Three Books, Two Surfboards, and One Crush - SoGS #9

Everyone responds differently when making an impossibly hard, life-altering decision. Dramatic people resort to tears. Smart people make a list of pros and cons. The confident ones make their own decisions right away, while insecure people wait until the last possible moment to decide. And then there’s me.

I avoid Susan for the rest of the day, hoping she doesn’t notice how nervous I seem. And as soon as my shift is over, I clock out and take the scenic route home so I can stop at Ryleigh’s house.

Ryleigh answers the door with a hug and smile. Her exclamation about whatever she has planned for the bucket list is cut short when she sees my distracted expression, and her face takes on a look of concern as she leads me to her room.

“What’s wrong?” Ryleigh sits on her bed, and I sink down next to her. “Is it about Will?”

I shake my head, staring at my hands. “I got a phone call from Morning’s Glory. They…” My voice lowers to a whisper. “They offered me the job.”

Ryleigh’s jaw drops, her mouth forming a perfect O. She tries several times to form words, but can’t seem to think of what to say.

I go on. “Meredith DiSalvio called me. I guess she’s the owner. She said I have great references and one of their florists just had to move away, so they’d like to offer me the job. Even though my interview was months ago.”

Finally, Ryleigh speaks. “They can do that?”

“I guess so.” I turn to look at her, my eyebrows knotted together in dismay. “What am I supposed to do?”

Ryleigh lets out a breath, staring into space for a moment. Her eyes dart around like they do when she’s thinking hard, and suddenly she turns back to me. “I know exactly what to do.”

--

“Did you pick your three books yet?” Ryleigh holds up her own three titles, each a popular rom-com book that’s on the shorter side. “I plan to knock out at least half of the first one today.”

I nod my agreement, displaying my own book choices on the coffee table in my living room. I’d followed her advice and hadn’t made a decision about Morning’s Glory yesterday, but that didn’t keep me from worrying about it for the rest of the day. And all night. And this morning. I’m not sure why Ryleigh hasn’t given her opinion on what I should tell the florist, and whether I should take the job or not, but she seems fairly confident that her idea will work.

My books aren’t long either, because there’s no way I’d be able to read three giant novels in a week while staying on top of work – and now worrying about making a big decision. But spending another day at the beach will help me get a good amount of reading done, and maybe it’ll calm me down a little.

A grin spreads across Ryleigh’s face. “There is one thing I haven’t told you yet. We’re actually knocking out the ninth thing on the bucket list today, too.”

My eyes narrow. “And you couldn’t tell me because…”

“You’ll find out when we get there!” Ryleigh’s cryptic answer does nothing to satisfy my curiosity, so our bike ride is shorter than the usual thirty minutes. It takes my mind off my florist predicament until we lock up our bikes and lay out our towels on the warm sand. I explain to Ryleigh about the call from Morning’s Glory and how unsure I feel, and she listens intently until I’m finished.

“So originally, you wanted to work at Morning’s Glory.” Ryleigh sets her books to the side, propping herself up on her elbows. The beach isn’t as packed as it was last time we came, and I’m glad it’s calmer today.

I sigh, remembering how anxious I’d been to hear back from the flower shop. “More than anything,” I agree.

“And you only took the funeral receptionist job because you had to work somewhere.”

I nod. She already knows all of this, so I’m not sure where Ryleigh’s going.

“But now you’re starting to like it more than you thought you would?”

“Yes.” The word comes out like a begrudging sigh. “I’ve been able to help people on a level that feels so much deeper than working at the florist. I love meeting new people and feeling that special connection. Ironically, helping people through their grief makes me feel so… joyful.”

“But, you do less with flowers than you would at Morning’s Glory.”

“I guess so. But lately, Susan’s been having me arrange bouquets and set up flowers for the funerals. The other day, a woman even came in and told me how much the bouquets I made meant to her.”

“But you can still help people while working at the flower shop.”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference in helping people find flowers for their special occasions, and choosing flowers that will comfort someone in their grief.” I tilt my head. “Are you trying to convince me to quit working at Delamore Funerals?”

Ryleigh shrugs, a look of complete innocence on her face. “It sure doesn’t seem like that’s what you want, with how much you’re defending your receptionist job.”

I open my mouth to speak, but suddenly can’t think of anything to say. My brow furrows in confusion, and I just sit for a moment, thinking about what Ryleigh’s getting at. She’s actually right – the more she said about the florist, the more I felt like defending my current job.

After a moment of silence, Ryleigh leans forward, placing a hand on my arm. “I’m just trying to get you to weigh every side of this. Both jobs are great, and I really don’t know if there’s a right or wrong option. Just think about it.”

I nod, taking in her words. “You’re right. Thanks.” We share a smile, and then Ryleigh jumps up, grabbing her tote bag.

Her voice takes on that fake British accent she adopts whenever she’s trying to sound sophisticated. “Now, the moment you’ve been waiting for.” I follow Ryleigh’s grand gesture with my eyes, leading to a nearby shop. It looks like a beach shack taken right from the set of the 1960s Gidget movies Ryleigh loves, but twinkle lights out front and a touch screen register give it a modern touch. Bright painted letters spell out “Surfboards For Rent” on a sign to the right of the stand.

My gaze flicks back to Ryleigh. “No.”

She just laughs, pulling me up. “Yes! Come on, it’s going to be so fun.”

