Luck by Richard Mark Glover
Lori got swept out to sea about two hours ago. Yes. Sure did. Playa Grande. I saw her in the zone, then checked again, beyond the surfers. She waved. She waved again. Fuck. I handed my glasses to Mesa and Reef and yelled Stay on the beach. I ran. Heart pumping crazy. Hit the surf. Swam. Big MFer comes. Under or over? Over. Wrong. Swim through another, under this time, and another and another. Where is she? I’m fuckin dying. There. I spot her. Blurred. I get there. Somehow. She’s scared. I’m scared. I’m glad you’re here, she says. I’m spent. The waves are breaking. Big. Gotta get back. Hold on I say, hold on to my waist. I’m swimming hard with what I got left. Not much. We surf one, we surf another but this one sucks us down. And out. GD I think this is it. Something in my mind clicks, swim diagonal. Diagonal. Then a rock. A fucking rock in the sea. Five seconds on a lucky rock. Recharge. Mouth just above the froth. Next wave knocks us down. It’s enough. We surf another and gain. I see the beach, the final line of breakers. Crashing. Touch. Sand. Mesa at the shoreline. Reef building castles. Friday the 13th. Luck.
Richard Mark Glover has published short stories with Oyster Boy Review, Oracle, Weird Year, Sinister Tales, Canary, and won the 2004 Eugene Walters Short Story Award. His journalism has appeared in the San Antonio Express News, West Hawaii Today, Ke Ola and the Big Bend Sentinel where he won the 2010 Texas Press Association Best Feature Award, medium size weekly.