She didn’t know what to say.
“Does it mean she can’t surf for one entire year?” Carlos asked from his chair beside her bed.
“It means,” Dr. González worded carefully, “she likely won’t surfprofessionallyfor a year. Not earlier. She could train leisurely, but never compete. The joint is compromised. Re-injury could be dangerous, especially as you get older.”
You’re not twenty anymore, Alejandra.That’s what she wasreallysaying.
Not just a lost season, then. Maybe two.
Tears stung the backs of her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to be seen ugly crying from a group of doctors.
“Gracias doctora.” She smiled, trying to convey that false sense of gratefulness she didn’t feel. But it wasn’t the doctor’s fault. It was her own fault.
“I need a moment with my family,” Alejandra murmured, her voice barely audible.
The surgical team gave her respectful nods and left.
“Everything will be fine. You can find another athlete in the time being. One year off is a lot,” she addressed her brother who scowled.
“What? No. I’ll stay with you, Ale. Why would I want to leave?”
Alejandra shrugged. Her vision blurred, her chin trembled as she murmured, “What am I without surfing?”
But the real question that gnawed at her brain was how her family was going to survive that. Her mother hadn’t been working as a teacher since she was a kid, sacrificing everything for her. Her father still sang and played flamenco sometimes, when they were in town, but that didn’t pay for everything. They were years away from their retirement, which meant they needed her. And Carlos, he had dropped everything for her and now, he was left with nothing.
“Alejandra, you’re more than just surfing,” her mother whispered, brushing hair gently away from her face.
“I’ve dedicated my entire life to this. I can’t end it like this, almost dying at Pipeline.”
The shame that washed over her was immense, crushing. How had it come to this? How did her body and the ocean betray her after she had dedicated her life to it?
“YousurvivedPipeline,” her father said firmly, her eyebrows furrowed. “And I’m grateful every day that you dislocated your shoulder and freed yourself. I’d rather have you broken than bury you.”
His words shattered her. Her tears spilled freely now, silent and endless. She wasn’t one to cry, but the pain was too big. She felt so disappointed with herself. What she had in mind was going to be a perfect season, it had turned into the most horrible one yet.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just... a lot. It feels like everything is slipping away.”
“Why don’t we give you some time to rest?” Carlos suggested gently. He knew her too well, to the point that when other people needed community in a bad situation, she needed alone time. “Let it settle. Sleep on it. Tomorrow we can talk more openly.”
Alejandra nodded, exhausted, eyes red and unfocused.
“Will you be okay by yourself?” her mother asked, worry etched into every word.
“I’ll be fine. There are nurses and doctors around. I’ll just... sleep, I think.”
Her parents kissed her goodbye. Carlos lingered longer, steadying her good arm with a squeeze.
“I’m not leaving, Ale. No matter what you say. Before being your trainer, I’m your brother, and I’ll be there when you need me.”
Her chin trembled a bit more. “You need to get yourself a life, Carlos. You are older too, close to forty.”
Carlos scowled. “Me cago en la ma’, Ale. I’m living the life I want. I feel happy training you, traveling the world, discovering new places. I was never meant to be the competitive one, and I’m glad I stepped down.”
“Or the skills,” Alejandra tried to joke through the tears.
Her brother smirked, ruffling her hair. “I love you, Ale. You will always be my baby sis, and I’m not leaving you before I understand where all of this is going.”
“You’ll need to build a family someday.”
