Page 27 of Erase Me
These were sights, smells, and sounds that I hadn’t experienced before.Where I came from, one either lived in a highly sanitized, privileged world or in one that was far more toxic.In both worlds, products were often scarce, and the government controlled the population and potential crime with ever-present video monitoring and swift interventions.And there was no middle ground between those worlds.It was a matter of ‘haves’ and ‘have nots’.
It occurred to me that I hadn’t seen any sign of police since I’d arrived.
Del Mar became residential beyond the library, winding down between two and three-story apartments where residents sat out on balconies with drinks in hand, relaxing and occasionally chatting with passersby.Young boys and girls on bikes and scooters and skateboards wove between pedestrians and cars and electric carts.
As I made my way around a bend in the road, a picturesque panorama suddenly unfolded before me.Palm trees rose above a parking lot and a park, and a long pier stretched out into the shimmering Pacific.My breath caught in my chest.
At the bottom of the hill, with the ocean straight ahead, Del Mar curled to the left around a line of restaurants, small hotels, and residential buildings.Opposite them, I spied people, carrying beach bags and umbrellas, standing on the platform of a working train station.Couples held the hands of small children, all of them still wearing bathing suits and oversized shirts and light sundresses.
Following a crowd, I crossed the tracks that ran north and south.I could see the rail line curving along the shoreline in both directions.
The smell of fried food wafted in the air, drawing my attention to the two restaurants that sat on either side of the entrance to the pier.And as I gazed at the scores of fishermen casting their lines off the weathered wooden planks of the quarter-mile-long structure, seagulls circled above, and their sharp cries mingled with the laughter of beachgoers.
Ahead of me, waves rose up and crashed onto a sandy beach still filled with people, despite the late hour.By the water’s edge, children and adults played and swam.Farther out, dozens of surfers in black and blue and red wetsuits lined up, waiting for a wave that would hurtle them toward the shore.
I stopped by a low wall that bordered the beach and admired the surfers’ seemingly fearless spirit.They were of all ages, some perhaps as young as four or five years old and some who had to be in their seventies or older.I was captivated by the energy and sense of freedom exuded by them.
Silhouetted against the canvas of the sinking sun, the surfers would choose their wave, pop up smoothly to their feet, and carve a path along the cresting water with movements that looked both graceful and daring.
As I watched, mesmerized, they simply danced on the ocean’s surface.Their colorful boards left trails of spray behind them, creating art in the air.The booming sound of the waves accompanied the rhythm of their maneuvers.And as they often finished their runs toward the beach, they would suddenly spin their board away from the shore and fly into the air as the wave collapsed into churning foam beneath them.It was truly a symphonic ballet of nature and human skill.
“Have you surfed before?”
Reed’s voice startled me.I’d been too distracted to see or hear him approach.
“No, I haven’t.Have you?”I asked, watching his profile.He seemed to be fascinated with them, as well.He was wearing a black short-sleeved knit shirt, khaki pants, and a pair of sandals.When he turned to answer, his eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses.
“Yes.”
“Are you any good at it?”
“I could show you.”He smiled.“In fact, the folks I’m renting my apartment from have some spare boards we can use.If you’re up for it.”
I noticed on his left cheek an inch-long cut and bruising around it.“How did you get that?It looks painful.”
“Ran into a wall this afternoon, texting you.”
I touched the edge of the cut but quickly drew back my hand.The gesture suddenly seemed too intimate.
“I don’t think so.This cut isn’t brand new.It must have happened last night.”
“So, you’re a doctor too?”
“No, but I’m hell with a first-aid kit.”
He laughed.“Why is that?Do you get bumps and bruises often?”
I smiled.“Deflecting again.Why don’t you answer me?”
“Okay, I admit it.I was starting to text you last night, then debated whether it was too soon.While I was thinking about it, the corner of a wall in the apartment leaped out at my face.”
Bullshit.I knew a bruise from a fight when I saw one.If I was an expert at anything, it was that.And for one thing, the angle of the cut was wrong to have been caused by a horizontal wall corner.It was a fight, for sure.The question of who Reed had been in a fight with was something I’d like to know.
“Well, I’m glad you texted me this afternoon.By the way, I brought your sweatshirt.”I started to unwrap it from around my waist, but he took hold of my hands.
“Hang on to it.It suits you.Plus, you might need it tonight.The temperature tends to drop after the sun sets.”He let go of me and held up the light jacket he was holding.“I came prepared.”
“Okay.Thanks.”
