The Epitome Of Us

Sign 1 It Happened On A Sunday Morning

It was a Sunday morning. Through his blue eye, he could look at the blue lights in his phone, his smile turned towards his phone screen. His biceps reached his shaving kit and his fingers picked out his shaving foam while the fingers on his right hand were busy typing on his phone. Rock music was playing softly on a stereo kept on his bed, sinking beneath his heavy white sheets. He would pause between shaving to tap on his phone. He washed his sandy black hair in the sink and his phone buzzed. He quickly threw a towel on his head and his green eye looked into his phone screen. He giggled as he typed.

His wet hair was sticking to his tanned neck which was covered with red freckles. He sprayed half a bottle of cologne and wore a red sweatshirt over his black shorts. He kept his phone aside and looked into the mirror. There was a brown beauty mark right beside his mouth, he covered his green eye with a blue lens. Now, both his eyes were blue.

His phone had been buzzing nonstop for the past week. And he had been smiling nonstop for one week. He sat on his bed and switched the music to some old Finnish song. As an Australian, his curiosity and obsession towards Finland had turned to a dangerous level. He knew that “Minä rakastan sinua” meant ”I love you” in Finnish. But he never learnt Finnish in the past twenty years and he had no plans of learning it anytime soon, not until last week.

His sweat shone on his tanned face as droplets of water fell from his wet, unkempt hair. He was too busy texting to notice the temperature in his room. The Finnish music completely engulfed him into it. He was intoxicated without any alcohol. Nobody knew who was behind that screen or those texts. He got up and clicked a picture of his surfboard, hanging on the wall behind him. Then, he got back to typing again.

”Cyril! You haven’t left yet?” A middle-aged, fat woman entered his room. Her face was red from climbing the stairs, she was healthy and white with brown, greasy curls, ”You have your finals, today. Come have some breakfast and then I’ll drop you,” He picked up his surfboard and they both walked down the stairs.

They had some vegemite for breakfast. He peeped into his phone from under the table and smiled. His mother noticed it right away, “Cyril Edwards,”

He quickly looked up, “That’s me,” He had a cheerful voice, squeaky and sweet.

”I know, what are you doing with your phone down there?”

“I’m just looking at the weather reports. What if it rains?”

She smiled as she took a sip of her coffee, “What’s with this sudden shift of music? I thought you were a rock head,”

“Oh, mom! Stop prying!” He got up and wore his surf watch. He packed his surfboard in his board bag and picked it up in his left hand. His phone was in his right hand,

“Your surfboard leash?”

“It’s all in the bag,”

“And your wetsuit? Hey, wait! Cyril! I’ll drop you”

“It’s fine, mom. I’ll walk. It’ll be a good warm-up,”

He closed the door.

He walked on the road, surrounded by trees and wilderness. He could hear various insects and birds. The beach was visible from the street.  He could faintly hear the sounds of announcements from afar and he could see huge waves, as tall as 10 metres coming and going.

But he ignored all the bounty of nature and stared into his phone,

“Finally, today are the finals,” He typed.

“Can you record yourself surf? I really really wanna see you surf!” He received a text.

“Sure thing! I’ll ask my mate to record me,” He typed.

“AYE!” He heard a familiar voice and quickly put his phone away. Two boys were walking towards him. One of them had neon dyed hair and a golden tan all over his upper bare body. He wore a beanie and black sunglasses with red trunks. The other one had brunette hair and white skin, He wore a sleeveless grey hoodie and shorts that showed off his skinny arms and legs. Certainly, he wasn’t as much of a sportsman as the other two boys beside him.

“Aye, mate! Gunna beach?”

“Totally,”

“I walked into a cobweb yet again. Aye, tell me if there’s some small spider on my back!” He turned back and a huge huntsman spider, with legs as long as 15cms, walked on his bare, yellow back.

“Yeah…There’s no…small spider on you back….” Cyril said.

