Silence | Book 1

1-p1: Cufflinks

"Hey dad, I was just wondering if you'd be able to make it tonight? Please call me back." No answer, again. With a deep sigh, Tristan recorded the voicemail message and sent it. He leant back against the classroom desk that he used for practising his speech and rolled his shoulders to get the tension out. For a short while he revelled in the silence, looking out the windows to see the sunlit college courtyard in what very well could be the last few somewhat bright days of the year.
It was the very last week of September, and the academic year hadn't yet begun in full, leaving the courtyard and classrooms empty. Occasionally a breeze stirred the very first yellow leaves on the trees, leaving the cobbles and grass dotted with some much needed colour. Yet even such a calm sight couldn't settle his nerves, ever afraid that he would mess up at the opening ceremony.

He got up again, and walked over to the desk in the very front of the class. The stately Oxford logo seemed nearly too much to bear for the basic university computer; the kind only meant to function, since nine out of ten professors had no clue what this magical light-up box was meant for anyhow. With a few clicks he opened the video he had taken on his phone from his drive, and projected it on the large screen behind him.
He was met by the sight of a young man in suit, with wavy blonde hair kept short and tidy. He had a full, slightly round but still well defined face, with high cheekbones and a straight nose. It was invisible on the low quality image, but he knew he had a faint scar that ran over his left cheekbone. Although he was well aware it was somewhat vain, he was still pleasantly surprised with how he appeared, as it was always worse in his mind.
The very first time he had seen and heard a recording of himself he had found it uncanny, and it had made him anxious to be confronted with his image, but over the course of last year he had spent enough time in televised and recorded debates to get used to it. At this point he found it very useful to review and improve – even if that meant he had to face the sight of himself filmed badly on his phone.

With a notebook in hand, he marked the times and the flaws he found in his speech; places where his intonation and cadence were off, improvements to his mannerisms, and so on. He scrutinised every single thing he could find, well aware that mediocre wouldn't do.
In the midst of his self-critique, he was startled by a loud buzz. On the screen of his phone 'dad' lit up brightly. Quickly he took the phone and answered, dashing to the front of the classroom to pause the recording.
"Hey dad. Did you get my voicemail?"
"Oh I didn't get a chance to listen to it, I'm at work now, I just saw you called." He heard his father's voice on the other side, at home in Sheffield.
"Well, I wanted to ask if you'd make it tonight?"
"Tonight?"
Although his father couldn't see, he still tried to keep up a smile as he realised that he'd been forgotten again.
"Yeah, I told you right, it's the big speech for the first years I got selected for?" He asked, trying to spark his father's memory.
"Oh, that was tonight?"
"Yea..."
"Shite, I thought it was tomorrow."
Despite the genuine surprise, part of him couldn't help but bitterly think that it was also genuinely their fault for forgetting. But he didn't want to feel that way, since he wasn't sure if it was worse to just have a forgetful father, or one that didn't really care.
"No, it is tonight. Do you think you could still make it?"
"It's a three hour drive Triss, and Jane has a school play. But we'll see you for Christmas right?"

Maybe I was wrong for expecting them to come all the way here?
"Right. Sorry for bothering you at work. Tell me how Jane's play went?"
"It's no issue, and will do. Keep your chin up, I'm sure you'll go down well."
"Thanks dad." He replied with a smile, even if it wouldn't really reach anyone. A little click on the other end of the line ended their short lived chat.
As his phone returned to the home screen, he felt a sting deep inside his heart. That's the first I heard of you in weeks...

The sound of voices and footsteps echoing down the hallway outside the classroom made him realise there was more left to do than sulk. Quickly he put his phone away and took a few deep breaths to get his act straight. Although he still felt nervous and stressed, he knew he could keep it under control if he kept his focus on the tasks at hand.
The classroom door opened, to a rowdy bunch of students laughing and talking about one thing or the other. He crossed his arms and leant back against the desk, pretending to appear more nonchalant than he really was for his friends.
The first one through the door was Killian; surprisingly tall for being of Vietnamese heritage, with long hair kept in an unkempt knot. As far as Tristan was aware, he actually came from Edinburgh, and he spoke with a distinct Scottish inflection to the girl behind him. Liz was second to enter the classroom, chipper and laughing at Killian's antics. She had mid length brown hair, a few freckles on her cheeks and round, brown eyes. Sam was the last to enter, bearing a slight, amused smirk as she closed the door and gave a nod to Tristan, causing her loose black curls to bounce slightly. He nodded back and smiled.