Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I hoist my rented longboard up over my head and trek across the beach, down to where the biggest waves have drawn a handful of surfers. I’m sweating by the time I strip out of my dress and sandals and take a seat. It’s sandy here, but down closer to the water, the beach is covered with gray pebbles.
I apply sunscreen while I study the few surfers out there already doing the most they can with the small swells. I’m lucky the beach isn’t overly crowded; as I make my way into the water, only two surfers remain. I climb up onto my board and paddle out to join them. They’re two guys, about my age, and they nod in my direction but otherwise don’t pay me much attention. I take my time reading the waves, anticipation building as I wait for the perfect one.
There.
Now.
Paddling is instinctive, standing is second nature, but even with all my previous practice, I still wipe out on my first try. It’s disorienting to go down hard into the sea, tasting seawater before I come up and catch my breath.
I know I shouldn’t want to impress the two random strangers, but there’s a certain amount of ego involved in surfing, and everyone watching your attempts makes it hard to avoid the urge to show off a little. I fall hard on my first two waves, but on the third swell, I stand and glide, finally carving a turn. I ride the wave all the way in, pressing off the board at the last second and diving into the water. I come up laughing and hear the guys whistling and cheering behind me.
I spend all morning out there, feeling close to Winnie. Even when my muscles scream and my lungs burn, the adrenaline keeps me going, and between waves, I enjoy the deep sense of calm and focus. For a short time, it’s just me and my memories, floating on the water.
Hunger eventually lures me back to the shore, and once I turn in my board, promising to be back another day, I follow the rich smell of spices to a chiringuito, a beach restaurant where they’re grilling fish over charcoal. I order the sea bass with vegetables splashed with lemon. It’s so good I order more, and the owner gives me zumo de piña, freshly squeezed pineapple juice, on the house.
I “cheers” to Winnie before I take my first sip, twisting her ring around my finger as I do it. I’ve crossed two things off her bucket list now: surfing and swimming at Bora Bora Beach. By the time I get back to the apartment, I decide I’m going to complete a third.
Simone is still lounging on the couch when I come in with sandy feet and salty hair. “Where have you been? I’ve tried your mobile all morning.”
“Out surfing.” I hang my bag near the door. “I need to rinse off, but then do you want to come with me to get a tattoo?”
“A what?”
I’m already walking into our room, heading for the shower. “A tattoo! It’s on the list, remember?”
By the time I’m dressed, Simone’s gathered a small group. Annika and Felix join us as we set out to walk to the tattoo shop near our apartment complex. I did some research and feel confident about this place. The online reviews promised sterile equipment and professional staff, which is really all I care about. The design I want is simple enough that I’m sure any tattoo artist could pull it off.
It’s an acronym, “wwwd”: What would Winnie do. I want all the letters to be lowercase, cursive, and fluid so the w’s run together like waves in the ocean. Unless you know better, it won’t look like letters at all.
I have no doubt the design will seem half as cool in five or ten years, but I don’t worry about it. Bodies are only good for so long. Winnie wanted a tattoo and she never got the chance, so I’ll do it for her. Just as soon as I get the nerve to go into the shop.
We’ve been standing out on the sidewalk for the last few minutes. My palms are sweating and I can’t stop pacing.
“Are you really doing this?” Annika asks me.
“Yes. Now, who wants to get one with me?”
“Are you mad?” Simone laughs.
Annika shrugs. “I’ll do it.”
Felix looks at his sister like she’s grown a second head. “No you will not.”
“Yes I will,” she says stubbornly. “Why not?”
“Yeah. Okay. If she’s doing it, I will, too, then,” Simone says with a nod.
I clap my hands. “Excellent.”
Isabel would never get a tattoo. Elle apparently… will. Before I can keep thinking of all the reasons why I should turn right around and go home, I yank the door open and go inside.
I called ahead while I was in the taxi on the way home from the beach, and with the help of a translator app, I set up three appointments for this afternoon. I had a gut feeling Annika and Simone would be tagging along.