“GEE AY! Now then, let’s go to the beach and pick up some sheilas! I’ve got some pointless conversation to have standing on the corner watching all the good sorts walk by” Meet Edgar, a spineless, lowlife pervert whose only gift is surfing.

The brunette boy beside him yawned and pressed his head on Edward’s shoulder. Meet Skyler, the most powerful spider hunter in Sydney! He was no noob! He had killed more than a million spiders within twenty years. He did nothing but simply throw a look at the huntsman spider on Edward’s back and the spider jumped down and ran away.

He closed his eyes and fell on the road.

“…He slept again. I just woke this bloke up,” Edgar said, “He looks like a total galah”

“Try throwing some water at his face,” Cyril advised.

“He just drank it and slept back again last time,”

“Get off the grass!”

“I’m serious!” Edward picked him up on his back.

They walked down the street and ran towards the beach. Cyril went to the bathroom and quickly changed into his blue wetsuit. He removed his lens and kept it back into its box, in his board bag. He pulled his hair back and wrapped his surfboard leash on his ankle. He walked into the sand reached the shore.

“G’luck, mate!” Edgar patted his back.

Cyril passed his phone to Edgar, “Could you tape me surf, Ed?”

“Aw sure, man!” He took his phone.

"AND THE NEXT PARTICIPANT WE HAVE WITH US IS A TWO TIME WINNER OF THE AUSTRALIAN GRAND SURF CUP. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE WELCOME THE AUSTRALIAN POSEIDON—CYRIL EDWARDS"

 "Seems like they are calling you,” Edgar said and Cyril turned back. His heterochromatic eyes shone under the sun. Edgar whistled. He picked up a blue surfboard and jumped into the water, landing on his stomach with his surfboard beneath him.

As the wave came over him, he stood on the surfboard. He could see the entire beach from up there. Skyler was sleeping on the sand under an umbrella and Edgar was filming him. His mother sat beside Skyler. As the water touched his neck, he felt upbeat. He slapped the wave beside him and went ahead. There were two other people following him.

"Woo! I'm taking this baby on!" He shouted as he surfed.

"Not this year, Edwards!" A boy said as he approached him and raised up in the air with his surfboard.

"TRISTIAN MILLER DID A LOVELY BOTTOM TURN!" The commentator said on the speaker. Everyone stood at the beach and cheered by howling, whistling or clapping.

“Watch out! He's a grass cutter!” Edgar shouted. (He’s moving in on your turf)

"Wow, that was a good one. But you know what" Cyril said and did an effortless Roundhouse Cutback, "I'm still better"

(Note- The roundhouse cutback is one of the most beautiful and most popular manoeuvres in surfing.)

Tristian clicked his tongue and did a Foam Climb followed by a floater. The audience shouted.

"Let's see what counter-attack has Cyril Edwards panned for us," The announcer said.

"Okay Tristy, watch and learn," Cyril said and made a trajectory on the way, rose up in the air and landed with a backflip on his surfboard. The audience shouted so hard, they almost lost their voice.

"DID YOU SEE THAT?! IT WAS MIND-BLOWING!" The commentator shouted.

"He's a stubbie short of a six-pack, that bloke”

"’TWAS A SNAP KICKFLIP!" The commentator shouted.

The horn went off and thus marked the finals.

"Well, that was easy peasy," Cyril said as the surfed back to the shore and looked at Edgar.

“How was I?”

“I’m pregnant,” Edgar shook his head.

Cyril laughed and took his phone from him, “Gimme a break. Did you record it?”

“Yep. I’m killing it,”

“Cool.” Cyril smiled and instantly sent it to the Finnish girl he was talking to that morning.

“I’ll watch it later. I’ll go have my breakfast,”

“Is it morning there already? Wow, we talked the entire night…” He typed but she didn’t see it. Maybe she went away.

