Waves

Finnegan reached to his left and grabbed a pool cue.

“I’ll break”, he said.

“Break? I’m sorry sir, I really can’t be playing pool right now,” I responded.

“You’re lost aren’t you? And hungry? And broke?”

Don’t you just hate a know-it-all?

“Yes actually, I am lost, but...”.

“Well then, I’ll break.”

This strange man got me. There was some security in that, a feeling that was in scarce quantity right now. I didn’t know what came over me but I thought, okay. I grabbed a cue. The balls were already racked, something I didn’t notice when I left the store. Finnegan placed the cue ball down, practiced his shot a few times then - crack, a very nice break. The twelve ball went in.

“I’m stripes”, he said as he walked around the table, looking for his next shot.

Apparently eight ball was the default game around here. Normally, you would ask what we’re playing before starting. Oh well, eight ball was fine with me. He lined up for the ten, took his time, hit a fairly decent shot but missed. Old Finnegan was a man of few words. He didn’t tell me that it was my shot, it was just assumed. So I looked around and saw a pretty good opportunity for the three. As I lined it up, I couldn’t help but notice a wry half-smile on his face, as if this was exactly what he wanted. I took my shot and just like that, the three ball dropped into the corner pocket. Finnegan straightened up as if the game was now over.

“Take it back out son,” he said calmly.

“But I made the shot.”

“Take it back out son,” still with no noticeable emotion.

This crazy old man was starting to irritate me but my mom always told me to respect my elders. So I removed the red number three ball from the holding area. I thought nothing of it, for a moment. Then I noticed how funny the ball felt. I hate to let my imagination run away from me but this three ball felt - alive. It wasn’t like it was warm or moving, there was just a weird life-form sense about it. This was no run-of-the-mill three ball. My eyes must have bugged out as I embraced this thing, and old man Finnegan noticed. He smiled.

“This one is yours. Don’t let go too soon.”

“But I…”

“Hold on tight. Don’t let anyone take it.”

What a strange day this has been.

“It’s time,” the old man said cryptically, “come.”

Finnegan walked around the building to the other side. I followed, of course. We walked onto a big dirt parking lot, he stopped, and me behind him. Finnegan pointed to a spot on the cliff edge where a few people were moving and congregating.

“There, go down, go south, focus on the task,” and just like that, the old kook walked away.

So I guess I had a task, although I didn’t know what it was. Down and south didn’t make sense to me either, and I had a three ball with a life force. I walked through the remainder of the dirt lot and over to the cliff edge. I was wrong earlier when I thought that the hang gliders were taking off over the ocean. I could see now that between the cliff wall and the water was a beautiful beach. Obviously I had never been to a beach but I wasn’t stupid, I knew what they looked like, from pictures and movies.

This beach didn’t appear crowded at all, just a handful of people, too far away to distinguish. I walked along the cliff, to the spot that I had been directed to. It was a path, down to the beach, a very steep path, and a little scary. I couldn’t see all of it from where I stood but it was twisty with some steps carved into the ground, and an occasional rugged railing. There were smatterings of beach goers, traversing the path in both directions, carrying towels, beach bags and surfboards. I had never seen a surfboard in person. They were longer than I imagined. Everyone looked so beachy, so perfectly Californian, everyone except one idiot wearing long pants and carrying a red billiard ball. I really wish I could have stashed it away in my pocket but it was too big.

Well the same way that I had an unfolding awareness about San Diego, I had a similar sense about this short-term journey, down to the beach. It really seemed right. Maybe someone would invite me to their barbeque and this three ball would be my ticket. And maybe Finnegan had just heard my stomach growl and sent me down for some grub and all this Yoda crap was only a put-on. Anyway, here I went, down the cliff walk.

Down, down, down, through turns and uneven steps I plodded. The views were spectacular. What were people thinking when they said that California was weird? I loved it here. The lower I descended, the giddier I became about actually being on a beach. When I neared the bottom, I forgot all about my troubles. I just wanted to get my feet on this sand and touch the Pacific Ocean.

I finally reached bottom and stepped onto the sand. I was really here, on a California beach. I stepped off to the side, to get out of other climbers’ way and sat down to remove my shoes and socks, then I cuffed my jeans. I looked completely out of place and was a little embarrassed about that, but I stayed anyway. I got up, a pair of shoes and socks in my left hand and a red pool ball in my right. The sand felt wonderful on my feet, soft, warm and oh so Californian.

I started walking toward the water, sand slipping between my toes, the Pacific Ocean getting closer by every step. Then the most bizarre thing happened. Oh maybe not quite as bizarre as waking up two thousand miles from home, but pretty bizarre nonetheless. A man walked past, completely naked, and I mean not a stitch of clothes on, and he didn’t seem to care. Right out in public, on this beautiful sunny day, he just strolled by, with everything showing. At first I thought that he certainly would be arrested soon and then I thought that perhaps he had escaped from an asylum. But the odd thing was, no one else seemed to care, or even notice, and I soon discovered why. As I continued my trek toward the water I encountered more nude men, several of them. What was going on? This must be how beaches are in California. Everyone was right after all, they’re crazy here.

