The Bright Side

Chapter 2 - Part 3

SKY

It takes Josh ten days before he can talk to me. That's a new record. In a bad way. We're at the breakfast table and it's four words that spin an almost invisible new band between us.

"Pass me the milk?" he asks.

The carton on the table is empty, so I get up and get a new one from the fridge. He doesn't even say thank you. But at least, there have been four words. It's a start.

Of all my siblings, Josh has always taken it the hardest when I had to leave. Jen 's indifference to my presence seems almost cruel. And Amanda doesn't really care either. She is so wrapped up in whatever teenage girls wet their knickers about - if I'm here or not makes no difference to her. Les just accepts it and Adam, well, he simply forgets about me. I don't blame him; he's only three. And Rosie, she's just a toddler. She'll forget about me, too. And when I come back for Christmas, I'll be the stranger again. Josh though, he takes it personally, I know that. Every time I come home; he punishes me for disappearing for days. He might be powerless and he can't do anything to keep me from going but he can make me hurt afterwards, giving me the silent treatment. He's only six, but he's already figured that out.

"Cereal's good?" I ask him and he nods into his bowl.

"What are you up to today?"

I overdid it.

Josh shoots me a glance like he wants to say, 'Don't you dare talk to me!', picks up his bowl and leaves the kitchen. From the corner of my eyes, I can already see Mum's hand creep towards me across the table.

"I better get going, too." I shove my stool back and take my bowl and mug and put it in the sink.

"He doesn't mean it like that." Mum tries to comfort me, maybe unaware that she's lying straight to my face.

"It's ok." It is. I know he'll come around to it sometime soon, he just needs time. Doesn't mean that I'm not hurting, though.

I kiss her cheek on my way out and firmly close the door behind me before she can come up with another alternate reality. I love her madly, I really do, but she's just too much to handle for me most of the times.

I get on my board and head towards town. The skate park won't do today. I've kind of been hoping that Tristan would show up again yesterday and the day before, but he didn't. I have a feeling that I've been antisocial again, on purpose maybe but by mistake. He seems like a nice guy, despite his family connection. I go by the schoolyard again, but just like last time, Tristan's ripped skater friend is there alone. I have no idea where else Tristan could be, so I hit the town centre first and try the esplanade. It's super crowded; tourists flood the concrete like a river with two opposite drifts. They search for a way through the masses, to get drinks, to find a good viewing spot, to greet their friends. There's the usual kid that lost its parents in the maze of legs, too, crying with snot dripping down its nose before Mum or Dad find it. The multitude of voices merge into a cacophonic mess that is impossible to understand; people laughing, talking, shouting, dogs barking, seagulls fighting, music from the merry-go-round; I can barely hear my own thoughts. I decide to continue on the sidewalk, where it's much easier to move forward. The chilly wind is a nice contrast to the blazing sun; its blow against my skin leaves goose bumps on my bare arms while my shoulders burn from the heat of the sun. I shouldn't have put on a tank top. A fat lady yells at me in some foreign language as I get too close to her dog, panicking that I might run him over. As if I had no control over my board whatsoever. And then I spot him. Tristan's leaning onto the rails by the sand sculptures, his board attached to his backpack and his cast arm held to the side. Apparently, I'm not the only one who chose to go for a tank top today, although for him it might have been a decision based on convenience, with the cast and all, instead of looks. Still suits him well.