A Reason to Exist

Chapter 15

On Sunday morning we got to the skate park by 6.30am. I'd never seen the skate park empty before. The bay looked hazy, the boats were suspended in the marina, everything felt quiet and premature.

Dad wore black shorts and Globe socks pulled up to his calves. He strapped up his right wrist that'd been weak ever since he fell when he took me ice-skating a few years back. 'Where shall we start?' he asked.

'In the flow,' I said.

'Let's do it,' he said, strapping on his helmet. I knew the helmet was for my benefit. In photos I'd seen from his skater days he used to wear a cap backwards.

I strapped my helmet on and followed him over to the edge of the flow.

'Pretend it's the smaller drop. You've done that a million times, yeah? This one's no different. The drop is a bit deeper. But basically it's the same. Just push off and hang tight. Trust your balance to do what it needs to do. Your body will respond.' Dad balanced on the edge and pushed off easily, he dropped into the flow and glided to the opposite side, transitioning along the coping. He half turned and dropped back down, gliding back and forth six times before running out of steam and stepping off the board.

He turned to me and said 'Go for it.'

I perched on the edge. I told myself to be brave. I visualised myself as the skater I wanted to be. But then I saw visions of Bernadette's son's head slamming on concrete, his teeth through his lips, blood streaming from his mouth, his concussed eyes rolling back in his head. I wasn't even there, but mum told me the story so many times, it was an apparition every time I dared to skate.

I shook my head, stretched my fingers out and bent my knees. I dropped into the flow, feeling my stomach heave with nerves. I felt unsteady. There's no way this is safe. I don't have the skills. My thoughts tripped up my body and I smashed down to the ground, grazing my skin, shooting pain through my knees and elbows. It hurt. I lay on the ground, my limbs splayed out, tears in my eyes. Dad rushed over.

'You're all right,' he said.

I wanted to tell him that I'm not, that fear is my constant injury.

'Let's try again. Back on the horse and all that,' he said. He reached out his hand and I took it, pulling myself up. My right knee was bleeding, bright red, healthy blood.

'It's nothing,' dad said. I shook my knee. It hurt, but I was okay.

'I've got nothing to clean it up with,' I said.

'It'll stop.' He picked up my board and handed it to me. 'Trust yourself this time. Believe that you can do it.'

I stood on the edge again, even more nervous than before.

'You can do it,' dad said, 'Piece of cake.'

I clenched my teeth together and stretched out my arms. I imagined myself as Tucker, with rubber limbs that could bounce. I pushed down on my board, hearing the sound of the wheels against the surface. I was gliding into the flow and this time I was skating too fast to think. The drop was already behind me. I did it and I didn't fall. I was racing up the other side. Shit, I haven't even thought what to do next. I lost my nerve and threw myself off the board, landing without hurting myself.

'Bravo,' dad said, clapping. 'You did the drop. Now we just have to manage the pivot. Feel good?'

'Yeah,' I said, feeling as though I'd finally accomplished something, 'that felt awesome.'

I was excited, perched on the edge, the possibility of being a decent skater before me; it was on the surface of the flow, in the soles of my trainers as I pushed off. Faith carried me, she turned me around, she glided me securely, she made me feel all fancy. Determination created healthy cells and multiplied in two. When I stepped off my board at the end, I smiled, knowing I'd finally ripened.

Dad rushed over, picked me up, and said 'Hell yeah.'

At last I felt worthy of this park by the sea, where skaters from all over the world come to ride with one of the best views in Australia. I'd finally discovered my cruising balance point. I rode the flow again and again. Each time I went for longer, I felt braver, I turned harder. Other skaters started arriving and even that didn't put me off. I'd found my focus. Self-consciousness had vacated the premises. Inner pessimism had lost its voice. I was a hostage who had finally been freed. The ransom was self-belief.