I still wanted to get to the water, no matter what was going on here, but as I walked, I was continually bombarded with things that I didn’t want to look at. I kept turning my head left then right, up and down, but no matter how I much I tried to avoid it, I got an eye full of fat, blobby male nudity. There were certain things that I just didn’t want seared in my brain, and a beach full of naked, male beached whales was on the top of my list.

But to be perfectly honest, not all of the men were fat or blobby. Some were chiseled muscle dudes, strutting around, showing off their manhood. I think those guys bothered me even more, or maybe it was a tie. Either way, I tried not to look.

On my last attempt to find a safe viewing angle, I inadvertently looked straight at the sun. I instantly squinted, of course, a big red spot dominating my darkness. I stopped walking and started rubbing my eyes. While I was standing there, getting my bearings, still in the dark, I heard a most pleasant female voice.

“This is your first time here isn’t it?” the voice asked.

I opened my eyes a little too soon after my temporary blindness, and even though I was still a bit out of focus, there was no doubt that the voice belonged to the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She looked 22 years old, had a perfect face, long black hair, dark chocolate eyes with a smile to light up a room.

“Are you okay?” she giggled.

I started rubbing my eyes again and smiled an embarrassed smile as if I was a rookie here and it showed.

“The sun in my eyes is all,” I answered.

“I’m Chrysta,” as she extended her hand.

“Hi I’m…” by then my eyes had recovered and I saw that connected to her extended hand was a stunning and absolutely naked body. I just froze, froze I say. At that moment there was no Kansas, no ocean, no hang gliders, nothing existed in the world. I was a statue. I’m sure she noticed but she was patient.

Eventually I remembered who I was, where I was and what her question was.

“I’m…” I started to giggle a bit, “I’m somebody.”

Chrysta smiled at this. She knew I was out of my league, embarrassed and thrilled, all at once.

“I’m Paxton, yea that’s it.”

“Nice to meet you Paxton.”

“Yes, this is my first beach, it’s not what I expected,” as I laughed.

“You mean it’s your first time at Black’s Beach?” she asked.

“No - the first time at any beach.”

Chrysta looked amazed. To her it was probably like saying it was my first time eating a hamburger or seeing a movie. She had a gorgeous tan with no tan lines, as if she lived her life at the beach.

“Really!? Where are you from?” she asked, with those beautiful brown eyes, wide open and inquisitive.

“Kansas.”

“How long have you been in San Diego?”

“Uh…” how do I answer this, “a couple of hours I guess.”

“A couple of hours? You’ve got to meet my sister.”

Oh no, she had a sister? One beautiful naked girl on the beach is all I could handle at that point. She started frolicking away, expecting me to follow. Not a difficult task.

“Hannah!” she called.

Then I saw Hannah. Oh my gosh, there were two of them. Hannah was a little shorter and even more petite. She had the same black hair but even longer, although it may have just seemed that way because she was shorter. She was wearing the same thing, excuse me, the same nothing as her sister. She approached me as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“This is Paxton,” Chrysta said to her sister, “he’s from Kansas, been here only a few hours. This is his first time at any beach.”

Hannah jerked her head toward me at that most unusual revelation.

“Wow, that’s amazing. So, how do you like it?” Hannah added. I got the impression that her last comment was one of those moments when something leaves your lips and you immediately want to pull it back but it’s too late. That was the look on her face anyway. Here was a hot, naked girl saying ‘how do you like it?’. I’m sure she meant, how do you like the beach, how do you like the sand, how do you like the water, those types of things. A little smile slipped past my guard which I’m sure she knew was me leaning toward her unintended meaning and that - yes, I liked it very much.

The odd thing about Hannah was that she actually seemed a little shy, not unlike me. I mean you wouldn’t think that a naked girl, out in public, would have the slightest shyness about her, but in her own way she did. I suppose shyness can be relative. If this is the world that she knows, the world that she has been presented with, then she’s not really being an exhibitionist by participating. That was my theory anyway. Chrysta, on the other hand, was bold, loud and fun. And she invited me into her world. She recognized me as a stranger and welcomed me. Now, I have never been welcomed quite like this before, but I’ll take it.

So Hannah seemed a little embarrassed by me smiling at her ‘how do you like it’ question.

“I haven’t touched the water yet,” was my feeble attempt at changing the subject.

“Well let’s go!” Chrysta said enthusiastically. “Put your stuff down, take off your clothes and let’s go swimming.”

I stopped but Hannah didn’t. She took off and jumped head first in the water. Chrysta stopped with me.

“You can’t swim?” she asked.

“I can swim fine, I just...”

“Oh I see,” she got it, “it’s swimsuit optional here, and it’s fun.”

