26. Griffin
TWENTY-SIX
I wake up before sunrise,buried under Eliana’s brown hair as she snores quietly beside me. Pushing her hair away from my face, I slowly sit up and gently crawl out of her bed, careful not to wake her. My wetsuit sits on her computer chair, and I grab it as I walk to the bathroom, closing her door behind me.
After I’ve finished brushing my teeth, I change into the wetsuit and stare at my reflection in the mirror. This might be the last time that I wear a wetsuit for a while and I’m not even actually surfing today.
Today I want to paddle out, surrounded by nothing but water, and just be. But as I step off the last step of the staircase, I almost piss myself at the sight of Gabriel standing in front of the back door, staring out at the ocean with his arms crossed.
“Good morning,” I say, approaching him and noticing that he’s in a wetsuit too.
Gabriel in a wetsuit is a rare sight. Although he’s a surf legend, he doesn’t surf much anymore. Not competitively, at least. He turns slightly, glancing at me over his shoulder.
“Just who I was waiting for,” the hair on the back of my neck stands, “grab your board, and let’s watch the sunrise from the water.”
I don’t question him as we head out the back door, each grabbing a board and walking to the shore in silence. We used to do this when I was younger, it was the only time I would open up about how I was feeling, and the only time he treated me differently from the others on the team. I’ve always idolized him growing up, but when he stepped in to take over caring for me when my parents no longer could, I began to look at him as an older brother.
We jump atop our boards and paddle out farther than I would normally paddle out when searching for surfable waves during practice.
He sits up on his board, his legs hanging off the sides. I do the same, watching him from the corner of my eye, but his focus is on the horizon as a vein in his jaw throbs. I open my mouth to speak, but he starts before I manage to make a sound.
“How’s your leg?”
I clear my throat, tearing my eyes away from him and looking out at the horizon too. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”
“Oh?” he says, finally looking at me, annoyance etched in his features.
He knows.
“Colton is going to have to step in for me at Qualifiers.”
Silence. He just sits there, staring. It makes me flustered enough that I start to word vomit.
“My leg isn’t healing because I came back earlier than my doctors wanted me to. If I don’t stop now, and focus on recovering, I’ll never be able to surf professionally again.”
He looks away from me and back at the horizon as the first tendrils of sunlight peak through the top of the water. He nods slowly, crossing his arms in front of him again.
“I knew you came back earlier than you were supposed to,” he confesses, returning his piercing eyes to mine, “but I figured if you felt ready then I wasn’t going to stop you. I see now that I shouldn’t have let that happen.”
I let my head hang in defeat, disappointed that I let him down. I owe everything to Gabriel. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for his help. And here I am, disappointing him.
“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” I whisper, frowning down at my board.
“Fin, don’t you dare apologize for needing to take care of yourself,” he says sternly, “how long is your recovery now?”
“From my last conversation with the physiotherapist, she thinks I should be healed in another three to four months.”
It doesn’t seem like a lot of time, but in three months the surf season will be over so I’m pretty much out until next year’s season. I see the vein in his jaw pulsing as he looks away from me again.
“I have a proposition for you,” he finally says.
“What kind of proposition?”
“I want to reopen the youth team,” he says, eyes sliding to mine, “just to test it out over the summer and see if it could be successful again. You’d be a great coach for them while you focus on recovering.”
My ears ring as my eyes stretch open. “Are you offering me a coaching job right now?”
“I am.” He nods, watching me carefully.
“So, you’re not mad at me?” I fight to keep my voice neutral as the anxiety in my chest grows by the second.
“Oh, I’m pissed,” he smirks, “it shouldn’t have taken your dumb ass this long to tell me about your leg. Especially since I knew about it from the minute you walked out of that exam room.”
My heart stalls in my chest. “She told you?”
“Of course she did, Fin. I’m the coach of the team, she gets paid to keep me updated on each of you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. “This can’t be real life right now. Isn’t there some type of confidentiality law that prevents them from sharing patient details?”
He winks. “You should know by now that I can bend any law.”
I roll my eyes. Gabriel has friends in high places and enough money in the bank to ensure generational wealth, if he ever decides to have children. He gets shit done, even if the journey to get there isn’t entirely legal. It’s one of the qualities I admire and fear the most about him.
“Do you want the job?” he asks, pulling me out of my head.
“Yeah,” I grin, “I want it.”
I putaway my weights at the local gym when a text comes through on my phone. I pull it out of my pocket and unlock the screen, seeing that it’s from a new group chat with Eliana and the rest of the team. She’s shared a YouTube link.
