I looked down at the red-and-white flowered windsurfing board, its sail waterlogged on the opposite side. It wasn’t until that moment that I felt the sheer force of the wind and heard it trying to rip a tunnel through my ear. Just a few yards out, the water was choppy and peppered with whitecaps. Off in the distance, I saw the top points of the bridge sticking out above the ever-present fog, which clung to the water just north of us even though the sky was bright blue over our heads. I felt a chill at the mere sight of the swirling mist.
“I think I might be insane,” I said.
A definite possibility after last night’s panicked fog episode and the humming I may or may not have heard on our porch. Not that I’d be telling him about any of that.
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Aaron laughed and stepped onto the board like it was nothing. “You’re going to love it.” He grabbed a rope attached to the sail with one hand and held the other out to me. “We’ll go out together the first time, and once you see how simple it is, we’ll come back in and get you your own board.”
That idea was slightly less terrifying.
“Now get up here,” he said with a grin.
My heart pounding, I took his hand. He pulled me up and slid me in front of him. He bent down to the side and tugged on the rope until the sail slowly rose up out of the water. My feet slipped and I almost went down, but Aaron somehow steadied me against his chest while continuing to hoist the sail with both hands.
“Hold on to the sail and lean back into me,” he said, once it was up all the way. There was a bar in front of us, and I clung to it for dear life. He quickly grabbed a nylon rope and swung it around our waists, lashing us to each other and the mast. He was so self-assured and so quick I felt my pulse start to race.
“The three most important things are that you hold on to the sail, you keep leaning back, and you keep your feet as close to the mast as you possibly can,” he said in my ear. “I’m going to turn the board to get us going.”
“Okay.” I nodded, looking down at my feet. My toes were curled, gripping the slippery surface for dear life, and the muscles in my arches were already starting to ache. “Where did you learn to do all this?”
His arms and feet were both working, moving the board around beneath our feet. I stepped up and down, too, feeling every second like I was going to lose my balance and splat face-first into the water. But then, I supposed that would be another first.
“My father taught me,” he said. “We vacation every Christmas in St. Croix. My whole family windsurfs.”
“That’s cool,” I said.
I couldn’t imagine my whole family doing anything together. Well, anything other than running away from a serial killer. My heart thumped at the thought of Steven Nell, but as fast as I could, I shoved it aside. I didn’t want to be afraid. Not now. Right now I wanted to try something new. I wanted to be free.
The wind had just caught the sail, and all of a sudden we lurched ahead, headed out into the open bay. I pitched forward, but Aaron quickly locked his arms close to my sides, squeezing my shoulders to steady me, and I was able to right myself.
“Lean back!” he shouted to be heard over the wind. “Lean into me.”
I did as I was told, letting my body graze his.
“Not enough!” he shouted. “You have to trust me, Rory. Lean into me.”
I gulped down my fear, let my elbows relax, and leaned back. Instantly I could feel the difference. The board was more balanced and I felt ten times safer with my body against his.
“There you are,” he said. “Keep your knees bent so if the board jumps you can absorb the impact.”
I relaxed my knees. The board jumped and hopped, but it wasn’t long before I found the rhythm and we were moving together like pros. Or at least like we’d done this before.
“In a little bit, I’ll teach you how to tack, but for now, just sit back and enjoy the ride.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The sun was warm on my face even as the wind whipped my wet hair back from my eyes. Aaron had complete control of the board, and I relaxed just a bit on the sail. I gazed off at the horizon, taking in the blue sky, the diving seagulls, the salty tanginess of the water. We jumped a particularly big wave, and I let out a shout of joy, giving myself over to the ride.
An hour later, I staggered up the bay beach and dropped on my side into the warm sand. Every muscle in my body was jelly. My shoulders ached. My feet were on fire. My face was so windburned I was going to need a galloon of aloe. But I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.
Aaron dropped, sprawled out next to me, and rolled over onto his back, letting out a satisfied groan.
“You can’t tell me that wasn’t the most fun you’ve ever had in your life,” he said, squinting one eye as he looked over at me.
I pushed myself up onto my quivering elbows and looked at our two windsurfing boards, which were being hauled out of the water at the shoreline by the rental crew.
“You’re right. I can’t tell you that,” I said.
I sat all the way up and tipped my head back to watch the clouds chase each other across the sky. Sand clung to every inch of my wet suit, and my face prickled with windburn, but I’d never felt better in all my life. I felt accomplished. I felt free. I felt alive.