TICK to the TOCK (A Coming-of-Age Story)

by Matthew Turner

  Standing before a door proclaiming it's room 417, I'm brought back to the present. Pulling the key out of my pocket, I open the door and enter the sun-filled room. I pass the battered mirror and glance at my frail form. The jeans and plain green sweater drown me more than usual, my deteriorating diet already leaving its mark. The door snaps shut, and as I turn and look at her, the churn in my stomach returns. "What are you doing here, Danii?" I mumble.

  "To be honest, I'm not sure."

  I nod, because I don't know what else to do, and walk over to the window and lean my forehead against the cool wooden pane. An old church rests to the left outside, and a line of green stands below both this building and that. It's so pretty up here. I looked out of the same window yesterday, at the same church around the same time, but it didn't look like this.

  A light blue cross tops the church, much lighter against the richer sky. I remember the train journey when I wanted to be outside, imagining the same thing again: clinging to the cross as the breeze tickles my ears and the sun warms my cheeks.

  "I'm sorry," says the soft voice from behind.

  "What for? All you did was say how you feel. No need to apologise."

  "No, that's not true. You came to me. You needed me. I shut you out."

  Spinning on the spot, I lean on the open ledge as the breeze kisses the back of my neck. She's beautiful, just like outside, and I hate how I'm unable to hate her. "It's okay. It wasn't the easiest thing to hear, I'm sure. Hell, it wasn't the easiest thing to say."

  "Exactly. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."

  "Fine, is that what you came for? To apologise? If you did, fine, I forgive you."

  "That's not why I've come."

  "Then talk. Say what you say, Danii."

  Taking a seat on the red-patterned bedsheets, she leans on her knees, aiming her head towards the floor. "When you came to me and said what you said, I had no idea how to react. I'd spent the best part of a year trying to hate you, or at least... forget you. I've never loved anybody like I love you. I don't even understand it, because for the most part, we were terrible for one another. But I did love you, and it pained me, literally hurt, to stand back and watch you push me away time and time again. And seeing you after so long, on my doorstep and having a go at Jon—"

  "I was hardly having—"

  "Dante, please. Just listen. I was angry at you for coming. I hated you for it, but then you came out with the... news... and, well, the anger disappeared. But I didn't want to let go of the anger, for without it, all I have is love. And I've tried to convince myself for so long that I don't love you. That I don't miss you. That I don't need you." She takes a deep breath. "I closed the door because I didn't know what else to do. As soon as I did, I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in there. Jon knocked and knocked and knocked, begging me to let him in.

  "He was so worried. He loves me so much. But at that moment, I realised I didn't love him back. I'd spent months trying to love him, but in truth, I never did. Because I couldn't stop loving you. And I really did hate you then. For the first time ever, I honestly hated you. When you broke my heart, I didn't hate you. When you broke Jon's nose, I didn't hate you. But knowing I would always love you... I hated you for that. I hate you for the hold you have over me."

  Finally, she looks up. "I came out of the bathroom, told Jon some bullshit story, and tried to get on with my life. I know, horrible. I pushed everything deep, deep down, and carried on with life. Even though I knew what you were going through, I carried on. Even though I knew I didn't love Jon, I carried on. I tried, I honestly tried to forget. But how the hell can you?"

  Standing up, she sighs and pushes her hands through her hair. "I finally went to your parent’s house. Your mum cried the moment she saw me, and we hugged and sobbed and broke down in each other's arms. She told me you'd gone away, and I knew I had to come and find you. I couldn't allow us to end like that." She sighs again, this one heavier. "I can't stop loving you, Dante. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't let you go."

  Pinching the bridge of my nose between finger and thumb, I face the window once more. I bite my knuckles and ball my fists and stare outside... just gape... at nothing... at everything. "What happens now?" I ask, the warm light less delicious and soothing than it once was.

  "I don't know," she says, brushing her palm down my back. Her breath tickles my neck, and it makes everything stand on end. My body misses her and reaches for her; every inch of skin longing for her tips and lips.

  "What about Jon?"

