by Cassia Leo
I open my eyes and Carlos Ferreira is riding inside the barrel, racing to stay ahead of the spit coming off the wave. The barrel closes in on him, or so it appears. He emerges two seconds later wobbling as he fights to stay on his board. Even all the way out here you can hear the cheering from the crowd.
I paddle out to the line-up and wait to see if Jordan Muzo is going to take this next wave. He hesitates and, since I’m on the inside of the wave and have the right of way, I take it. I push the nose of the board down into the water and stand up as the wave curls up behind me. I flip a hard left then right to get some momentum as the tube forms. I kick faster so I can stay ahead of the curl because I need more than just a clean ride if I want to place today.
I get ahead of the wave and ride it up to the crest then flip my board into a 180. The sensation from that half-second I’m in the air is pure exhilaration and terror. Then everything fades and suddenly all I see is the terror in Myles’ eyes as he teeters on the edge of the cliff. The moment when he realized he was falling too fast.
My board comes down on the crest of the wave facing backwards and I try to right myself before the wave closes in on me. Then I bail.
The rest of the heat doesn’t go much better as I attempt to drown my thoughts of Myles and Lindsay. I try to think of Claire as motivation, how I’d love to bring back a trophy to her, but I keep getting confused by my desire to be with her. If I do well, I’ll be seeing a lot less of her when I go on tour.
I place ninth overall; enough to move on to the ASP qualifier in Australia. While everyone hangs out around the judge’s tent during the award ceremony, I set off to find Lindsay. Nathan placed thirteenth, so they probably took off before the ceremony began. I set off toward the park area and spot them behind a sponsor tent where Nathan is changing in the shade of the tent. I set off toward them, but a photographer cuts me off.
“Parker. We need you at the Hurley table for photos.”
I make it back to the hotel at 8:30, having refused four different offers to hang out and celebrate. It doesn’t even occur to me that the contest coordinator may have booked a block of rooms for us on the same floor until I get to the 10th floor and find Nathan at the ice machine with a bucket under the dispenser. This is my chance to make things right or make things worse.
“Hey.”
Nathan whips his head around, his eyes wide as the ice tumbles out of his bucket, half of it spilling onto the floor. “What the fuck?”
Nathan was always a nervous little shit. He used to smoke speed a few years ago. He thought it gave him superpowers in the water. He ended up finally making it to the ASP tour a few months after he quit, though he placed near the bottom. I try not to rub in my former ASP ranking because it’s just that, a former ranking. It’s the surfer I used to be. It’s not the surfer I am now, though I’m sure I have it in me to get back up there. I’m just not sure I have the desire to get there.
In some ways, Claire makes me a better man. In other ways, she makes me want to give up everything just to be with her. I’m not sure if these two aspects of our relationship cancel each other out. All I know is that my love for Claire is quickly gaining on my love for surfing.
“You have something you want to tell me?” I say as he places the bucket back under the dispenser to get more ice.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Save the posing for the cameras. I’m talking about Lindsay.”
He stands upright once his bucket is overflowing with ice and looks me in the eye. “She didn’t do anything wrong. She’s just waiting for the baby to be born. Then she’s going to get the test and if it’s yours she was going to call you. She ain’t trying to keep it from you.” I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. “She said you guys used condoms all the time so it can’t be yours.”
I want to clock him in his gold mouth. “Fuck yes, I used condoms with her. I always knew she would do some shit like this.”
He looks at me with what might be a trace of sympathy in his eyes. “She knows where to find you and you know where to find her. We don’t need to make a big fucking deal out of this. She’s due in two weeks and then this will all be settled.”
I can’t help but think of Claire and how she kept the pregnancy from Chris then gave the baby up. “And if it’s mine? She’ll call me?”
“Dude, what the fuck kind of question is that? Of course, she’ll call you.”
He looks at me warily as if he’s not sure if I’m going to hit him or walk away. I run my fingers through my hair and grit my teeth against all the volatile impulses I’m suppressing.
“Three weeks?” I mutter, mostly to myself. I look him in the eye and he looks about ready to cover his face to block the blows. “I guess I won’t see you in Gold Coast since you placed 13th. Good luck in Fiji.”
He looks confused by this calm response, but I don’t bother sticking around to explain. I’ve got the most beautiful girl in the world waiting for me at home. I don’t need to get into any more shit with Nathan and Lindsay. If the baby turns out to be mine, I’ll deal with it because I’m not a quitter contrary to what Lindsay and Nathan might think.
I make it to my room without further run-ins. After a long, hot shower, I lie down in bed and stare at my phone. I haven’t spoken or texted Claire in three weeks, but I need to hear her voice right now. I want to call her and tell her how much I miss her, but I don’t want to call just to find out she’s already moved on with Chris. Maybe I’ll wait until I fly back to Kauai tomorrow. If I still feel the need to hear her voice tomorrow, I’ll call her.
Who the fuck am I kidding? Of course, I’ll still want to hear her voice tomorrow.
I heave a deep sigh as Myles comes to mind. If he were here he would probably tell me to stop being such a pussy and call her already. The only time you’ll discover you’ve waited too long is when it’s already too late.
