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“Why not? Surfline magazine is coming to do that interview in five weeks. Don’t you think you should talk to Andy before then? You know they’re going to ask you about it in the interview.”
I stare at the teak bathroom vanity, which is missing the granite countertop we ordered. It seems like everything in my life is either unfinished or in upheaval. Is it so wrong if I want this one thing, this major part of my life—my career—to stay the same?
“Maybe I don’t want to retire yet,” I reply, my gaze still focused on the vanity.
“Oh, my God,” she replies, and I finally look up to see her eyes wide with horror. “I can’t believe this. You’re actually considering leaving me alone with four kids. I can’t fucking believe this.” She stands up to leave and I grab her arm, but she shakes my hand off roughly. “I trusted you to do the right thing and now you’re backing out on me?”
“I’m not changing my mind, I’m just… I’m thinking about alternatives to retirement.”
She shakes her head as she moves around me and goes back to bed. As I come out of the bathroom, I get hit in the face with a pillow.
“You can think about your alternatives on the sofa.”
I sigh as I snatch up the pillow, gritting my teeth as I head out to the living room. What happens when your wife becomes pregnant with twins while your career is just starting to take off?
Lost the event in Portugal. Lost my top CT ranking in the process. Pissed off the editor of one of the most influential surfing communities. Pissed off the commissioner of the World Surf League. Came home and pissed off my wife, ended up with blue balls and a night on the sofa.
Well, it’s official. My shitty life has become a punch line to a very shitty joke.
Thirteen
I had the foresight to set my alarm for a few minutes before Lindsay and the girls wake up, so I can take the blanket and pillow I slept with back to the bedroom. Kaia and Mila don’t need to know that Lindsay and I are having problems. I don’t think Kaia has quite gotten over the fact that Jason Greene didn’t turn out to be the wonderful guy she thought he was. She doesn’t need to find out her parents also aren’t invincible.
When I enter the bedroom, Lindsay is still asleep, on my side of the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. I set my pillow and blanket down on the cushioned trunk at the foot of the bed and make an effort not to wake her as I leave. I enter Kaia’s room and sit on the edge of her bed. The movement of the mattress wakes her. She smiles when she sees me, revealing that she lost another tooth while I was gone.
“Hey, jack-o’-lantern, when did you lose that tooth?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes at me as she sits up and touches her finger to the gap in her top teeth. “This? Two days ago, at Uncle Mark’s.”
“You went to Uncle Mark’s?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Mom and Grandma Margaret took us. We helped him sanding the canoe and he let us paint our names on it. Well, Mila can’t write her name, so Uncle Mark helped her. Then my tooth fell out when we were eating pizza.”
I smile and pull her into a hug. “I’ll bet it takes half as long to brush your teeth now, right?”
She laughs as she hugs me back. I get a pang of sadness in my belly as I imagine my girls having such a monumental experience without me. I remember the first time my mom took me to my uncle Mark’s workshop, where he makes custom sailboats, canoes, and surfboards by hand. I was dazzled by all the tools and shiny boats and boards. Uncle Mark gave me Ripped, my first surfboard, that day.
After a very tense breakfast, I throw my wetsuit on underneath my clothes so I can go straight to the beach after I take Kaia to school. I slide my boards into the truck bed, but as I pull out of the garage, I notice a work truck parked next to our curb. I get out of the truck to head inside and get Kaia, when the driver’s side door opens and out comes a dark-haired guy who’s wearing a T-shirt in fifty-degree weather. I guess that’s not so uncommon, and it probably wouldn’t bother me in the least if I didn’t get the feeling he was only doing it to show off his arms, which are completely covered in tattoos.
He spots me staring at him and he smiles as he nods at me. “Hey, what’s up, man? I’m here to drill the new hole in your bathroom.”
“You’re what?” I reply, perhaps a bit too forcefully.
He loses his smile as he walks around the back of the white work truck toward me. “The hole for the drain in your bathroom, your… uh… your dad told me to come and drill a hole to tie into the new plumbing… for your bathroom sink.”
