The Bright Side

Chapter 4 - Part 3

SKY

Tristan and I head home to his house; his Mum and Rory are at work and that's the time I like it best. It's always nice there, but when there's just Tristan and me, his home becomes a magic wonderland. 

My own house is always loud. There's so much life inside with seven children, that it needs an audible outlet. All the laughing, running, fighting and singing of three raucous children and the more subtle but unmistakable sounds of two teenagers – teen pop music, slammed doors and giggling – make my house quite the aural challenge. But Tristan's house? It's quiet, it's eerie, it's peaceful and for me it's heaven.

I follow Tristan up the stairs and pay attention to all the family pictures that plaster the wall. There's a tiny version of Tristan with very short curls and in a school uniform, the same primary school uniform I wore, but I've been a year further. One picture of Tristan and his brother, when they were little; the rogue inside of him already sparkling in his eyes. A recent picture of his Mum, Rory and himself, where Tristan's hair was still longer. A portrait of Tristan that freezes him into smiling his super goofy smile forever. Rory holding a trophy and I have no idea what for. One person is always missing, even on early family pictures.

"Tristan?"

He stops on the top of the stairs and looks down at me, caution in his eyes.

"Where's your father?"

He turns around and heads for his room.

"He's dead", he calls back over his shoulder.

When I enter his room, he is standing with his back towards me, intensely eyeing the front lawn he must've seen a million times before.

"He had a stroke five years ago." He clenches and unclenches his fist and his voice is shaky as he continues. "Listen, I can't talk about it, alright?"

"Yeah. Sure. I'm sorry I brought it up."

The guy standing in front of me sure looks like the Tristan I know, but nothing like him at the same time with his shoulders all sagged.

"Yeah, it's alright. Just... please let's talk about something else like really quick?"

"Ok. What are your thoughts on the expansion of fast food franchises into small town areas?"

He turns around and the imp is back just like that.

"Can't go fast enough for me," He grins and presses the power button on his stereo. The crazy German punk rock music he always listens to instantly fills the room.

My mobile goes off and once again Jo's name appears on the screen.

"Back in a second." I gesture towards my phone and close Tristan's bedroom door behind me. I've been avoiding taking her calls for days; it's now the fourth time she's calling me and it's not like I had any excuse for not answering.

"Hi, mate," I say while my eyes scan the family pictures on the wall next to me again on my way down. What a wicked broad smile.

"You can't come." Jo states. It's not even a question.

"Eh..." I clear my throat. "Yeah. Sorry. I can't make it. There's just too much going on right now."

"What? Oh, no. I meant as a fact. You're disinvited, mate."

"Why, thanks. I feel so special."

"I'm really sorry. But I met this girl..."

"Oh, for f..., Joanna!"

She's my best friend. She really is. She's also an incurable romantic on a quest to find true love and Jo, well, she finds it every other week. She meets a girl and she's head over heels, she loses her mind and she's barely addressable for days. And then something absolutely banal happens, like said girl forgets to pluck her eyebrows – nothing even has to really happen – and Jo is out of love just like that. Within the blink of an eye. And then she's sulking and moping around until she finds her next true love.