Epilogue
I snapphotos of Griffin as he cheers on the boys and girls of the youth team he’s coaching. They’re each learning how to ride small waves before letting the white water carry them back to shore. Griffin is in his element here; I’ve never seen him look as happy as he does when he’s coaching.
He loves those kids and communicates with them masterfully. I see how attached he is becoming to the job, and I wonder if he’s going to push Gabriel to bring back the youth program permanently at the end of summer or if he’ll be returning to professional surfing.
I place my camera down, picking up my phone to reply to comments and tags on our Instagram page. Ever since sharing the #StrengthInSetbacks campaign launched, our follower count has tripled. It’s becoming harder to keep up with all the comments on top of everything else, but I wouldn’t trade this for the world.
An hour later, parents begin to pop in and pick up their children. Griffin gives every boy and girl a high five and promises to see them again tomorrow as they leave with wide grins. When the last boy leaves, he walks over to me with a lazy grin, taking a seat on my towel. I admire how his white T-shirt stretches across his muscular body, and how his shorts hang low enough for me to catch sight of his deep v as his shirt rides up his torso slightly. My eyes trail their way back up to his head, where the baseball hat that we thrifted sits. He wears it backwards today and something about a backwards baseball hat causes me to clench my thighs together to relieve the pressure building between them.
“You’re so hot,” I mumble before he brings his lips to mine, kissing me softly.
“Don’t tempt me to rip off your sundress and take you right here, sunshine,” he growls.
“Right here on this public beach?” I ask as I run my hand down his shirt, stopping right above his shorts, “I wouldn’t stop you.”
He pulls away from me, cursing under his breath, as he readjusts his shorts and pins me with a look of warning. I bite my lip in response and watch as his heated gaze drops to my mouth.
“If I fuck you right now, we’ll miss visiting hours.”
That sobers me up quickly as I release my lip and stand up, dusting off the sand from my green sun dress. “You’re right,” I say as I begin collecting my belongings and stuffing them into my beach tote, “let’s go. I don’t want to miss meeting your parents.”
He chuckles as he stands up, dragging my towel up with him. “Let’s go.”
Today I’m meeting Griffin’s parents. He’s told me not to get my hopes up about the visit since they don’t remember him anymore, but I think it’s important for us to do this, even if it’s just this one time. He stopped visiting them after they forgot who he was, the pain too much for him to handle, but he’s willing to go through that pain for me.
The drive to the care home that they’re in takes us just under an hour. The building is large, flowers peppered around the property grounds with a large water fountain shooting up into the air. I jump out of the passenger’s side as Griffin rounds the corner, taking hold of my hand.
I feel his hand tremor in mine as we walk towards the entrance, so I give his hand a comforting squeeze and snuggle into his side as we enter. Nurses walk around with their patients, having polite conversations. I look around until I find the receptionist at her desk, her strawberry blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and pull Griffin as I walk up to her.
“Mr. Jones, it’s nice seeing you here again,” she says when she spots Griffin, “we’ve missed your weekly visits,” she says when she spots Griffin.
He tenses beside me, his expression a reflection of guilt. He’s told me he’s felt guilty for not visiting them anymore, which was another reason I wanted to do this. I’m hopeful that today will go well and he’ll want to come more often. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t wish I had spent more time with my parents before they died. I don’t want Griffin to live with that same guilt when their day comes.
“Hi, I’m Griffin’s girlfriend, Eliana.” I hold my hand out to her with a smile and she returns it, shaking my hand.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jones are going to be so happy to meet you, please sign in and follow me.” She points to a clipboard lying on the desk.
I fill it out, signing us both in, before following her down a hall and up a flight of stairs. She brings us to a door at the end of the hall and knocks before opening it.
“Lilian? David? Your son, Griffin, is here to visit and he’s brought a special guest,” she says excitedly as she ushers us inside.
An elderly man with white hair sits in a wheelchair staring at a surfing competition that plays on the small screen TV in front of him. Behind him, an elderly woman sits on a bed going through a box of trinkets. She looks up at us with unfocused eyes but when her eyes land on Griffin a look of recognition passes over her face.
“Is that my baby boy?” she asks quietly, her voice hoarse.
“Mom?”
I glance up and my heart shatters at the sight of Griffin crying. He lets go of my hand and rushes over to her, wrapping her in his arms as they hug. My throat grows tight as I watch them, knowing that this moment means everything to him.
“Why are you crying?” Lilian asks, patting Griffin’s back.
He pulls away, wiping his tears and smiling at her. “I’ve just missed you, that’s all.”
She scoffs and looks around the room confused. “Well, I haven’t gone anywhere,” she says, bringing her eyes back to his, “I’ve been here the whole time.”
