Vacation Day 2! - [Wilson and Chase on the Banks]
A blue green wave grew, arched like a passionate lover and then came crashing down towards him.
With split second timing, Wilson took a deep breath folded his hands together in front of him in a spade like motion and dove straight for the roiling whitecap careening his way. As his sleek body drove for the ocean floor, the power and fury of the wave careened across his bare back, washed along his legs and tickled his toes as it raced past this tiny speck of humanity on it’s way towards the shore.
The morning high tide was coming in and Wilson had planted himself right in the middle of the ocean’s growing fury. The waves were growing to their highest -for the Atlantic- and the tide was strong, making him battle a little to keep from getting pulled down the beach as he frolicked in and amongst the white caps. He’d been in the water for a good twenty minutes already and showed no sign of leaving anytime soon and the ocean didn’t seem ready to let him go either.
Wave after wave after wave were rolling in towards the shore, their relentless crashing along a sandbar set fifteen feet away from shore kept the oncologist on his toes. He didn’t dare turn his back on the ocean for the amount of time it would take him to try to get out of the water, so instead he played in the abdomen deep water.
As a child one of the few gifts Margaret had given her eldest son was an ability to read the ocean. It was one of his few good memories of his mother, an afternoon spent in the Atlantic, Margaret holding his hand and teaching him when it was safe to try to jump over a wave and when he needed to dive under the cresting white cap and how to safely escape the power of the wave.
It had been a time before the drugs but in between depressive episodes and Wilson hung on to it fiercely.
Grinning, like a fiend, the oncologist bounced up off his feet, letting the water buoy him as he jumped over the next wave and then just as quickly dove beneath the one following it. They were coming faster and faster, making him respond almost instinctively rather then giving him time to think about what he was doing.
This was why he loved swimming in the ocean. It was a living, breathing entity with moods and a spirituality which was unique to its personality. Even when he had to jump around because a crab had gotten the better of his toe, Wilson loved the salt water washing over his skin, the burn of it in his eyes and up his nose. He could feel the way the gentle, consistent action of the tide was helping to kick the last vestiges of tension out of his muscles, smoothing any remaining darkness away from his eyes and battling with the ocean was making him quite the hungry oncologist.
Poor Chase was going to have to defend his fruit bowl because, despite the calories Wilson was burning at the moment, the older man was also rediscovering his love of food and had tucked in contentedly to quite the meal the night before.
Every so often, Wilson carefully turned his head to check and see if a certain Golden Boy had made his way down to the beach yet and in the midst of one of these checks a wave snuck up on him. Wheeling around, the older man dove beneath the cresting whitecap but it was a sneaky wave, with a tide kick at its base and instead of cutting smoothly through the water, Wilson found himself kicked back up into the power of the wave and sub sequentially pummeled into the ocean floor.
A love tap really.
Surfacing a little closer to shore and a few feet down from where he’d originally been, James was laughing as he shook sand out of his black swim trucks and leaned his slight weight into the tide. Wiping sand and salt water off his face and out of his hair, he quickly started to head back out towards the sweet spot where he’d been a minute before. Once again his sleek body dove beneath an incoming wave as he simply played in the water.
Robert was going to have to drag him out with a winch at this rate.
Let the prune jokes begin!
With split second timing, Wilson took a deep breath folded his hands together in front of him in a spade like motion and dove straight for the roiling whitecap careening his way. As his sleek body drove for the ocean floor, the power and fury of the wave careened across his bare back, washed along his legs and tickled his toes as it raced past this tiny speck of humanity on it’s way towards the shore.
The morning high tide was coming in and Wilson had planted himself right in the middle of the ocean’s growing fury. The waves were growing to their highest -for the Atlantic- and the tide was strong, making him battle a little to keep from getting pulled down the beach as he frolicked in and amongst the white caps. He’d been in the water for a good twenty minutes already and showed no sign of leaving anytime soon and the ocean didn’t seem ready to let him go either.
Wave after wave after wave were rolling in towards the shore, their relentless crashing along a sandbar set fifteen feet away from shore kept the oncologist on his toes. He didn’t dare turn his back on the ocean for the amount of time it would take him to try to get out of the water, so instead he played in the abdomen deep water.
As a child one of the few gifts Margaret had given her eldest son was an ability to read the ocean. It was one of his few good memories of his mother, an afternoon spent in the Atlantic, Margaret holding his hand and teaching him when it was safe to try to jump over a wave and when he needed to dive under the cresting white cap and how to safely escape the power of the wave.
It had been a time before the drugs but in between depressive episodes and Wilson hung on to it fiercely.
Grinning, like a fiend, the oncologist bounced up off his feet, letting the water buoy him as he jumped over the next wave and then just as quickly dove beneath the one following it. They were coming faster and faster, making him respond almost instinctively rather then giving him time to think about what he was doing.
This was why he loved swimming in the ocean. It was a living, breathing entity with moods and a spirituality which was unique to its personality. Even when he had to jump around because a crab had gotten the better of his toe, Wilson loved the salt water washing over his skin, the burn of it in his eyes and up his nose. He could feel the way the gentle, consistent action of the tide was helping to kick the last vestiges of tension out of his muscles, smoothing any remaining darkness away from his eyes and battling with the ocean was making him quite the hungry oncologist.
Poor Chase was going to have to defend his fruit bowl because, despite the calories Wilson was burning at the moment, the older man was also rediscovering his love of food and had tucked in contentedly to quite the meal the night before.
Every so often, Wilson carefully turned his head to check and see if a certain Golden Boy had made his way down to the beach yet and in the midst of one of these checks a wave snuck up on him. Wheeling around, the older man dove beneath the cresting whitecap but it was a sneaky wave, with a tide kick at its base and instead of cutting smoothly through the water, Wilson found himself kicked back up into the power of the wave and sub sequentially pummeled into the ocean floor.
A love tap really.
Surfacing a little closer to shore and a few feet down from where he’d originally been, James was laughing as he shook sand out of his black swim trucks and leaned his slight weight into the tide. Wiping sand and salt water off his face and out of his hair, he quickly started to head back out towards the sweet spot where he’d been a minute before. Once again his sleek body dove beneath an incoming wave as he simply played in the water.
Robert was going to have to drag him out with a winch at this rate.
Let the prune jokes begin!