“But I can’t. It’d mean missing Christmas lunch with you all.” Every inch of my body wants to run back to my room, pack my bags, and jump into a taxi. “What would mum say?”
“Fuck mum. Go be with him. In fact, call him right now. See if he can get two more tickets.” Kelly reaches for my phone, but I stop her.
“Yeah right. Like I’m gonna bring you two with me.”
I dial Alexander, but it goes to voicemail and I hang up. I read the paper one more time and realize that he’s likely in the air right now. I settle for texting him instead, thanking him for the gift, telling him that I accept, and I’ll see him in twenty-four hours, before Kelly and Daniel encourage me to get packing.
Seeing out the rest of the year in the Philippines.
What is my life?
27.Alexander
Monday - December 30
It’s been painful to watch Christopher try to surf the last three days. His progress is slower than the rest of his group, who are all now riding the waves while he’s still stuck learning in the whitewash.
“You’ve got this!” I shout from the shore.
The wave breaks as he attempts to stand on the surfboard, and he manages to balance momentarily before falling into the sea.
Or maybe he doesn’t.
Christopher marches back toward me, the orange surfboard under his arm.
“I fucking suck.”
He chucks the board on the sand and unzips his bodysuit before collapsing on the towel. The late afternoon glare of the sun casts long shadows from the palm trees, stretching beyond the wooden pier at the far end of Cloud Nine Beach all the way to the other side.
I get up from my towel and head over to him.
“Don’t give up. You’ll pick it up soon.” I kneel behind him, rubbing his shoulders.
“That’s easy for you to say, out there doing tricks.”
His smirk is less Mona Lisa, more Taylor Swift bumping into an ex as he grabs the suntan lotion to reapply to his body.
It is. I picked it up straight away, but he needn’t know that. Though it’s much easier to start when you’re seven instead of twenty-seven. Less fear. Less worry about what lurks underneath the water.
“I didn’t start out that way. It took me ages to get that good.”
“Sometimes you need to quit when you’re behind.” He shoots me a look of pure annoyance.
To be fair, he stuck it out three days longer than Rob, who has refused to surf since. And Samuel gave up the first day when I brought him here to Siargao in the Philippines. It’s one of the few places still left in the world where I can go unnoticed.
“See you tomorrow?” Christopher’s surf instructor asks, grabbing his board.
Christopher wipes off the same irritation from his face that he had when I woke him this morning and plasters on a smile.
“Nah, I think I’m done, bro.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you’re covered for the rest of the week.”
He won’t. Much to my frustration.
Christopher grabs his book and leaves me unsure of what to do to keep myself entertained while he soaks up the sun’s rays. My body aches from surfing all day, but my mind is still restless. I’ve always needed a way to channel my ADHD: skateboarding, playing guitar, running.
Staying still is scary.
