Forsaken Love

Chapter 12

The shining sun brightly reflected off the water. Bennett Carter rested under the shadowy cover of an umbrella, looking out toward the horizon through the magnified view of his binoculars. His girlfriend, Sandra, longed for the sun’s rays and tanned on the sand nearby. Both of their surfboards stuck into the sand on the opposite side of Sandra’s umbrella.

Though not from Liredia, Bennett called this place home. A great contrast from his birthplace, this beach, and in general this country, offered him peace. He could live a life free of stress and full of relaxation. Bennett felt bound by the traditions and rules of his homeland, but here he could act freely. Here, no one relied on him. Eased from peer pressure, Bennett only needed the companionship of his girlfriend.

“You still haven’t told me what we are doing here, Sandra,” he reminded her. “Aren’t you busy at the shop today? I don’t believe your family would just give you a day off randomly, especially with the traffic you’ve been getting. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled, especially since your family tends to not let me anywhere near your shop during business hours. I am just surprised, that’s all.”

“Business will be slow this week,” Sandra answered. “All the tourists are moving on to our neighboring countries to enjoy other special festivities. They will be back though. They always come back. My family has one of the best reputations in Liredia.” She rolls over slightly toward Bennett. “And don’t take it personally, my family is known for not accepting outside help. You are lucky they let you run the cash register sometimes.” Sandra resumed laying on her back. “We’re here because a single day off is the closest I can get to a vacation, not that I mind as long as I’m with you, and I’m going to take advantage of every second of it. Besides, I thought you could use some extra practice before the big competition.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bennett demanded, lowering the binoculars.

“You don’t remember last year? Slater and Marzo went home with a massive lead over you.”

“They had one good run,” Bennett argued. “Some of their tricks were advanced, I’ll admit it. But give me the right wave and I can do those moves too.”

Bennett watched the surfers hone their sequences, taking special attention at the moves that seemed the most advanced. That inevitably led him to focus his binoculars on Duke Slater, the most likely candidate to come out of the next competition with a sponsorship.

“Do you think I stand a chance this year?” he asked Sandra.

“He’s good, one of the best in your division. But with a bit more practice I think we can beat him,” Sandra answered.  “You know his style now. He can spot the bigger waves before you can. If you watch him carefully, you could possibly outswim him, reach the waves before he does.”

Bennett temporarily lost sight of Duke when he entered the barrel of the wave. When Duke exited the tunnel, he carved around the wave into safety. But then he instantly found another wave, riding it only for a short time before executing an aerial over the lip and ending his ride. 

            “He has a strong commitment to the more difficult waves,” Bennett realized. “I’m not sure I possess his courage. But he lacks variety. He only has a few signature moves the judges love. I’ll have to focus on maneuvering efficiently.” Bennett turned toward Sandra. “What do you think?” 

            “It’s a good strategy. Duke’s not particularly well-rounded,” Sandra agreed. “I’ve noticed he spends most of the time practicing for S-Division competitions, where he has a lot more creative freedom to demonstrate his skillset and imagination. I am under the impression that he does not enjoy the A-Division as much. I can’t say that I disagree with him. It’s more restrictive than the others because the league believes the restrictions will help with balancing the handicaps. Unfortunately, sponsors are looking for the surfers that are well-rounded in both styles of competition right now and I don’t think Duke is focusing enough on his weaknesses.”

“What am I supposed to do if someone tries to sabotage me again?” Bennett asked. “I would have made it farther last year if it wasn’t for that kid.”

“Yeah but I think you were a bit rough on him,” Sandra said. “Sure, his actions deserved a disqualification, but did you ever ask yourself why he pushed you off the wave? Why would he risk everything, his shot at a career, just to beat you in one competition? He was young. He would have had many years yet before the sponsors stopped considering him.”

“You have too kind a heart sometimes, Sandra,” Bennett explained. “Sometimes the promise of fame and fortune drive people insane. They do not need a reason to be crazy. Some people just are. If it's any consolation, I don’t hate the kid, even if he did cost me the trophy.”

“I contain my emotions to try to understand people first,” she clarified. “Anyway, I did ask those questions. I asked the kid.”

“You didn’t,” Bennett glared at her. “Why would you do that?”

“I wanted to help him.” Sandra ignored Bennett’s glare. “That kid was troubled. He wouldn’t answer me, but I saw it in his behavior. The way his parents treated him, that is not the way a child should live. I believe he felt pressured to please them. Like he needed to win by any means necessary to satisfy them. And when he realized he couldn’t beat you, he resorted to other options. It’s unfair and wrong, but can you really blame the kid if that is true?”

“Yes,” Bennett replied bluntly, “he could stand up to his parents.”

Sandra sighed. “Look, all I’m saying is everyone is fighting their own battles. I try not to judge others prematurely.”

“I know and I love you for that,” Bennett smiled. “But I’m not as capable as you. I’m not as forgiving. I try to be, I want to be, but it’s not that easy.” He returned his attention to his competition. Duke Slater had moved on from practicing his A-Division routine to perfecting his S-Division. No longer helpful to Bennett, he shifted his attention to his second rival, Daniel Marzo.

“The odds of someone sabotaging your performance two years in a row is near impossible, so you should stop worrying about that,” Sandra advised. “But if it does happen, promise me you won’t make a scene?”