“No!” I try to pull out of her grip, which is useless because Ryleigh has a younger brother who she constantly has to beat in wrestling matches. “I don’t surf!”

“And neither do I. Until today.” With a confident nod to settle the matter, Ryleigh marches off through the sand, pulling me in tow. I put up a fight, but once we reach the surfboard shack, I know there’s no turning back. Eventually, she’ll find some way to convince me to try, so I might as well surrender now to save time.

“What about reading?” I protest as a final resort. “I thought that’s what we came to do.”

“It is. We can do that after we learn how to surf.” She pays for two surfboards and an hour of lessons with an instructor. Her uncle’s barber’s brother owns the surf shop, so she’s able to wheedle him into giving her a “friends and family” discount. Surfboard in hand, I let out a resigned sigh as we head to the shore.

It seems like I’m doing pretty well when I practice pushing up on the board to a standing position, staying balanced in the middle of the board with my left foot in the back. May, our instructor, even says I do a good job looking ahead of me and not letting my gaze slip down to my feet.

The problems start when we take our surfboards to the water. See, things look and feel a lot different when you’re propped up on a bed of sand versus floating on currents of the ocean.

We do okay when we just bellyboard on the waves, practicing building up speed while we paddle out. And I love the rush of adrenaline as we catch the waves and let them carry us up and back to the shore.

But when May announces that it’s time to try popping up on our boards in the water, suddenly I can’t seem to focus on the horizon anymore. My gaze keeps slipping to my board, and I end up flailing in the water.

That’s only the first of my issues. Ryleigh has plenty of trouble finding the center of her board and keeping her balance, but whenever I try to pop up on my board without looking down, my feet land too far to the side and I tip over. And as soon as I mastered getting up on the middle of my board, my gaze would fall again and I’d lose my balance. But every fall and bruise is matched by our laughter and pure enjoyment of learning something new. (Even if we’re failing at it.)

By early afternoon, I’m exhausted. Ryleigh and I almost managed to catch just a couple waves, but her balance and my confidence were the first things to go. We tipped every time, and ended up soaked and waterlogged. But even though we didn’t end up riding any waves, it was still a lot of fun – and the best part was filming videos of each other’s attempts at the end of our lesson.

We’ve just dried off and are settled down on our towels, books in hand, when Ryleigh gasps loudly, grabbing my arm.

Her voice comes out in a breathy whisper. “Ella… I didn’t plan this.”

My brow furrows. “What are you talking abo—”

“Look!” Her whisper is harsher now, as she nods furiously toward the far side of the beach. I follow her gesture, not sure what she’s talking about until I see –

Oh. It’s him.

I roll my eyes, trying to be nonchalant. “It’s just Will.”

Ryleigh turns to give me a slow, hard stare. One eyebrow lifts, practically touching her hairline. “That’s not what you would have said a week ago.”

“I told you. We decided that we’re just friends.”

“Right, right.”

“You said you believed me!”

“And you said you’d take good care of my goldfish Spot while I went to the Bahamas. See what happened there.”

I throw up my hands. “That was in the second grade!”

“I loved Spot.”

“That’s only because he couldn’t disagree with you.”

Before Ryleigh can answer, Will meets our gazes with a surprised smile, and we give tentative waves back. For a moment I’m expecting him to turn back to whatever he was doing, but then he’s walking this way and there’s nothing to do but stand up and say hi.

“Ella,” says Will, “my mom put the flowers you gave her in a vase on our kitchen table, and she smiles every time she sees them.”

My heart melts at this, and I smile. “Oh, I’m so glad. The funeral was last night, right?”

He nods. “I only met my great-aunt once or twice, but it was a really nice funeral.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Oh, and can you text me when the flowers start wilting so I can come by with some more? I always have extras from work.”

Will’s face lights up. “My mom would love that. I think she’s inspired to start her own flower garden. You know, it’s been a really long time since anyone brought her flowers. And she told me that just seeing someone she knew of when she went in to schedule the funeral made it ten times more bearable.”

I share a smile with Ryleigh. “Thanks so much for telling me.”

--

“That car was in pristine condition,” my dad declares as I slump against the passenger seat in his car. “It’s a great price for a first car. And a Mustang too?” He turns onto our street, and I let out a resigned sigh. We finally worked it out for him to come to Karl’s with me, and of course he loved that mustard-yellow Mustang. Although, there weren’t many other options since the grey Subaru I’d looked at before still wouldn’t run. And the sales guy informed me that the dreamy, wonderful light-blue Honda Civic LX that I fell in love with… well, someone bought it just this week.

And now, just as I’d started getting comfortable with the idea of working at a funeral home, the same feelings of disappointment and letdown I’d felt about the job situation envelop me as I think about that car.

“Weren’t there any others you liked, Dad?” I glance at him hopefully as he pulls into our driveway. Dad parks the car, then turns to look at me.

“If you really don’t want the Mustang, I don’t think you should get it. And there were other affordable cars at that lot, but they weren’t in as good condition. I think the color and style is partly why the price is so low. We can always look somewhere else if you want.”

I shrug. “I’ll think about it.” And then I force a smile, which makes his own face brighter. “Thanks for coming with me today.”

To be honest, it was nice to spend time with my dad doing something I know he loves to do. But now… now, I have two big choices to make – and I can’t just avoid the issues like I avoided Susan, or get Ryleigh or anyone to decide for me. Nope, this time I’m on my own.