Learning to Love: A New Zealand Sports Romance, page 12
“You're not going to let this slide, are you?” I shake my head in disbelief. “Why do you even care, seriously? You weren't even a fan of our relationship. I distinctly recall you badgering me about it making me a worse sailor, Ellie and Tayla being gold diggers, and all that shit you were spouting for some time”. I take a sip of whisky and it burns my throat. This is a bad idea, and I'll probably pay for it later. I take another sip.
Corey looks ahead, his thoughts far away. “Let's say I've changed my mind”.
“I'm… I don't know what to say, Corey. I genuinely don't know what to say”. Corey and I have been sailing together for over 15 years. Within that time he's never changed his mind about anything. Whatever it is, it must be powerful.
“Sam… I have a question”. Florian's voice filters subdued from behind us.
“Not you too, please. Ellie and I have broken up, and that's the end of it”. Only 16 hours left to go, and these two are driving me insane. How many whiskies can I drink in 16 hours without going into a coma?
“Nah, wasn't going to ask about that. Something else… More personal”. Florian's voice is even quieter.
I sigh. “Ok, ask away. Seems like I won't be able to sleep on this flight with you two nattering away”.
“I'm sorry. I just wanted to know what is it like to make love with someone you're in love with?”.
Out of all the questions that he could have asked at that particular time, that's one question I wasn't expecting. He could have asked me whether I think there are aliens on Mars, and I wouldn't have found it as strange. Or if Captain Nemo's Nautilus really existed. Or of the Auckland house prices are going up again. Or what shoe size does my mother wear.
Both Corey and I turned to face him at the same time. Corey looks quite comical with a half eaten pastry, and I probably look like a rabbit caught in headlights.
“Uhhhh… Like… ummm…” I'm lost for words, holding onto my whisky glass for dear life.
“Like how does it feel? Does it feel different than with someone you don't love?” Florian's words make sense, but they also don't make sense. How can it be? Have I had too much whisky on an empty stomach? But I've had breakfast. Maybe I should lie down and try to sleep a bit, it might clear my head.
“Aaaah”... I rub my head and cover my face with my hands. “I really want to know why you're asking me this, but I have a feeling you won't tell me”. Florian nods sadly.
“Uhh… it's different, very different”. I try to find words that could describe what Ellie and I shared, and there's nothing that comes to mind to do it justice.
“You want to make the one you love happy and content. You want them to want you just as much as you want them. It's not just about the sex, it's also about companionship… being there in the moment, but also with the future in mind”. I must look as miserable as I feel by now, because Corey puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you”. Florian's faint voice snaps me out of my own misery. What is he going through that he doesn't want to share? Who is he leaving behind to go away for 6 months?
*You know… in September when we're back you could try and beg Ellie to take you back”. Corey's words make me take another whisky sip. I shake my head, take one look out the window, put my earphones back on, and try to sleep again.
The 10 hours flight to Singapore dragged on, but the next leg of the journey, Singapore - London went by very fast. All three of us slept, exhausted, and nobody mentioned Ellie again. When we got to London for the short 2 and a half hour connection to Malaga, I was feeling much more refreshed.
By the time we arrived in Spain, and stepped out of the plane onto the tarmac, I was ready for whatever this adventure would bring.
It's February, but the temperatures are mild. Small citrus trees line the streets, and the weather reminds me just a little bit of back home in New Zealand.
Our Round the World Ocean Race team is called Llorca, after a famous Andalusian poet, and we're all staying at a large hotel in touristy Marbella. Corey, Florian and I take all available free moments to explore the local area, either by foot, or hiring a car and taking turns to drive.
I soak up the atmosphere in Marbella Old Town, with its quaint squares and tiny bodeguitas offering the most delicious fresh orange juice I've ever had.
The boys and I watch the world go by, and I can't help but think of Ellie from time to time. She would love being here in the sun, trying the food, making conversation with people, buying trinkets. Her and I never got around to going on holiday.