  "I left him. I told him everything... everything. I closed the door on him like I closed the door on you, and I feel terrible for it, but I can't think about him... not now."

  Turning to face her, she places her hands on my chest, moving them up and down ever so gently and slowly. She places her forehead on my chin, the aroma I thought I'd never taste again practically on my lips. I have so many questions and so much to say. Not now. Later. Right now, I need to kiss her.

  "I'm so sorry, Danii. Everything I put you—"

  "Don't."

  Cupping her chin, I edge her upward, wrapping my right arm around her back and pushing my left through that golden brown mane I've spent so many nights yearning for. Kissing her, I caress my tongue with hers. This was normal, once, but now it's a strange déjâ vu from long ago. Familiar, but not. A faint linger in a lifetime of wonder.

  8th November—Cologne:

  Recommended Listening:

  Sun Song—Laura Veirs

  She’s Always a Woman to Me—Fyfe Dangerfield

  Samson—Regina Spector

  Charlie Darwin—The Low Anthem

  Cologne isn't a city I've spent nights dreaming about, unlike some distant lands like the New York City skyline, Sydney Harbour, Uluru at sunrise, or the rolling hillsides of Switzerland. I've spent many a night fantasising about places far away, picturing those I've seen in magazines and on movie sets, wondering if they're as beautiful and fantastic as they seem.

  Regrettably, Cologne wasn't part of this fantasy, but having arrived yesterday, it's snapped me out of my somber mood.

  I ache with burden and a strange confusion, but unsure why. Danii arriving in Paris was unlike anything I could imagine, but each day since has taken me further from the place I feel I should be in. Progression, not regression, surely. Yet this strange burden clings to me. Until arriving here, that is. Walking beside the River Rhine with Danii wrapped under my arm and Ethan on my right, Wil on my left, I feel fresh and... not cleansed, but close. The air is cool and crisp, a sharp feel to it as each mouthful flows down my throat. It's chilled, but not the freezing uncomfortable kind; rather, the cleansing version present in the early morning haze before life taints it.

  It rained earlier, and although the air is bone dry now, the linger of disturbed river water and dirty autumn pavement remains, a distinct aftertaste after each inhale. It's nice, pleasant even.

  With shining lights reflecting in the water below, and a city ahead basking in a gentle orange glow, the conditions are perfect. I've never understood why people like autumn, but I sense this is why. A dark, sensuous aura that the other seasons cannot replicate. Maybe it's like this in England, too, but if it is, I've never noticed; maybe I wasn't supposed to until now.

  "This is lovely," says Danii, moving her head further up my shoulder, her hair brushing my ear.

  "Yeah, much better," I say, actually believing it this time.

  "Look, look, guys, this is why we came. This is why we're here! The Hohenzollern Bridge and Cologne Cathedral—together as one, practically touching and kissing. Aren't they a marvel? Aren't they a... a... a... bloody damn marvel!" Wil springs to life, one second a subtle member of the group, the next its lead character in a show of nighttime beauty, hopping from one foot to the other, his yellow chinos darkened at each rim from the leftover rain.

  Looking at the giant cathedral, I yearn for more. A few months ago, I'd marvel at it because it's a beauty to behold, but now I see more; at least, I wish
I did. Its two spires, flush in a gentle, glowing light, climb high, the detail of every nook and cranny a work of art. It's still a distance away, but already I see the careful construction of love. But there's magic within its walls I cannot understand. I've never needed to understand, but the more I think and ponder, the more I wish I did.

  Where the gothic style and ancient feel of the Cathedral ends, the modern spectacle of industry rises, an arching bridge—this time lit in a dark, golden yellow—creeping almost to its doorway. Brick and stone turn to iron and steel, but who am I to say which is better. Both were built by hands, and both will outlive me by a thousand years.

  "Do you see? Do you see? This is why we came, gents, this is the reason. How could we pass such a moment without taking both hands and cementing it in our memory? Promise me we'll live! This isn't the end of amazing awe, merely the beginning. We're surrounded by it. Each city has it. Each country and area and hidden corner of the earth. It's mine and yours and ours," says Wil, kicking his feet through a puddle.

