The Number 8. Joel Arcanjo
his seat facing the doorway so Dante couldn’t be sure but his height must’ve been around 5’10. His salt and pepper hair was neat and combed to the right. He was clean shaven and seemed fairly upbeat. He must have been in his late forties and he had something about him that drew Dante in.
“Thanks for the warning, Mr…” Dante said, walking back towards the driver.
“Mr nothing. Call me Ben.”
“OK, Ben. How long have you been driving these tour buses then?”
“A few years now. Mostly this route. It never gets old.”
“So I guess you aren’t from here originally?”
“No, lived in England for most of my life but…I much prefer it here.”
Dante was sure he heard his voice crack a little but didn’t push it any further.
“Where do you live now then?” Dante asked.
“Here and there. Most of the year I’m driving these tours so I don’t really get a chance to settle down.”
“Did your family move out here with you?”
“What is this, twenty questions?” He smiled, then quickly changed the subject. “I wouldn’t miss out on the beach if I were you. Some pretty amazing views down there and after your little…accident,” he smirked, “you need a swim to clean yourself up.”
Then, before Dante had a chance to respond, he used a lever by his foot to close the doors.
Rude, Dante thought.
Dante got the hint and made his way down the sandy path. He had a strange feeling about this driver. He wasn’t your average bus driver and he clearly hadn’t taken this job to make any friends. But then again, Dante had gotten a little personal pretty quickly. If someone had asked him certain questions he would be taken aback. He wasn’t in the habit of telling strangers his personal business.
Everyone has secrets, Dante, he thought.
But Dante was here to do, not to think, so he wandered off.
He felt the sun caressing his skin as he edged along the path. New Zealand had had a warm winter and Dante was lucky enough to be there for the start of spring. A magical time of year. But while the days may be warm, the nights would not. About halfway down to the beach, it got too sandy for his shoes to be effective, so he took them off and carried them under his arm. The sand was a comfortable temperature but he had to skip the first few steps so his feet could adjust. He could abide dry sand but loathed it wet. It had no business getting into the cracks and crevices it found its way into.
He rounded the last corner and was met with a view that he had been hoping for since he left England. People playing volleyball, others swimming and catching the waves. Asmir was with a group who were relaxing in what looked like holes in the sand that they had dug with spades. The sea, the sand, the sun. It was perfect. He hoped there would be more of this to come.
Asmir was lying on his back with his shades on in a hole that was way too small for him.
“Typical. Look at everyone else’s hole. Deep and long enough to fit them in comfortably. Look at yours, shallow and half your size. You may as well be sitting on the sand.”
Asmir cooly pushed his shades down his rather large nose and said, “Wanna come in?”
Dante sighed and grabbed a spade that someone no longer needed and began to dig his hole. Deeper and longer than anyone else’s. It took him a while but it was worth it. He sank into the deep pool of warm water and exhaled loudly.
“Amazing isn’t it?” Annie asked from just over his left shoulder.
Dante was so relaxed that he couldn’t even verbalize a reply. He just paired a grunt with a thumbs-up gesture.
He only had a few minutes to himself before Asmir got sick of pretending that his hole was adequate and rolled into his. A wrestling match ensued that dragged in a crowd. They exaggerated pro wrestling moves that they had seen on TV and got roars of laughter from an adoring public. Annie and Becki even picked sides. Annie had backed him, Becki had gone for Asmir.
“Dante, you’ve got this!” Annie cheered from the side.
“I think I backed the wrong guy,” Becki jeered, trying to get a reaction from Asmir. And she did. He stepped up his game.
After a few minutes they got tired and lay back in the pool that was about as big as a hot tub and let the sun hit their faces. The crowd dispersed and neither of them spoke for a while. They were still getting used to the fact that a few days before they had been in rainy England and life, at least for him, had sucked.
Then out of the blue, Asmir spoke. “I told you you would like it here. It’s exactly what you need.”
It was.
A few minutes later Mel walked up and announced that they could take surfing lessons for a small fee and that they would be starting soon. He was too relaxed to even contemplate surfing at this point. He loved to surf and was very competent but the waves weren’t brilliant and he had other plans for his money on this trip. But he didn’t try to explain that to Asmir because he knew he would offer to pay for it, so he just told him that he was too relaxed and was a little jet-lagged. A white lie.
He managed to motivate himself sufficiently to make a sand pillow so that he could watch the people who were taking part and, more importantly, watch Asmir make a fool of himself.
He watched as one instructor took the beginners and another took the advanced group. Of course Asmir went with the advanced. He had never surfed a day in his life and while his instructor was getting their equipment ready he was keeping an eye on the beginners group. It was smart really. Get the basics without the long arduous talk that comes with it. It would become evident to the instructor within the first couple of waves that he had no idea what he was doing. But the chances of him being sent back in when he was already that far out were not high, so it was a risk worth taking.
“He’s never been before, has he?” Becki asked pointing out past the breakers at Asmir.
“Of course not. I mean…look at that,” Dante chuckled as he watched Asmir paddle furiously but once again miss the wave.
Annie dropped into his pool and made herself a sand pillow to match Dante’s before adding, “His timing’s all wrong. He waits until the last second before paddling. That works in some places, but not on a break like this.”
This made Dante look over at her in admiration.
“You surf?” he asked.
“A little bit, here and there,” she grinned without looking back at him. He knew what this meant. What she was really saying was, “Yes, I surf and I’m probably a hell of a lot better than you.”
“Favorite place to surf?” Dante asked.
“Hawaii, for sure. But I know Becki loves…” She paused, waiting for her friend to end the sentence.
“Fiji, no doubt,” Becki added.
This sent each into their own daydream about their perfect wave. The feel of the water underneath them as they paddled their hearts out not knowing whether it would be for nought, the moment they knew they were dropping in, the feeling of being perfectly balanced as they shifted their weight from side to side and the invincibility. That was what dragged Dante back each time. The feeling that nothing, not even Poseidon himself, could stop him from riding this wave until it’s last ripple.
“Oi, snap out of it, we’re leaving.” Asmir was standing over him dripping water on his face.
“What happened? Where is everyone?” Dante said, wiping his eyes.
“Over there, let’s go,” Asmir said and began walking