Sweet Swell

Chapter 5

I was riding my bike down the road to my house alongside Lissa who was on her longboard. Since she lived a few blocks away from me we decided to ride back together from our rendezvous at The Waterberry. Fat raindrops had started falling and the sky had darkened considerately, so I invited Lissa over to keep out of the rain until the storm clouds cleared a bit.

As we entered the large frosted front door to my foyer, the smell of pancakes sizzling in a pan enfolded us. It’s custom in South Africa to bake pancakes on rainy days, which is probably the nicest tradition I’ve ever heard of practically anywhere in the world. Both Lissa and I made appreciative sounds as we made our way towards the kitchen like two sharks who’d smelled blood. Tristan was sitting at a barstool, chatting to my stepmom while she was flipping pancakes, about some “bitchin' new kite-board” he was going to get which was going to give him “rad air in the swells”. Sandra was just nodding at everything he was saying, clearly not understanding a word the guy was uttering. Her face broke out in a relieved smile when she saw Lissa and I walk into the kitchen.

I like my stepmom. My parents got divorced when I was seven, and after my dad had been single for almost a decade, he met Sandra. She was the sole consolation for having to shack up with Tristan, although even I have to admit, he could be a nice guy. I was only just getting used to the idea of seeing him as my brother. My mom moved on rather quickly after the divorce, and married a successful criminal lawyer and moved to Durban. My life was already rooted in Ballito, so I opted to stay with my dad after she got remarried. I saw her regularly enough, and her new husband was great. He had all these vinyl The Smiths albums, and he let me listen to them whenever I spent some time at their place.

Divorce and remarriage is complicated and messy, and I really hope I won’t have to go through it myself someday. Which is why finding the right one as opposed to just the one is key. But that can wait for someday when I’m ready to settle down. 

“Hi girls! You came just in time, Tristan here was beginning to speak in tongues,” she chuckled and reached over the counter to ruffle his hair. Lissa pursed her lips. I could tell what she was thinking, loud and clear. Mama’s little boy. In a way, Tristan was. Sandra really loved to shower Tristan with attention, but she was the same towards me. She just had a really caring personality, and it showed. 

“Hi Mrs Grové,” Lissa greeted politely. She paused, “Hello Tristan,” she mumbled, barely making eye contact. 

Tristan smiled back with his usual charm, “Why hello there girls. Three beautiful ladies in one room, all to myself. Aren’t I just the luckiest devil,” he charmed, smiling back at his mother who was frowning at him slightly. 

“Have a pancake, Tris, and stop bothering the girls,” Sandra came to our rescue, shaking her head as she laughed at Tristan’s silliness. Tristan pouted his lips dramatically, acting wounded, and turned abruptly towards a stack of pancakes he’d sprinkled with a mixture of cinnamon and sugar in an attempt to help his mother with the baking. 

“You two take as many as you’d like,” Sandra invited, wiping down the flour-strewn island she’d done the mixing on. 

“Thanks! It smells heavenly,” I admitted, grabbing two plates out of a cabinet for Lissa and I. We made our way up the stairs into my bedroom after wrangling a stack of pancakes from Tristan’s guard. 

We sat down by the foot of my bed on the soft cream-coloured carpet, staring out of my glass sliding doors at the restless ocean. After looking out for a while and chewing a bite of pancake in silence, Lissa turned towards me. “How are you feeling today?” she asked, concern in her eyes.

My heart suddenly dropped into my stomach. I’d almost forgotten. Two years ago to the very day was when it had happened, that horrible day I’d been trying to forget about for ages. I couldn’t believe it, I’d completely forgotten the date.