I wonder what she's doing these days. Is she still at Tayla's? Is she still working at the North Shore daycare? Has she found someone else?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sam
It's been two weeks since we've arrived in Spain, and four weeks since Ellie and I broke up. The emptiness I feel inside hasn't subsided at all, and I still think about her, and what could have been, all the time.
I may or may not have checked her Instagram daily. Corey caught me once, rolled his eyes to high heavens. I also caught him checking Tayla's Instagram, but he denied it. I guess we're even now.
The weather started packing in 3 days ago, and hasn't let up since. There's talk of delaying the start to the race. This morning, the Race Director is doing a tour of all the teams' quarters, checking in with everyone.
“As you're experienced sailors, you don't need me to come and tell you that these are unsailable conditions''. The breakfast room where we're all gathered is brimming with disapproval, many sailors whispering their discontent.
He continues in his clipped British accent. “We're waiting for the go-ahead from the Race Committee, but I'm sorry to say that at this point it doesn't look like we'll be able to start on 1st March as planned, more likely it will be from 7th March onwards”.
The room is at boiling point by now. I couldn't care less as I'm away from Ellie and everything be damned, but Corey and Florian, among others, are shaking their heads and even swearing.
The Director beats a hasty retreat, leaving in a flurry of agitation.
“For fuck's sake, how long are we staying cooped up in here? I'm keen to get going”. Corey's impatience is clearly showing. His fingers are drumming on the table, to a rhythm known only to him.
“I suppose they don't want us to get hurt, they're being more careful. I don't mind waiting”, I offer, hoping to lead by example.
Corey lets out a deep sigh, Florian clears his throat and takes a serious drink of coffee.
Jonny, one of the British sailors who are meant to be on our boat, swings by our table.
“Hey lads, all good? Up for a game of Catan to pass away some rainy hours?” He's cheerful and carefree, and for once I wish I were in his shoes. No visible past traumas, maybe no girlfriends left behind.
“We need a couple more for Catan, do you think you can rally some other guys?” Florian perks up.
Jonny laughs. “Sure do. There's three of us Brits, plus two Kiwis and a German here. Reckon we have enough”.
I'd hoped to go exploring some more in the area, since we couldn't train or depart, but the constant rain put an end to that idea. Maybe a morning of board games might make the time go faster, and I'm keen to meet others who love sailing as much as I do.
Corey stays silent, but follows us to a bigger table, so I gather he's participating. We join Jonny, Cam and Phil, the British contingent, at the table.
“Right folks, do you know the rules?” We all nod in answer to Jonny's question. I'm a bit rusty, I haven't played board games since… since I took Ellie to my parents' house at Christmas. I scratch my head. My chest tightens. Ooof. I haven't told them yet. They're going to be disappointed. Hopefully they've forgotten about it in six months' time. More likely not.
“...10 points to win the game. The winner gets a bottle of whisky of their choice”. Everyone laughs at that, but it seems I must have missed a joke, thinking about Ellie and my parents.
Corey's relaxed now, cracking jokes with the others and being his usual charming self. Even Florian chimes in from time to time to make fun of my game choices.
“So, what brings you here, guys? For a six month race?” Phil, the older British sailor, asks a loaded question.
“I want to win”. The words are out of my mouth, before I realise what I'm saying.
Phil laughs. “Of course you do, we all do”.
“Not as much as he does”. Corey's looking straight at me.
I'm two thirds of the way to my victory points, and the others are starting to cotton on that I'm on track to win the game.
“Hey, that's not fair. Block him”. Cam, a British sailor in their early 20s, tries in vain to rally the troops.
“Nah, that's what he's like, wants to win every time”. Corey just sounds resigned. “If only he were so determined in his personal life”. He raises an eyebrow at me.
“Whoaaaa. Loving this. What's he hiding?” Jonny is having a whale of a time, and everyone at the table is staring at me, and I hate it.
