Mismatched (23 page)

“But Micheál…” I can hear Siobhán almost pleading.

“Siobhán, darlin’, ye worry too much. It’s all good.” He kisses her on the forehead, and I look away, embarrassed.

“Well, Erin, what do ye think?” he asks, his arms spread outward taking in his kingdom.

“Yeah, it’s great. I love it!” I’m being honest, too.

“Ye up for a surf, then? We’ll go to Lahinch. It’s got the best waves. Siobhán has picked out a steamer and board for ye, so we’re all good.”

Siobhán smiles at me as if to say, you’re welcome, and I smile tightly back.

“Ye can change in the dressing rooms,” she says helpfully. “The beach is in walking distance from here.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Micheál is talking to a customer about waxing his board, so I take the wetsuit and all the other bits and go to get ready.

I remove Ridlee’s clothes carefully and am left in my VS underwear that now seems ridiculously out of place. Goosebumps appear all over my skin, so I try to get into the wetsuit as quickly as possible lest Micheál, or worse, Siobhán appear. The wetsuit, otherwise known as a steamer, I guess, has long sleeved arms and legs, and I can only hope that I’ll be steaming in the warm sense of the word once I have it on. I bend down to see what else she has given me. There’s a hood — bye-bye sexy hair — gloves, and slipper shoes. “Fuck, how cold is it gonna be?” I mutter to myself, trying to zip up the wetsuit.

“You okay?” calls Micheál from way too close. He’s hovering on the other side of the curtain.

“Yup. No probs. Just coming!” I manage to get the zipper up, thanks to the long attachment, and pack my hair under the hood. The rubber pulls at tiny hairs around my hairline and tears involuntarily prick my eyes. It covers my whole head and much of my face. Even the shoes have to be forced on. I stand up, a little unsteady; the suit isn’t exactly easy to move in. I look like an incompetent burglar. So much for sexy arse! Neoprene does nothing for me.

“Are ye right, Erin? Time’s a wasting!” calls Micheál.

I walk out as casually as I can.
 
Siobhán stifles a giggle.

“So glad to be able to brighten your day, Siobhán,” I say, presenting myself.

“Ah, Siobhán! She doesn’t need the hood and the gloves today.” Micheál tries to remove the hood but my hair is tangled up in it. By the time we free it, the waves have become tight knots matted here and there on my head. I pull off the shoes and gloves and deposit the items in front of Siobhán, who is innocently standing at the cash register.

“Oops,” she says, barely hiding her laughter.

“Yeah, oops,” I echo. Like I said, maybe a tiny residue of rivalry.
She’s probably worried I’m going to hurt Micheál.
I give her my most open
I come in peace
smile.
 

She warms a little. “Relax, ye look hot in that,” she says, in what sounds like a sincere tone. I look around at the large mirror behind me. I do look hot. I smile. “Shame about the hair, though.”

“Surf does that anyway,” she says shrugging.

Micheál, who had gone in the back to change, reappears also wearing a wetsuit with a surfboard under each arm. He hasn’t pulled his wetsuit all the way up and his chest is exposed. I look away ‘cause my knees are literally beginning to buckle.

“Shall we go?” He nods toward the sea.

I take my board, the longer of the two. “After you.”

The rain has let up a little and is now what the Irish call
bog
, or a soft rain, which is barely considered rain at all.

“The weather’s being good to us,” says Micheál looking up at the sky, somewhat over-optimistically in my view, but hey, it’s only weather.

We walk across the road barefoot and head down to the beach at Lahinch. I’m surprised to find that there are already quite a few surfers in the water. We get to the water’s edge and Micheál stops.
 

“Right … a few pointers.” He places the boards on the sand.

I cock my head, ready to receive and absorb important information. Taking me by the shoulders he places me in front of him on the board, facing away from him. His touch makes me tingle all over. I can feel his chest against my shoulders, his fingers lightly on my neck. I wait, barely breathing in anticipation of his next move.

