The Moment of Letting Go - J. A. Redmerski Page 0,29

on my head and Luke’s encouraging smiles and gestures blocked out everything else. My eyes are burning from the salt, but I don’t care; my legs and arms are a little sore from all the paddling and such, but I welcome it—I feel exhilarated!

“That was awesome!” Luke says as he takes his board up and positions it underneath his arm. “A few more private lessons and you’ll be surfing with the locals.” He winks.

I know he’s just joking around about that part, but I admit, I did pretty good just now and I’m quite proud of myself.

“Too bad I can’t stay.” The ball of excitement burning behind my ribs suddenly begins to lose its warmth and become something cold.

We leave the water and walk toward our stuff lying on the dry sand farther away. He sets his board down and bends over, taking off the leash around his ankle, and I check him out quietly from the side: tall, tanned rock-hard body, muscles thick in his arms and his calves. I look down at my ankle quickly and take off my leash, too, when he raises his eyes to me.

I shake out my beach towel and reposition it on the sand, sitting down on top of it.

“People work for money,” Luke begins, “and it seems logical that it be the most important thing about having a job, but focusing on the money is usually what makes the job suck, I think.”

Luke sits down next to me on the towel. He draws his knees up, propping his forearms on top of them, letting his hands dangle freely. I cross my legs and sit Indian-style, resting my hands within my lap.

“But it’s kind of hard not to focus on the money,” I say, glancing over, “when that’s the only reason you’re working to begin with.”

“True.” He nods. “But maybe you should like your job first and think of the money it gives you as an added benefit—makes having a job less like an obligation.”

“Easier said than done!” I scoff and then cover it up with a laugh. “I don’t see how anyone can like flipping burgers or dealing with rude customers on a daily basis or mopping up puke at a bar—so much easier said than done.”

Just when I think he’s got some real flaws after all, he says, “Oh, trust me, I know. You’re absolutely right.”

“I’m confused,” I say out loud when really I hadn’t meant to.

Luke reaches down and picks up a handful of sand and lets it fall slowly through his fingers. Once the last of it falls into a tiny mound between his feet, he smiles over at me.

“It’s hard to explain,” he says. “And we don’t have much time left together. I think I’d rather use what’s left of it to know more about you. What do you enjoy? And I’m not talking about what your favorite television shows are, but what do you really love to do?”

Although I do want to know his philosophy on work and listen to him explain himself out of that one, I don’t press the issue. Instead his question about what I love doing excites me.

“Photography,” I tell him right away. “I love finding the best angles, the most emotional shots, capturing moments with my lens that tell a thousand stories.” I pause, lost in the imagery. “I got my first camera as a birthday present when I turned ten. Been doing it ever since.”

“Then why aren’t you doing that instead of”—he waves his fingers dismissively—“whatever that is you do that almost makes you cry?”

My smile fades and I pick up a handful of sand, letting it fall into a little mound in front of my crossed legs.

“I was going to,” I say, “but there’s not much money in freelance photography—at least, it’s not guaranteed, anyway.”

“It’s guaranteed for those who kick ass at it, I bet.”

“Maybe so,” I say with the gentle shrug of my shoulders, “but when you have bills to pay, you tend to do what you have to rather than take unnecessary risks.”

Luke nods but doesn’t say anything.

He dusts the palms of his hands together and then gazes out at the ocean. For a long moment neither of us speaks—I’m thinking about how much I’d like to stay and how in just a few minutes I need to be leaving. I wish I knew what Luke was thinking, staring so intensely into the ether. With a gaze like that, there’s always something important going on behind it. Something