Page 52 of Seven Summer Weekends

He put it all out of his mind and got down to business. He wasn’t letting this guy take more than he already had.

For many of Ben’s readers, surfing was an unknown sport, unlike, let’s say, football. So, Ben felt the need to explain the basics in a way he usually would not. He spoke quietly into his mobile phone’s microphone, describing the scene. Writing about sporting events came naturally to him. It was practically as easy for him as writing out the alphabet.

“The judges sit in a tower on the beach, watching the actionthrough binoculars, carefully evaluating each surfer’s performance. The semifinal round of the contest is underway, and the surfers show varying degrees of skill and confidence. Some ride the waves with grace and ease, executing impressive maneuvers and displaying incredible balance. Others struggle to stay upright on their boards, wiping out and disappearing beneath the water. With each round, the competition becomes more intense. The surfers pushing themselves harder, attempting riskier moves, and taking bigger chances. Experience is the key to squashing one’s nerves and moving in and out of the waves with fluidity, and Terrence Williams—at a couple of years shy of forty—has been competing since he was sixteen. He has more experience than most, if not all, of his competition.”

The photographer came back, and the two men made their way through the excited crowd of onlookers in search of their subject. Terrence suddenly appeared before them.

Ben briefly considered punching Terrence, arm swung back, right hook to the jaw. The image ran through his mind, puncturing his melancholic mood with a small spark of joy. He was bigger than Terrence, and in pretty good shape. He could take him, he thought.

Terrence’s big bear hug quickly extinguished Ben’s animosity. It was the kind that was followed by a drum roll of sorts on his back. Oh, how he wanted to hate this guy.

“I’m glad you’re here, man. I have a whole new angle for the story, if you’re willing.” Terrence ran his hand across the sky as if the magazine headline would be up in lights, and announced, “The Last Ride of the Vagabond Surfer.”

Terrence’s retiring wasn’t a bizarre notion. Most professional surfers “hang their leash” by their midthirties. And for Terrence,with multiple championship and world titles to his name, it would make sense to go out on top. Ben thought about this slant as it related to his story. It would certainly make his job easier.

“I’m tired of worrying about heats and scores and mostly of the constant travel. I want a family. One that I have dinner with every night, not one I see between chasing waves across continents.”

That morning, while on his third cup of coffee, Ben had thought about what had gone down between Terrence and Addison. He contemplated the alternative to spending the rest of the summer hiding in his house, avoiding the little vixen next door, and tried his best to banish thoughts of this guy kissing Addison’s perfectly tanned shoulders. Or worse. Now he worried that it wasn’t just the one-night stand that her friend Kizzy had suggested. He worried that Terrence’s sudden hankering for a family had something to do with Addison. After all, she had made him, the widowed Ben Morse, feel things he was sure he would never feel again. He tried to discourage Terrence.

“That’s a very quiet life,” Ben cautioned, “and I think you have a bunch of good years left in the spotlight!”

“That’s just it. The spotlight, the adrenaline, the adoration from my fans has all begun to feel empty and unfulfilling.”

And just then, as if by magic, Kizzy Weinstein—the antidote to Terrence’s empty and unfulfilled life, pranced (yes, pranced) over to greet them. Ben was shocked.

Terrence further explained their plan.

“After the finals tomorrow, I’m gonna stay with Kizzy for a bit in New York City. I’ve been approached by a sportswear manufacturer in the Garment Center about starting a new clothing line called the Vagabond Surfer. I want to see what they have in mind.”

God, it was worse than Ben had even imagined. And Kizzy!Could no one resist this man’s abs? He kissed Kizzy hello, even though he was pissed for Addison.

Instead of pulling Kizzy aside and asking if Addison was OK sharing their concubine, he unsuccessfully joked, “How Crocodile Dundee of you.”

Clearly neither of them had seen the eighties rom-com of the same name where an Australian cowboy moved to NYC, and he didn’t bother explaining. He settled on “I’m so happy for you both!” Possibly meaning it—as he now had another chance with Addison. They all hugged, basking in Ben’s good wishes.

That night at a local surf bar, three tequilas in, Ben came out and asked Kizzy, “You’re not concerned about how Addison will feel about your getting with Terrence?”

“Why would she care? She just wants me to be happy!”

To each his own, he thought.

•••

The next day, as the final round of the tournament approached, the tension on the beach was palpable. Terrence and a kid named Jack Morgan were neck and neck for the top spot, but it was really anyone’s win. The wind was picking up, the waves were getting bigger, and though it added an extra element of difficulty to the competition, this was nothing that either of them hadn’t experienced before. Terrence came by and gave Kizzy a sweet kiss on the lips before picking up his board.

Kizzy seemed nervous as she watched her guy paddle out to sea. Ben was surprised by how much she cared about Terrence in such a short time. He tried to get her to sit down next to him, but she insisted on standing, fidgeting in the sand, bouncing from one foot to the other.

It may be good that the guy was retiring. Kizzy did not look like she would survive the circuit.

Ben watched in awe as Terrence paddled out to the lineup, ready to take on the next wave. There was no denying his bravery and skill. Even when faced with the tough conditions, younger competition, and waves that could easily take him down, he seemed calm and collected. Ben quietly recorded his thoughts for safekeeping.

The competition went on for a while, and after two sets of eliminations, Terrence Williams and Jack Morgan were still on top. Ben stood up tall as Terrence caught a particularly enormous wave. It was quite remarkable to see, until he suddenly vanished from sight. Ben asked the photographer for his camera and used the zoom to get a closer look, but there was no sign of him. He held his breath as Kizzy yelled out, “Do you see him? Do you see him?”

“I’m sure he’s OK, just wait.”

But he wasn’t sure of anything. Had Terrence wiped out? Had he been injured? It was pretty agonizing to watch. He looked through the camera lens again and scanned the water, searching for any sign of Terrence. Nothing. And then, as suddenly as he had disappeared, he reappeared, popping up from the water with a big grin on his face.

Epic relief flooded them all.

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