Chapter 20
ALEJANDRA
Sugar, We’re Going Down - Fall Out Boys
It had been a long time since she had watched her brother surf from the beach without joining in.
Truthfully, she couldn’t remember the last time something like that had happened.
Maybe when she was five and he was ten? Probably.
The real reason why she started to surf and made a career out of it was Carlos.
Seeing him surf when they were kids, joining his friends in the waves, she had wanted to do it too, to the point of forcing their parents to sign her up for classes because, if not, she would go into the water by herself.
A five-year-old with a huge foamy board.
The memory brought a smile to her face as she enjoyed the warm sun of the end of March while watching Carlos catch some waves.
She had taken residency at the café in front of the beach, the perfect position to enjoy a café con leche and the new romance books she had downloaded on her Kindle.
As much as she loved physical books, with a sling, a Kindle was the more comfortable option available.
And since she had devoured so many books in the last month, maybe it was best to buy only the ones she truly loved.
She could already see the big library in her living room exploding if she added more books.
As she read, she cursed her mind half the time.
Since she mostly read romantasy and contemporary romance, the love interest always had Callum’s face, and she hated herself for it.
She had almost caved in, texting him, but again, she had stopped herself.
He didn’t need her in his life right now.
She wasn’t the bubbly person he had met.
She was a sack of self-pity and sadness with an unavailable arm.
Maybe she was being overdramatic, as her mother kept reminding her.
“You’ve never had to face something like this, hija.
And I understand you are upset, but pull yourself together, because I didn’t raise no quitter,” her mother had declared right before they left to go down to La Barrosa, Chiclana’s main beach with a great surf community, where some of Carlos’ old friends used to surf.
Those words kept repeating in her head. No, she wasn’t a quitter, but her body had apparently quit for her. Or at least, that’s how she felt.
As her brother exited the water, followed by Rubén and Ester, two of his oldest friends, he came up to her, still in his wetsuit and holding his surfboard.
“I’m going to change and grab a coffee,” he announced, and she nodded. She wasn’t going to leave, since she couldn’t even fucking drive.
To be an independent person and suddenly be turned into a dependent one—she wasn’t dealing with it in the best way possible.
After immersing herself in a few more chapters, Carlos arrived with his black hair swept back. He had decided to grow it longer, and it was almost reaching his shoulders. Ester hugged her tightly after changing, and Rubén just nodded to her.
“How did you see us in the water?” Rubén asked.
He never passed up the chance to show off, and sometimes Alejandra thought he didn’t realize who she was and what medals she had in her house.
He always tried to mansplain surfing to her—which she truly hated—and Alejandra didn’t waste time complimenting him.
No matter what she told him, if Carlos didn’t agree with her, her opinion was worthless.
“You were hesitant in a series of waves. You could have caught much more if you weren’t afraid of the walls,” Alejandra admitted, turning off her Kindle and waving at the waitress with her good arm.
“I don’t know if you noticed from here, but the waves weren’t that strong, and I decided to leave them,” Rubén replied, with his usual smugness.
“I saw Ester and Carlos take them perfectly.” Alejandra fake-smiled. “While you clearly fumbled. But hey, you asked for my opinion.”
Carlos, probably sensing an impending discussion about who was the better surfer between amateur Rubén and her, pinched the bridge of his nose before adding, “Listen, Rubén, maybe you could have made a career out of surfing if you just accepted critiques.”
“He could never,” Ester interjected. “His male ego would be crushed if he finally realized that a woman he surfed with when they were younger is now an Olympic gold medalist and he’s just a… what’s your job now?”
“I’m planning a trip to Thailand,” Rubén informed, avoiding acknowledging anything Ester had rightfully declared before.
“Is that your job now?” Alejandra asked. It was impossible for her to leave him be. She didn’t understand how Carlos could still be his friend, and truthfully, by Carlos’ face, he was asking himself the same question.
Rubén snarled at her. “I’m taking a break. Money is coming in from the houses my parents have rented around Cádiz, so I’m taking some time off.”
