FUTURE: Qué Sera Sera.. By Sally Madison

Word Count : 498
Qué Sera Sera..
By Sally Madison

Linda timidly walked into the garage carrying the surfboard Chris had lent her. Chris, spotting her through the tangled mass of multicolored surfboards hanging from the rafters, was relieved to see her and his board return safely. Leaving the group of guys he had been talking with, he joined Linda. “How’d it go?” he asked with a brilliant smile.

“I loved it! I’ve just got to have one of my own,” she responded, indicating the surfboard.

A group of tan, sculpted, beach-clad young men, who had been discussing the waves, saw this stunning young woman carrying a board, and refocused their attention. “And who might this be, a little surfer girl?” Brian asked no one in particular, but expected Linda to respond, as he sauntered over to her.

“I’m Linda,” she responded.

“I’m Brian, the only real surfer here. These are my brothers, Carl and Dennis, who only watch the girls. So, you loved surfing out there,” Brian nodded his head toward the ocean, “looks like everyone is learning how.”

Not to be out maneuvered, Chris interjected, “You should be here at dawn. There’s a whole troop of guys here, on their way to catch the big one. They look like a caravan, walking across the sand one by one, like they’re on a safari or something.”

Brian’s eyes lit up. Carl and Dennis rolled their eyes. Dennis, shaking his head in submission, commented, “Not again.” Dennis explained to Linda, “Our Dad writes songs for our band, but Brian thinks he’s a songwriter, too. He comes up with these crazy ideas. Believe me, he’s no Woody Guthrie. We were ‘Kenny and the Cadets’, then we were ‘Carl and the Passions’, but now we are ‘The Pendletones’.”

“Pendletones?” asked Linda.

“Yeah, you know, kind of a take on the Pendleton shirts,” Dennis continued.

“Come on, guys,” Brian started for the door. “I want to get this down on paper before I forget it,” as he walked out the door to their car, a woody that had been his grandfather’s. Carl and Dennis followed, knowing that objecting was not an option. They would be in for a fast ride back to Hawthorne.

“Bye, Linda, bye Chris, we’ll catch you on the flip-side.” Carl called out as they left the garage-surf shop.

“The flip-side?” Linda questioned.

“It’s a music term for ‘see you later’,” Chris explained. “They think they have a future as a band, like a back up band for Bing, or Nat King Cole. Brian gets these wild ideas for songs, and they go play in their garage until their neighbors complain. I was over there once, and listened to them rehearse. They sounded good to me, but it’s not like anything I’d ever heard before. I’m not crazy about the band’s name, though. It should say something about who they are, and what they do, like ‘The Beach Bums, or something like that’.

“Who knows what the future brings. Like the song says,” Linda added, “Qué Sera, Sera…”

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