A VACATION IS SUPPOSED TO be relaxing, right? Or is it only relaxing for a certain period of time? Did I max out my quota?
Twenty days.
Twenty fucking days of doing absolutely nothing.
I am about to go up the wall.
I should be in a state of bliss. My first vacation in almost a decade and I hate myself for feeling this way. Maybe I’m just too much of a workaholic to know what it’s like to relax.
Surfers are known for being chill, and I like to think that, for the most part, I am. But I seriously doubt that other pros have a personal life as stressful as mine. If they do, I bet their asses wouldn’t know how to unwind either.
For the first week, I tried to get up on my board every morning. But each day I felt less and less motivated. The first two days consisted of me floating on it, letting wave after wave pass me by. By day three I had to force myself to walk from the sand to the water—something I’ve never experienced in my life. At the end of the week, I gave up going to the beach entirely.
Ever since I was little, the water, as cheesy as it sounds, has called to me. My mother, sister, and I would log countless hours at the beach in the summer. Soaking up sun and digging in the sand.
Some of my earliest memories include my sister putting me on a bodyboard and holding on tight every time a wave carried me back to shore.
After that, it was game over. I wanted more bodyboarding, more time in the water, and eventually that lead me to surfing.
Surfing has never felt like a job. It’s more than that. It’s my passion. But what happens when the thing you love turns into the thing you hate? What do you do then?
For me, the answer was easy. I ran. Or rather, I flew.
One day I woke up and just had enough. Enough of the pressure. Enough of the fizzling fear that the fiery passion I once had burning inside me got snuffed out like water over a fire.
I packed a bag and two of my boards, changed my bank account records so only I had access to them, and left. Flying from one side of America to the other. I didn’t regret the choice for a second while the plane was in the air, but when the wheels dropped down and the plane was at the gate, I had a huge moment of what the fuck did I just do?
I flew into West Palm, but I knew no one in town. I had no place to stay. I didn’t even have a car to get anywhere. The rental place only had cars that were too small to fit my boards.
So while I waited for the baggage claim carousel to come to life, I tried to think of a plan. None that got very far before I remembered I did know someone. A friend I met on the surf circuit a few years ago. One of the only guys I’ve kept in touch with over the years.
I found his contact and hit call, hoping he was awake at—I pulled the phone away from my ear—two-thirty in the morning. And if he was awake at this time, please let him be sober.
“Yo!” Voices in the background muffled his words. Well. He was definitely awake. It was too loud and hard to comprehend what words were shouted, but they sounded foreign. Maybe Spanish? But it was difficult to tell if he was at a party or liked to watch his movies on the highest volume.
“It’s Bash.” I didn’t have time for small talk, but it felt wrong to just come out and ask for his help.
“Dude, I know. These funny little things we’re talking on are called smartphones and they have caller I.D.” I could feel him rolling his eyes. “What’s up, man?”
“Are you busy?” No sooner than the question was asked, a girly scream rang in my ear and I had to pull the phone away. Oh fuck, he wasn’t—he had better not be fucking a chick while on the phone.
“Shh, angel.” Oh for fuck’s sake. Dez whispered to the screaming girl before saying to me, “Nah man. Just chilling with family. What’s up?”
Hanging out with family at two-thirty in the morning—
You know what, I didn’t want to know. I got to the point of why I was calling. “I need a ride.”
After telling him where I was, Dez ended the call with nothing more than a gotcha, arriving at the airport within an hour. He didn’t ask questions. Instead, Dez brought me to his house, letting me crash in his roommate’s room, who was away on vacation with his family. Still, he didn’t ask questions. Not even when I asked for his help with finding a place to stay for a while.
Within the first few days of being in Florida, Dez’s mom, Alma, helped me find the rental that I’ve been staying in for the past fifteen days. It’s nice. Located on the water with a lot of space, more space than I need, and practically barren, aside from the bare minimum of furniture.
I’m sprawled out on the couch with the blinds shut and an arm thrown over my eyes, surrounded by darkness. I don’t know what time it is or how long I’ve been out here, but today hasn’t been one of my better days.
My mind is in the dark, swirling farther and farther down the abyss and all I want to do is sleep. All I want is to be alone. I haven’t left the house at all today or talked to anyone in the past two.
Yesterday when I woke up, I felt off but tried to push it away, tried to ignore it. But waking up this morning, I knew today was going to be another bad day.
I’ve been like this my entire life, but within the past year, it’s now taken another form. The bottle of pills sits unopened on the counter behind me, but I can’t bring myself to take them. So I tolerate the bad days.
I groan as I hear my front door open. The downside to not picking up my phone today is that I can’t text my one and only friend in this town to fuck off and not come over.
Something he likes to do more than three times a week.
Sometimes he comes by three times a day. Needy bastard.
“Dude!” Dez calls as he walks down the hallway. “Why the fuck is it so dark in here?”
I groan, not bothering to answer. Dez walks further into the house, stomping like an angry elephant brigade, until he’s in the living room.
“Leave, Dez.”
“Nah, bro.” He’s standing above me now. “Get out of this—” he gestures to my body, “—whatever the hell this is, because you and I have plans tonight.”
“I’ll pass.” That’s usually what I do when I get like this. Being around people can sometimes help, but I already planned on going to bed early, thinking of the promise I made to myself.
“Nope. No can do.” He walks around me and I know what he’s going for. The bottle of pills jingle as he walks over to me and shakes out the allotted amount. “You made me promise that if you send an SOS, I’m to come over and provide a distraction.” He thrusts the pills at me. “Here. Take these.”
“I don’t remember saying I needed help.”
“Your silence was the ask for help, dude. Now pills.”
I vaguely remember this conversation. We were pretty drunk and I was feeling truthful. Dez knows a lot about my reasons for getting out of California. He even said that if I were looking for something more permanent here, his mom would help me find a place.
“Fine.” I pop the pills into my mouth, swallowing them dry. I left one mother only to gain another.
Honestly, when I told Dez everything, I thought he would forget. He’s chiller than me, always looking for fun and likes to party. I never thought he would take his promise seriously. But it’s days like today that I’m glad he does.
This is the second time he’s come over to find me like this.
Last time, he was so much like a parent that I joked he was hiding a kid somewhere in his house and he almost shut down on me completely. Joke was not well received.
“Good. Now get your ass up and get dressed. I’m fucking starving and need to grab something to eat before we head out.”
“Where are we going?” I swing my legs to the floor, putting my elbows on my knees and rubbing my eyes roughly.
“Nope. Can’t tell you that, dude.” Dez chuckles as he walks back into my kitchen and starts digging around in my fridge.
Not bothering to waste time getting an answer out of him, I stalk up the stairs, into the bathroom, and hope that tonight isn’t going to make me regret everything tomorrow.
Turns out, Dez wasn’t planning on leaving my house. Dressed to leave in shorts, a long sleeve shirt, flip flops, and a snapback, I walk down the stairs to find Dez reclining on the couch with a plate of food on his lap.
Spread out on my coffee table are containers of wings and two large boxes of pizza. There’s a game playing on the TV.
I give Dez a look as I reach for a slice of pizza.
“What?” he asks, his mouth full of food. He shakes his head, laughing before grabbing his beer. “Oh yeah. I didn’t know this game was on. We’re staying in.”
I shake my head, not commenting on his change of plans. I sit my ass on the floor and eat the pizza.
I didn’t need to go out, I just needed to not be alone, something Dez knew without me having to say anything.
Maybe calling Dez at the airport those short weeks ago gave me something besides a ride to my vacation destination.
Maybe I’m learning what it’s like to have an actual friend. One that gives a damn.