Eliana
Let me know what you guys think.
Kairi
Oh. My. Gosh!! I’m in tears right now *crying emoji*
Malipop
This is a masterpiece. Have you read the comments yet?
Zale
Is there a reason I’m not featured in this video, when everyone else is in it?
Colton
I’m not in it either.
Zale
Was I talking to you, Harrison?
Kairi
Shut up, Evans.
Koa
*thumbs up emoji* Looks good.
I take a seat on a nearby bench and click the link, watching as my face appears on the screen. Clips that Gabriel shared with Eliana of my surfing days on the youth team, to my acceptance into the professional team, my competitions, and my accident, all capturing my journey and my struggle. Pictures I took of myself in the hospital and clips of my rehab progress that my doctors had recorded to track progress appear at the end. I had sent her those clips after we came back from our shopping trip.
I’m impressed with how quickly she was able to put this together and I make a mental note to buy her flowers on the way home to congratulate her on her first official campaign launch with the team.
The video ends with #StrengthInSetbacks appearing across the screen. I scroll to the comments and I’m shocked that there’s already over one thousand. I feel a tightness in my chest as I read through some of them, the support from fans is overwhelming. They’re also sharing their own setback stories and telling me I’m not alone in my journey.
It’s the kind of positivity I need right now, knowing that I’m taking a step away from the professional surfing world for a while until I can fully recover.
I leave the gym shortly after, stopping for flowers on the way. I realize I don’t know her favorite flower, so I opt for sunflowers, fitting for her bright personality. I rush to get home but when I arrive, the house is empty. I hear distant laughter and squeals coming from the beach and I spot Eliana through the window floating on her board in the ocean with Kairi and Maliah.
I retrieve a vase from beneath the sink and carefully transfer her flowers into it. I decide to leave them in her room for her, preferring not to interrupt her time with the girls. They’ve become so close in her time here and I know how much their friendship means to her. I place the vase on her desk and glance out of her window, smiling to myself when I see her laughing and splashing water at them both.
She’s absolutely stunning when she smiles, and I feel so lucky to have her here. To think I tried to get rid of her not that long ago. As I turn to leave her room my eyes catch on a piece of paper lying over her laptop keyboard.
With my brows pulled together, I pick up the paper, goosebumps scattering across my whole body. It’s a one-way plane ticket out of Saltwater Springs for this upcoming Sunday.
She’s leaving? Why hasn’t she said anything to me about this yet?
I look up at her glowing computer screen and see that her browser is open on a direct message from one of the team’s social platforms. A picture of an article catches my eye because it’s Eliana’s face that’s printed on the front page. I lower myself into her chair and enlarge the picture, reading every heartbreaking word.
Why didn’t she tell me about this? About what they used to call her back home?
With shaking hands, I exit out of the picture and read the threatening message just below it. Whoever wrote this has scared her enough to follow through with leaving. I feel the panic that has been missing for the last few days return with a vengeance at the thought of her leaving me behind. I pull my phone out and call Gabriel.
“Fin? What’s wrong?” he answers.
“I need to talk to you, in person, it’s an emergency.” I barely get the words out as my breathing becomes labored.
“I’ll be there in ten.” He hangs up the phone and I sit for a few moments, eyes squeezed shut as I focus on regulating my breathing until the panic passes.
I look back at the message and click the profile, seeing that it has no pictures or information about who runs the account. I snap a picture of the message thread before I search the username on my phone and head to the meeting room to wait for Gabriel.
He shows up ten minutes later, as promised, bursting through the meeting room doors. He spots me sitting alone and closes the door behind him before slowly approaching me.
“What’s going on?” he asks, stopping across from me and leaning back on his desk.
“I just found out that somebody is threatening Eliana with some bullshit article claiming that she’s some sort of bad luck charm,” I say, pulling up the photo of the message thread on my phone and showing him. “They scared her enough that she ended up buying a one-way ticket out of town for this Sunday.”
He skims the article, his face morphing into frustration. “I thought I got rid of all of these.”
“You knew about the articles?” I ask, unable to hide the shock from my face.
He returns my phone to me and nods. “When I met her, there were pages and pages of these articles online. I had my people remove them, but I never thought about anyone still having physical copies left.”
“Do you think your people can find out who’s behind this account?” I show him the anonymous account on Instagram.
He nods. “I’m sure they can, send that to me and I’ll have them find out right now.”
Sure enough, his top-secret team of hackers identifies the person behind the account, and I feel sick to my stomach as I stare down at the report that they sent Gabriel.
Meghan Martinezis the owner of the account.