TICK to the TOCK (A Coming-of-Age Story) (23 page)

Experiencing the Whitsunday's was Danii's idea, as a friend of hers spoke of its amazing aura, and as soon as she showed me pictures, I was in love. Joining a three-day/two-night boat trip around the islands, we packed our supplies of too much alcohol and too little food, and hopped on to the thirty-foot sailboat with an eclectic bunch of travellers: the young with the young-at-heart, the wannabe couples with the married veterans, the rowdy with the quiet, and the up-all-nights with the bed-by-tens.
 

We share these memories with these people, offering stories and posing for pictures. This morning, a soft spoken old lady named Mary showed me a stack of Polaroids taken last night.

"Look at this one," she said, pointing towards an image of her husband and me, leaning in towards one another and deep in conversation. "Derek tells me you have excellent taste in music."

Taking the photograph, I rubbed it in my fingers. "This was taken last night?"

"Of course. Don't tell me you were too drunk to remember?" she said, giggling ever so slightly.

I continued to rub the glossy surface, hoping it might return the memory. "No, no, I remember," I said, although I couldn't recall speaking with Derek at all. "Lovely photos, Mary. I'll speak to you soon," I continued, dashing to Danii and hugging her; another memory lost to the ether.

"Imagine all the pictures you appear in over a lifetime," I said to Ethan a couple of hours later, as he stared out to sea. "I don't mean your own, either. Rather, other people's. Just think of all the random folk you pose with, and the shots that catch you in the background. Think of all those who appear in your own pictures. Intimate memories shared with complete and utter strangers."
 

"Yeah..." he said, his attention on the blue horizon.

"Like yesterday," I continued. "Did I share the moment I saw the beach with you or Danii or Wil? No, I spent it with bloody Hans!" Shaking my head, I recalled the previous day as I walked up the gentle incline, my entire body dripping with sweat.

Along the way up the small and narrow path, I lost Danii, instead strolling side-by-side with Hans, a German who spoke exclusively about his car. Nodding and half-listening, I rounded the final corner, met by the sweet aroma of fauna and sea.

I've seen beaches of every kind: the rocky shoals of the Mediterranean, the dark yellow of the Gold Coast, and the tropical paradise of the Pacific, but nothing prepared me for the green slopes that reached all the way down to the clear blue sea.

"Wow, It's like snow," I said under my breath, gaping at the slim strip of crisp white running parallel with land and water. "Wow," I repeated, turning around and searching for Danii.

"Rather beautiful, is it not?" said Hans.

"It is. I didn't think sand could look like this."

"As bright as the sun's light," he said. "Shall we?" he continued, raising his camera.

Such a memorable moment, so intimate it should have been shared with loved ones. Instead, I shared it with Hans, a stranger I know so little about.
 

Eventually, I regrouped with Danii, Ethan, and Wil, rejoicing in the splendour of the beach and the clarity of the ocean. Day soon turned to night, and although I didn't drink much, I awoke this morning with a hangover, which, as a general rule, doesn't bode well with my forgetful ways.
 

Asking the captain what was for breakfast on three separate occasions, he finally snapped. "You think you're a funny bastard, don't you?" he said, his harsh Australian accent grating each word. "Yeah, I meet funny guys like you all the time. Do one!"

Confused, I turned to Ethan and Wil, who, rather than offering a helping hand, laughed uncontrollably. "Nice, guys. Nice! Thanks for your help," I said.

"Anytime, Dante, m'lad," said Wil, spluttering through each syllable.

As day two transformed into night two, the excess liquor flowed and kept everyone in good spirits. Except for Danii and Wil, that is.

"I keep trying to give you the benefit of the doubt," Danii said, squared up to Wil and balancing on her tip-toes. "But you're just a tiny little boy who will never ever change."

"Oh, what a surprise, the famous Miss Adams speaks of change. It's what you do best, isn't it, dear? Changing folk. Pestering the people you supposedly love. Sticking your pointy little nose in the business of everyone."

As I tried to butt in, Danii swiped my arm away.

"At least people care about my opinion. Who cares about you, Wil? Who will ever care about you?"

Straightening his back, he smirked. "Maybe you're right, Daniella. Maybe you're right. But at least I care to stick around. At least I care enough to fight the good fight."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she spat.

"You left, girlie. You left him and broke him. All because he didn't conform to your little ways. Despicable. Horrible. Manipulative little girl. And you have the nerve to be here now—"

"Okay, that's enough," I demanded, throwing my arm between the two of them. "Stop it. The both of you."

Without looking at me, Wil turned and marched off, Danii following suit and striding towards the opposite end of the boat.
 

The lighter mood never returned after that, and eventually I became the only conscious soul remaining. I should sleep and rest my deteriorating body, but I won't. Not yet.
 

Sneaking out from behind a cloud, the giant moon lights up the floor, revealing Danii to my right, Wil just in front, and Ethan sandwiched in between; his eyes wide and on me.

"Can't sleep?" he asks, struggling to his feet.

"Not sure if I can't, but I certainly aren't."

"Yeah, you've given up on rest these days," he says, sitting beside me in dark green shorts and a torn Rolling Stones t-shirt. "It's a lovely night."

I nod and look up to the moon, once again hidden as darkness highlights the other boats around us, each with its own glistening fingerprint on the blanket of black ocean. "This place is unreal. I still can't get over that beach."

"I know. It makes the other beaches look like Blackpool." Yawning, he reaches for a bottle of water resting by my foot. The Ethan of a few months ago wouldn't drink it. It isn't his, so both his morals and doubt would prevail. These days... "So," he says, sipping from the bottle. "Australia been everything you hoped for?"