  "You chose well, mate," I say, tightening my grip around Danii.

  "Can we take a walk?" she asks, her head still on my shoulder.

  "Yeah, come on," I say, removing my arm and locking my hand around hers. I've missed holding her hand. There's something about interlocking fingers during a gentle stroll at night. Any fingers are good, but Danii's are perfect: long, elegant, pianist worthy—ever so slight and lovely. I could, and literally have, played with them for hours. "Guys, we'll catch up with you, okay?"

  "Fine, but don't leave me alone with this guy for long," says Ethan, shaking his head at Wil, who's already fifteen feet in front, waving and jumping.

  "Enjoy," I say, slowing down and allowing the distance between Ethan and us to grow. "You okay?" I ask, rubbing her index finger.

  "I’m fine. How about you? How are you feeling?"

  "I'm okay."

  "You don't have a headache?" she asks.

  "Not at the moment. I feel pretty good, actually. It's beautiful, isn't it?" I say, pointing towards the river.

  "Yeah. it is. You sure you're okay, though?"

  I stop, and grab her other hand so we're in a near dancing pose. "I'm okay. I promise."

  She nods, and bites her upper lip. "Okay." Arching her gaze upward, she smiles from the corner of her mouth. "You've been a little distant since Paris. I'm worried maybe I shouldn't be here."

  "What?"

  "It's okay. We've been through a lot, so—"

  "Danii, I need you to be here, trust me."

  Silent, she takes her right hand and places it over my heart. "Talk to me, Dante. This only works if you let me in."

  I sigh and drop my shoulders. "Okay. You're right, I have been distant. I'm sorry. I don't know what it is, though. I suppose it’s because of you, but not because of you. Does that make sense?"

  She screws up her nose and shakes her head.

  "Yeah, I didn't think so," I laugh. "This is what I mean. I can't make sense out of it. I can't describe how happy I am that you're back, because of all of the second chances I hoped for, you were the one I dreamed of the most. In Paris, I was lively and relieved, but then all I could think about was losing you. How each new day brings me, and us, closer to the end. There's no more second chances. This is it. Soon, I'll lose everything."

  Framing her cheeks in my hand, I place my forehead against hers. "I'm not saying it didn't feel real before Paris, but it's more so now. Before, I was partaking in this poetic journey. Just me. Straight out of a book, you know? Then Ethan and Wil turned up, which is great, but it's not like a book anymore. It's real. And then you came, and all of a sudden I'm filled with this need to live. As though I've made the wrong choice, and that I should go home and fight, eke out every extra day I can, because if I do, they're days I get to spend with you."

  "We'll go home, then," she says, her face so close to mine it's a glorious blur.

  "I can't, Danii. I don't think a right decision exists at a time like this, but I know there's no hope at home. Here, and wherever we end up, there's something. I'm not exactly sure what yet, but it's there. I'm certain of it." Moving her head away from mine, I take a deep breath. "I know none of this makes sense. I can't make sense out of it either, and that's the problem. I'm confused, and scared, and angry, but I do need you. I know that much for sure."

  She tightens her fingers on my chest. "What are you scared of, sweetie?" she asks quietly; barely a hush.

  "Everything," I say. "I want to be brave, but I'm not. And the unknown, it's killing me. It's one of the main reasons I can't be home. I don't want my mother to see me change. I don't want anyone to, but I really can't let her see it." I brush my fingers through her soft and warm hair. "I don't want you to see it either, but I'm not strong enough to do this without you."

  "Your mother loves you. She would be strong for you, too."

  "I know she would, but I can't do it to her. I know I'll fade away into nothing if I allow doctors to experiment on me. I don't want her to experience her son turn into a different person."

  "You won't," she whispers.

  "I might. We have no idea what's ahead. I may not remain the Dante you know for much longer, and I don't want to leave my mum with those memories. And maybe, if I keep walking and moving, I'll cling onto something. I may find something. And I can't explain it, but today is easier. Being here, by the river... it helps. I feel better today, and I'm sorry for being distant, and I'm sorry I can't promise you I won't change or be different. I wish I could, but I can't."

