Encounter At Dawn
The first thing Jay noticed was the bitter cold sand pressed against his bare feet. The sky was still dark and the full moon was white and glowing. A slight, cold breeze blew from the north, causing goose bumps on Jay’s bare chest. Winter had arrived in Southern California.
Jay surfed only at dawn. His old eyes could no longer handle the harsh glare from the sun and his old temper couldn’t handle crowds. As the sun began its ascent, Jay noticed a small rectangular sign stuck in the sand. Shark Sighting January 16. Swim At Your Own Risk.
Take off the clothes, slip on the wetsuit, put on the booties, pull the zipper, strap the leash around the ankle, rub wax on the board, insert ear plugs, stretch the arthritic joints. All set.
Jay walked toward the shoreline and looked as far north as he could. Not a single person in the water, just a few folks walking dogs along the beach. He then gazed south toward the pier and confirmed the water was empty in all directions. Just Jay.
The first steps into the water felt great, as his wetsuit provided warm protection. Jay shuffled into waist deep water, hopped on his board, and started paddling. He pushed his board down and dove under the first wave. His head instantly felt like a frozen block of ice.
Jay paddled back and forth for a bit to warm up, then sat up on his board and gazed into the horizon. There were good sized waves with bigger sets rolling in every five minutes or so. The tranquility of floating in the water and simply looking off into infinity was just fine, waves or no waves. A pelican flew by low and smooth, gently scraping its wing across the water.
The wind crafted hollow waves and Jay found himself in the middle of some nice open barrels within a few minutes. Soon, his arms started to feel rubbery. Time for a little rest.
Jay paddled beyond the waves and sat up on his board. Light was sneaking up and over the two-story houses which sat comfortably on the sand. The sun beamed bright on the jetties and made the rocks shine like wet marbles.
There was a slight chop in the water, but Jay knew exactly what he was seeing. At first it was just a small triangle calmly slicing along the top of the ocean surface. Stay still, don’t appear to be injured. Jay remained still, but certainly not calm. About 15 feet separated Jay from the first pass of the small triangle.
The triangle then made a closer pass and was fully exposed, with a large gray torpedo confidently gliding just beneath. That’s almost a 20 footer. Great Whites had been spotted up and down the coast for months. They only seem theoretical until there is one right in front of you.
The Great White slowly circled Jay like someone walking around a car at a dealership, carefully considering a purchase. Circle, Circle, Circle. Taking its time. Although he was scared, Jay had not given much thought to the possibility that he could actually be bitten. How could he be attacked by a shark when the sun was rising on a beautiful day and he had to be at work by 9:00?
The Great White drifted out, then started directly toward Jay’s board. The head, eyes, and nose were visible now and incredibly lifelike. The tailfin stood out from the water as a formidable monument. The Great White charged at Jay and beat its tailfin back and forth, erupting water.
The time for sitting still was through. Jay lied on his board and began respectfully paddling toward shore. Don’t splash. Don’t appear injured. Feet straight up in the air, heart beating like a kick drum. Paddle, Paddle, Paddle. Eyes focused on the dry sandy shore and the beach houses sitting in a neat little row.
The Great White approached Jay’s left side quickly. Jay’s breath escaped and he could not scream. There was no sharp pain, but the pressure at Jay’s left arm was intense and real. Jay saw the eyes of the Great White staring back at him honestly and intently. The teeth were halfway up Jay’s bicep, anchored on tight. The Great White maneuvered its head back and forth, reminding Jay of a parent scolding a misbehaving child. Jay tried to pull away but the Great White’s strength was truly superhuman. This is really happening.
Jay was most taken by the indifference of the Great White. It did not seem angry, curious, or even hungry. It was just there, latched to his body. There was no soundtrack, no suspense, no drama. Just fear, surprise, and a rendezvous with mortality.
The Great White’s jaws slid down the left bicep and held firm at the elbow. Jay felt a “pop,” and the pressure was gone. The Great White calmly disappeared into the blue depths.
Jay made his way to shore kicking and paddling with one arm. The blood was bright red but the water and sand were turning maroon and the blood was coming too fast. He lied on his back as the cold water gently splashed his feet and legs. A few more pelicans flew overhead as the sky turned bright periwinkle blue. Jay felt cold, calm and drowsy.
Jay was glad he had caught some amazing waves that morning. He remembered surfing with his pack of buddies in the blistering sun when he was 16. He thought of his first kiss on the beach underneath fireworks on the Fourth of July. Jay faded as he remembered all the surreal sunrises and sunsets. He thought of the Great White. He thought of the people he would miss. Jay was glad to belong to the ocean.
J. Lender is an emerging writer, a lifelong musician, and a surfer. He lives in Southern California with his wife, their three children, and “Mr. Stripes” the hamster.