His bottom lip and chin quiver as he forces a smile and nods. She slides her wrinkled hand to his cheek and gently pats him as she stares at him affectionately. I slide my camera from my bag and quickly snap a picture of this moment, knowing he’ll want to remember it. The flash from my camera catches her attention as she looks over at me.
“Who’s this pretty lady?” she asks, lowering her hands to her lap.
Griffin stands up and walks toward me, smiling appreciatively as he takes my hand in his and walks me to his mom. She pats an empty spot beside her, and I take a seat, smiling at her with blurry eyes.
“Are you crying too, sweet girl?”
I laugh as a tear slips down my cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m just really happy right now.”
She pulls me in for a hug, surprisingly stronger than I expected her to be, and rubs my hair down my back. I relax into her hug, and we embrace for a few moments as Griffin walks over to his father.
“Hey dad,” he says, kneeling next to his wheelchair, but when David doesn’t reply I see Griffin visibly deflate.
“Oh, you’ll have to wait for that damn competition to finish. Every time he watches it, he insists that no one speaks to him,” Lillian says as she releases me.
“Which competition is that?” I ask curiously as I stare at the screen, noticing the Saltwater Shredders logo on the shirts of some of the surfers.
“It’s my son’s first ever competition,” David says, turning to look at me with a proud smile, “he’s going to be a surf champ when he grows up.”
I stand up and walk over to his side, squinting at the TV until I find a young Griffin. His hair is long, reaching his shoulders as he cuts through waves.
“That’s him right there,” David exclaims, pointing at Griffin on the TV.
“You sound proud of him,” I say, smiling at him.
He turns and looks up at me, his face beaming. “Of course I am, that’s my son, I’d be proud of anything he decided to do.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes ma’am. You be sure to tell him that if you ever see him.”
My lip begins to wobble again. “I will,” I whisper as I look over his shoulder at Griffin who smiles sadly at the TV.
“Enough of that old man,” Lilian says from behind us, “come sit with me.”
I laugh as I walk back to the empty seat beside her, Griffin joining us. She searches through her box of trinkets, pulling out faded and bent pictures of Griffin as a baby.
“This boy right here,” she says, pointing at the photo, “was our little miracle. I wasn’t supposed to have any kids, according to the doctors I was infertile, but then in my late forties I became pregnant.”
She glances up at Griffin and pats his cheek affectionately again. “The doctors told me not to go through with the pregnancy because of my age but I didn’t listen. I knew that baby was meant to walk this earth, and now look at him. God’s little miracle, all grown up.”
We spend the next hour talking about how Griffin was as a child and I tell her about my parents when she asks. She hugs me when I cry and holds my hand for the rest of my story. I tell her how Griffin and I met and how much of an asshole he was when I first saw him. She throws her head back, laughing in the same way Griffin does, and it warms my heart to see pieces of him in her.
“I know we just met,” she says, smiling at me, “but I can tell you’re one of the good ones and you mean a lot to my son.”
She slides a large emerald ring from her ring finger and stares down at it affectionately before taking Griffin’s hand and placing it in his palm.
“Mom why are you giving me your wedding ring?” he asks, confused, as he stares down at it.
“I want you to have it. I’m not getting any younger and I don’t know if I’ll have another opportunity to do this,” she folds his fingers over the ring and pushes his hand towards him.
“Mom…” his voice cracks.
“I don’t know if you plan on marrying this young lady one day, even though I hope you do, but I want you to use my ring when that day comes.”
He nods, putting the ring in his pocket as a tear slides down his cheek. His mom reaches over and wipes it away.
“I love you,” she says, pulling him towards her and kissing his cheek.
“I love you too, mom,” he says, his voice shaky.
They embrace for a few minutes before she slowly pulls away and looks up at him, her eyes clouded over again.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, “but why are we hugging?”
“What?” Griffin asks, his brows pulling together.
“Do I know you?” she asks.
He looks up at me and I give him a sad smile as I stand from her bed and hold my hand out to him. He takes my hand and pulls me in for a hug.
“I think it’s time to go,” I whisper, my heart breaking for him, again.
He kisses the top of my head before releasing me and taking my hand as we walk away. I wave at Lilian and David as we leave, and they wave back with polite but confused smiles as the door shuts behind us.
“Thank you for today,” he says as we leave the building, waving at the receptionist on our way out.
I wrap my arms around his middle as we walk, and he wraps his arm around my shoulder. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do,” he says, stopping beside his car, “I wouldn’t have seen how proud my dad is of me or had that moment with my mom if it weren’t for you insisting that we come here. So, thank you.”
I smile. “You’re welcome, and I love you.”
“And I love you. Now, let’s get our asses to Burger Shack, I’m starving.”