TICK to the TOCK (A Coming-of-Age Story) (19 page)

Reluctantly agreeing, eventually, they gave in due to their ever growing exhaustion. Although, yesterday morning nearly put an end to my driving dream, as an entire five minute chunk disappeared from my day. Talking to Danii and stealing kisses on her warm neck, we laid naked in bed, enjoying a rare lonesome period.
 

"I love the sound of no Wil in the morning," she said. "It makes me realise..."

That's all I remember. My next conscious moment is me standing in the shower as water and soap trickles down my nose and into my open mouth. With a racing heart, I rushed out of the shower, and without saying a word, Danii knew. "You can't drive tomorrow, sweetie. I'm sorry."
 

I shouldn't have worn her down with my silent pleading, and I shouldn't place my friends in this sort of danger, but I have to make this drive, and I know, somehow, I'll be fine. Right now, I'm more than fine. I'm alive. Like I say, this isn't driving. It's living.

The Great Ocean Road is one hundred-fifty-one miles of twisting and turning that keeps you vigilant throughout. Each time a long stretch appears, a few twisty turns precede, often leading to a new beach town that looks suspiciously like the last, but with a few new quirks here and an extra insight there. In the direction we're heading—towards Melbourne—the ocean rests to our right with an almost exclusive sight of green to the left. The navy sea is as expected, but the frequent fauna is a pleasant surprise.

The day grows older, but the sharp sunlight remains. It's too early for the healthy threesome to require sleep, but the last few days have taken their toll. I suspect if it wasn't for my recent regale of life, I, too, would feel exhaustion, but as I haven't slept properly since the day of my learned fate, I doubt I'll understand the notion of rest and peace again.

For now, it's Morrissey and me as The Smiths fill the small grey car with playful melodies. If Ethan were awake, he'd detest it; Wil, tolerate it; Danii, oblivious to who or what it is. The rules dictate that I am the master of the airwaves, another one of Wil's, which is ironic as he's the only one of us unable to get behind the wheel. Smart indeed, but not smart enough to pass his driving test, despite five attempts, dozens of lessons, and three separate driving instructors refusing to teach him.
 

"Oh Dante," he said, after his final failure. "My worst score yet, and worse still, Bill has said goodbye." Bill was his most patient instructor, yet even he had his limits.

I was furious at the time, tired of chauffeuring Wil around, but in hindsight it was for the best. Wil on the road? No, a terrible idea.
 

As The Smiths fades out and is replaced by the haunting voice of The Tallest Man On Earth, the figure to my left stirs: Danii, twisting her head from her hand and letting out a large and lasting yawn. If anyone was to disturb this lonesome road, I'm glad it's she. It's been a while since we drove together, and for once, I sense we may enjoy it.

"Good nap?" I ask, keeping my attention on the rolling asphalt.

"Yes, thanks," she yawns, hiding her face in her palms. "How long have I been asleep?”

"About an hour. This road is soothing," I say, rolling the
o
s.

She coughs and splutters. "Are you trying to tell me that you, Dante King, are having fun... whilst driving?"

"I think I am." I cock a smile from the corner of my mouth. "I guess it had to happen sometime."

Stroking her fingers over my left hand, she grips me as I grip the wheel.

"I think we need a night of relaxation. You're all exhausted," I say.

"Aren't you?"

"Not really. I guess I'm used to it."

Tightening her fist around my fingers, she nudges as close as her seatbelt allows. "Yeah... but hey, it means you can drive as I sit back and relax. I think you owe me after years of behind-the-wheel grumpiness."

I grin but pout at the same time.

"How are you feeling, anyway?" she asks.

"Well, I haven't crashed, if that's what you're asking."

She tilts her neck.

"I'm fine. No signs of insanity. I promise."

"Okay," she says, straightening up. "But I was meaning in general, too. Australia seems to suit you."

"Yeah, it's strange. I don't know why, to be honest. I keep thinking I should be depressed or something, but I'm not." I glance at her bare legs, the loose skirt riding up and exposing her tanned thighs. "I try not to question it."

