Tristan Vol 4. Ch. 8 with Audiobook

By: Asa Montreaux

 You miss me? You did not think I was really logging off did you? Fear they not, for I AM HERE. The one and only, your boy, your friend when you don't have even one other. I Tristan, thy teacher and guide, through thickest and thinnest wicket and mire. Listen, thus, to what I have to say to thee, thou pupil of me's.

Toronto is a cold place, but we are not all cold, those who walk its streets. I, myself, was just recently in the warmest of Canadian places, Vancouver yours kindly, and Paris in the summer, more than warm. Truly the warmest and loveliest. Je ne pas parle Paris as an American. I can only say, Par-EEE. As we say in French. 

Per-HAPS you knew that. Anyways. I could tell you all about U of T. But it is only boring, only where I will get some education in some THING and after a number of years show up upon a shore having worked in some career for a number of years. Now what was that number, it was x number of years?

How many years was it that I had worked before I was murdered by a gang member, or some mega-virus of the future (they exist)...? 

If it was less than 5 years, I'm going to be someone leaving a few kids with little money.

Or if it was more than 5 years, they will be left with enough money to get by, you know. They'll be alright.

In the event I survive you know, I mean obvi, I'm the Greatest dad ever. And they have a lot of money. Did anyone ever noticed I could have written greasy and that might have sounded similar? Am I thus wrong in my previous statement?

What? 

I awake because I am cumming a little because Maisie is sucking my dick. I'm just playing with you, my life isn't that interesting.

I was just looking at the water in some shit part of town. Better get a move on honestly. Okay.

What am I studying?

*

...Tristan stood by the lakeshore near the edge of downtown, staring at the water as it lapped rhythmically against the concrete. A cold breeze suddenly passed over him. It was too early to be this cold, but Toronto was like that. It always caught him a little off guard.

He didn’t know if he was cold, or just numb. He thought of his classes: Physics and Pre-Law. Two divergent paths. Two futures he hadn’t decided between. His mind twisted with uncertainty, but he didn’t hate the indecision. There was something nice about possibility.

The next day, he sat in Physics lecture next to a guy named Jalance who wore ironic sweaters and kept a small green notebook where he wrote questions, never answers. Jalance asked him, "So what are you really here to do?"

"Survive, mostly. Maybe thrive. Hopefully not die tragically."

Jalance laughed. "That's everyone. But are you going to be a lawyer, or a scientist who accidentally builds a time machine and erases the law?"

"I haven’t decided. I think about it constantly."

They talked over lunch, where the debate raged between cold reason and structured justice. In the end, Tristan left with no answers but some better phrasing for his confusion.

Later, he had his meeting with the C-I-S, U of T hockey team. The coach was measured but not cold. They liked his tape. They liked that he’d made the summer tryouts. If he played Junior B for a year, he might get some games the first year as well.

"It’s a grind, but it’s a grind with a locker room," the coach said.

Tristan nodded. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the sweat, the ice, the long drives. He left the arena with a smile on his face.

That night, he sat with Maisie on their small balcony. She was wearing his sweater, knees pulled to her chest, a glass of red wine in her hand. The skyline stretched out in front of them.

"I talked to Allister today," she said.

Tristan turned to her, surprised. "And?"

"He’s doing alright. Still a bit lost. Agnes is okay too. Good."

He nodded. "I think about them a lot. Weird how we left behind whole other lives."

Maisie looked at him carefully. "We didn’t leave them behind. We carried them with us. They’re still in us."

Tristan thought of Allister, his younger self, the sound of his mother’s voice, the endless heat of Houston. He thought of his stepmother and the silence that had become his friend. He thought of Agnes, her stubborn warmth, the way she always knew what to say.

Maisie reached out and took his hand. "This year is going to be something."

He squeezed her fingers. "It already is."

In the distance, the wind moved across the city. Lights flickered. Cars passed below, people moved toward unknown destinations. Somewhere, the future waited. And Tristan, for the first time, felt ready to meet it.

*

Until next time

Xoxo 

Tristan

P.h.D in Tristan et all (everything)

Love (you, it sucks, (I don't know?)). okay.