but it'll do the trick.”
I looked at the menu mounted above the counter. “What? They don't serve Coke in the morning?”
He burst out laughing. “Not that kind of coke. My God, you are priceless.”
I smiled, feeling a little foolish. I should have known. I changed the subject. “Sorry about waking you up.”
“I'll wake up as early as you want for the morning we just had,” he said, grinning. He drained his coffee mug. “I was getting up early today, anyway. Ben and I are supposed to hit the waves. Pumphouse.”
“ Oh. When? Are you supposed to be there now?” It hadn't even occurred to me that he might have other plans. “You can drop me off. At home, I mean.”
“ Don't be stupid. What the hell are you going to do there?” He stood up. “Come with me. You can watch.”
He stopped at his mom's house just long enough to grab his board, a scuffed blue and white piece of fiberglass only slightly taller than him. He settled it on the roof of the car, adjusting and tightening straps. He drove to Tourmaline and parked in the public lot at the top of the cliff. It was already packed full of cars, nearly all of them with empty surf racks. Surfers bobbed up and down in the water, looking like gigantic seals in their tight, black wetsuits. Aidan reached into the back seat and pulled out his own.
“You wanna sit in the car or come out?” he asked. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stripped off his shorts. He kicked off his flip flops and stepped into his suit, pulling it up over his legs.
The marine layer was gone, the sky a cobalt blue that glowed warm and bright in the early morning sun. “I'll sit outside.”
His shirt came off and he pushed his arms through the wetsuit and zipped it up. “I'm just gonna catch a few. Half hour at most.”
He unbuckled his board from the roof of the car and adjusted it so he carried it under his arm, tucked tight against his side.
He leaned down and kissed me. “Watch me?”
I nodded, although I wasn't sure I'd be able to identify him among all of the other black blobs already in the water. He put his free arm around my waist and helped hoist me to the hood of the car.
“Love you,” he said, kissing me once more before heading toward the beach.
He made his way toward the water. Someone joined him on the way down and I watched Aidan laugh and joke with him. His blond hair glistened in the sun and his wetsuit hugged the contours of his body. He reminded me of some Greek god, a marbled statue breathed to life. He was almost too beautiful to look at today, too perfect, but I didn't look away. He reached the sand and held his hand over his eyes as he scanned the waves. His friend pointed left, past the pump house, and Aidan nodded. They ran into the water and hopped on their boards, paddling past the breakers with swift, powerful strokes, farther out into the rolling waves.
I watched him but soon my thoughts drifted. To my conversation with Case and the incident at my dad's. With a little time and perspective, I did feel bad about it. Not about being mean to Cheri, but about how I'd hurt my dad. He had been angry with me—so angry that he'd told me he was done with me. That I was done there.
And he hadn't come looking for me.
I tried not to let this fact stab at me and slice me apart, but I fixated on it. I couldn't help it. He'd stayed with her . He hadn't come looking for me and he hadn't called. What if something had happened to me? What if I'd been hit by a car or abducted or raped? No one would know. Not my drunk and depressed mother and certainly not my indifferent dad.
I thought about the GameShow Network and the reruns I'd seen of The Price Is Right. The Showcase Showdowns and all of the cheesy prizes. I imagined my dad as the contestant, choosing between his two Showcase Showdowns. Except his weren't a trip to Hawaii or a new Jeep. No, I was on one platform, and Cheri was on the other and he had to choose. I swallowed hard. He'd chosen, alright.
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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