TICK to the TOCK (A Coming-of-Age Story) (15 page)

I'm sorry, Danii, and above all, I'm sorry about this letter—how you'll never read it. How I write it for my eyes only.
 

I love you, Danii, and I want you to know that all of the times you tried to change me, and help me grow, and help me see a brighter light, and each and every time I fought you and pushed you away, that deep down, somewhere deep, deep down, my heart whispered yes.

Too much love and regret,

Dante

Tearing the piece of paper carefully from the notepad, I folded it in half. I watched her rest peacefully under the covers, and folded the piece of paper once again. Walking around to her side of the bed, I kissed her hand and folded the paper one final time. I should have placed it in her palm, but I didn't. Instead, I put it in my pocket.
 

"It's for the best," I whispered, trying to convince myself. "You deserve better than me."

Crawling back into bed, I hugged the covers and watched her chest move up and down, up and down. I fell asleep eventually, but only to wake up and fight the same pitiful battle over and over again.

Tightening my grip around her, I bring Danii closer and kiss her forehead. "You warm enough?" I ask.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks."

The chill from outside isn't as fierce in here, but the standard room offers little protection. The wind enters through numerous nooks and crannies, a constant draft chilling anything that falls too close to the floor. Up here on the bed, we're safe, especially wrapped in this thick woolly blanket, but every now and then, the wind picks up and attacks tender ears and nose.

"Do you remember when we visited your family in Torquay?" Danii asks, out of nowhere, and breaking me from my daze.

"Yeah."

"It was nice. I enjoyed that little trip."

I laugh, breaking the silent hold the room has over us. "What made you think of Torquay?"

"I don't know, I'm just thinking. Remembering the past, I guess."

I nod. "It's hard not to look back on everything, isn't it?"

"Yeah, especially in a place like this. It makes you think." She joins her fingertip with mine. "Well, not this place.
This
place," she says, motioning both our hands in a circle, "is rather bleak, but you know what I mean."

The draft picks up, tickling my nose with an icy surprise.

"Do you know something," she says, twisting out of my grip and kneeling beside me. "I was going to come here before I met you."

"Really?"

"Yes. Amazing, I know, but there was life before Dante."

"Lies," I say, gently biting my bottom lip and clutching her jumper.

"It's true. I was going to come here before university. I hadn't thought about that until now. Feels like a long time ago."

"Who were you coming with?"

"Nobody, just myself."

"No way. You couldn't travel on your own."

Her narrowing squint shoots me down. "Excuse me, mister, but I'm a strong modern woman who needs no man to hold her hand."

"Is that so?" I wink.

"It sure is, although meeting you seemed to change things. You and your ways wore me down," she says with a cheeky grin, although I presume there's an element of truth to it, too.

I return a smile, but her words don't sit nicely. "You never told me," I say.

"Told you what?"

"About travelling. Not even when we first met. Were you just going to come here?"

"No, I planned to do the usual gap year adventure. A little similar to what we're doing now, I guess."

"But you never told me," I say, my neck suddenly aching and eyes heavy.

She shrugs her shoulders.

"You should have. We could have travelled together."

"Sorry," she says, rolling her eyes. "It was a long time ago. Things change."

"Because you met me."

"Hey, don't be like that. I've planned to do a lot over the years, but we can't do everything, can we? Sometimes a dream is destined to remain a dream."

"No," I say, pushing myself up. "We have dreams for a reason. We should fulfil them. You should have fulfilled all of your dreams long ago." My head's light, but my eyes are oh so heavy.

"What do you think we're doing now, mister?"

"No. No. It's different. It's not the same," I say, pushing myself further upward so my spine is flush with the cold brick wall.

"Yes it is, we're travelling aren't we? Anyway, who says you weren't part of my dream, too?"

"You did. In Cologne."

"Hey—"

"It's true, without me you would have travelled the world and lived a completely different life."

"Stop it," she says, nipping the underside of my arm.

Flinching, I squirm and fall to my elbow. "Ahhh, what are you doing."

"You deserved it," she says, pushing me in the chest. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

"Okay, okay. Sorry. It's just... you never told me about travelling. When we first met, you were so strong and independent, and I don't know, over the years you seem to have become more like your mother."

"Excuse me?" she says, glaring and preparing a fist.

"I didn't mean it like that," I say, shielding myself. "I mean, you became more like the woman your mother wanted you to be. Settled and what not. You used to tell me how much you hated that, but as soon as you fell in love with me, it's exactly what happened."

Gritting her teeth, she huffs. "I can't believe you're comparing me to my mother."

"I'm not," I say, trying to hold back a smile. Failure will most certainly result in another nip or punch, but her face is adorable right now: screwed up, tense, flushed with anger, but still housing the same eyes, the same mouth, the same laugh lines. "I'm just comparing you to her dream daughter, that's all"

"Are you aware how close to death you are right now?"

"Yes. A few months, apparently." I finally fail, my smile breaking through.

"You're such an ass," she says, nipping my neck.

"Your mum isn't that bad."

"I'm nothing like her, okay? And besides, we're allowed numerous dreams, you know? You might not have been part of the plan, but it isn't to say you weren't part of the dream."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry."

"I never regretted our time together. Never," she says. "Although I regret being with you now, a little."

Laughing, I pull her in and roll her onto her back. "Okay, I'm sorry. No more hitting, please."

She breaks, smiling and laughing and rubbing her nose into my cheek.

"Damn, I can't believe you beat up a dying man. So uncalled for."