"Yeah." Twisting some more in her seat, she faces me straight on, her right leg folded under her left. She wears a plain white top that hugs neatly to her figure, showcasing her midriff and curves—or in places, the lack of—and all I want is to be alone with her and making the most of
this
. "We all seem to be doing a little better at the moment. Even Wil. He didn't bite when I questioned his
taste
in shoes yesterday, although I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not." She laughs, looking in the back seat.

I can't tell her of his frailties. I can't tell anyone, of course, but I certainly can't share them with Danii. "Yeah... I suppose there's always going to be ups and downs. This, makes it easier," I say, nodding towards the ocean. "Isn't it amazing?"

"Yeah. I'm glad you finally get to see Australia. I know you've always dreamt of it."

"You're enjoying it too, right?"

"I am," she says, with a complementing softness to her soothing stroke of my arm. "I can't believe it's Christmas in a few days. This isn't Christmas weather," she continues.

"I know. Can you imagine what it's like back in York? Give me sunshine and surf over wet and windy any day."

She takes her hand back and looks out the passenger window. Curling both feet up onto her seat, she sighs. "It's getting easier, isn't it?" She hesitates a few seconds, seeming to choose her next words carefully. "What I mean is, we seem to be adapting, which is crazy because I don't think we should ever feel comfortable about this. Any of this."

I take my eyes off of the road and stare at her. In this light, she's a masterpiece no artist could improve. A blur of green against blue is her backdrop, and the ever-darkening light mixes with the bright rays from in front. Part of her tanned and scrumptious face is aglow, and the rest is in shadows: her hair golden, then blonde, and then a rich dark brown.
 

"I don't know if we're adapting to anything," I say, "Right now, it's peaceful. That's all that matters."

"Yeah..." She twists in her seat, away from me, and plays with the loose strands of hair overhanging her shoulder. "I start to feel guilty, though. It's stupid. I've spent so long hoping it would get easier, but now it is, I fear it shouldn't be. Like being happy—no, not happy—happy isn't the right word." She sighs. "I don't know what this is, but whatever it is, it feels wrong. We should be sad, right? We should be... suffering."

"I think we've all suffered enough, sweetie." Each day brings Danii and me closer together, and each lonesome conversation edges us deeper into the other. But right now, I can't do this. This road is too incredible for such thoughts. "Like I say, I try not to question it."

"Sure, you're right. You're right. Sorry." She twists in her seat again, this time facing me. "You know, I could get used to you driving with a smile. For years, I dreaded getting in a car with you."

"Oh come on, I wasn't that bad.”

"Are you kidding me? You were dreadful. I spent many a moment worrying for our future children, sitting in the back and having to listen to your..." She hesitates, like we always do when the conversation takes a turn we cannot handle. The future... children... our family... we usually share a glance, turn away, and change the subject with careful precision. Then again, this road...

"I used to think about that, too, you know?" I say.

Her eyes widen and she drinks her next breath. "About what?"

"You getting our children lost on every family outing."

"Excuse me," she says, pushing up on her feet and nearly hitting her head on the roof. "I only got us lost on a few occasions.

I raise my eyebrows, words not required.

"Fine, maybe more than a few, but it still wasn't bad. Anyway, it's a lot of pressure being in a seat next to you. You never know when 'Bad Dante' will rear his ugly head. Seriously, when you get behind the wheel, you digress into a sulking thirteen-year-old."

Pouting, I try to replicate her damning image of me.

"That's the one. Oh yes, driving would most certainly be your biggest downfall as a father."

"Yeah? There would be more than one?"

Biting her bottom lip and blinking twice, she stares past me and out towards the ocean. "There would be one or two, yes," she says, taking my hand. "Overall though, you'd be amazing."

Keeping my attention on the road, I take a deep breath. "Well, I'd have a marvellous teacher by my side."