"ALRIGHT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WE HAVE THE RESULTS WITH US NOW! HOLD YOUR BREATH CUZ HERE THEY COME!” Cyril looked at the huge screen in front of him. His mother stood behind him. “THIRD PLACE- OSCAR CLIN

SECOND PLACE- TRISTIAN MILLER

AND IN FIRST PLACE, THE AUSTRALIAN POSEIDON—CYRIL EDWARDS!"

Everyone howled and clapped as music covered the beach. Cyril’s mom screeched and hugged Cyril, “OH MY DARLING! I KNEW YOU’D WIN!”

“Mom—”

“I’M SO PROUD OF MY LITTLE BABY,” She kissed him.

“Stop it, you’re embarrassing me,” He hid his face as the cameras focused at him. Tristian glared at him. Cyril came back home with the trophy and the prize money in his hands.

“So, what are going to do of all this money?” His mom asked as she drove back home.

“Maybe we should go on a holiday,” He smiled as he texted on his phone while sitting at the back of the car. “I won!” He texted.

“Where do you want to go? The USA?”

“…Finland,”

She laughed, “Alright then,”

“Good news, we might meet soon x3 I’m planning a surprise for you!” He texted. He went to a café with his friend, Skyler that evening. They looked at Edgar. He was dressed up as a waiter and Cyril laughed, “What’s the John Dory?” He asked. (What’s going on?)

“Well, it’s better than robbing an old two pot screamer out there and just ending up in a disco tin” (Police car)

“What a gutless wonder,” Skyler said.

“Nay nay, take a u-ye from that thought,” Cyril laughed.

“Well, I do run like the clappers, mate!”

“Bless your cotton socks, Ed,” Skyler picked up the menu.

“f**k off, Sky!”

“OI! STOP CHIT CHATTING! GET THE ORDER!” The café manager shouted.

“YES SIR!” Edgar shrugged, “I forget to pass on the message last night and he just went berko!”

“Old age kills brain cells,” Cyril laughed.

“Bloody oath mate, that is so true.”

“Anyways, what are you serving?” Cyril looked into the menu.

“Mate, we've got a grease frisbee, you want some? Or some salad?”

“Twenty bucks for a salad?!” Cyril’s eyes widened.

“Fair crack of the whip,” Skyler said, “I want water,”

“Just gimme some bangers and a cappuccino,” Cyril said.

“Would you like some White Crow on your Bangers?”

“Yeah, sure. Oi, ain’t we getting some mate rate ‘ere?”

“Yeah, I own the café, right? Stop carrying on like a pork chop,”

“What a bogan!”

“Bugger off, mate!”

“Cafes suck. I’m just going to the bottleshop to get some grog,” Skyler slept back again.

“This bloke is such a grumblebum, wish he'd stop havin a whinge!” Edgar slapped the menu on his head.

“Isn’t it midday though?” Cyril asked.

“I don’t care,” Skyler said.

“What are you, some European Barbarian?”

“Must be golden to be twenty-one,” Edgar said. He went away to get the order, meanwhile, Cyril checked his phone, His text was still not on read.

Edgar got his order.

“Well, that seems like a bloody ripper,” Cyril looked at his meal.

“Yeah!”

Skyler was asleep by then.

“Hey, Cyril!” Edgar said and Cyril looked at him, “They say they want more waiters, what do you say? Want some extra dough? Two hours and six hundred. It won't hurt you, av a go at it.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Alright then,”

Cyril had his food and hung out with Skyler near the harbour, feeding bread to seagulls and staring at the ocean for a good one hour. Time with Skyler was peaceful since he didn’t speak or move a lot. Cyril returned back home in the evening and took a shower. He removed his lens and lay on his bed, looking into his phone.

She hadn’t seen it till then. He played some games on his computer while waiting for her reply. He checked it before going to bed but there were still no replies, it wasn’t even read by then. He texted,

“Seems like you’re busy. I’ll go to bed now. Talk to you tomorrow :-)

I love you,”

When he woke up the next morning, he checked his phone even before his eyes were able to open properly, she still hadn’t seen it.

“You’re still busy?”

