Page 34 of Britta & the Beach Boy
Silence falls over all of us with an awkward thud. No one says a word until we pull into the driveway of the Rip Tide house. There are other cars parked there, and the house is already full of people waiting to celebrate with me. I realize I may not have time to say goodbye to Britta the way I want to.
She’s out of the van the second Archie comes to a complete stop. I jump out to follow her, but the prize I thought I wanted more than anything slows me down. Britta is through the front door before I’ve made it halfway up the walkway.
By the time I walk in the door, she’s on her way up the stairs to the bedroom where she and Stella slept. Before I can follow her, voices shout, “Congratulations!” and I’m squeezed into a giant group hug.
“Mum? Dad? What are you doing here?” Shock freezes me in their arms and those of my thirteen-year-old brother, Jordy, who’s wrapped around my back. “Is Chloe here, too?”
“She has school, but we couldn’t stay away! We got in this morning,” they say together as they release me. “We watched the live coverage on TV.”
Four years ago, after I fired Dad as my coach and manager, things were dicey between us. I asked my whole family not to come to competitions anymore. I made up an excuse about them needing to focus on Jordy’s surfing career and getting my sister, Chloe—who’s twenty-four now—through uni. I don’t think anyone believed me, but it was better than saying the truth out loud; Dad knew I couldn’t stand the pressure he put on me, even if he saw nothing wrong with what I was doing. But I couldn’t ban only him from my events. If Mum, Chloe, and Jordy came without him, he’d think they were siding with me.
This is the first time they’ve come to a competition since then. It’s been hard for them not to be there. It probably near-killed them not to watch me win today in person, but they flew halfway across the world to be here anyway, whether I won or lost. They respected my boundaries, but found a way to support me.
There’s no way I can go after Britta now.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” I look into Mum’s teary eyes; genuinely happy they went to so much effort.
“Bro, that was so gnarly!” Jordy holds his hand up for a high-five.
He was a big surprise to all of us when he was born the first year I was in the juniors. Most of Chloe’s childhood was spent being dragged to my competitions across Australia, but Jordy’s been lugged around the world. At least he was until four years ago.
Chloe surfed some, but she decided early on to blaze her own trail and went to uni after a gap year. She’s just started med school.
Jordy, though, wants to follow in my footsteps. I hope Dad’s learned from his mistakes with me, and that Jordy will do better under the pressure than I did at his age.
“Good on ya, Son.” Dad slaps me on the back then sniffs back the deeper emotions trying to escape.
“Thanks, Dad.” I hand him the trophy. “Feel the weight of this beauty.”
Dad hefts the trophy, smiling reluctantly. It was hard enough for him to say he’s proud of me.
We move into the sitting room where Jordy takes a turn lifting the trophy like he’s won it, then taking a selfie with it. Archie comes in at some point and gives them all a hug—except for Dad. Dad’s mostly a handshake guy.
Soon after, Britta and Stella come down the stairs with their Rip Tide bags, and I meet them at the bottom step.
“I feel bad taking these,” Britta says, holding the bag up.
I shake my head and take the paper bag from her, plus the one Stella’s carrying. “I’ll take them to the car for you.”
Once we’re out the door, away from my family and the other guests, I lean in close to Britta. “You promised me dinner. I’m going to hold you to that, and the green dress.”
That puts the smile I know on her face as she opens the back door of her car. “As long as my family doesn’t need me to come home, we’re on.”
“Then I’m crossing all my fingers they don’t.” I set the bags in her back seat. When I turn, she’s behind me, close enough I could kiss her again. But unlike the other times, I worry that would be the wrong move here.
I wave goodbye instead, then watch her and Stella drive away.
Within minutes, more people show up. My agent, Marta, the Rip Tide execs, other Aussie surfers who were at the finals to support me and Jack. Matthew McConaughey.
The house fills with people, music, food, and drinks. Everyone wants to talk about my win, my meteoric rise over the past year, and—the kicker—what I have planned next. I try to answer the questions as best I can, but the only thing that’s certain is that all I have planned for the future is more surfing. Hopefully, more wins go along with that.
The party is an absolute cracker, especially after the pressure I’ve been under. The tension that’s been curled, snake-like in the pit of my stomach, disappears in the music and the one beer I allow myself. But my mind keeps drifting back to Britta. Over and over, I find myself wishing she were here.
I’m throwing the bull with Kelly Slater when Archie finds me. “Can we chat for a minute, mate?”
I’m surprised by how serious he is at a party. He should be four beers in by now. He leads me to a back room where my agent, Marta, sits on the white leather sofa.
I send Archie a questioning look as I take the chair next to him and across from Marta. He answers with a micro-lift of his eyebrows that I have no idea how to interpret.