Rubbing her hand gently up and down my thigh, she places her head on my shoulder. Another beach town is near, the tops of buildings sneaking out from behind the trees. This road. This inspiring sea. This delightful sky, and tedious grey path before me. Never has driving been like this.

25
^th
December—Melbourne:

Recommended Listening:

Baby, It’s Cold Outside—She & Him
 

When The Sun Goes Down—Ben Gibbard

Hallelujah—Thao & Mirah

Mykonos—Fleet Foxes

I remember waking up on Christmas morning as a child with so much energy and excitement. It's a shame how life takes this away and makes it
just
another day, but on this occasion, I awoke to a feeling of festive joy. True, it was coupled with a striking headache that reached a seven on my measure of torture, but as far as agonising headaches go, this one had spirit.

We all stirred early this morning and shared a merry breakfast in the bar/cafe/hangout area downstairs. Surrounded by travelling nomads, each far away from home on this day of all days, we had no desire to interact or let others be part of our clique. This occasion was for the four of us.

The mid-morning sun decked the small garden in luscious tones, the greens of the leaves and yellow of the petals bright, so contrasting to the darker colours Christmas usually brings. Taking the festive supplies we bought yesterday, Ethan and Danii cooked a variety of meats over the small barbecue we picked up, the four of us hidden away in a private corner in the hostel's garden.

"I'm not sure this is as good as my mum's Christmas roast," said Ethan, stuffing a sausage in his mouth. "But I could get used to the sun."

"Ah yes, I was thinking the same," replied Wil, mixing an array of drinks, his sole duty to keep us topped up and merry. "Christmas in new light, but Christmas all the same."

Laughing and singing out-of-tune carols, we left the morning behind and welcomed the afternoon with full and bulging stomachs. I lay on my back, Danii resting on my thigh, and stared up at the quilt of blue. As chatter and laughter died down, an ache roamed my inners, but it wasn't the tumour's work on this occasion, it was a longing. A longing for home, for York, for my parents, for a time of year I used to treasure so dear.

"I think I need to walk on my own," I told Danii, after guiding her away from the smouldering barbecue.

I anticipated a torn reaction, but it never came. "I think that's a good idea," she said, rubbing my arm.

Unintentionally, I've been beside at least one other person throughout this journey, which is nice, but also pathetic. I left for the airport alone, a lone nomad embarking on a meaningful journey. My only lonesome moments are awake in bed, but even then I'm in a room with three other people. Walking the Melbourne streets right now is my first lonesome stroll, but it should be one of many. I'm glad Danii's with me, and Ethan and Wil, too, but I wonder if I'd have learned more had I been alone all this time.

The desolate streets of Melbourne are peaceful. I hadn't considered Christmas at any point during this trip, and until we reached the City and saw large triangular trees and flashing lights, I assumed Christmas wouldn't occur this year—as though it was a holiday reserved for the English.

It's different, but still rather familiar. Everywhere is quiet and closed, just like back home, but there's a certain energy despite the lack of people. Walking past storefronts still brings a twinkle of festive tunes, and unlike previous years, where I'm tired of every single song by the time December blossoms, I now appreciate every chord, even those from the dreaded voice of Sir Cliff. It's sad to consider, but I've probably heard the majority of Christmas songs for the final time.

The biggest contrast is how everything is light and bright and full of colour. I'm used to Christmas Trees hypnotising me with their vibrant distinction against the dark and dreary backdrop. Here, the colour of the trees never matches the glimmer of that beside it. Whether it's the blue sky or the sun reflecting in a wall of glass, or simply the playful brightness of the day, the tree is lost in a beautiful array of visual noise.
 

I find this both wonderful and sad, because I've always believed Christmas Trees hold power and magic, and no matter what the setting, they would always stand out like certain flowers do, or striking faces with flawless features. Then again, maybe this is how Christmas should be captured. So often, we associate snowy scenery and a well-layered Santa, but maybe a bright and joyful season is the only way to understand such splendour.