“Who are you, mamá ahora?”
“No, I’m just…worried.”
“I know what I’m doing with my life, Ale. So, just…relax, alright?”
Alejandra nodded, waved him goodbye and sank even more in the hospital pillows. She just wanted to sleep, rest, recover, and let the drugs numb down her spiraling thoughts. Her career seemed over. Her life felt on hold, and responsibility pressed down on her. She just wanted her old life back, but somehow, she knew nothing was going to be as before. Not even when her shoulder would be back to full capacity.
18
ALEJANDRA
Agua - Valeria Castro
It tookher an entire week to find the courage to actually call Sofia, and not just send a text pretending she was still her old self.
After a couple of days in the hospital, they had all driven down to Conil to her house. She hadn’t found any tenants for the winter, so the house was good for them to use. Her parents had been there while they were in Hawaii and had fixed a couple of things the summer tenants had left half destroyed.
Days had passed in a haze of books. Her e-reader had been working overtime, and she had almost caught up with the TBR she had been slacking on for months. Her mind, once focused on competing, now had so much free time that it felt almost heavy, oppressive. So heavy, in fact, that she found herself checking who had viewed her Instagram stories—stories where she pretended she was happily recovering.
And then she saw him. Callum Evans. At least, the account she had found belonged to him.
For a moment, her mood shifted. Her chest tightened. Was he just checking in? Was he worried? Did he even care?
She shook the thought aside. He had sent her a box with amazing books, yes, but he had been attracted to past Alejandra. The present one… she didn’t even like herself right now. A sling bound her arm, reef cuts were healing across her forearm, and her face carried the sort of sadness that seemed to have taken permanent residence. She felt heavy, broken in small, invisible ways, and certain he wouldn’t recognize—or want—this version of her.
She walked along the beach, eyes trained on the sand to check for seashells, letting the wind whip her black hair around while her headphones kept out the world. Her thumb hovered over Sofia’s name. She took a deep breath, feeling it fill her chest and not wanting to let it escape as a sound. She had to hold it together.
Sofia already had enough on her plate. She didn’t need Alejandra adding to it.
But somehow she knew. She always knew. Sofia could read her, even through a phone call. And that was why she had been avoiding her for an entire week, because she wasn’t sure she could hide the tremble in her voice. And maybe, deep down, that was exactly why she needed to call.
Sofia picked up on the first ring.
“Oh hello, how is my favorite person in the entire world doing?”
“Recovering, reading, getting bored.”
“How’s the shoulder feeling?”
Answering not mine would have been too dramatic?She never considered herself a drama queen, but maybe she didn’t have enough of it in her life to consider herself such.
She must have been lost in her thoughts, trying to find a good answer, when Sofia added, “How do you feel after what the doctor said?”
“Mmmh.” That was her only answer before she started sobbing. She wasn’t one to cry, not often. But fuck, it hurt. It hurt knowing she had to stay away from the thing she loved the most. The thing that made her feel alive. That grounded her. The thing that had defined her her entire life.
“Hey, Ale. It’s okay,” Sofia whispered.
That softness in her voice? It just made it worse. It broke her.
“No, Sofi. It’s not fucking okay,” Alejandra burst out. “How can it be okay?” Her voice rose, raw. She had kept everything inside for days. Never really showing how she felt to her parents or Carlos, even though she knew they always kept an eye on her, as if she was going to crumble in a matter of seconds. She hated it. So fucking much. “The only thing I’ve ever been good at is surfing and now this injury means I might not get to do it again. I’m thirty-three, Sofi. I don’t have that many seasons left. This wastheyear. I was going for the third title. For another Olympic medal. I deserved it. I—I—”
She broke again, choking on another wave of sobs as she sat down on the dry soft sand, her eyes trained on the black dots of surfers bobbing in the water. That’s where she belonged, not on the sand. And yet, her mind went back to her underwater for a split second, her lungs burning, her shoulder hurting, blood everywhere. She shook the thought aside. No, she loved the ocean. That had been just an accident.
“You’re right. It’s not okay,” Sofia said calmly. “But do you remember what my Papà used to say?”
“Tirati insieme?” Alejandra sobbed. Get your shit together—Antonio’s signature phrase every time life threw them some curveballs.
“Exactly. But I’m telling you that with all the love I have for you, Ale. You deserve to cry. You’re allowed to feel the rage. You went through a major accident. You almost—” Her voice hitched. “—died. I almost lost my best friend. I don’t even want to think about what that would’ve meant. But listen to me, there’s more to life than surfing. Just like there was more to life for me than Neptune.”