Without a word of warning he shoves me forward, almost violently.

“Hey! What the…?” I turn on him, half ready for a fight. “What d’ye do that for?”

He laughs. “Ye’re goofy-footed.”

“I’m sorry, what did you just say about my feet?”

“Ye’ll put your right foot forward when ye surf. That’s how ye find out which foot ye use naturally. Left foot forward is regular-footed, right foot forward is goofy-footed. Ye’re goofy-footed. So am I.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, somewhat appeased. “What else?”

“Paddling and popping up.” He gets down on the board and shows me how to push the board under the waves and then pop up the other side.

I try too. “Seems simple enough,” I say as I get to my feet. “What else?”

He smiles at me and continues with his pointers. “On yer first couple of waves, try to catch the whitewater and ride it straight into the beach. When ye see a small wall of whitewater rolling yer way, point yer board toward the beach, lie flat on yer stomach, and paddle. Stay on yer stomach, don’t try to make it up to yer feet. Instead, stay lying on yer stomach, notice how the board moves when it’s riding a wave, rock side-to-side to test the board’s stability and how easily it turns. Okay?”

“Gotcha.”

We get into the water and begin to paddle out to the breakwater. It’s cold but soon the suit warms me up and I stop thinking about it. Paddling and popping is hard but I start to get the hang of it and I even manage to catch a couple of small waves. I shriek with laughter as I go bombing along the white water until I reach the shore. Then I turn around and paddle back out. At one point I’m bouncing along the foamy white water and I see Micheál riding the wave I’m on but he’s on it properly. He looks magnificent, knees bent, leaning into the wall of water, riding high until he turns his board and drops into the sea.

“Woohooo!” I scream at him, throwing my fist in the air.

He is up on his board again, lying the full length of it, ready to paddle back out. He salutes me.

“Fuck all this playing in the white water nonsense. I want to catch me a wave,” I say to no one in particular. I paddle out to where Micheál and a couple of other surfers are, right at the where the waves break, and sit on my board waiting for a ride. The other surfers nod their hellos and go back to their conversation.

“It’s been a bit gnarly lately but it’s come good. Some of those earlier ones would dump unexpectedly, ye have to be careful,” says a young guy with red hair.

I nod as though I know what he’s talking about, and Micheál grins at me. We sit there for a while in silence between sea and sky, swaying on our boards. Suddenly, there’s a bit of a kerfuffle. Without speaking, the others turn their boards around and start paddling like their lives depend on it.

I do the same. I feel the swell of the wave coming up behind me and my board being lifted up onto a cliff-face. I paddle with all I have, and without thinking too much, I jump into a crouch on my board and somehow manage to stand up. It’s like I’m flying and riding that wave at a million miles an hour. It’s only when I think,
Fuck, I’m surfing
! that I fall off; and when I surface, Micheál is there laughing and hugging me.

“That was awesome, girl!”

“I know!” I splutter, my arms wrapped around his neck. I kiss him full on the mouth. “Thank you.”

“No, thank
you
. He nuzzles my nose with his and we stay like that for a long minute. “Wanna get some lunch?”

“Sure,” I say and we ride our boards back to shore.

Back on the beach we find the cooler, a blanket, towels and even an umbrella.

“Siobhán thinks of everything,” he says appreciatively. We drape the towels around our shoulders and drop to the blanket, leaning into one another for body heat.

“She’s a good friend,” I say, sniffing hard in case there’s snot dripping from my nose. Not so sexy…

It’s obvious that Micheál and Siobhán are more than just friends and I don’t necessarily mean in the romantic sense. The way Micheál talks about her, you’d swear they were family or something. Not that it’s any of my business; I’m leaving in a day or two and will likely never see this guy again.

 
“She’s the best,” he says simply.

I feel a ridiculous pang of jealousy, but manage to keep my congenial tone. “How long have you known her?”

