Epilogue - BarkerTen Months Later"Come on, Barker! Come get some lunch!" Ainsley leans against the metal fence of the patio. The wind blows through her newly dyed and cut hair. The sunhat blocks her face, but I can tell she's smiling. She always smiles now.
I dust off the sand from my hands and grab the surfboard from its perch up the beach. Ainsley's brother-in-law has tried to convince me a million times that I'll learn to love surfing as much as I like riding a bike, but so far, that’s turned out to be a crock of s**t. It had some of the hallmarks—the wind hitting your face, the sun on your back—but where is the thrill? Where is the feeling of your life entirely depending on how well you can control your bike? Last time I tried surfing all I got was a strained calf muscle and a wasted