"I love it, mate. I love all of this," I say, opening my palms.

"A little different to York, huh? It's a shame Danii and Wil had to spoil things."

"Tell me about it!" I say, rolling my eyes.
 

"Was it really over a book?"

"Yep." I chuckle to myself. "I suppose it was inevitable. Those two... civil... day-after-day..."

"Bloody Wil! Why does he always have to do this?"

"Actually, it wasn't him."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It's true. It was all Danii. She sat there, fawning over how good Pride and Prejudice is—which I know for a fact she doesn't even like—and pushed and pushed and pushed. He didn't say anything at first, but she kept prodding away. I've never seen her pick a fight like that before."

"You spoken to her about it?"

"I tried to, but as soon as I mentioned his name she punched me in the arm. A real punch, too. It bloody hurt."

"Oh, man," he says, laughing. "Still, it'll be okay come morning. It usually is."

"I'm not so sure. It wasn't like their usual fights. I'm not even sure they were fighting with each other, rather themselves. An entire trip's worth of stress and emotion blowing up before a couple dozen passengers. And all I could do was stand to one side with a throbbing headache."

"Bloody book."

"It wasn't about the book."

"I know..."

I sigh. "I guess it's going to get harder, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"The tension's going to get worse, too."

"Yep."

"I was hoping I might experience one of my famous memory lapses."

"No luck?"

"No."

"Typical."

"Yeah."

Sipping from the water bottle, Ethan looks around the darkened boat. "You finally going to tell me about Wil?"

"What about him?"

He smiles, his teeth glistening in the moonlight. "Oh come on, you didn't think I'd notice?"

"Notice what?" I ask, taking the bottle from him.

"Whatever it is you know, of course."

"I promised I wouldn't say anything."

He smiles again, gazing out into the dark cosmos. "A promise to Wilbur Day is usually destined to be broken."

Sighing, I shift in my seat. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Well, recently I've seen a side of him. One I didn't think existed. A fragile and childlike one."

"Hardly surprising. He is a child, after all.”

"I'm serious, Ethan. I'm worried about him. I always figured he was bipolar or sociopathic, or a plain and simple moron, but he has scars... deep and lasting scars."

"Like?"

I hesitate, considering my betrayal, but Ethan's right. I need to let him in. "Like his parents are worse than we thought. That they're the reason he doesn't trust anyone."

"Everyone has issues with their parents.”

"Yeah, but he has some real issues with them."

"His parents aren't that bad. I mean, his dad's the biggest tool in the shed, but—"

"No mate. There's something deeper to it than that. The way he speaks about him. I think something happened at some point."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, exactly. I sense he hasn't told me the entire story, and I'm not sure I want to press for it, either."

"If things were so bad he would have told us."

"Really?" I say, offering him the bottle. "Since when has Wil ever shared anything of meaning? The way he's opened up to me recently... well, it's made me realise how little I know him."

"Stop being so vague, Dante. What has he told you?"

"That his mum's an alcoholic."

"No she's not.”

"Think about it. Remember all of those times we've joked about her love of wine?"

"That doesn't make someone an—"

"Yeah, but we also don't see what goes on twenty-four-seven." I rub my hands over my chest, the nighttime breeze picking up. "I don't know the whole story, but in Jakarta, and then in Sydney, he showed a side I've never seen before. It wasn't filled with the usual fluffy words and facetious wit. It was sad and helpless and unstable, and I'm worried about him, because who knows what he'll do. And this argument with Danii... well..."

With a deep breath, he places the bottle on the floor and takes my arm. "Don't get caught up in this. You have too much to worry about without getting in the middle of Danii and Wil. You especially don't need Wil's nonsense right now."

"It's not nonsense.”

"You know what I mean," he says, his grip firm. "You need to look after yourself."

"I know, but—"

"No, Dante. No but. No maybe. You need to focus on you."

Nodding, I inhale the sea air, the salty aftertaste clinging to my throat. "Promise me you'll look after him."

"You know I will.”

"I mean it, Ethan. He needs you. He will always need you."

My cousin doesn't say a word, merely stares through me like he so often does.
 

"Anyway," I continue, clearing my throat. "How are you coping?"

He shuffles in his seat. "I'm fine."

"You're such a liar."

"I thought I told you not to get caught up in other people's problems."

"Yeah, yeah. Stop being a dad for once."

He smiles and scratches his stubbled chin. "Nothing new. Still as confused as ever."

Silent, I play his usual role and wait him out.

"If I'm being honest..." He hesitates. "I can't imagine going home."

Placing my arm over his shoulder, I pull him closer. "I wish you would stop guilt tripping yourself over having a good time. A trip like this is meant to change you. In fact, no, not change. Travelling doesn't change you at all. It introduces you to new possibilities. That's all. I'm proud of you. I'm proud of how you've let go of routine and embraced this life we're leading. I think about what you were like a few months ago, and—"

"Was I really that bad?"

"Not at all, but were you really that happy locking yourself away from all of the potential in the world?"

"I thought I was."

"Yeah, because you were blind to it.”

"That's the problem," he says, rubbing his face. "I knew what I wanted from life when I was twelve-years-old. It's what I've always known. I'm comfortable with that. I may have been boring, and I may have been blind, but it's all I needed."

"Ethan—"

"How sick is it that I'm enjoying this," he continues, shrugging me off. "This isn't an enjoyable trip. I shouldn't be smiling and having a good time." He looks at his feet. "I'm glad you get to see all of this, and I'm proud to be here with you. But I shouldn't change or appreciate a new side of life. Not when yours is taken away from you."