“That was below the belt, Corey”. The last thing I want is to talk about Ellie. I'm being tormented enough every night and every waking moment, thank you very much.
I gain two more victory points plus a bonus, and win the game in just under two hours. Everyone else is deflated, but Corey's got more up his sleeve.
“To answer your earlier question, Phil, I think we're all here to run away or hide from something”.
I don't even have to look up to know his gaze is fixed on me.
“Maybe a broken heart… maybe money… maybe just restlessness… maybe just the desire to win?... But at the end of the day, if your heart's not in it, then you shouldn't do it”. I can't look him in the eye, I just can't. It's all too raw.
“Look at me, Sam. Just look at me. I'll tell you two things, just two, then you can tell me to go to hell”. I look at him. He's the same old Corey, my sailing partner since we were 16 and 18, respectively. In my mind's eye, he hasn't aged that much since we were teens, though we're now in our 30s. Maybe more wrinkles, more gray hairs, and a heck of a lot more experience.
Everyone else is silent, probably wondering what this is all about. Florian is drinking a third coffee already.
Corey counts on his fingers. “First thing. You win this race. And then? What's the point of winning this race? And the next one? And the one after that? What's the point of winning any of them, if you've lost the most important thing, the love of your life?”
I feel like getting up and leaving, because this is getting too much. I can't bear it. My knuckles are white from gripping, and my fingernails are leaving indents in my palms.
“And second, and last thing, this thing you've been looking for may be at home in New Zealand, not away…”
Corey's words have touched Phil, who's wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. Cam clears their throat, and Jonny's smile has gone by now.
“Now you can tell me to go to hell, but I've been wanting to tell you this for the past two weeks, because you're miserable and I've known you for 15 years and I've never seen you this unhappy”. Corey's talking so fast now, I can't keep up.
“I don't know what to do. I've never done it before”. My voice is too quiet.
“You need to go back to New Zealand and abandon the race”. Florian's voice rings out clearly.
Ellie
It's been two weeks since Sam came to our house, and stood outside without coming in, before leaving for Europe the next day. I still have nightmares about it from time to time, his face full of sorrow, as he drove away.
I'm still at Tayla's house, in the spare room, after Corinne took my old room. I haven't found a place that's as nice as this one, and I enjoy the company of friends.
Tayla and Corinne keep me sane and grounded, whenever I start crying reminiscing about Sam and I, without trying to push me to date someone else.
Today's an ordinary Thursday, and after coming in from work, I change into leggings and a t-shirt, and take Daisy out for a walk. Daisy motors on with her chunky legs every time I throw the ball, and dutifully brings it back. After a solid hour of time together, I go back, and get ready to make dinner for all of us, as it's my turn to cook.
Before they come home, I turn the TV on while I'm cooking. While preparing to roast the fish, my heart skips a beat. There are images of Sam and Corey on TV. My first instinct is to turn it off, because seeing him brings me so much fresh pain, but it seems I’m a sucker for pain so I turn the volume up.
“Sam Northcroft, the famed Kiwi Sailing champion and Olympian, is pulling out of the Round the World Ocean Race for personal reasons. Fellow sailors Corey Fine and Florian Mittel are still in the competition. Sam's replacement will be announced soon”.
I droop onto the sofa, just as Tayla and Corinne enter the house. They see my stricken expression and immediately rally around me.
“What's wrong? Has something happened?” Tayla is very concerned.
“I don't know”. I burst into tears. “He's coming back”.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sam
First, I surprised myself and everyone around when I replied “Alright”, to Florian's suggestion that I drop everything and leave home.
I passed the whisky I won at Catan to Corey, promising him more when he comes back after six months at sea. Shook hands with everyone at the table, wished them all the best, then took off to my room to sort everything out.
Then I called the law firm that handles my and Corey's stuff. I was very shocked to be met by a voicemail, but then I realised that in Spain it may be lunchtime, but in New Zealand it's midnight, so a bit unfair to expect lawyers to burn the midnight oil more than they already do.