  Shaking her head, she rubs her cheek into my neck. "You are far braver than you know, mister. And I'm here for you, no matter what happens down the road. But, we need to do what's best for you. If all I'll be is this confusing distraction, then maybe I need to go home—"

  "No—"

  "Shhh, sweetie. Let me finish. I can't imagine leaving, but I also don't want to be the reason you fail to find peace."

  I nod and frame her face again, kissing her left cheek, and then her right, and then her lips. "You won't. You're the reason I will. You can't leave me again, Danii. Please. Promise me you won't. Please."

  "Shhh, sweetie. It's okay. I just want to do what's best for you."

  "Then you need to stay."

  "Okay," she whispers, her breath tickling my neck.

  "You promise?"

  "I promise." Sniffling, she buries deeper into my jacket's fluffy hood. "But you have to let me in, okay? I know we've always struggled with that, but we have to be honest now. I can't bear being the reason you're distant. We need to let each other in. We need to. Promise me that. Promise me we will." She's crying now, her tears rolling from her cheek to my skin.

  "Don't cry, sweetie," I say, lifting her chin and mopping around her nose. "We will. It's different between us this time. I won't fight you. I have no reason to anymore." I sigh. "I never did have reason to."

  She half laughs, half splutters and coughs. "Things are never easy with you, are they?"

  "Not usually, no," I say, wiping the corner of her eyelid. "Do you remember the first time I saw you cry?"

  "You mean, after you hit Jon?"

  I laugh. "No, that was the second time."

  She shakes her head. "I never cried in front of you when we were together."

  "You did," I say, gliding my thumb down to her earlobe. "Once, after about seven months."

  “Why, what did you do?"

  "Not a great deal, actually," I laugh. "I didn't invite you to my cousin's birthday party, so you accused me of being ashamed of you." I laugh again. "You were so angry, but I didn't understand why. For seven months, you were this cool and calm girl, unlike any other, and then, from nowhere, you exploded and showcased a side I had no idea existed. I know I should have felt guilty, but I remember being in awe. Tears, somehow, made you more beautiful. It scared me to death."

  "Only you would find tears attractive," she says.

  "I know, bad right?"

  Nodding, she looks up to the clo
udy sky. "I remember," she says, exhaling long and hard. "I'd fallen in love with you at that point. I was angry with you. I didn't want to fall in love. I wanted to become the woman I always dreamed of, and you weren't part of that dream. But I loved you, and you didn't love me back." Placing a finger over my lips, she shakes her head. "I know you thought you loved me, but you didn't. At least, I couldn't believe that you did. If it were true, you wouldn't dangle me on the edge of your life. And I was frustrated, because I loved you even though I didn't really want to, and all I received in return was this casual fling. We were together for three years, but I don't think we ever got out of that casual will-we-won't-we zone."

  Everything inside me deflates, the pain she's never shared, but her pain I've always known.

  "It's okay," she says, smiling with closed lips. "You were confused. We were both very confused in very different ways. But you're right, I did cry that day. I broke down because I loved you, and knew I couldn't make it stop. I could foresee my future, you see, and it wasn't the one I dreamt of. You can't choose love, though. We can't always walk the road we planned once upon a time. If we could, this wouldn't be happening to you right now."

  I nod, my wobbly knees struggling to keep me upright. "You deserve so much better than me."

  Shaking her head, she places her hands on my cheeks this time, their icy touch stealing my breath. "We've always deserved one another, Dante. We've just never experienced the real version until now."

  "I'm sorry I need you," I say, closing my eyes.

  "Don't be."

  "But I am."

  "I'm not."

  Silent, the air whistles between us, my eyes still closed as I inhale the aroma of drying rain and old river water. My chilled cheeks are growing cold, as are my fingers and toes. Placing my hands over hers, I squeeze her fingers until her nails dig into my skin. "You don't want to leave, do you?" I ask, knowing the answer, but needing her to say it.