What a fucking lucky guy, wasn’t he? He didn’t even have to worry about stopping working because money would appear in his bank account thanks to daddy dear and his four houses all along the coast.
“Lucky you,” Alejandra muttered.
“Don’t act like you’re not shitting money yourself, Alejandra,” Rubén declared. “You just bought a house in Conil.”
“Two years ago, and with money I earned from competing all my life. Don’t compare my money with yours, please.”
Rubén scoffed. “You earned money by surfing waves. It can’t be that hard.”
Alejandra should have been surprised by that sentence, but it wasn’t the first time she had heard it. Minimizing her achievements just because they came from a place of happiness—a place where she was happy while surfing.
“Yet, less than 8% of all pro surfers can actually make a living out of it,” Alejandra reminded him.
“But again, I feel this is rooted in ignorance and misogyny because I truly believe that if Carlos were the one with an Olympic gold medal at home and two USL titles, plus many other medals in his studio, you would treat him like he was a god. While me? I’m just a girl who made it out of sheer luck. ”
Rubén scoffed. “Come on, why do you always invite your sister? She’s so annoying with this misogyny talk. I love women. Women are amazing.”
“I doubt women like you.” Alejandra smirked, honeyed and lethal.
Ester tried to hold back a laugh while Carlos, who had known her comebacks all his life, kept his expression neutral as he passed a hand through his long black hair.
“I have plenty of women.”
“Yeah, sure.” Carlos patted his shoulder.
“Listen, amigo, just stop. You lose this war every time we meet. Recognize that Alejandra is an amazing surfer who deserves to be where she is. If I’m doing my dream job, it’s because of her, so why don’t you just…
evolve a little and stop mingling with people from the far-right? ”
Ester groaned. “Please, don’t start with politics.”
But it was too late.
The discussion went on for the rest of the coffee, with Rubén clearly defending his stupid far-right opinions about immigrants staying in their own countries or trying the legal way, while Alejandra, Carlos, and Ester tried to explain that sometimes people didn’t have the privilege to stay or to try the legal way.
Just when someone called Rubén and he left, Alejandra stared deeply at her brother and asked, “When will be the time that you stop being friends with that facha?”
Carlos sighed. “Distance makes me sentimental, and I still hope he changes.”
“But he never does,” Ester admitted. “I don’t hang out with him anymore. Just when you call us. And even then, I’d rather be swallowed by water than listen to him.”
“I actually do not recommend either,” Alejandra tried to joke, even though just the image of a wall of water above her made panic swell in her chest.
Ester and her brother fell into conversation, catching up about life in general. They had been a couple for years when they were teenagers, but then they had fallen out of love, and distance certainly hadn’t helped.
As they updated each other on their lives, her mind wandered back to the ocean.
The huge expanse, now bathed in sunset light, seemed to call to her.
Neptune seemed to mock her, reminding her of his power, while Salacia…
Salacia was the reason she loved the ocean so much.
And yet, since the accident, their relationship hadn’t felt the same.
She missed the thrill of the wave but dreaded the fall that could come with it, and she hated herself for it.
Because since when had Alejandra López Romero been scared of the element she had loved forever?
Maybe the fact that she hadn’t fallen or gotten injured before had been luck.
Maybe her career would have been destroyed much earlier if she had suffered another injury.
Maybe Rubén was right. Maybe she was just a girl trying to play with the water, and finally, Mother Nature had reminded her who ruled.
“Are you okay?” Carlos frowned at her, squeezing her right hand.
“Yes… why?”
“You look pale,” Ester admitted.
“Is your shoulder hurting?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m totally fine.”
Another lie. A long list of white lies to Carlos and her parents, while one question kept bouncing back in her head…
what if her shoulder got fixed but her brain didn’t?
What if she never went back to surfing? What if she had no plan B?
What was life without the only thing she had ever been good at?
Where would money come in now that her sponsors would inevitably drop her when they knew she was broken?
As always, she plastered a huge, bright smile on her face and hid everything behind jokes and laughter, while inside she was slowly dying.