I wrote an email to the commercial lawyer that we'd been dealing with, a knowledgeable woman called Alina, that I wanted to be out of this contract, and that I'm leaving Spain and coming back to New Zealand asap.
I texted my mum to say Ellie and I broke up a few weeks ago because I'm stupid, but I'll try to fix it, and I love them all very much and hope to see them again soon.
I browsed the Air New Zealand website to make a new flight booking. I considered going to the airport and trying for a stand-by type scenario, but I'd rather hit the bullseye and have connections, and everything prepared. Took a loooong time getting here, it's going to be a loooong time going back.
The most convenient flights I found were Málaga - Paris - Shanghai - Auckland. It had to do, because as far as I was concerned, any minute spent away from Ellie was a minute wasted.
I had two hours before I had to go to the airport, so I called the Race Director, and said I was pulling out due to personal reasons, and that I needed to go back to New Zealand straight away. He was upset but seemed to understand, didn't enquire about the nature of the personal reasons.
I was buzzing with excitement at seeing Ellie again, holding her in my arms, telling her how I felt, and this feeling buoyed me until Shanghai. On the final leg of the journey to Auckland, doubts started setting in.
Maybe she found someone else already, over the last couple of weeks. Maybe she won't want to see me at all. Maybe I'm too entitled, thinking I can slot straight back into her life, and pick up where we left off.
I hadn't thought about what to tell her when I see her. In the best scenarios in my head, she just falls into my arms, tells me she loves me and that she'd been waiting for me. In the worst scenarios, she just closes the door in my face.
Corey would know what to say to win her back. What time is it now in New Zealand? I check my watch, another sponsored item. Sometimes I feel like a walking advert for various brands: sunglasses this, watch that, car this, shoes that. It's never-ending. I don’t know how Corey does it sometimes. He comes from a really large family, and I suppose he must pass some of the goodies down.
It's 2PM in New Zealand now. Ellie's likely still at work. I could swing by her house after work, and ask her out for dinner somewhere so we can talk, and tell her I need her. Or maybe if Tayla's not home, we could talk then and there… I'm so lost in my thoughts and I want Ellie back so badly, I miss the seatbelts fastened announcement, and the flight attendant comes by to scold me.
I fasten my seatbelt, and prepare for landing back in Aotearoa, the Land of the Big White Cloud. There’s no place like home, and I've come to learn that home is wherever Ellie is.
I speed through customs, shake a few hands, have a couple of photos taken, but narrowly avoid the press. The last thing I want is to let everyone know my intentions before I see Ellie. I get home to Bella Vista about 5PM, have a shower then spend too long for my liking choosing what I should wear. It needs to be something not too dressy, not too casual either. If it were up to me, I’d just throw on some shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops.
I choose some khakis, a shirt, and shoes, which is the extent of my dress-up unless I see the Queen. By the time 6 o’clock rolls around, my stomach is in knots, and I know I can’t delay any longer going to see Ellie. Various situations play out in my head, but I can only hope for the best.
I’d forgotten it only takes 15 minutes to drive from my house to Ellie’s, over the Harbor Bridge. In my mind it felt like a gulf that was too difficult to cross and overcome, with the bridge somehow representing the distance between us. 15 minutes, three songs on the radio, or a short sailing regatta.
It's evening, and the setting sun mottles colors in the harbor. Before I have a chance to really process everything, I’m in Hillcrest, with its quiet tree-lined streets, and I question whether I could live on the North Shore. There’s nothing keeping me City side. It’s not like I go out every night. Or every week. Or every month even.
I park on their driveway, but the lights are out in the front part of the house. Have they gone out? I haven’t prepared for this, so I’m pondering my options. Should I write an old fashioned note and push it through the letterbox? Should I text her and tell her I want to see her? Just as I think about leaving, I see some lights at the back of the house. They must be in the garden.