“My whole life. We’ve been friends forever and now we’re business partners.” He tells me about them meeting in school when they were seven or eight and about how she was a tomboy back then and would beat up any boy who called her a girl. As he’s talking, he’s removing things from the cooler. He takes the top off a thermos flask and pours a thick orange liquid into a cup for me. I wait until he serves himself. “Here’s luck!” he says raising his cup to me. I drink the liquid and find it’s soup. It’s delicious. “Wow, what’s in this?” I ask, intrigued.

“Bit of everything,” he says smiling. “Pumpkin, sweet potato, carrot, lentils…”

“It’s delicious. Where’d ye buy it? Is it local?” I drain my cup.

Micheál laughs, “I made it.”

“Seriously?” I do my serious face.

“Seriously.” He has a similar expression.

“Careful, I might fall in love with you.” I laugh.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

I blush. I actually blush. Not knowing what to say or do, I look out at the waves. “Does Siobhán surf?” I’m eager to change the subject.

“She does.”

“Is she good?”

“She’s a pro. It’s part of the reason we started the business — to support her professional career. But unfortunately, with the economy the way it’s been an’ all, business hasn’t been too good and we’ve had the bank manager breathing down our necks, threatening to close us down.”

“Shit.” I stare out at the waves again.

“Try this.” Micheál offers me a plate of fried rice and vegetables. It is out of this world.

“Did you make this too?” I ask, incredulous.

He nods. “I like to cook. That’s what makes Siobhán and me perfect flatmates; she hates cooking.”

“Lucky Siobhán.” I have renewed admiration for the girl.

The lunch is amazing and a little later on, as the afternoon sun is beginning its retreat, I’m lying across Micheál’s stomach enjoying the sound of the sea and his steady presence. I get up on my elbow. “One more surf?”

He looks out at the waves. “I dunno, it’s getting kinda late.”

“Go on! I won’t get another chance, maybe ever…” My bottom lip protrudes slightly.

“Ah, go on then. How can I say no to that? Race ye!”

We grab the boards and are in the water before we even have time to register the cold. I paddle out, determined to break my last record and catch an even bigger wave. I think of Siobhán which spurs me on, even though I know it’s ridiculous to even try to compete with her.

There’s a nice series of waves coming in. I paddle furiously and pounce into a crouch position.
So far so good
. Biting my lip in concentration, I get into standing position and manage to stay on. The wave is big and I feel as though I’m going even faster than last time. I shriek with joy.

But then I see another surfer coming my way on another wave. What do I do?

He’s screaming at me, waving his arms.

I do nothing.

I stand there frozen but flying through space, that is until his board clips the top of mine as he passes.

I’m thrown up in the air, and the last thing I see is my board coming down after me. Then
wallop!
I try to keep my eyes open but I can’t. I’m tumbling down through the surf. My last thought is a calm one.
I’m going to drown.

But I’m wrong; I’m
not
going to drown today because I’m with Micheál. He dives into the water and follows the line of my leash pulling me back up to the surface. I’m coughing and spluttering and my lungs are burning.

He just keeps repeating “It’s okay. Ye’re okay,” over and over again. He leaves one arm on the board and the other on me, paddling us back in. When we get to shore he carries me up onto dry sand and lays me down gently. The lifeguard is there with his first-aid kit.
 

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” I try to say, embarrassed to have gotten into this situation.

Micheál is looking down at me, his face tight with concern.

I have a bit of a bump on my head, but they check me out and I’m declared fit enough to go home via the local doctor to rule out concussion. I agree and Micheál helps me to the truck. I do admittedly feel like shit.

The doctor checks my pupils and asks me a lot of questions and says that I should be okay to return to the B&B, but that he’s to be called if there are any changes overnight. Mrs. O’Grady makes a big fuss and Ridlee cannot do enough for me, even though I have returned without her clothes.

I feel very spoilt and very loved, and when it comes to saying goodnight to my knight in shining armour I’m quite gooey inside. I walk him to the front door of the B&B.