Chapter Text
Beatrice looked around at the tired, smiling faces of the group of three around her, all leaning on their boards for support as much as holding them. She had worked them to the familiar state of happy exhaustion that she recognized quite well on their sun-kissed faces. "You all did well today. We had a couple of wipeouts, but you recovered, you came back from them, and that's an important skill in the water. The braver you get, the more risks you take, and knowing how to recover when you've overreached is important. In the water, and in life."
"I feel attacked," one of them jokingly protested.
"You should, Camila," Beatrice retorted. "All right," she sighed, gesturing at the wide-open beach dotted with late summer stragglers, "go forth, sun yourselves, or get on with your days. I'll see you all Friday."
The group broke apart, heading for the parking lot, or the showers. Beatrice curled her fingers around the edges of the board and looked out onto the blue-gray water. This was a good time of year for the waves here, and after a bit of sunning herself, she might hit the water again in a bit, slicing a giant wave and drawing a trail of white spume across its face as she slid into it. Not everyone wanted spiritual guidance with their surf lessons, but to her mind, there was nothing more spiritual than confronting the vastness of the ocean and meeting it with courage, humility and the sense of wonder that it deserved.
A voice broke her reverie.
"Hey, you're a teacher, right?"
Beatrice looked to the left and found a girl standing there with an extremely friendly grin, sandy colored hair sticking in thick, wet strings to her neck, and a bikini that was clearly working much harder than was probably safe for it. "I am."
"Can I get a lesson?"
"Now?"
"Well, I guess not, because I don't have a board."
Beatrice gave her a faint smile. "Yes, that usually helps." Generally, she liked a bit of alone time after her classes to decompress. She enjoyed teaching, but needed to replenish, because the lessons required giving of herself in a way that she loved but found depleting. She didn't quite feel up to giving the usual sales pitch.
"Okay. So, what else would I need?" She had this sort of eager energy, like she was practically jumping out of her skin to engage with Beatrice.
Beatrice sighed internally. "So, the board, obviously, board bag, leash. Wax. I'd also suggest a surf watch and fins." She paused, glancing at the bikini that was holding on for dear life to the girl's ample cleavage. "And a wetsuit."
The girl glanced down at herself. "Oh, I can't just surf in this?"
Beatrice swallowed a chuckle. "No, I'm afraid you'd be likely to pop out of it. And if you get slapped around in the water, you'll want a bit more protection than that."
The girl crossed her arms across her chest. "Yeah, I see your point." She was still grinning at Beatrice as if she was the most fascinating, entertaining thing she'd seen all day.
"But look," Beatrice went on, "you should be aware that I regard this as more than simply a recreational sport. It's a discipline, for me, that comes with emotional release and lessons that can be applied across your daily life."
Intrigued, the girl pressed for more. "Sounds more like a religion."
"It is, in its way," Beatrice acknowledged.
"Is the ocean God, then?" The question was delivered with a teasing tone, but there was something serious in her eyes, somehow. Beatrice could always see when someone's mind was working.
"Think of it as more on the order of Zen," Beatrice answered after a moment.
"Like meditation?"
She was missing the mark a little, but not entirely. "Yes. Religion is not a completely inaccurate comparison, but it might be better to call it a philosophy. In any case, if you're just looking to learn how to handle yourself on a board so you can get out there and meet cute surfer guys, I may not be the teacher for you and I won't be the least bit insulted if you decide that. It's not for everyone, what I do."
The girl's eyes turn sly. "You think I'm a bubblehead," she accused, and her tone was playful, but Beatrice was smart enough to recognize the genuine challenge behind it. She was also not an idiot and was pretty sure she knew a flirty bisexual when she was looking at one.
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
"My approach isn't for everyone," Beatrice insisted defensively.
"Explain it to me," the girl pursued.
Taking a deep breath first, Beatrice looked at the girl. She was so dogged about this. So why not? "What's your name?"
"Ava."
"I'm Beatrice. Now close your eyes, Ava."
"Yes ma'am," Ava said teasingly, and closed her eyes.
Beatrice flushed a little. She had already fallen into teacher role with this girl without even thinking about it. "Picture yourself, this little speck on the water. The ocean, a thousand million times bigger than you. Capable of drowning you, crushing you, breaking you. But it doesn't. It curls itself around you, and for just a moment, you're surrounded by it, and the roar of it becomes like white noise, until it's almost like silence, and you're moving through it. It supports you, shifting and changing like living glass. You're in a delicate dance with it. You see with clarity your place in the wave, your place in the ocean, the world, the universe. That's what this is. That's what I teach."
Ava opened her eyes, looking at Beatrice with a new respect that bordered on awe. "I want to learn that."
Beatrice looked at the girl's pink cheeks, wet hair, and sun-drenched skin. A sudden tug, low in her gut, made her look away and back toward the ocean. "I don't have cards on me. If you go to SurfBetty.net you can sign up for a lesson on the online calendar. My groups are small. I don't take more than three at a time."
"Betty? I thought it was Beatrice?"
"It is."
"Okay. What do I have to do to get a one on one with you?"
Beatrice wanted to grumble at the girl, Stop being attractive and flirting with me. She didn't though, because honestly, she wasn't minding it so very much. "You have to pick a slot that hasn't already been taken and there's an option for choosing one on one." She looked back at Ava, and at her smirking mouth and bubbly energy and dear God that stupid bikini top. "If you think you can handle it, I'll be happy to have you."
Goddamnit, I'm flirting back.
Beatrice knew a great deal about body language and Ava's was saying very clearly that she didn't mind being flirted with either. Beatrice generally avoided getting tangled up with students, because she felt it violated her role. She knew on some level this was perhaps taking herself and the lessons she gave a bit too seriously, but she couldn't help it. Such was her wiring.
"Oh, I can handle it," Ava insisted. "I'll look you up. Be prepared, I'm gonna be showing up one of these days real soon."
"You do that."
Ava winked and said, "Thanks, I will." She turned and walked away, calling over her shoulder, "See you around, Betty."
Beatrice stood there, momentarily at a loss for words and unsure why. That wink threw her completely off. "It's Beatrice," she called after her, but it got carried away into the wind and waves.