TIMESTAMP: 6:00 AM on October 18, 2024
LOCATION(s): Santa Monica Beach →
Beverly Hills High School, Beverly Hills
SONG: Cuando Calienta el Sol
INCULUDING: Alejandro De Borbón y Prusia (#110006)
& Clara von Pruessen (#999999) (Alvaro's parents)
LOCATION(s): Santa Monica Beach →
Beverly Hills High School, Beverly Hills
SONG: Cuando Calienta el Sol
INCULUDING: Alejandro De Borbón y Prusia (#110006)
& Clara von Pruessen (#999999) (Alvaro's parents)
![](https://i.imgur.com/w7vV74T.png)
Álvaro needed to jumpstart his morning.
It was like his routine, the cream-colored Plymouth Fury rolled to a stop in the same spot it had sat the day prior. He exited his trusted vehicle, Álvaro's eyes were held at the horizon as he unfastened the surfboard from atop the roof of his car, and as if it were clockwork the first rays of sunlight shone down on Santa Monica beach. While he hated routine, the view he was afforded made up for it. The distance from the pier allowed for him, his board, and the open ocean to be the only ones around; at this moment, isolation was bliss to him. His gaze shifted instinctually to the beach, as waves crashed against it with an air of elegance, rarely rising too high as they rolled into flat water. It was cold to the touch; the water wrapped around Álvaro’s legs when he entered the sea, it was almost like he was right back home in Barcelona. Álvaro’s mother was the one who taught him how to surf, she would take him out on their private beach on mornings just like this, she showed him the ropes, taught him the motions to go through to catch a wave, the exact same methods he uses till this day. The sound of his mother's slight German-accented voice going through the motions reverberated in his brain, he knew what to do, it was practically muscle memory at this point, but he still heard it.
“You have to take it slow, Álvaro” His bare chest lay pressed against the surface of his board as he paddled out; his mind was clear, it usually was during his morning escapades, the only thing that lingered was his mother’s voice. The truth was Álvaro seldom saw his mother, even during the breaks when he would return home to Spain, his father would keep him busy. One month he’ll take Álvaro to work with him in France, the next in Turkey, continuing until it was time for Alvaro to return to the States. His father had even stopped Álvaro from surfing with his mother when he was young as there were “Much better ways for my son to be spending his time.” Álvaro never complained though, anything to make his father happy, right? A father always knows what’s best for his son, right? “Watch how I do it, Álvaro. You have to stand up as you meet the wave.” Álvaro’s eyes were locked on the encroaching wave, it was the biggest he had seen this morning, maybe even the whole week. He was supped, the thrill of catching the wave was as puissant as always, although Álvaro only caught this thrill when he was successful. Success was like his drug and the thrill was his high, it was like a bullet train he could not get off, to Álvaro there was no stopping until he achieved that success, hell, he wouldn’t even stop after. The speed of his paddling increased with the closer the wave got, and the path of his paddling arched into a semi-circle with his back now facing the wave. He took a deep breath and held it, pushing his body up off the board in a quick, fluid motion as he felt the wave hit his board.“You caught it, Álvaro! Try to keep steady.” Álvaro rode the wave like it would be the last he ever rode, he swerved back and forth making quick turns as he skated across the open ocean. Water splashed about from his cutting of rushing water, soaking his body even more than the paddling had, stopping only when his wave had fizzled out.
That thrill had been achieved.
Álvaro laid back on the board, flipping his wet hair away from his eyes before he began to paddle back. He was disappointed, that was the best wave he was going to get this morning and Alavro never wasted his time on anything lesser; something he picked up from his father, never settle for anything but the best. In no time he had made it back to his car, Álvaro propped the board up on the side of the vehicle, grabbing his phone and a towel off the driver's seat. “Maldita sea, se me ha olvidado…” (“Shit, I forgot”) Two missed calls and one new message from Padre.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Álvaro wasn’t a man frightened easily but, man, did that strike the fear of God into him. The fact that it was Friday had slipped his mind, it was 6:42 in L.A., but 15:42 (3:30 PM) in Barcelona, this was ten minutes after the time once a week his father would call to check-in. He had never missed these calls, goosebumps covered his the moment he clicked the notification.
