Of Fate and Premonitions

Bodysurfing loving tourists who visit Ocean City, New Jersey every summer know that the best waves to be had lie between the stretch of beach between 7th and 10th Streets. Why that is, nobody knows for sure, though the locals say it's because of the shoreline, shaped just right to produce the biggest, most perfectly shaped waves on the island. Ocean City is hardly Malibu or, the ultimate, Oahu's fabled North Shore. Still, when conditions are right, especially when a storm rages off the coast, the swells can give even Big Wave riders a thrill.

The problem is, in peak season, there's not much room to bodysurf. Board surfers have their own stretch of beach. Not so the bodysurfers, who must stay within the narrow parameters set by the lifeguards. Wander past those green flags and you'll hear the shrill blast of a lifeguard's whistle. Bodysurfers accept the inconvenience (albeit grudgingly), including the collisions that invariably occur when too many people are packed into too little space.

Stephanie Nason and Walt Richmond ran into each other in Ocean City, literally. Each decided to take the same wave at the same time, a powerful four-footer that had everybody around them screaming in anticipation. Walt, his eyes closed as the wave propelled him toward the shore, didn't see Stefanie but he felt her, felt his chin smack into her head, then felt his body slide over hers before the wave dumped him onto the sandy bottom.

Once upright, he spun around to see who had been on the receiving end. A girl in a white bikini was holding her head. She looked annoyed. "I'm so sorry," Walt said. "Are you okay?"

"I was until a few seconds ago." She rubbed her scalp, checking for bleeding. "Didn't you see me?"

"No, I had my eyes closed. Seriously, are you okay?"

"Seriously, you might have given me a serious headache." She shook her head in disgust.

They were standing close to the shore, no longer in a position to ride the breakers that continued to roll in. Walt apologized once more, then began to head for the beach.

"Wait," she cried, then splashed through the shallow water and touched his shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry for being nasty. We both took a wallop. It might not have happened if these damn lifeguards would give us more room to maneuver." She looked at his chin. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he said, rubbing his chin and thinking that the adjective fine was an apt description of her as well. Some girls have no business wearing a bikini. Not this girl, who had every business wearing one—and anything else revealing. And now that her scowl had morphed into a look of compassion, he saw for the first time how pretty she looked. Amazing, he thought, how a change of attitude influenced one's perception of someone's outward appearance.

She threw her hands on her hips. "So, you headed in? I hope you're not going to let our little accident keep you out of the ocean."

Walt grinned. "What happened to your serious headache?"

"Right now, I'm okay. Later on, who knows?" She extended her hand. "I'm Stephanie."

He took her hand. "Walt. Should I say nice meeting you?"

She threw her head back. The sound of her laughter mingled with the squawk of seagulls. "Only if you mean it."

"I mean it."

"Good. Then instead of going in, maybe you can keep me company riding these waves. It's not every day we get surf like this in Ocean City."

She had that right; it wasn't, nor was the high seventies water temp, unusually warm even for August. Added to the powerful waves, these were near perfect conditions.

They waded out to the "sweet spot," the place where the waves start to break. A few feet in either direction, too far in or too far out, could spoil a potentially good ride. Walt was careful to avoid a repeat of what happened before, at least with his newfound friend. He couldn't help bumping into other bathers. Stephanie had her share of bumps as well, though there were no more hard head slams.

Walt was having a blast. Everything was perfect, almost too perfect—the waves, the weather—and he was enjoying it all with a beautiful stranger he knew nothing about except her first name. Like many of his friends, like so many single people, he harbored romantic fantasies of meeting someone special at the beach. He was here with Chad and Dennis, a couple of his buddies who at this moment preferred to lounge on their beach chairs, catching rays and listening to music on their IPods. Walt didn't have high expectations of meeting a girl in Ocean City, family oriented and dry since its founding in the mid-1800s. If hooking up is your top priority at the South Jersey Shore, you'd stay in Wildwood, with its bars and nightlife and, presumably, men and women on the prowl. Ocean City had a nice boardwalk, and boardwalks by their nature are sexy places. However, it's normally look but don't touch, unless you were incredibly lucky, and few are. Fantasies aside, Walt was here for the same reasons most people came here, beach and boardwalk, ocean and sun. Still, he knew he had nothing to lose in the pursuit of fantasy, especially when the possibility of success, however remote, appeared to fall into his lap; or, in this case, bang into his chin.

