The Surfer's Heart

Chapter 12

Well, the truth was a good place to start.

"We aren't really...talking, at this point," I said, trying my best to keep my voice from cracking.

"What? Why? Didn't you guys just start seeing each other?" she asked. She reached out and put a hand on my back, rubbing gently to soothe the pain that I was horrible at hiding.

"There's a lot to the story. I'll have to explain it later, but his past and mine don't really...mesh," I frowned at the stupidity of the logic. Why would his past accident have any direct effect on our relationship? Yes, my father was his coach, but why was that a big deal? Why couldn't we have just talked about it? I didn't know any better. There had to be more to the story that I was not understanding.

"That's weird," Amy wrinkled her nose. "It shouldn't seem like the past would matter. I mean, it's the past, right?"

My thoughts exactly.

I gnawed on my lip and sunk into the palm of my hands.

"Oh, don't be like that, Brooke! You're going to be a surfing champ in two days! Don't get discouraged about some boy, yeah?" Amy smiled.

"Yeah," I smiled and rose to my feet. He wasn't just some boy though.

"Thank you for coming over, Amy," I said, giving her another hug as she rose to her feet. I was getting tired and emotional, which was not a good combination. I needed rest. Especially to keep my head in the game for the next two days.

"You're my best friend, Brooke. Of course," Amy hugged me tighter before releasing me.

"I'll see you at the competition," she hollered as she skipped to her car parked on the side of the road.

At least one person was back in my life.

I shook my head at Amy's enthusiasm and laughed. I loved that quirky, spontaneous girl. She was my best friend and I would never make the mistake of leaving her out again. Plus, I needed her outfit advice desperately. I never wanted to go through the stress of deciding what to wear for an event again.

I was up and at the beach as the sun was just peeking over the horizon. It was early morning, but my dad and I were already hard at work making sure everything was perfect for tomorrow.

My dad and I hadn't talked about what happened the night Sean drove me home. My father grumbled about it nonstop, but then it eventually just never got brought back up again.

My mother always said that my dad needed time to adjust to concepts, but now that there wasn't a concept to adjust to, did that mean we were back to where we were before? It sure didn't feel like it. Practices were still hard, but I felt a disconnect between me and my dad. It was like there was a dark umbrella hanging over us that needed to be closed up to see the sun.

"Good, good, your form is getting much better," my dad said while nodding and jotting notes on his clipboard. "Rest for a few minutes before we go at it again."

I nodded and squirted some water into my mouth before taking a seat on the sand. I wanted to bring it up to my dad; clear the air, unleash the elephant in the room, but I wasn't exactly sure how to bring it up. My throat lumped with different ideas of how to bring the conversation up.

My father sighed as he finished his last notation and took a seat next to me on the sand, setting his clipboard to the side and looking at the ocean's horizon.

"Are you ready for the competition tomorrow?" he asked. He looked relaxed, which was odd for the day before the heat.

"I think so," I said, wrinkling my nose as my anxiousness crept up. I feel like my mind has been so preoccupied with Sean and the other relationships in my life that I've hardly had time to process how soon the competition was or how much rides on me winning. I was confident in my skills, but would I be good enough to beat everyone?

"Not skill-wise," he said, lowering his eyes to the sand and fixing the glasses on his nose. "I meant...mentally."

I was surprised. My dad was not one to talk about emotions. I rattled my brain for a way to try and talk with him about the subject. This was my opportunity to be open and honest, but now that the opportunity has presented itself, I'm not quite sure how to go about taking it.

"I..." I began, treading in uncharted waters. "I'm nervous. A lot's riding on this," I said, fidgeting with my fingers as I thought about more to say.

"You're right," my dad replied, his eyes now focusing on me. "But I want you to know something, honey. No matter what happens in that competition, no matter if you completely bomb everything or end up winning, your mother and I are so proud of you."

My heart warmed and my cheeks flushed. I know my parents love me. I mean, they sort of have to by obligation, but for my dad to say he's proud of me doesn't happen often.

"Thank dad," I said, a smile erupting across my cheeks. My dad smirked and looked back to the horizon. That was the extent of his heart-to-heart and I knew that, but I had one more thing to say.

"I'm sorry," I said. His eyes glanced my direction, but his face stayed facing the ocean. "I didn't know about your history with the Parker family or else I would have never imagined getting involved with someone like Sean," my words felt odd coming out of my mouth, partially because I didn't know if they were true. I'm not sure what had happened if I would have known the history sooner. Would that have changed my opinion of Sean?

"Honey, I know how girls work. They sniff out trouble from a mile away," my dad laughed and pat his hand against my knee.

"The truth is, Sean's a good guy. We bonded; me and him. I was his coach for seven years before the accident. His mother, on the other hand, is a piece of work. That woman could make lava freeze," he shuddered as he thought back, clearly imagining Sean's mother. I was curious to know what Sean's mom looked like. Maybe he got his dimples from her. No, he couldn't have from a woman that cold.

"Anyways, you don't know the full story, Brooke. Sean went out and yes, I told him the waters were surfable, but he was bound and determined to go anyways. He had just came back from a rough run and he wanted to redeem himself. He went out and got knocked off his board. The minute I saw him struggling, I grabbed my board and paddled into the waves. He had sunk pretty deep by the time I retrieved him, but I got him to safety. I saved his life," my dad's eyes began to water, but he quickly sniffed them away, looking in the other direction and hiding his eyes.

"Mom said you saved his life, but I just assumed you called for help. I didn't realize..." I went quiet. My father loved him. From the way he talked, Sean must have been like a son to him. It's strange to think that my dad had this secret life outside of me and my mom. I wonder how many other people he coached and how long he stayed with them.

"His mother asked that I leave and never return. She didn't want me anywhere near Sean again. She paid me a lump sum to get rid of me, but that wasn't without dragging my name through the dirt. Well, our name through the dirt. The Parker's come from a socialite background of surfers. They know the elite of the elite. A lot of my clients were friends of the Parker's. Once she began spreading the rumor that I influenced her son to surf in unfit conditions, that was it. I lost all my students and that's when—"

"I became your student," I finished his sentence with a smile. I did the only thing that I could think of doing. I reached out and hugged my dad tightly around the neck. I'm not much of a hugger, but I wanted my dad to know it was okay.

"I haven't seen that kid in person for years," my dad mumbled into my shoulders. "There's been...a bit of a rift between the families, so I panicked when I saw you two together. I didn't want his mother getting to you."

"Dad, it's okay. I understand," I said, grasping him tighter. "Thank you for telling me."

When we parted from our hug, I felt a sense of relief. We talked about it. Better yet, my dad was the one to bring it up. It must have been bothering him as much as it was bothering me.

"I love you, Brookes," my dad said with a chuckle and a swift shove to my shoulder. There he was; the same, old, awkward dad I relate to. I laughed and rose to my feet. He did the same.

"Alright, we have a competition to win," my dad said while clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses again. His eyes were still a bit watery, but I pretended not to notice.

"Yes we do," I smiled and ran back into the waves with my surfboard.