“I only yelled at the judges last year because they refused to give me another attempt,” Bennett said. “I thought my request was reasonable given the circumstances.” He paused, noticing Sandra’s gaze. “Okay fine, I had a go at the kid too.”

“Just promise me,” Sandra repeated.

Bennett sighed. “I promise.”

With his peripheral vision still limited, and both his sea-gazing and conversation with Sandra distracting him, Bennett failed to notice the two business-dressed gentlemen approaching him. Sandra too, who now lay on her stomach, did not register the approach. She only heard their footsteps right before they passed her. As the gentlemen walked by, their feet kicked sand onto Sandra’s towel.

“Excuse me!” Sandra said to them as she rolled onto her side. 

But they ignored her, continuing their movement until they finally stationed themselves between her and Bennett. “Hello, Bennett Carter.”

Bennett lowered his binoculars and slightly turned his head toward her position, but not enough to identify the strangers. Though he did notice his girlfriend sit up behind them. “Who are you?”

“You don’t remember? I am saddened to hear that, after all we’ve been through. I am Agent Jones. My colleague is Agent Johnson. We would like to ask you a few questions.”

Bennett sighed. After all this time, they are still coming to me. “How did you find me?”

“We never lost you,” Johnson said.

“What do you mean, that you’ve been watching me?” The agents gave no response, but Bennett glared at them both, rolling his eyes. “Well, you shouldn’t have come all this way. You are wasting your time. I’m not interested. I quit a long time ago.”

        “Yes, we remember. And we remember the reason too. Unfortunately, we don’t just want you back. We need you back,” Agent Johnson spoke then paused before turning around. He took one look at Sandra, walked up behind her, and gripped her wrist. He quickly pulled her up on her feet before grabbing his gun out of its holster and pointing it at her legs. “You will answer our questions.”

“Bennett!” Sandra yelled.

Bennett jolted upright. “Are you insane? What’s the matter with you?”

“We don’t have time to spare, Bennett,” Agent Jones said. “War is coming to Fiore.”

“A war that is most likely consequential to your actions 5 years ago,” Bennett warned. “You did not tick off the rest of the nation and expect them to not retaliate, did you? I left the agency and my country because of events from the first Fioran Civil War. What makes you think I want anything to do with a second, the way you people handle situations?”

“We have come to terms with our mistakes, and now we are paying the price. But they are your mistakes too,” Johnson reminded. “You cannot escape what is coming.”

“Bennett!” Sandra yelled again while wincing, the agent gripping her tighter. “Leave him alone! Haven’t you hurt him enough?”

Johnson c****d the hammer of the gun, aiming it at her forehead. “Not yet!”

“You wouldn’t kill her,” Bennett deduced. “I would refuse to join you if you did.”

Johnson chuckled. “You’re right. We won’t kill her.”

The gun fired. But the bullet did not graze any skin. In the place Sandra previously stood, a large fist made of sand extended out of the ground. Sandra had been pushed approximately 10 feet back from her previous position. 

Agent Johnson smiled. “Welcome home, Bennett Carter.”

“Jim,” said an indistinct voice. 

He gave no response. 

“Jim?” the voice said again, clearer. 

Jim’s eyes focused. He sat at a desk, in a room full of countless other desks occupied by people around his age. An older woman at the front of the room glared at him. Then Jim noticed everyone else also staring at him. 

“What?” He finally responded. 

“I asked you if you could explain how Gatsby measures the success of his parties.”

Jim cleared his throat. “Oh, well…” he paused as he thought of the answer. Unfortunately, as was often the case, he could not remember much of anything he read in the book to critically think of an answer. “He measured the success of his parties by the number of people who attended,” he answered with the first idea that came to mind.

His teacher, Mrs. Hamilton, sighed. “Close, but not quite the answer I was looking for.” Most of the other students chuckled. “Ellen, if you could help him out.”

Ellen beamed. “Gatsby hosted the parties to attract the attention of Daisy Buchanan. Once Daisy attended one of his parties and hated it, Gatsby stopped hosting them. So it’s fair to say Gatsby measured the success of his parties based on whether or not Daisy attended or approved of them.” 

Mrs. Hamilton smiled. “Very good, Ellen. That is correct.” 

Jim fought to stay awake and focused for the duration of the class, but the fantasy worlds in his mind continued to distract him. When the bell rang to signal the end of the class, his teacher asked to speak to him. Jim continued a list on a page titled Notes for Untitled Ben Carter Novel in his notebook before approaching her desk. 

“You can’t expect to pass this class if you don’t pay attention and if you don’t read the material,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “I’m really disappointed in you.”

“I understand. I’ve just been really distracted lately,” Jim explained. “I’ve been reading the material everyday. I promise. I’ve just struggled to comprehend it. Probably because of all the distractions. But I’m trying.”

“Well, tell you what then,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “We can go over it together, if you like, after school for an hour or so twice a week. There are also some resources online that you could use to help you understand the material better. I could also give you some additional questions to think about while reading. Would that be okay? 

Jim shrugged. “I don’t really remember the answers to the questions you assign already, or remember how I got those answers, but I could give it a shot.”

“Good. See you in class tomorrow.”