So, when they decided to take a break and return to their respective spots on the beach, he started asking questions, such as where she was staying and with whom. Venice by the Sea, with her parents and younger sister, she said, which led Walt to believe that her family was well fixed, for the beachfront Venice by the Sea was one of the resort's most exclusive hotels, commanding prices upwards of four-hundred dollars a night in peak season. Walt and his buddies stayed at the Sun-n-Sand, a typical motel dating from the 1960s, a block off the beach and affordable for college kids like Walt and his friends.

He learned other things about her as the water lapped up around their ankles and calves. She lived in suburban Philadelphia, was just out of high school and she'd soon be on her way to the University of Miami for freshman year. "Don't be fooled by its party school reputation," she said. "You can actually get a good education there. At least that's what my cousin, who's an engineering student there, says."

Walt knew about party schools, for he too went to one, Western Maryland's Frostburg State. "Fun in the sun versus fun in the ice," he joked, in reference to Frostburg's frigid winter weather.

"I'll take the sun," she said. "Ice and snow aren't my thing."

"What is your thing?"

"Well, bodysurfing, of course, and a few other things."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know, like Taylor Swift, watching sunsets, baseball, romance novels, just to name a few. You?"

"Bruce Springsteen, NFL football, surfing videos and watching hot chicks in bikinis bodysurf."

She pointed to herself. "You're not referring to me, are you?"she asked coyly.

"I absolutely am referring to you."

She laughed. "Thanks. You're not the first guy who's found me hot, but you might be one of the hottest guys who ever said so." Her eyes perused his body, buffed and toned. "Anyway, this hot chick is going to take a breather. It was nice meeting you, Walt."

"Will I see you again?"

She hesitated, then pointed to an umbrella a few yards up the beach. "My family is up there. You're welcome to stop by and say hello. We should be here for at least another hour or so."

'This could be awkward,' Walt thought, while heading back to his own spot on the beach. Ideally, Stephanie would be here with two girlfriends instead of her family. Even better, there would be mutual attraction between them and his friends—the perfect setup for the perfect vacation. If only...

"Go ahead, dude, make time with her," Chad said after Walt told them about his impromptu meeting.

Dennis, the habitual punster, said, "A collision course with destiny."

"We'll keep your spot warm while you're gone," Chad said, with a touch of envy in his voice.

Walt brushed back his wavy brown hair, then slid on his sunglasses and baseball cap. Contrary to the fashion, he wore the visor in front. "Okay, guys, wish me luck."

He strode across the sand, scanning the beach for Stephanie's umbrella, no easy task because hers was one of many that sprouted in the sand like colorful mushrooms. After wandering around for close to a minute, feeling dumb, he heard this: "Over here, Walt." Stephanie had her arm raised, waving him on.

Walt ambled over, said hi to her forty-something parents and Sally, her fifteen-year old kid sister, a young beauty in her own right. Sally sat in the sun on a blanket, while the parents and Stephanie lounged on their chaises under the umbrella. Walt remained standing, feeling awkward among people he didn't know.

"Steph told us how you met," her dad said with a chuckle. "She's always been the assertive type."

Stephanie grinned and slapped his knee. "Don't listen to him," she said to Walt, "I'm actually on the shy side." She then invited him to sit on the edge of her chaise.

Her mom, wearing a blue one-piece and wide brimmed hat, made light conversation. She asked him where he was staying in Ocean City, followed by talk about his home state and choice of college. "We've been to Baltimore several times," she said. "I love what your city's done with the harbor. And the food at this seafood restaurant where we had dinner was superb."

Wanting to spend more time with Stephanie alone, Walt felt relieved when she suggested a walk down the beach.

"Your folks seem nice," he said as they strolled south by the water's edge, sloshing through the shallows.

"My parents are really cool," she said. "They've instilled good values in Sally and me while letting us grow as individuals, letting us be ourselves. Some of my friends' parents try to foist certain expectations on their kids. Not mine. I feel lucky."

As they strolled on, making small talk, Walt tried to get a bead on this situation. He was with a hot chick he wanted to pursue, who lived in a different state and was going to a different college. What's more, she was down here with her parents, while he roomed with two friends. More than likely, they'd return to their respective spots on the beach, and that would be that.