He got up and went to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and took a bath. He threw on some loose track pants and a sweatshirt over his Dock Martins and ran downstairs.

His mom had prepared the breakfast by then. He looked into his phone, still no messages. While he was eating, his phone buzzed and he quickly checked it,

“My bloody budgie carked it, got home after a surf and he's flat on the floor! Will be late, go without me!” It was Edgar and his stupidity, nothing new. She had still not seen his texts yet. He went to his university and took his books from his locker. The professor was busy teaching but all he focused on was his phone. Why wasn’t she checking her phone? Was her phone dead? Maybe she got ill? Maybe she got some urgent work? He thought she’d return back tried so he should write some nice texts for her.

He clicked a few pictures of the beach since she told him she had never seen the beach.

“When you come to Australia, I’ll teach you how to surf and feed you some Aussie chook!”

‘Oh right!’

“Chook means chicken, btw,”

He texted her the entire day without receiving any texts from her. Finally, he decided to check her ** but was shocked to see that it was nowhere. Did she…block him?

He checked her profile on their chatting app and yes, she had blocked him.

But why? She didn’t seem angry or upset with him. Everything was going on so perfectly for this past one week since she had met him. They were busy flirting all the time, it was his first online relationship. How could she just block him without any explanations or reason?

He was confused.

He sat on the rocks before the ocean and stared at the sun, falling into the sea. He rubbed his eyes and looked into his phone again. He wanted to contact her, maybe he’d use a different account? No, but he didn’t want to seem desperate.

“Those track pants are so daggy!” Edgar shouted and sat beside him but Cyril didn’t look at him, “How you doin', cobber? Looking forward to going for a walk across the coathanger? Sorry, I couldn’t make it to uni today, by the way,”

“Ed,”

Edgar looked at him.

“Has someone ever blocked you without any reason?”

“Many times!” Edgar laughed.

“But why?”

“Well, some people get bored of talking to the same person for a long time or sometimes the person they’re talking to starts to seem annoying, I mean there are many reasons,”

“…Then, one day, if I turn annoying, would you block me?”

Edgar laughed, “Nah, I’m the kind of person who would rather shout at a person rather than just quietly block that bloke. I would make sure I’ve made their day as bad as mine because they annoyed me!”

“Okay,”

“Why are you asking that though? What happened? Is everything okay?”

Cyril laughed, “Yeah, just a sheila blocked me over nothing,”

“Aw mate, you look buggered, I think you need a cup of tea, bex and a lie down!” He tickled Cyril’s armpits and he laughed, “STOP IT, MAN!”

Finally, he fell over the rock, “Ow! My waist is f****d! I think I peeled some skin, it bloody hurts!”

“Well guess what, mate? It hurts more than your heart. You got a good distraction,” Edgar smiled.

Cyril looked at him and then at his shoes, “I’m not hurt,”

“That’s my boy! Now then, wanna enjoy a lovely Devonshire?”

Cyril laughed, “Yep,” He got up and hissed, “I think I’ll get this treated first. f**k, even my sweatshirt tore. Just take me back home,”

“Ask your mum to brew me some coffee. She makes the best coffee in Sydney harbour!”

“Yeah, she does,”

“You should learn that skill from her,”

“My father doesn’t like it when I cook. He thinks it’s not masculine,”

“Yeah, that digger. Well, how about making it away from your home?”

“What do you mean?”

“The Mardi Gras festival is coming and we need some helping hand during that time since the parade will pass right in front of the café. So, we’ll have a lot of blokes to serve. Please help your man or his boss will kill him!”

“Hmm, do the bolt,” Cyril laughed (Run away)

“He’s gonna get so angry he’ll do his 'nana! Please help me or I’ll—”

“Pull up ya duds, ya jocks are showing,” (Your underwear is showing)

“AHA! THAT’S IT!”

“Oh no…”

He removed his pants and stood before him in his underwear, “I will harass you!”

“Flamin' hell it's so hot,”

(Tn//For goodness sake, oh no)

-To be continued