed, she pops up on her feet as soon as the wave takes charge.

“Woo hoo!”

Muscle memory wins again. And youth. She rides the wave confidently all the way in until she cuts back over the curl.Yes. I’m a happy fucker seeing her in the water again. My mind wanders as I bob atop the water.

Leilani. Scenes of our date last week, and every conversation on the phone after, invade the morning. The day doesn’t end until she says goodnight. I am in the middle of the ocean and she is here. Is it just me, alone in the sensation, or could she feel the same way? I better be careful. No one likes a fast advance when they are just deciding if they even like you.

Raising a thumb and little finger, I send a shaka as soon as Alana starts back. With one duck dive, and strong paddles, she makes it to my side.

“Your friends are going to freak when they see you! You look good, honey.”

Uh oh. Her expression reverts to her prior incarnation. Angry girl.

“Dad! I’m not going to surf with them! And don’t you tell them about this!”

“Calm down! I won’t tell them if you don’t want me to! Shit, Alana. Cut me a break.”

It pisses me off she thinks I would ever betray her.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I just don’t want them to know.”

The anger softens. Her calmness is met with my own.

“Your choice. I’m just happy we’re surfing again.”

“Me too.”

“I’m always onyourside. Remember?”

There’s a look of embarrassment before changing the subject.

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