Tale of Two Surfers

Chapter 8

They say that time flies when you are having fun because before I realized it it was August. Rob and I planned another day of surfing floating side by side waiting for the next big wave to approach. We both could see Patrick paddling over.

"You still teaching your boyfriend how to surf?" he asked laughing.

Rob's face turned into one of quiet anger tightening his fist looking like he was ready for a fight.

"Whoa! Did I strike a nerve?" Patrick said. "Anyway I just came over to tell you that the big Wave Rider competition is coming up again. You entering?"

"I might," Rob said. "Just to see your face when I win would be priceless."

"Yeah, I won't hold my breath."

Patrick paddled away leaving the other direction away from us. He turned his face to me to see how I was doing.

"You think he really knows?" I asked.

"No, he's just bull shitting again like he always does though he was right about one thing."

"Which was?"

"We are each other's boyfriends," he said, smiling warmly.

The Wave Rider surfing competition held yearly was seen as the highlight of the whole summer where all of the best surfers in Huntington Beach came out. Top Prize? One thousand dollars and a golden trophy. From what I learned it was all a series of heats where two surfers went head to head performing their tricks in the water where every trick had a point value and whoever could stay on top garnering the most points was declared the winner.

The following week leading up to the contest Rob practiced tirelessly in the water perfecting his techniques. I knew I could never match the other surfers but Rob had the real talent to go up against and beat everyone else.

Then the day had finally arrived. In the morning Rob stood amongst a field of eleven other surfers all vying. It looked like half of the town all came out to see the show. Rob's parents looked on awaiting his first heats in the water. He and I both stood off to the side seeing other pairs of surfers enter the water before him. From around his neck, he lifted a small medallion off.

"Mark, I want to give you something," he said.

"What is it?"

"This," Rob said, sliding the medallion over my head and onto my neck. "is my St. Christopher Medal. He is the patron saint of surfing."

I held it up examining it surprised by the generous gift. We glanced around seeing the bevy of people standing around cringing our faces; however, the look his in eyes back to me gave me all I needed on how he felt. He gave me a smile.

"You can keep it safe and give it to me when I get back."

I watched one by one as the other surfers were eliminated based on their lower point values. In the last round, all that was left was Rob and by fate Patrick. Patrick went first doing fairly well. Then Rob swam out for his turn right away commanding the waves. He caught a big wave barreling through it with grace turning his board to the left and right. Rob only needed a few more points to pass Patrick and he would win.

Without warning another big wave came just as he was about to ready his stance lifting his board up quickly overtaking him seeing the water rush over him. I stared in shock and astonishment immediately finding that something was wrong right away due to the growing concern everyone else exhibited. He was not surfacing. His surfboard was floating away.

The lifeguards acted fast hurtling into the water swimming as fast as they could bringing him up carefully laying him on top of a board. I ran trying to make my way through the crowd but I was blocked by the sea of onlookers. The roar and the lights of an ambulance sped down the beach barely being able to see him lifted into the back of the truck. I felt I was beside myself seeing it driving away fast.