A couple hundred yards from where they started, Stephanie suddenly ran onto a jetty. "Catch me if you can!" she yelled.

Caught off guard, Walt stood still, watching her shapely legs churn, impressed with the way she moved over the rocks, fast and nimble. By the time he gave chase, she was several lengths ahead, and stayed ahead all the way to the end. "I ran track in high school,' she said when he finally caught up.

"I believe it," he said, his breathing labored. "You enjoy guys chasing you, huh?"

"Metaphorically or literally?"

"Either or. Literally, I would guess yes."

"Actually, you're the first guy I've ever prompted to chase me over a jetty."

A nice segue, he thought, to ask if she had a serious boyfriend. Then again, maybe not; she might think he was getting too personal too soon. Better to play it safe for now. "So what track events did you run?"

"Mainly the one-hundred and two-hundred meter hurdles. Girls' obstacle course races also."

He nodded. "No wonder you're so fast over these rocks." He didn't play sports in high school he said, when she inquired about his high school sports resume. "I compete in AAU weightlifting contests. My arms, legs and back are much stronger than my lungs."

Walt didn't have the huge, ripped physique of a serious bodybuilder. In fact, his upper body, his chest and arms, didn't look all that different from many active eighteen year olds. His legs and trapezius muscles are what stood out—the former thick from thighs to calves; the latter sloped high, from just below his earlobes to his rounded shoulders.

She ran her hands over his "traps," as muscle guys called them. "Wow! I didn't even know these muscles existed, at least not the way you've developed them."

"Glad you like my bod."

"I do, Walt, but what really counts is what's beneath the muscle."

"Agreed. And I get the feeling that you're just as beautiful inside as you are outside."

"Think so? You hardly know me."

"Call it a bodysurfer's intuition."

She chuckled, then reached out and took his hand. "Come sit with me awhile, Walt."

They sat on the edge of the jetty, gazing out over the water. "I used to do this by myself," she said, "when mom and dad would bring me to the shore. I'd walk down the beach, then hop on some jetty and just sit and think."

"About what?"

"Lots of stuff. Life and death. God. Fate." She picked up a stone and tossed it into the water.

He raised his eyebrows. "Those are some serious subjects. Do you believe in fate?"

"Yes, in a way. I believe everything happens for a reason, a reason that goes beyond circumstances we can see. I mean, we met because you ran into me. But that's not the first time I've collided with people in the water, though it's the first time I ended up on a jetty with that person. It seems to me that fate brought us together in some inexplicable way."

"Will it keep us together is the question, I suppose."

She leaned into him and said, "That's for fate to know and us to find out." After planting a quick kiss on his mouth, she jumped up and ran back toward the sand. "Catch me if you can!"

Determined not to let her beat him again, he turned on the speed and caught her a few yards before she exited the jetty. He picked her up against his chest and ran the rest of the way onto the beach. "Let's see you hurtle your way out of this!" he cried as he spun her around.

She screamed and laughed at the same time. "Put me down, you crazy trapezoid!"

He lowered her onto the sand, keeping her in his grasp. "You're a woman of surprises, aren't you?"

She brushed the hair out of her eyes. "I've been called that. I've also been called aloof, though that's not the way I see myself. Discriminating is more like it."

"Discriminating...in the guys you choose to be with, you mean?"

"Discriminating in lots of ways. But yeah, that's one of them."

"Discriminating in the guys you choose to kiss?"

"Okay."

"Then I can return the favor?"

"I was hoping you would."

He cupped her lovely face in his hands, pressed his lips against hers and closed his eyes, lost in the moment but not lost in the irony of doing something that felt so right yet seemed surreal, almost out of body.

"You make me feel honored," he said when they decoupled and began to head back.

"And you make me feel like I've known you for much longer than an hour."

"Really?"

"It's weird, I know, but a feeling of déjà vu came over me on the jetty. Sort of like I knew you in a past life." She turned her head to gage his reaction. "Crazy, huh?"

"Not so crazy. I mean, we all get those feelings every now and then. You know, going places we've never been before but feeling we have. Or things happening to us that feel weirdly familiar."