“No, I couldn’t, I , well you see...”

I think the free spirited Chrysta was getting a little bored with this.

“Well take off something, the ocean’s waiting,” she said as she scampered off.

This was a weird moment for me. I thought for a spell, what to do. Impetuousness was never a trait of mine. But after a short contemplation I decided to participate, at least partly. I put my shoes and socks down in the sand and the three ball, that I had essentially forgotten about, in one of the shoes. I looked around, anything goes here I guess so I took off my jeans and my shirt. There I was in my boxers. Good thing I had switched from tidy whities last year, that would have really looked odd, even for here. My skin was white as a marshmallow and about as toned. There are plenty of opportunities in Kansas to go shirtless but summer hadn’t hit us yet. We were still in winter recovery mode, so pasty white skin was normal in early spring. Skinny and white as I was, off I went, running into the water.

I took a few steps into the ocean then stopped in my tracks. I was expecting warm, balmy tropical water but it wasn’t. It was cold. I couldn’t understand how these naked girls were jumping and splashing like mermaids.

“Come on,” Chrysta called to me, “once you get in, it won’t feel cold. Trust me.”

It took all the courage I could muster, but I wasn’t doing any good just wading in the shallows in my underwear, besides, if two skinny naked girls could do it, so I channeled my inner focus, ran farther into the ocean, splashing every step, then dove in. So much for trust, it was really cold. So I started jumping and diving and swimming and moving every way imaginable and you know what? It worked. I didn’t notice the cold anymore. The saltwater and seaweed were new to me and somewhat unpleasant but I got used to it. I loved the waves though. This was a completely unique experience for me. I was used to pools and lakes. The ocean was alive with motion, sometimes softly rippling while other times violently angry, and it was a blast.

There was no consistency to these waves, big, small, foamy, clear, and everything in between. Sometimes one right after another while other times there was a break in between. The large ones knocked us down and sucked us under no matter how firmly we stood against them. It was a game that we played, the girls and me. Down we would go, then pop back up, laughing hysterically. Chrysta and Hannah were laughing harder than I was, and bouncing up and down in the ocean. I loved watching them bounce, if you know what I mean. Just look at me, from a shy, naive kid who had trouble stringing three words together while addressing pretty girls, to this. Oh my. One time Chrysta jumped on my back, like a piggy back ride. I didn’t mind that one tiny bit. Then we fell sideways into the water.

When I came out, in between waves, I starting floating on my back. Chrysta was next to me, holding my arm and in the blue sky above, two hang gliders drifted by. This had to be the best moment of my life.

So we swam and played some more. The girls were teaching me how to body surf, which I wasn’t very good at. Hannah was a better teacher than Chrysta, she patiently explained how to do it. Chrysta, on the other hand was one of those, ‘just do it this way’, type, and off she would go, demonstrating.

I never really got it, coordination was not my strength. But it was a lot of fun. And then, if this wasn’t awesome enough, dolphins showed up, swimming and playing in the waves too. If it wasn’t for the girls telling me what they were, I would have thought they were sharks and run off screaming. But the dolphins were just having some fun. It was wonderful.

Eventually, all good things must come to an end. We were tired and needed to get out and dry off. The three of us waded back to the sand, still laughing and talking. Chrysta had this habit of touching my arm when she talked. I loved it. I had no towel but they let me borrow theirs. I dried off then walked over to my stuff. I slipped on my pants. The wet underwear was an annoyance but worth it. I put on my shirt and my shoes and socks. Then it dawned on me. Where was the three ball?

I figured it must have fallen out of my shoe. Surely it was around here somewhere. So I started digging and spreading the sand - nothing. Then I became more deliberate in my search, but still unfruitful. Something came over me, a feeling, no, more than just a feeling. It was an awareness again, a truth that I had put aside. This three ball with a life force was extremely important. It was hitting me more now than when I received it. Panic overcame me. I dug and hunted with increasing vigor, but I found not a trace of this unique thing, the one that was ‘for me’. I lost it, I blew it.

Finnegan’s words started ringing in my head.

“Hold on tight. Don’t let anyone take it.”

Had it been taken? Oh now I got it. Now it became clear. How could I have been so stupid? I actually fell for it. I actually thought that two beautiful, naked girls were interested in me. What an idiot I was. This whole thing was a fake, a ruse. I ran back to where we had toweled off, they were gone. I was a fool.

“Go down, go south, focus on the task,” Finnegan had told me.

I failed, miserably. I had a task, an important task. I don’t know what it was, it was unfolding, and now maybe I would never know, unless there was some way out, some way for restitution.

Focus. Think.

Was I done? Was I sunk? I didn’t know where to go or what to do next. One thing was certain, whoever took this three ball, this living object, was long gone. And the girls, quietly contented Hannah and free spirited Chrysta, the only people I knew this side of Kansas, one of which was surely the love of my life, had vanished.