The Unicycle
Crystal
Siasang
crystalsiasang@gmail.com
I was only eight years old when we moved into the old apartments on the west side of the city. We rented a suite on the fourth floor. It wasn’t a very big city. In fact, most people hadn’t heard of it. I guess you don’t expect much to happen in a place like this, but now that I look back, I’m glad my family moved to the middle of nowhere.
It all started with a unicycle. I was out on the balcony with my two younger sisters, Qafia and Susan. It was a beautiful sunny day. I was looking down on the field and the school separated by a creek behind our apartment. Below us on the sidewalk, a family of four; a mom, a dad, a daughter and a son, were taking a stroll around the block. What caught my attention was the unicycle the boy was riding. He looked about eight or nine years old but was really good at it. My youngest sister, Susan who had just turned one was giggling as if that looked like a clown in a circus.
A couple days later, my dad came to pick me up from my friend’s house. I had just met her in school and we were already best friends. The car parked in front of her house was not one I recognized though. It was a big old purple van with a streak on the side. My dad stepped out of the passenger side.
“Our car broke down; we’re getting a ride home
from our
neighbour. This is David.”
“Very pleased to meet you.” said David.
So I rode home with my dad and his friend who ended up living in the apartment right next to us. As I was getting out of the back seat, I noticed a really bad scratch by the handle of the sliding doors, but I was too shy to ask about it.
The better friends my dad and David became, the more we hung out with his kids, Michael and Vanessa. Michael was the boy I had seen on the unicycle a couple weeks back. We played almost every day. Vanessa was the same age as Qafia. They would play with Barbies together. I pretended I was too old to play with dolls.
“Do you want to play with us?” They would ask me.
“No thanks” I replied.
Instead, Michael and I would ride our bikes, explore the creek, make paper planes that we would release from the balcony on the fourth floor and make snowmen in the winter. Qafia and Vanessa came to help us too. Michael even tried to teach me how to ride the unicycle. It was very difficult. It took a couple days before I could balance on it. I couldn’t quiet pedal yet. The unicycle would fall over every time I tried and Michael would try to hold me up.
“Are you okay?!” I frantically asked when the unicycle fell on him once. “Yeah,” he grumbled, getting up off the ground.
We had given up for the day and were heading back when two boys rode up to us on their bikes. They didn’t look much older than us, but I was afraid. They wanted to take the unicycle but Michael wouldn’t let them.
“Hey! Can I see your bike?” one of them
sneered.
“No,” said Michael and we started walking away
“Come on, give it here!” they yelled.
I guess they knew they wouldn’t be able to fight Michael. He was a bit bigger than the bullies. So, the smaller one of the two, a blonde scrawny boy with a buzz cut, turned around, leaned over and pulled his shorts down. I caught a glimpse of white skin before Michael covered my eyes like those moms do to their children on TV shows.
“…and then he pulled his pants down!” we were telling our parents later that night.
They found it funny and couldn’t stop laughing. Looking back on it now, I guess it was kind of funny. The bullies ran off after the little one flashed us. We never saw them again after that.
After living in that apartment for almost a year, my parents bought a house. We were going to be moving at the end of August. Just in time for Qafia and I to start a new school. Susan didn’t have to start school until next fall. I had made so many friends at my old school. Saying goodbye was hard, especially to Michael and Vanessa.
The night before our moving day was a memorable
one. Michael,
Vanessa, Qafia and I were playing in the living room.
“Kids, supper’s ready,” my mom called.
We run into the kitchen. Susan is throwing food from her highchair. That night as we were saying our last goodbyes, Michael leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I didn’t know what to think. I said the first thing that cam into my mind.
“I’ll miss you.” I gave him and Vanessa a quick
hug.
“Bye” was the last thing I heard him say.
* * *
It was summer of 2007. I was going to be in grade eight in the fall. I was excited to be graduating from elementary. One day, a new friend of my mom’s from work invited us all over for supper.
“They have kids your age,” my mom was telling Qafia and me. “You can make new friends.”
I didn’t really like meeting new people. I already had many friends and still had contact with friends from my old school. The only ones I had lost contact with were Michael and Vanessa. Last I heard, they moved out of those apartments soon after we had. As the years went by, those childhood memories slowly faded away; but still remained somewhere in the back of my head.
In the end, I ended up going with Qafia and Susan and my parents. They only lived about three blocks down from our house. We parked our car on the street in front of their house. We walked up the driveway to their front door. I noticed an old purple Dodge Caravan parked outside their garage. There was a streak on the side and a scratch underneath the handle of the sliding door.
The back gate was open a crack. Through it, I saw a unicycle leaning against the side of the garage. My heart almost stopped for a second. Childhood memories came rushing in. My dad rang the doorbell. A family of four; a mom, dad, a son and a daughter welcomed us in. I looked up at the teenage boy standing in front of me.
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Michael.”
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