She stopped walking and looked out toward the ocean. "But it seems to happen to me more than most people. It has something to do with misfiring signals in our temporal lobe, one side of the brain getting information twice. Or something like that based on research I've done on the web. You know, sometimes I wonder if it's something else, something that goes beyond a scientific explanation. Doctors have tried to explain near death experiences in clinical terms. But people who've gone through it are convinced they've been to heaven and back."

Walt put the paranormal up there with UFOs and ghosts, a product of the imagination and/or wishful thinking. He was too pragmatic to think otherwise, though he respected the rights of others to believe in the existence of things outside the realm of scientific proof. In fact, he enjoyed discussing such things as long as mutual respect for differing views prevailed. When they resumed walking, he said, "Well then, do you believe in God and, by extension, an afterlife?"

She laughed. "Now I'm convinced we were fated to meet because I've never discussed things like this with a guy less than an hour after I met him. Yes, to answer your question, I believe in a supreme being for the simple reason that some form of intelligence must have created the universe and life itself. It seems too perfect, too ordered to be an accident. Afterlife? I'm not sure. Mortality, of never existing again, is frightening to many people, so the idea of everlasting life in some other form is a comforting concept." Pause. "Are we on the same metaphysical page here or are you one of these existential beings who think believing in God is akin to believing in Santa Claus?"

"Call me an open minded skeptic. I believe what I can see, hear and feel. The rest, well, I'm not convinced, at least when it comes to the God of the bible, one who hears and answers prayers."

"Fair enough," she said when they returned to where they started. In the distance, she could see her family under their umbrella. "Look, I'd like to discuss this further. If you and your friends don't have plans, maybe tonight we could get together."

Walt said that Dennis had suggested they hit Maloney's Pub in Margate. "Luckily, we took two cars to get here, so Dennis and Chad can go and I can see you. Are your parents cool with you going out with a guy you hardly know?"

"Follow me," she said. She led him back to her parents, then asked them basically the same question. When her concerned looking dad asked where they planned to go, she shrugged and looked at Walt.

"Well, I'm not sure," he said, caught off guard. "I guess out to dinner for starters."

"Right," Stephanie cut in. "Then we'll walk the boards to continue our discussion about God, near death experiences, déjà vu feelings, stuff like that."

"Sounds heav-ee," Sally teased.

"So can I?" Stephanie asked, ignoring her sister's comment.

"Yes. Just call us if you're going to be any later than ten," her mom said.

*****

"So where are you taking me?" Stephanie asked after Walt picked her up at Venice by the Sea in his black 2003 Mustang convertible, a high mileage, hand-me-down from his dad.

Atlantic City. I don't gamble but there's better restaurants up there. From my web search, Angelo's looks like a decent place. Is Italian okay?"

"Italian is always okay. And I'm glad you're wearing slacks and a sports shirt with a collar. Not that I'm a fashion snob, but I think one should wear something a little more formal out to dinner than what they might wear into Walmart during the afternoon."

"I agree. Cut-off jeans and flip-flops just don't look right in a restaurant for dinner. You look great," he said, admiring her sleeveless, salmon-colored dress that rode halfway up her tan, bare thighs and a pair of blue, open toe wedge shoes.

"Thanks. When I saw Taylor Swift wear something like this, I just had to get it."

She said this as they drove north over the high bridge that spanned Great Egg Harbor. "What a beautiful sight," Stephanie gushed, glancing to her left to catch the sun sinking below the calm, blue-green waters of the bay.

"What a beautiful sight indeed." Walt didn't mean the sunset but the way Stephanie's hair blew around her face. It reminded him of an old Mustang commercial he saw on You Tube. Glancing toward the bay, he said, "We're riding off into the sunset. That normally doesn't happen on a first date."

Stephanie kept her eyes trained toward the bay. "No, but then this doesn't exactly feel like a date."

"Because we just met a few hours ago, you mean."

"That, and because we're away from home, although I feel I've known you for more than just a few hours. But I already told you that on the beach, didn't I?"

Walt nodded. "Yes, the déjà vu thing."

Once off the bridge, it took only minutes to drive through Longport, Margate, Ventnor and then on to Atlantic City's north end where Angelino's stood four blocks from the beach. The place looked classy with its beamed wood ceiling and rafters, walls of exposed brick and tables covered with fine blue linen. A thin, elderly man with a salt and pepper mustache seated them next to a wall and gave them menus.