The Blackberry Bush (15 page)

Josh

I
S THAT A GIRL
trying to climb the Cliffs at high tide? I strain my eyes in the dusky red to see. Probably a girl, because I see a long braid flapping in the wind.

The tide is
so
high. The crashing surf is hammering away and eroding the dirt in the Cliffs.

Everyone, especially my sponsor, is thrilled I got so far in the competition this morning.

But it’s impossible to please the judges in life. And everyone judges you. Eventually everyone eliminates you. How can I check out of this game and still stay involved in life?

What happened to the young Josh who rode Edwards hill on his skateboard back in Zarzamora? There was no competition jersey on me. No sponsor. No judges. No numbers attached to me. No complex and jealous rivals. Just my friend Sam screaming for joy.

And then, randomly, I remember the African church back in Hossegor, where the members talk about God as if he’s actually in the room. So does Oma Adri.

She almost never speaks to me in English, but tonight at the campfire, she took my head in her hands and looked me straight in the eye: “Josh, you have what it takes.” She gave me an especially intense hug as she left for the evening.

I haven’t been able to stay at the fire pit since then and have been wandering around the beach. Some perfect California girl I don’t even know is wearing my competition jersey there at the fire pit and partying a little too hard. She’s in love with an image of me, but she’s barely even met me. I’d rather be disliked for who I am as a person than loved for some projected image of who I am supposed to be.

Kati

W
HOA
. A
NOTHER WAVE
—up to my waist. The bottom half of my braid is wet now.
Gotta start climbing.
This cliff is all crumbly dirt and sharp rock. Hard to get a footing.
Just…keep…climbing.

It’s hard to see a path to the top.
Wow. What if I don’t make it?
My eyes are starting to tear again.
Gotta start over—this way up won’t work. No handholds.

I would love a shot of something strong to drink right now. Jägermeister from Mutti’s cabinet? I still have a bit of a beer buzz from earlier. That helps a little with my nerves but fuzzes my concentration.

Mutti sent me off this morning hoping I would meet some stunning California guy at the U.S. Open. There isn’t enough money anywhere to pay one of those perfect, confident, tanned guys to invest in me. Which is worse—getting disapproval from Mutti or being ignored by everyone else? Especially men. Except for Zara’s cousin, Saahir, not a single man in my life, including my father, ever leans into a conversation with me. It’s like I repel all of them.

Mutti hates it when I hang out with Saahir at work. But Zara’s dad and her uncle (Saahir’s father) schedule us together in their convenience store chain at our request. Saahir and I can talk for hours. But I still try not to look at him when we talk, or I get self-conscious and feel like I’m going to ruin it. We sometimes just get in his car (because of my license issues) and drive together all over LA after work in the middle of the night—the only time to do that without crushing traffic. Talking is easier that way because we both face the same direction.

But that’s a dead end too. We’re probably too good of friends for him ever to make any kind of move. I would give away all of my sea chest watches if he would reach across the car to my seat, just once, and put his hand on mine, without seeming like he wants to hurry and take it away. If his hand could just touch mine…and stay.

Well, that’s not going to happen. Not for me. More burning in my eyes.

There’s no one around. What’s to stop me from holding onto this especially big rock to my right and sobbing out loud?

Absolutely nothing. So I wail. Literally. Like the Pakistanis at a family funeral. No one can hear me over the pounding of the surf, so I raise my voice and let it rip.

It doesn’t help. Nothing gets released. It merely feels like knives in my spirit. So I wail louder. Jewish men would rend their garments in grief. I am slicing my own soul to shreds with each scream.

Josh

W
HAT
’
S THAT
I
SEE
at the edge of the water out there? Hard to tell, since it’s getting darker. Probably nothing, but something feels disturbed. I’m scanning with total focus as it gets even darker. I can almost feel my pupils dilating all the way open to attract every photon of remaining light.

And, of course, Max and Sam are back at the beach party. Why do they stick by me? All I’ll ever be able to do is use my skill to earn points, prize checks, and other useless things. I was a better person four years ago than I am now. What kind of man am I going to become?

Lord,
I pray,
anything but my father.

Kati

L
OOKING BACK DOWN OVER MY SHOULDER
between primal yells, I see that the water has come up higher on the rocks. Can I even climb down and start over? The incoming tide has blocked my return path. The surf is really loud. It’s like standing next to a jet engine. My cheeks are wet with tears, and my legs and braid are wet from the splashing.

I am in deep trouble. I have to reach for that hold up there high and on the right.
Almost. Almost.
Have to commit to get it. A slight little hop…and....no.

No good. Missed. The rest happens like a flash.

A concussion like a baseball bat hits my head, and my left wrist smashes against the rock hard as I spin backward, headfirst into the crashing waves, which sweep me out to sea. I bounce off the sand bottom and push off, the side of my head throbbing and my entire left arm stinging from the salt water.

Josh

G
OOD
L
ORD, SOMEONE
’
S OUT THERE
in the surf, and she’s in trouble. Was that a scream I just heard?

Are you sure, Josh?
I ask myself.
Did you really see that? Wait. How do I know it’s a she?

I have a flash of that girl trapped on the Cliffs. Another flash of a girl from long ago on a beach cruiser. I know, without being able to know, that it’s a young woman out there.

Yup. Someone is trapped in the impact zone. I have to make a decision in just a few seconds.

Kati

I
POP THROUGH THE SURFACE
in time to see a huge wave about to break right in front of me. It looms up out of the dark. I gasp for air and swim down as hard and fast as I can to try to get under it. Got to get past it and away from the rocks. I open my eyes underwater and strain in the darkish water to see if there is room under the wave turbulence to swim out to safety. Yes, about three feet clearance between the bottom of the underwater rolling half of the wave and the sand.

Swim down deep, Kati, with everything you have. Go girl, go.

Josh

I
DON
’
T HAVE A BOARD
. No one knows better than I do how dangerous it is out there. Never attempt to save someone unless you yourself have a good chance of surviving. Like a thunderbolt through my soul, I literally shake as I realize that I once put a human being, Max, deliberately into a situation just like that poor victim in the water. What in heaven’s name was I thinking? This is my chance to make it right. I may never get another opportunity like this one.

Jogging up to large group of nearby people having a BBQ, their faces lit by their campfire, I spot a huge longboard sticking out of the sand. I dash right through them, getting some sand in their food. I grab the board and scream, “Need this!” and sprint toward the water with the board under my arm.

Where was that flailing hand sticking up out in the surf?

Jesus, O Jesus.
Where was it? Why is it that, when we’re really in trouble,
Mom
and
Jesus
are the first words that come out of our mouths?