Page 43 of Britta & the Beach Boy
We find other things to do besides surfing. We drive down to San Diego where Mom spent time with her American grandparents. She doesn’t have family there anymore, but she shows us the places she used to love. Then we go to the zoo, which is ripper.
My whole life has been about surfing. Every family vacation we took was to waves that were on the Junior Tour, then the Challenger Series. After my first year in the Challenger Series, Dad was the only one who came with me. Mom wasn’t there to be a buffer, and I can see now that I started drinking in part to relieve the pressure he put on me.
Now at competitions, it’s me and Archie, sometimes my nutritionist and trainer, and only an occasional beer. I like it that way.
While we’re wandering around the San Diego Zoo—in front of the elephant enclosure, to be exact—Archie takes a call. Not two minutes later, he pulls me aside from my family.
“That was Marta on the phone.” Archie laces his fingers together and puts them on top of his head. This is what he does when he’s worried. “I passed along all your travel info to the lawyer, but unless he can find some loopholes, it’s not looking good. Between traveling and your back injury in 2022, you spentmost of your time outside the US. And you’ve paid taxes in Aus, not the US.”
I haven’t forgotten about being part of the USA Olympic Surfing team, but things have been so good with my family, I’ve tried not to think about it. Partly because I didn’t want any bad news to get me down, but also because I worry Dad will full on lose it if I mention surfing for the US instead of Aus.
But mostly because I don’t want Jordy to feel any pressure to live up to my reputation. He’s already talking about when he wins the WSL Finals. I admire the confidence, but experience has taught me those expectations—whether from yourself or others—can be crushing.
“We knew it was a long shot, right?” I shrug, not wanting Archie to see how disappointed I am or my family to wonder what’s got me down.
“There are still options,” Archie’s serious tone doesn’t match his shrug, like he’snotseriously considering me marrying an American as one of those options.
We both know he is. But he’s the only one of the two of us. I haven’t forgotten the idea, but only because it’s crazy.
I shake my head and walk back to my family. The elephant, on the other side of the enclosure from them, lifts her trunk and makes a trumpeting sound. Jordy, a few feet away, makes a loudpawoooosound in return that makes us all laugh.
I just want to enjoy this and not worry about how I’m going to get to the Olympics. Now that Archie and Marta have put it in my head, I’m not ready to give up so easily. I’ll find another way to get there, but it can wait until my family goes home.
The week goes by too quickly, a thing I never thought would happen before, when Dad and I were working together. I actually enjoy my time with him. But, by the end of the week, I’m ready to get back to LA, not only because I feel off-kilter when I’m not training, but also because I want to see Britta.
I’m already picturing her in the green dress, but in the texts we’ve exchanged, I’ve held back, reminding her of that promise. She’s spending her time atAnnie’s, so our texts and calls are sparse, but my thoughts about her aren’t. And I let them linger as long as they want, because I’d rather think of her than obsess about how I’m going to get to the Olympics. That’s all up to the lawyers at this point.
But on the day Archie and I drive to LA to drop my family at the airport and go back to our apartment, the 2028 Olympics take up more real estate in my brain. I’ve tried to stay focused on my family while they’re here, instead of that pipedream, but I can’t anymore. There are too many signs that I should make that dream a reality.
Literally, signs. Even though the games are four years away, billboards along the 405 freeway already advertise where the venues will be for track and field, gymnastics, and swimming. There aren’t any for surfing, but the officials will announce which wave it will be soon. Lowers, Huntington, or Malibu. All waves I’ve won on over the years.
We pass another Olympics billboard about diving, and my pulse slows, the surrounding noise grows quiet while everything in the periphery of my vision goes soft. Only one thing comes into sharp focus. An image of me surfing a perfect wave at Lowers, scoring another ten. Only this time the prize is a gold medal.
When I hug my parents and brother goodbye at the airport, Mom holds me longer than I expect, then presses her hands to my cheeks. “You’ve got something big in your sights. I don’t know what it is, but I see it in your eyes. Whatever it is, Liam, you make it happen.”
I break into a smile. Mum may live on the other side of the world from me, but she still knows me better than anyone.
“We’ve got to go, Kim,” Dad says before giving me a side hug. “Keep on the tour, Dex. No messing about.”
“Will do, Dad.”
He means well, so I take his encouragement the way he intended, even if my chest tightens.
Archie and I climb back in the Sprinter van, wave goodbye, then grab the freeway back to South Bay. It’s a fifteen-minute drive, but as soon as we exit the on-ramp, we come to a complete stop. Red brake lights stretch in front of us as far as we can see.
“I want this, Arch,” I say, staring ahead. I don’t have to tell him whatthisis.
“Yeah, mate. I know. We’ll make it happen.” Archie cracks open the window and leans his elbow out of it.
We move forward a foot or two, then stop again. Archie taps his fingers on the steering wheel while I bounce my legs. We’re a couple of racehorses, pawing at the dirt, ready to go. Ready towin.All we need is someone to open the chute.
When the untapped energy in the van reaches a tipping point where we may both jump out of the van and run home, Archie breaks the tension. “Sure you don’t want to give the marriage idea a whirl? The media’s already shipped you and Britta. You get along. She’s pretty. Doesn’t seem like one of those needy girls.”
I laugh. He’s joking, but only half.
“Yeah, she’s perfect. I’ll plan to go back to Idaho with her when she leaves. Waves are pretty good in that lake she lives on. Shouldn’t be a problem training there.” I try to joke back, but I come off more sarcastic than anything.
“No need to get defensive, mate.” Archie turns up the stereo, ending our conversation.
