“I received a weird email today,” she says.
“Oh yeah? From who?”
“She said she’s my grandmother. She emailed my business page.”
I sit up, confused. We only have one grandma and grandpa, and they’re currently traveling through Europe. “Did it sound like Grandma?”
“No, she said she was my biological father’s mom.”
“Oh my God!” I push the laptop away from Georgia. “Did you tell Mom?”
“Not yet. She never talks about my bio dad. I never thought about the fact he could have siblings or parents out there.”
“Did she mention why she’s emailing you now?”
“All she wrote was that she would like to meet with me to discuss some matters. I replied not to contact me again. I didn’t know what else to do… and please don’t mention anything to Mom. You know she gets upset at any talk about her old life.”
“Okay,” I agree. “But if she emails again, you should ask her why she wants to meet with you. I doubt she just wants to get to know you. You’re about to turn twenty-one. She’s had years to contact you.”
“Maybe.”
“So, no to the beach tonight?”
“Not tonight. Have fun and ride all the waves.”
“Fine. Want to watch some more of The O.C. when I get home?” Binge watching older shows is Georgia’s and my thing.
“Sure.”
Grabbing my surfboard and art supplies, I throw it all into the back of my Jeep and head over to Santa Monica Beach. When I get there, several people are already out in the water. There is only about three hours of light left, and most people prefer not to night surf because it can be dangerous and not worth it. But with the storm heading this way, the swells are coming in between ten and fifteen feet compared to the normal surf of three to five feet. Usually, in order to get bigger waves, we have to drive a couple hours south.
Before I head over to my friends, I stop at the taco stand and buy a bunch of tacos, then drop them off to my friend Aiden. He wasn’t expecting me, so he’s not there—probably going for a walk along the beach. I leave them for him in his tent, knowing he’ll be surprised and happy when he returns and finds them there.
“What’s up, Lexi!” Shane, a surfer and friend of mine, calls out as I make my way over to him and set my stuff down. Taking my clothes off, leaving me in just my bikini, I pull on my Roxy wetsuit and zip it up from the back. Then I cover my art stuff with my towel, so it doesn’t get dripped on.
“Lexi! How’s my sexy little artist doing today?” Jason, another friend of mine, stabs his board into the sand and pulls me in for a hug.
“Chilling… How long have you guys been out here?”
“Long enough to see all the Barneys about kill themselves. Already seen two guys break bones and had to call an ambulance.” Shane shakes his head.
“Ugh! Why does everyone who owns a surfboard see big waves and think they can all of a sudden surf?” I ask through my laughter.
“I don’t know, but these waves are seriously bitchin’. I swear some of them have hit a good twenty feet.” Jason reaches into his bag and pulls out a joint, lighting it up and taking a drag. Then he passes it to me. Not wanting to be fucked up while on the waves, I decline.
“Later… Right now I want to hit the waves.” I grab my board to head down the sand, but before I can walk away, Jason grabs my cheeks and pulls me in for a kiss. The smoke he was holding in transfers from his mouth to mine.
I push him away with a cough of laughter. “Jason,” I whine, making him laugh. “Don’t be a douche. Let’s go!”
He takes one last hit then pinches the joint between his fingers to put it out. After throwing it back into his bag, he grabs his board, and we run down the beach. Just as my feet hit the water, I hear my name being called. When I look back, I spot my brother, Max. I wave to him, and he waves back. Then he throws a blanket down on the sand and has a seat, camera in his hand. Max is sixteen and a sophomore in high school. His true love is photography, and you’ll never see him anywhere without a camera.
Jason, Shane, and I paddle out, and once we’re far enough, we meet up with several other guys and a few girls, who are all watching the waves. Some I don’t recognize and others I’ve grown up surfing with. Everyone’s talking and bullshitting, but I’m not here to gossip. I’m here to surf. I watch each wave, and when I spot the one I want, I drop to my belly and start paddling. The wave hits and my back arches as I’m lifted. Just as the wave begins to pick me up, I pop up and catch it, riding the wave all the way back to shore.