FROM: Padre
Llámame
(Call me)
Álvaro called his father immediately, his heart beat harder the longer the ringing continued. He had failed his father, not only had he neglected one of the few things his father asked from him, he did it while engaging in an action his father had forbade him from doing. Álvaro strove to live up to his father’s expectations, he was born into the shadow of a giant who demanded Álvaro grow bigger than himself. He constantly tries to please his father but nothing has seemed to work, the only thing he does seem to make his father is angry; he has a short fuse and this has definitely lit it. When the ringing stopped his heart sunk into his stomach, the noise from the other end was silent say for the few times he heard his father breathing, the words flew out our Álvaro almost automatically,
“Hola padre, lo siento por haber perdido la llamada de usted, yo estaba conduciendo y no vi el teléfono mío sonando.”
(Hello father, I am sorry to have missed your call, I was driving and I did not see my phone ring.)
He was lying through his teeth, but it was much better than the alternative; that would’ve just made him more mad.
“Álvaro, buenos días. A tu madre le hubiera encantado hablar con usted esta mañana. Es una pena que tu propia incompetencia haya evitado eso. Nunca dejas de decepcionarme, Álvaro.”
(Álvaro, good morning. Your mother would have loved to speak to you this morning, it’s a shame your own incompetence has prevented that. You never fail to disappoint me, Álvaro)
Now that stung. It really struck deep.
“Lo siento, padre, eso no fue mi intención.”
(I am sorry, father, it was not my intention.)
Álvaro leaned against the car beside his board, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he held back the hurt.
“Independientemente de la intención, nos has decepcionado a mí y a la madre de usted también. Ahora, te ha ido bien en la escuela,¿si?”
(Regardless of intention, you have let me, and your mother down. Now, you have been doing well in school, yes?)
“Si, padre.”
(Yes, father.)
“Muy bien, recuerda, llegaré a Los Angeles para asistir a la conferencia en diciembre, usted asistirá conmigo, ¿entendido?”
(Alright. Remember, I will be arriving in Los Angeles to attend the conference in December, you will attend with me, understood?)
“Si, padre.”
(Yes, father.)
“Muy bien, adiós Álvaro.”
(Alright, goodbye Álvaro.)
“Adiós padre, yo te amo.”
(Goodbye father, I love you.)
Nothing could be heard on the other side.
The line clicked.
“Ojalá, probablemente no me escuchó.” (He probably didn’t hear me.) Álvaro muttered under his breath, slipping his phone into his pocket and propping his board right back onto the roof of his car. He needed to do better, he needed to be better. Hell, he missed out on speaking to his mother today because he wanted to continue this frivolous activity he considered a hobby. His father was right, there were much better ways Álvaro could’ve spent his time, but because he didn’t listen he missed the opportunity to talk to his sick mother, and Álvaro was one who never missed an opportunity. If there was one thing Álvaro learned was that his father was never wrong; he was cold, and his lessons were tough, but he always learned that. Although, deep down, Álvaro wished his father would treat him the same way he treated him under the public’s eye, he radiated a warmth to his son that turned cold when they got home. But! Álvaro knew it was only for his benefit, no pain, no gain, he knew his father loved him like he did in public deep down, he had to…
Álvaro grabbed his bookbag from the front seat, changing out of the soaked pair of shorts he was wearing into his outfit for the rest of the day; a black jacket upon a plain crimson shirt, and a pair of black chinos. It was a black and red day, probably the only time he would be seen in this color pairing, it was too vibrant for his liking. Álvaro’s hands lay idly on the wheel as he sat in the driver's seat, still reeling from the phone call. “Fuck!” Álvaro hit the steering wheel in frustration, nothing he ever did was good enough, he needed no more slip-ups, this year had to be his best and that meant by any means necessary. Álvaro turned the key in the ignition, shifted into gear, and then sped off from the beach.
His arrival at school was no less spectacular than any other day, dapping up and giving quick hellos to the scores of people he passed in the hallway was exhausting, none of these people were truly his friends, only serfs he kept around for what they brought to the table. That was the one thing his father taught him, people were only to be blessed by your company if they supplied something you needed, and that was what Álvaro lived by. Álvaro managed to make homeroom around the time he always had, taking his seat at his desk right as the morning show started rolling, he had the whole day ready to take all for himself.