I open up a new text message to Claire and begin typing.
Me: I came in 9th today. It reminded me of your birthday. I left something for you in my apartment.
I lay the phone on my bare stomach and close my eyes as I await her response. A few minutes later, the vibration startles me awake.
Claire: You broke my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chris
MY MOM COMES HOME FROM the bakery early on Saturday with a lemon cake—Claire’s favorite. She makes room for it in the fridge then insists on bringing me breakfast in bed. She sets a tray next to me on my bed with some scrambled eggs and protein pancakes my trainer gave her the recipe for.
“Hurry up and eat so you can get ready for Claire. You don’t want her to smell you like that.”
“Seriously, Mom. Don’t start with this. I already told you Claire has a boyfriend.”
“So she says. I’ve never seen her with him. I’m practically her mother. If she’s so serious about him, she should bring him here to meet me.”
“You’d better not tell her to bring him here unless you want me to end up in jail.”
She purses her lips as she fluffs a pillow to put under my leg. “You will not do a thing if she brings him here. Claire is allowed to move on, though I really don’t see how she can just throw you and your child away like that.”
“She didn’t throw our child away.” I snatch the pillow from her hands before she can attempt to place it under my leg, and she throws me a surprised look. “If you say anything like that to her today, I swear to God I’m getting a hotel room tonight.”
“You’re not getting a hotel room.”
I shake my head at her and she rolls her eyes as she leaves the room. I can already feel I’m going to regret asking Claire to come today.
I eat my breakfast then shower and get ready. As I look in the mirror at the tattoo on my chest, I imagine taking Claire aside to show it to her. She traces the letters and I shiver at the sensation of her fingertip on my skin; something I’ve been craving so badly for the past year has turned into an obsession since I saw
her again two months ago. I press my lips to her fingertips then lay a soft trail of kisses all the way up her arm until I reach her shoulder. Her perfect shoulders. Then I taste the skin on her neck and she moans softly. That’s when I take her face in mine and kiss her the way only I can kiss her.
Fuck. I want her so fucking bad. Rachel’s right. I have to man-up and tell her.
The doorbell rings and I pull on my T-shirt. I grab my crutches and hobble out of the bathroom. When I reach the top of the staircase, my mom is leaning out the front door, hugging someone.
“Let her in,” I say from the top of the stairs.
My mom lets go and opens the front door wider, but it’s not Claire.
“Come on in, honey,” my mom says, beckoning the girl inside.
Her loose, light-brown curls are pulled back into a neat ponytail that tumbles down her back. She looks a bit timid as she steps inside and flashes me a shy smile. Something about her looks very familiar.
“This is my new assistant manager at the shop,” my mom continues. “Do you recognize her?”
I do my little hop routine down the stairs until I reach the foyer to get a better look at this girl. She looks very uncomfortable as I look her over, taking in her round brown eyes and full lips. I can’t tell if she’s wearing makeup and she’s dressed pretty plainly in jeans and a black T-shirt bearing the bakery logo.
“Melina?”
Her eyes light up when she smiles. “I can’t believe you remember my name.”
I can’t believe I remember it either. She stayed with us for less than three months when I was fourteen. She was twelve and I tried my hardest to stay away from her because I was going through all sorts of changes. Girls were just beginning to change from pests to conquests and I didn’t want to go there with her. She was incredibly awkward—braces, frizzy hair, hand-me-down clothes.
She’s still a little awkward, but only in the way she carries herself, not in her appearance.
My mom closes the door behind Melina. “Come on in, hun. I have that cake stand in the kitchen.”
I’m tempted to watch her as they walk into the kitchen, but I restrain myself, which is a good thing because right then the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it!” I shout toward the kitchen.
I open the door and Claire is standing on the doorstep looking more beautiful than ever. Her soft blonde hair hangs loose over her shoulders and she’s wearing a regular pair of skinny jeans, but it’s the shirt that makes me want to take her upstairs and rip her clothes off.
I stare at the shirt for a moment, incapable of tearing my eyes away. “You cannot do this to me.”
“Do what? Senia gave this to me a couple of days ago and I thought we’d get a good laugh out of it.”
She steps inside and I sigh as I get a closer look at the Chris Knight T-shirt she’s wearing.
“Where’s your mom?” she asks as she sets her purse and car keys down on the small table in the foyer.
I want to pull her into the coat closet and slip my hands under her shirt, but then a dark thought hits me. Maybe she only wore the shirt so my mom doesn’t go ballistic on her over Abigail.
“She’s in the kitchen with one of her employees. Come upstairs with me. I want to show you something.”
She eyes me and my crutches warily. “Maybe I should go alone. Is it in your bedroom or mine?”
“I’m not a cripple. I go up and down these stairs all day long.” I hand her my crutches. “You can carry those.”
She rolls her eyes then follows after me as I make my way up the steps, gripping the handrail so I have to put very little pressure on my right leg.
“That leg is never going to heal if you do this all day.”
“It’s healing up just fine. Cast should be off in eighteen days.”