Something about this guy irks the fuck out of me. Maybe it’s the fact that even as a man, I can acknowledge that this guy is extremely good looking. Or maybe it’s the fact that his way of introducing himself is by offering to drill me a new hole. No, I know what it is. It’s the fact that he reminds me of someone: Chris Knight.
It’s been more than two years since Lindsay and I had a perfectly pleasant dinner with Chris and Claire Knight. It’s been nine years since Claire left me for Chris. I harbor no ill feelings toward either of them. But for some reason, this guy, who could probably play Chris Knight the rock star—if they ever made a movie about him—is pissing me the fuck off just because of the way he looks. Fuck. I think it’s time to give up this abstinence shit and toke it up with Yuri pronto.
Lindsay comes outside with Kaia, kissing her cheek as she sends her off. “Oh, are you Finn?” she says to the guy, not even looking at me. Not that I expect her to look at me when she’s carefully avoided acknowledging me all morning. And it only pisses me off more that she already knows his name.
The guy looks at me before he addresses Lindsay. “Yeah, I’m here to drill—to fix the problem in the bathroom. Is that cool?” He looks back and forth between Lindsay and me, awaiting our answer.
I nod at him as I put my arm on Kaia’s shoulder and lead her around to the passenger side to help her into the truck. “Watch out, baby,” I say when she almost steps on the hem of her dress while climbing in. I shut the passenger door and round the back of the truck so I can watch as Finn the plumber follows Lindsay into the house. I grit my teeth as the front door closes behind them.
* * *
I tell Lena to take the day off, that I feel like spending some time alone today, then I lay it all out. I give everything I have to those waves today. And as choppy and inconsistent as they are, the waves seem to give it back. The water opens up when I need it to, and curves around me, embracing me when it’s time to shut down. By the time I drag my ass out of the surf, the time on my phone tells me I surfed right through lunch and I have about twenty minutes to get to Kaia’s school and pick her up.
I quickly strip out of my wetsuit, leaving on the wet board shorts I’m wearing underneath. Then I throw on a dry T-shirt and lay a towel down on the driver’s seat before I head off. When I pull into the line of cars in front of the school, I see Kaia getting into Lindsay’s mom’s Acura a few cars ahead of me. I turn out of the line of cars and roll down my passenger window as I pull up next to Lillian.
“Lillian,” I call out, and Kaia’s face beams when she sees me.
Lillian turns to me and rolls her eyes as her window sli
des down. “If you were going to pick her up, you could have at least answered your phone to let us know that.”
“What do you mean? I don’t have any messages or missed calls from you or Lindsay.”
She shakes her head and purses her lips as her window glides up to form a barrier between us. I draw in long, cleansing breaths as I wait for Kaia to get into the truck.
“Guess what?” she says, her voice bright and hopeful like a child with big, exciting news to share.
“What, baby?” I reply, trying to hide the frustration in my voice.
“I got first place in the Community Credit Union art contest.” She pulls a blue ribbon and a white envelope out of her backpack. “See? And I won a Visa gift card,” she says, holding up the envelope.
“Wow. That’s amazing, baby. Can I see the drawing you entered in the contest?”
She shakes her head, still smiling. “You have to go to the credit union to see it. They have it on the wall.”
I pull away from the school and head down College Road. “You know what? I think we should do that right now. What do you think?”
Her eyes widen as she nods her head furiously. “Yes, please! You’re the best, Daddy.”
I laugh as I set off toward the credit union. By the time we find a parking space in the lot, the sky has opened up and the rain is starting to pour in earnest. I pull Kaia close to me to shelter her a little from the water. We enter the credit union laughing hysterically and one of the tellers shoots us a nasty look.
I ignore her when I immediately see the wall of art on my left. Hanging underneath the sign bearing the Community Credit Union logo are approximately twenty drawings of various quality. Under each drawing is a brief description—in third-grade handwriting—of what each image depicts.
Kaia points to the drawing in the center of the top row. “That’s mine,” she says, her face looking both proud and hesitant as she prepares to be judged.
