Sugar and Spice

Three Glorious Seconds: Mallory

The water was a shock. It was a sharp, cold reality that didn’t care about my heart rate or my carefully constructed plans. It rushed up my legs, pulling the sand from beneath my feet as we waded out deeper.

“Keep the nose up!” Jay called out. He was wading beside me, his own board tucked under his arm while he guided ‘Old Reliable’ through the surf for me.

The Emerald Bay water lived up to its name. It was clear and biting, a vivid green that turned to white foam as the waves broke against my waist. I felt small. Usually, I didn’t mind feeling small in the face of the universe. Stars, physics, the sheer size of the galaxy. This was different though. The ocean was tangible, something I could touch. Something I could actually get lost in. It was trying to push me back to the shore, back to the safety of my father’s straight lines.

“We’re going past the break,” Jay instructed, looking completely at home. The salt spray had already dried into a white crust on his tanned shoulders. He didn’t look like a server or a busser. He looked like a part of the landscape. “Just a little further, Mal. The water is quieter out there.”

We reached a point where the waves were just gentle swells, lifting us up and down in a hypnotic bob. I scrambled onto the board, lying flat on my stomach just like we’d practiced on the sand. The board felt much more alive in the water — sensitive to every shift of my weight.

“Okay,” Jay said from beside me. He placed a steadying hand on the tail of my board. “We’re going to wait for a small one. When I say paddle, you give it everything you’ve got. Long, deep strokes. Don’t think about the math. Think about the momentum.”

I nodded. My chin rested on the foam deck, and my heart was beating so hard I was sure he could feel it through the board.

“Here comes a baby one,” he murmured. I looked back and saw a wall of water. It was small to him, perhaps, but to me, it was a mountain rising up behind us. “Get ready…and paddle! Now, Mal! Go!”

I dug my arms into the water. It was heavy and resistant. I paddled until my shoulders burned. The sound of the rushing water grew into a roar.

“Hands under your ribs!” Jay shouted. I felt the tail of the board lift. For a terrifying second, I felt the gravity shift. The board was no longer being pushed, it was sliding. I was falling down the face of a wave. “Pop up!”

I didn’t think. If I had thought, I would’ve stayed flat and let the wave roll over me. But Jay’s voice was an anchor. I pushed off the deck, swinging my feet under me just like I had on the sand.

I was standing.

For three glorious, impossible seconds, I was moving across the water. The wind was in my face, and the roar was beneath my feet. I wasn’t Mallory the ‘Scientist’ or Mallory the server. I wasn’t even Mallory the daughter. I just was.

Then, the board tilted. I over-corrected, my knees locking up in a reflex of fear.

The world flipped.

I hit the water hard. It became a chaotic blur of bubbles and salt. I tumbled under the surface while the ocean tossed me like a rag doll. For a moment, panic flared, dark and cold. I didn’t know which way was up. I had lost the line.

Then a hand grabbed my arm.

I was pulled upward, breaking the surface and gasping for air. Jay was there, his arm hooked under mine. His face was etched with a mixture of concern and a huge, triumphant grin.

“You did it!” he yelled, shaking the water out of his eyes. “You stood up, Mal! On your first wave!”

I coughed, wiping the salt from my eyes. My heart was still racing from the fall. I looked back at the shore, which felt miles away, then at Jay. He was still holding me, the water swirling around us, and I realized I wasn’t afraid anymore.

“I fell,” I managed to say, a laugh bubbling up in my chest. “I actually fell.”

“And you’re still floating,” he said, his gaze softening. He still didn’t let go of my arm. “See? The water won, and you’re still here.”

I looked at him. The sun was fully up now, turning the world into a brilliant, overexposed photograph.

“Again,” I said, reaching for my board.

“That’s my girl,” Jay whispered.

We went again. And again. By the time the sun was high enough to start burning the salt into my skin, I had fallen about ten more times, and rode two more waves. My muscles felt like overextended rubber bands, and my lungs were heavy with the brine.

“Okay, okay,” Jay laughed, catching the rail of my board as I paddled back out for what felt like the twentieth time. “Take a breath. Even the ocean needs a break.”

He led the way further out, past where the waves were forming. He sat up on his board with a practiced ease, his legs dangling into the emerald water. I tried to copy him, wobbling precariously before finding my balance.

We sat there, bobbing in the silence. The shoreline was a thin strip of white in the distance. Out here, the only sounds were the slap of water against foam and the distant cry of a gull.

“It’s quiet,” I whispered, looking down. I could see my toes beneath the water, two feet below the surface. “I didn’t realize it would be this quiet.”

“It’s the only place where the noise of the world doesn’t have a signal,” Jay said. He was watching the horizon, his profile sharp against the blue sky. “Back there, everyone wants a piece of you. Geri wants your speed. The tourists want their lasagna. Out here? The water doesn’t ask for anything.”

I looked at him. Really looked at him. Without the frantic energy of the restaurant or the bravado of the parking lot, he looked… peaceful. “Is this why you came here? To Emerald Bay? To find the quiet?”

Jay’s expression flickered, a shadow crossing his face before he masked it with a small, sad smile. “My family’s always been good at moving. We’ve been all over the place. After my dad passed last year though… I don’t know. I think my mom wanted me to have something real. Something I could always come back to.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, the words feeling thin in the vast open air. “About your father.”

“It’s okay,” Jay said, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the blue of the sky met the green of the Gulf. “He didn’t want me to be like him. He didn’t want me to spend my life drifting. He wanted me to be able to build something.” He let out a short, dry laugh and turned to me. “I guess I am building something in a way. I just build things that the tide takes away every morning.”

I reached out, my fingers freezing the cool surface of the water. “My father says things that aren’t permanent aren’t worth the investment. He’d say this morning was a net loss of productivity.”

“He’s wrong, Mal,” Jay’s voice dropped an octave, becoming something intense. “Some of the best things in the world are the ones that don’t last. A wave. A sunset. A double shift where everything actually goes right.” He paused, his gaze dropping to where our boards were almost touching. “This morning.”

The distance between us felt like miles and an inch at the same time. I thought about the Kingsport deposit. I thought about the trajectory I was supposed to be on. The one that led far away from this water and the boy sitting on it.

“I have to be back in a few hours,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said just as softly. “But you’re carrying the ocean back with you. He can’t take that away. He didn’t see you stand up.”