The Bright Side

Chapter 2 - Part 2

TRISTAN

Since Mom won't let me go to work for now, I have much more time on my hands than I'm used to. I can't write and I can't help with the rooms, so she'll be running the hotel by herself. I read, I play video games and it usually takes me 'til noon until I'm bored out of ways to distract myself from thinking. That, and Mum is so busy pampering me when she's at home, I can't take it. My body is simply not able to contain all the liquid she offers me in form of tea and I'm out of ways of telling her that yes, my arm is hurting, but no, I don't want any more pain meds. Today, I actually feel strong enough to bail, so I grab my board and I'm just through the door as she stops me.

"You're not seriously considering to skate, are you?" Mum shrieks.

"Mere transportation, Mum. No tricks, I promise."

"Take the car, Tristan." Well, that's a first. She has never ever offered the car to me before.

I wave my cast at her in exasperation.

"Stick shift, Mum?"

She sighs and then looks at me in earnest. "No tricks, Tristan. It's only been a week."

"Eight days. And I promise. No tricks."

Sometimes I feel like she forgets that I'm nineteen. And I feel like I forget it, too, because otherwise I'd just tell her to mind her own business. I get on the board and very carefully avoid going too fast in front of her but pick up speed as soon as I'm out of sight. It's not the best idea I ever had; I have to admit. My arm is hurting anyways and the bumps in the road echo in my nerves. 

No, skating, even if only riding down the street is not an option and I feel incredibly stupid walking down the street with my board in my hand. Even more, because I didn't consider that I have no place to go. Mark's away on a job and he won't be back before Friday. My old school, where we used to hang out to skate, isn't an option either – I'm not sure I can stand the sight of him and not get into a fight. Matt, that is. 

So basically, I stroll through town aimlessly all the way down the esplanade until I find myself at East Coast and I decide to visit the new skate park they recently built there. I've never been there before, it's all the way across town and honestly, why waste hundreds of thousands of pounds, when the three people in Seaford that skate – Matt, Mark and me – can easily do so at the schoolyard, which ain't even ten minutes away from home.

I'm a bit surprised to find a well-thought-out structure after I've pushed myself through the bushes that separate it from the street. It's not that big, but there are plenty of concrete walls, some stairs with rails and a half-pipe as well as a bowl. It's adjacent to an old industrial building and the old roof is included in the area and casts some shadow over the far end. I wish I wasn't wearing that stupid cast. 

But oh, well, even if I can't skate myself, I can at least watch the people around. Nobody's there though. No, not nobody. The lonely dark-clothed figure that is working on his flatground tricks belongs to Sky St. Cloud. He's not bad. There's a lot of stumbling every time he tries a Cab, but I simply have to admire how he goes at it again and again and again and eventually succeeds every now and then. I sit down on a wall and watch him for a while. I have no idea if he has noticed me; he doesn't look in my direction once. His face is determined and absolutely concentrated. It takes several rounds across the park until his eyes suddenly focus on me.

"Hey."

He pops the board into his hand as he reaches me.

"Nice", I allow.

"Thanks." There's not even a hint in his face if my compliment mattered to him. Maybe he is arrogant after all. "So, are you here to torture yourself by only watching?"