LINA, TUE02JULY2013 MOR

Lina took this pic. I bummed it off of her Facebook.

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Crew: Bri, Lina, and Shan

Conditions: 2-3 FT, inconsistent, foggy.

     Lina’s in town from New York. I haven’t seen her in about a year. She’s part of the original crew who I used to surf with back in my infantile Barney days. Last night, we planned to meet at Manhattan Beach and surf in the morning.

     Bri and I score VIP parking right by the lifeguard tower. While I’m unloading my board, Lina shows up. She’s the same, small-figured, petite chick from years back, but her hair’s short and dyed blonde now.

     I introduce her to Bri, and then we go through the normal conversation that people do when they catch up, but I notice something’s off with her. “I just found out that my mom has to go on dialysis,” she says. “She asked me to go to the doctor’s with her yesterday, and I didn’t know that we were like, meeting with a counselor.” She looks down and frowns. “Sorry, I’m just kind of out of it right now.”

     I don’t know what to say, really. I’m bad in these situations. I do my best to say the words of wisdom that old men know. She says that she’ll probably have to move back home and take care of her.

     In front of the lifeguard tower, the fog’s thick again. I can just make out the waves that are coming in. The fog keeps the crowd thin, but there’s a little potential out there. The water’s glassy, and even though high tide’s about to hit, the waves are breaking a little.

     “Watch out for the current,” I say. “I’m gonna stay in front of the tower, so try not to drift.”

     When we paddle out, Lina’s already floating north. Bri surfs by her. I keep position, catch a couple waves, and then I see them on the sand walking back.

     Lina paddles out and drifts away again. She’s on the inside paddling for the white wash, and then she walks back up onto the shore.

     I catch some white wash in right up to where she’s walking, and she says, “I’m sorry, Matt. I’m out of it today. There’s just so much on my mind.”

     I grab the Tokoro that I had lent to her and walk with her back towards the parking lot. “It’s all right,” I say. “You got way more important things to worry about. It was nice to see you though.”

     We hug at the base of the hill. I watch her walk back up and disappear in the fog.

     Looking back, I feel like an asshole. There she was, dealing with devastating news, and I was telling her not to let the current take her away. My need to catch waves surpassed the call of friendship. I wish her family well and hope to see her again.

Not-so-funny Bone:

     Bri’s on fire. There’s something about that girl. She can go down the line, and she does it consistently now. She takes off on a wave, and another guy and I watch her from behind.

     “That’s a good wave,” the guy says. “She got a good one.”

     “Yeah,” I say, while grinning. “I built her from the ground up.”

     He smiles. “Oh, did you?”

     “Yeah. She’s only been surfing for about a year.” Am I wrong for feeling proud?

     Shan shows up and shares the empty lineup with us. Bri goes for a wave again, but she mistimes it, and the wave breaks on top of her. She tries to slide off of her board and bail, but bailing on a longboard can be awkward. She resurfaces on the inside, shaking her head.

     “I hit my funny bone,” she says. “Why do they call it that? It fucking hurts.” She pulls the wetsuit away from her elbow. “I think I’m bleeding.” Ten minutes later, she paddles up to me with one arm and says she’s going in.

     Shan and I surf for about another half hour. I have to after missing the last couple of days of surf, but the tide’s just about killed it. No turns today, just some trimming. Bri waits on the sand, fully changed into her dry clothes.

     We leave Shan in the water and head home. The fog’s just as thick as it was when we had arrived.