“Claire!” My mom’s voice is a bit shrill with surprise. “Was that you who rung the doorbell?”
I look over my shoulder at Claire and she looks a bit frightened. “Yes, ma’am.”
My mom shakes her head. “Oh, stop with the ma’am stuff and you should not be ringing the doorbell. This is your house. Come here and meet Melina.”
Melina comes out of the kitchen carrying a large white cake stand. I recognize it as the one my mom used for my birthday cake in May. It was the first cake stand she got before she opened her bakery. There must be some big event going on at the shop for her to allow Melina to use it.
Claire looks at Melina for a moment before she glances back at me. It’s just a split-second look, but I swear there was a trace of jealousy in her eyes.
She leans my crutches against the handrail and descends the stairs. She gives my mom a hug before she turns to Melina and holds out her hand. “I’m Claire.”
Melina takes her hand and my mom beams as if she’s introducing long lost sisters.
“Claire, this is Melina. She was with us for a few months just two years before you showed up.”
Melina and Claire share a quick handshake before Melina casually moves toward the door. “I should get going back to the shop now. Nice to meet you, Claire.”
She glances up at me and I raise my eyebrows, but I don’t say anything. I don’t want to give Claire the idea that I know this girl even though she did stay with us a billion years ago.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Claire says as my mom opens the door for Melina.
My mom closes the door and looks up at me with utter contempt. “Jesus, Christopher. She came to me a few weeks ago because she had aged out and needed a job. She’s going through a really hard time. You could have been just a little more courteous.”
I roll my eyes because I am not going to be courteous to a strange girl who obviously makes Claire uncomfortable.
Claire squints at me for a second before she rushes out the front door. My mom looks confused then quickly follows after her.
Damn this leg! I hop down the steps and grab my crutches from where Claire left them. By the time I make it onto the front doorstep, Claire and my mom are returning up the front walk. They both look serious, then I spot a hint of a smile on Claire.
“What was that?” I ask as she enters the house ahead of me and holds the door open for me.
“I just wanted to give her my number in case she needs someone to talk to.”
My mom enters behind me and I stand inside the foyer watching them. I know my mom. She wants to be angry with Claire because of Abigail, but Claire is not going to allow that.
God, I fucking love her.
“That was very kind of you,” my mom says to Claire. “But we still have some things we need to talk about. You go ahead upstairs and let Chris show you his little surprise then we can talk.”
I make my way upstairs as quickly as I can, before my mom can interrupt again. Claire follows me into my bedroom, though I sense a bit of reluctance as she enters.
“I’m not going to try anything. I know you have a boyfriend.”
She winces at the word boyfriend then shakes her head. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Adam and I broke up.”
I want to tell her how happy this makes me, but her face screws up, as if she’s in physical pain, and I’m suddenly mad as hell. Did this motherfucker break her heart?
“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. This is what you wanted.”
“Claire, I want you, but I don’t want to see you in pain.”
She closes her eyes as she heaves a deep sigh. She’s trying to hold it together. “What’s the big surprise?”
I think of the box of photos my mom found in her room the other day while searching for Claire’s diary. I was so pissed when I found out what she had been doing, but I quickly got lost in the pictures. It was the box of photos I hid in her room after I left to L.A. because I knew my mom would leave Claire’s room as is. I didn’t trust her to do the same with my room. I looked through that box of pictures the other day and found moments I’d long since forgotten. I hoped that giving her the pictures might
spark some forgotten feelings inside her, but now I can’t bring myself to put her through that. She doesn’t need me pushing myself on her right now. What she needs right now is a friend.
“It can wait,” I say as I nod toward the bed. “Sit down so we can talk.”
“I don’t need to talk.”
“Don’t pull that on me, Claire.” I rest my crutches against the dresser and sit down on the edge of the bed as I pat the mattress. “Talk to me.”
She sits next to me, but she stares straight ahead at the mirror above the dresser. “I can’t talk to you about this.”
I don’t want to hear about her problems with Adam. I think I’d rather break my leg again than talk about this with her, but I’m nothing if not a complete fool when it comes to Claire.
“You can talk to me about anything, babe.”
She glances at me and I nod to encourage her. “He left for Hawaii four weeks ago and everything just fell apart. He said we should take a break so we don’t hate each other by the time he gets back.”
“So you two are getting back together when he gets back?”
“I don’t know.”
She looks miserable. This is not how you treat someone you supposedly love. This guy is a fucking idiot.
“Do you want to get back together with him when he gets back?”
She sighs again as she stares at the carpet. “I don’t know. I….” She looks at me then shakes her head. “I can’t talk about this with you. This is too awkward.”
“Awkward?”
She smiles. “Yes. It’s very awkward.”
“You know what’s awkward? You sitting there talking to me about your breakup while wearing that shirt. I think you should take it off and this would get a whole lot less awkward.”
She presses her lips together to suppress her smile. “Really, Chris? You’re talking to me like that at a time like this?”
I can sit here and argue with her and make little cute comments back and forth or I can do something.
I reach across and trace my finger lightly over the side of her cheek. She only flinches a little, but I can see her body tense.
