They say when your parents die, it can bring relief for some. But ‘they’, whoever they are—they’re lying. You might not hear the voice of your actual parent anymore, but the version of them that lives rent-free in your head—which is almost certainly worse than the real thing—can take up a full-time residency and put on a nightly show if you don’t watch out.
Rake senses the shift in my mood. "You good, bro?" he asks, brows furrowed with concern.
I hesitate. Rake's one of my best friends, a chosen brother, but will he understand? I take a deep breath and decide to open up. Besides, there’s something magical about words spoken when you’re sitting on your surfboard out in the ocean. Bonds are formed, deals done, out here. There’s no judgement, only a shared love of surfing and a reminder that we’re all tiny little ants in the overall scheme of things.
"It's just...my dad," I say quietly. "No matter what I do, I can't escape being his son. I'm so sick of living in his shadow." I sigh. “And you know this is something I’ve struggled with my entire life… I thought it would get better with all… this,” I gesture at the expansive ocean glimmering in the sun before us, “but the better I do, the more it feels like he’s judging me from wherever he is now.”
Rake nods, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah man, that's gotta be tough," he says. "But you gotta know—you're killing it with the surf school. You built this whole thing yourself. Your dad didn't do that, you did."
I smile halfheartedly. Rake means well, but he doesn't fully get it.
Out of the corner of my eye, Ispot Devon walking down the beach toward us. Her red and pink hair whips in the wind, glinting in the sunlight. Walking daddy issues. If anyone will understand, it's her.
"Thanks Rake," I say. "But there's only one person who really knows what it's like." I gesture toward Devon as she approaches.
Rake follows my gaze and nods in understanding. "Ha, yeah. Her father was one for the books. I'll catch you later, bro," he says, clasping my shoulder supportively before paddling away.
"Hey." Devon's voice breaks me from my reverie as I reach the shoreline.
I turn to see her approaching, her feet sinking into the sand. Her ponytail whips in the wind, strands escaping to frame her face. It seems like so long ago that I first set eyes on her, this gorgeous surfing student turned captive turned life partner. I never imagined things would work out this way, but I’m so glad they have.
"Hey yourself," I say.
She comes to stand beside me, gazing out at the darkening water. "You okay?"
I sigh, shoulders slumping. "Just thinking about everything, you know? There’s a lot to take in at the moment. Tane, the business, just… there’s so much going on.” Devon’s the only one who has ever truly understood the demons I wrestle with, maybe because of the oppression of her own father. I pray she can help me now, before I drown in my dad’s towering legacy.
I lift the board from the water and hoist it under one arm.
Devon slips her hand into my free one, squeezing gently, her touch instantly soothing. She gives me a knowing smile, her eyes radiating warmth and understanding. "You've got this, Sky. You've accomplished so much. You know this. And you should be proud of what you've done here."
I nod, my throat tight. "I just can't seem to escape his shadow," I confess. "No matter what I do, how far I come...I'm still my dad’s son."
"I know it's hard," she says, squeezing my hand again and bringing instant comfort. "But you can't keep comparing yourself to him, Sky. You're amazing in your own right. I really thought you’d worked through most of this." She pauses, and while her gaze meets mine she reaches up and tenderly traces herfinger along my jawline. “But I know, more than most, that just when you think you’ve worked through something it can rise back up and bite you… hard. And not in a good way.”
I sigh heavily, glancing out at the darkening ocean. The dying sunlight glints off the waves—waves that seem ready to swallow me whole.
Devon’s expression turns to concern, her brow furrowed and her lips pressed in a thin line. God, she’s gorgeous even when she frowns. “You need to remember we’re here for you, and he can’t get to you anymore. You can’t let him win. You need to move forward.”
"I'm trying, Dev," I say quietly. "But sometimes it feels hopeless, like I'm fighting against a rip current I can never overcome."
Devon moves closer, forcing me to meet her intense gaze. "You listen to me, Skyler. You are not your father. You get to choose who you become. Who you already are. You’ve stepped into your leadership role alongside Zeke, just like we all knew you were capable of."
She's right—the future stretches before me, vast and limitless like the sea. I don't have to let the past pull me under. I stare searchingly into her eyes, desperately wanting to believe her.
"Serious question for you, Skyler, and I'm not afraid of the answer. But do you ever hold me up to some standard of how my father was? What if you did, and I didn't measure up to what he or others expected me to be… especially if they expected me to be just like him?"
Her words sink in. "Of course, I would never…"
She pushes further. "I know you wouldn't. Why though?"
I shrug, my brow furrowed. It seems so obvious when she puts it this way. "Well, you're not him. And he's hardly the type of person that I'd ever expect you towantto live up to."
"Even though sometimes hewasthere for me? That I have some good memories of him, and other people even go so far as to emulate him in business? Doesn't that find me lacking, that I don't follow along in his shadow?"
I think of her father and all the baggage that he came with. Tales of formidable power, and at one stage, untold wealth. A life full of business deals andaccolades. But then, under the covers, a mountain of shady business practices and questionable decisions in his personal life. Someone who would ultimately give up their daughter to pay off a debt, and then flee to avoid the consequences. Someone we ultimately had to kill just to set her free, and because he deserved it. There's no way I'd ever expect her to follow in his footsteps, and I'd think she was mad if she tried.
She gives me a knowing glance.