"Shut up. I barely touched you."

"I'm fragile. You need to play nice."

"Then don't be an ass."

"I'm not." Stroking some loose hair behind her ear, I sink into the firm mattress. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure why that frustrated me so much."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I guess, I'm a little fragile towards dreams and
what could have beens
these days. And after everything I put you through, I don't know..."

"Don't, Dante. Don't. I've never, not once, regretted
us
. You have to let go of the past, sweetie. We both do."

Kissing my cheek, she falls to my chest, the force both lovely and painful. Each day my muscles ache further. Maybe it's the cold, although I sense it's not.

With a sudden rush, the door flies open, wood crashing into wood as it strains too far. "Dante, you kind soldier. Let's go out and be boyish," Wil says, stumbling through the opening with a beaker of some sort in hand. "Are you not aware Tibet is on the other side of these walls? Why, oh why, do you remain in here?"

"You're drunk," I mumble, already exhausted by his presence.
 

"No, no, no, no, no, well, maybe a tad. I have no idea what this concoction is, but it has a mighty fine kick to it."

"Maybe you should take it easy, okay? You're drinking a little too much for my liking."

"Pish-posh, Dante, m'lad. I'm drinking exactly the right amount," he says, stumbling towards mine and Danii's bed. "Ah, what is this," he continues, picking up Danii's book. "You are aware Jane Austen was a prostitute, aren't you?" Dropping it from waist high, the book thuds against the floor. "Then again, I suppose she's a role model for some."

"Don't be vulgar," Danii says, offering a glare similar to the one she gave me only moments ago. "You think you're a big man drinking all of the time? It's pathetic, Wil. And I think we're all growing a little tired of you."

"I, dear Daniella, am not the impostor here," he says, smirking and swaying from side-to-side.
 

"Stop it, Wil," I shout, rolling over and practically falling out of bed. "Stop speaking to her like that. She's right, you're driving everyone mad."

Placing his hands in his pockets, and searching his feet, he shuffles from one foot to the other. "Ah Dante, m'lad. All in good fun. All in good—"

"Shut up, Wil. I've had enough of you. I've had enough of you speaking to her like that. What gives you the right—"

"Hey," Danii says, grabbing my arm and pulling me backwards. "It's fine. You know what he's like." Her fingers tighten, digging into my skin a little, but I feel no pain because I'm alive with adrenaline, Wil's smarmy face my only concern. "Hey," she repeats. "Come on."

Straightening out his back, he pops out his chest, lifting his chin and narrowing his lips. "Dante, my oldest of friends. I meant no harm. You know how the both of us are."

"I know how you are," I say.

"Stop it," Danii says, stepping in front of me and blocking my view. Trying to look past, I fail, focussing on her mouth and faded dimples and hair and nose. "Leave it, mister. It's fine."

"He shouldn't speak to you like that."

"It's fine." Her deep calm breaths are contagious. Almost immediately the adrenaline submits and melts from my taut shoulders and firm chest and squeezed fists. As it does, my entire upper body fatigues, drawing me down and down and down, my knees wobbling, my feet shifting, Danii holding me as I ease onto the bed below.
 

"Wil," I say, cupping my trembling hands. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I'm not sure what came over me... I'm... sorry, okay?"

"No need to apologise, Dante, m'lad," he says, peering over Danii's shoulder. "And Danii—"

"It's fine, Wil." Cutting him off. "Maybe just give us a few minutes, okay?"

"Of course. Of course." He searches the area around him, coughing and mumbling under his breath, before staggering towards the door and embarking into the frosty outside.

"You okay," I ask, massaging my shaken fingers.

"I'm fine. Are you?"

"Yeah."

"What was that all about?" she asks, sitting next to me. "You know you don't have to stand up for me.”

"I know, I know. You don't need my help."

"Hey," she affirms, stroking my chin and enthusing me to look at her. "I need you. But you know what the two of us are like. You never have to get in the middle of us like that."

I nod, the tiny movement a tiresome act.

"What happened?" she asks, now stroking my neck. "I've never seen you like that before. I thought you might hit him."

"I wanted to. And I don't know, I just lost it. He shouldn't speak to you like that. He needs to stop drinking and acting like an idiot. I just..." I sigh. "I don't know. It was weird. I didn't feel in control of myself."

Moving her hands down, she strokes and rubs my shoulders and chest in long slow swoops. "It's fine. It's just all those meds, that's all."

"Maybe it's more than that.”

"It isn't."

"It might be." Biting my upper lip, I look up and above her. "I don't want to change, Danii."

"You won't," she shushes. "You're still you. You'll always be you."

I nod, it once again tiring.

"You'll be okay. It's this place, we just need to move on. As soon as Ethan gets back, we'll sort out a trip to somewhere warm and pretty."

"Yeah, that sounds nice. I think Tibet's taken enough already."

Resting her forehead on mine, she allows silence to hang, our breathing in sync and oh so close to one another. My air mixes with hers, and for a few seconds we share the same elements of life.
 

"I'm sorry I've never stopped him from speaking to you like that," I whisper. "I know you don't need my help, but I should have stuck up for you each and every time. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she replies, her forehead still on mine. "And stop saying I don't need you. I do. Just not when it comes to the mysterious Wilbur Day."

I laugh. "Okay."

"Anyway, let's forget about it. It's over."

"Yeah."

"Let's focus on dinner. Where would you like to go tonight?" she asks.

"How about the little place we passed yesterday?"