Travel Money

Our Footsteps are soft as we approach the door, we are mid trying our hardest not to burst into laughter, although it’s difficult. Dannie has this thing about her. When it's the most drastic case of ‘not the time or place’ phrase, somehow that’s when she's contesting for 'you've been framed’. Her all too focused face, while her hands dip dangerously close to my hips with gentle fingertips threatening to tickle me. After my fifth fake yelp of a no because much as I’ll never admit, I love anyway she touches me.

“If you wake up Lottie again, I will murder you,” I say through a smile she obviously notices, further convincing her to grab my hips entirely pulling me in. “She will have had her zopiclone by-...” her wrist snaping 1 inch away from her moulded face her right eyebrow holds still till she's done creating suspense. “...Now” Humming softly as if that justifies noisy neighbours past 11.

The layout from our front door leads into a walk-in kitchen with a breakfast table in the middle. Plants surround the room with cute, homey decorations collected throughout the years; I love our home. I love our space, I love that it’s filled with us, any space I look to, there’s a fond memory. Pictures and poems attached to the fridge from countless dates and cute messages with lunch or days apart, A standalone guitar with its signature crack down its neck, I love that guitar, I probably love it more than Dannie by the amount of times I beg her to play it for me. The patchy paint on the wall. One time, Dannie was out at work, and I attempted to paint the hall, I remember I was so excited to surprise her, until I realised I wasn’t tall enough to reach the top, when I had tried standing on the stool, I stumbled, crashing straight onto my back. A dramatic hand imprint left in walls, Dannie ended up driving me to the ER that night after I told her what happened, not by choice. She came in, picked me up, and the sound I made was concerning, to say the least.

It seems to always go like that; her protecting me. Taking care of me. I used to hate it, my mum said I was like a cat hiding, when it knows it's unwell. Then I met Dannie. Things changed. Hiding any time, I was mildly not well to, lying in a warm bath with sick down my arm and Dannie rubbing my back.

From dying cat to spoiled one. It still makes me ashamed inside, needing her. I felt like I was wasting her time. It was a big problem when we first started dating for both of us; she called it “disappearing, that even if I was in the room with her, I mentally checked out before asking for help. Many times, I asked her to leave me alone, and many times it angered her; many times, I got angry back. Fights after fights, then one day, when I locked myself in the bathroom to cry after getting a text message that my mum was readmitted into hospital after we thought she was better, she sat at the door calling my name. I ignored her. An hour it lasted, when I finally unlocked it and stepped out there, she sat at the bottom of the door with a cup of tea. I cried, and cried, she only hugged me, telling me I was alright, a mix of wet tears and snot trailed down her shirt, and I felt safe. Really safe.

Later, cuddled up on the couch, I told her. “I’m a lot” she just smiled at me the way you do when you softly chuckle to a child pointing out their favourite sweet and you know you're buying it, but you don't mind. “A lot I want” I paused. Her eyes didn’t change, “Why?” I hesitated. She didn’t. “I love you.’ it wasn't a uncommon word amongst us.

“I love how your brain works. I love how you speak in your own little language, and I love that I can always tell when you are in your own world, but you need to let me come with you. Keeping me out pushes me away.” This time I decided to show her I knew that too.

Our Flat looks very well lived in. Stepping forward, I flick on the light switch, causing the room to gradually fill with colour. Removing my coat. Dannie is currently occupied with shopping bags in both hands, her face slightly popping up over the food. “I can't believe you've never tried rice pudding!” she stated with pure childlike thrill. “I’m so excited to change your life” she continues, “Oh, I'm ready for my life to be changed” I keep on encouraging her as if she needs it. Dannie steps forward, placing the bags on the table while I step behind her, helping remove her own wet coat from either arm gently.

“It was nice to bump into Claire and Andy” she notes, “Yeah, it was” I take a minute to recall my thoughts on the matter. “Weird, felt like only a week ago they moved down south,” I comment, and it was true, since when did life go so fast? “Guess that's what time does to you,” I tell her, I feel like I only turned 20 yesterday. Reaching almost four years ago now, but life is good, everything is so good with Dannie.

She stands on the opposite side of the table beginning to unpack the items, lifting out ingredients like sugar, rice, and cream with other items. “Oh! We can use the cute bowls we got from Ikea, finally?” I jump at the opportunity. “The one with the blue rim?” Dannie asks, fully going along to make me happy. “Yeah, it’s a special occasion.” I protest even if it doesn’t need it. “You’re being cute, aren’t you?” She smiles, now against my back, resting her head on my shoulder and wrapping her arms loosely around. I let out a giggle, though I sense Dannie’s face turning distant, trapped in thought. Her face stiffens, lines drawn across her. I know she’ll tell me; it’s a matter of when. Grabbing two bowls, my perfect reality is struck.

“Come with me.” The request makes my body tense, I wonder if I must answer, and selfishly, I wish I didn’t.

“We’ve been over this, Dannie.” Placing the bowls down, accidentally they rattle against each other. I must have been too rough? The sound was uncomfortable. Or maybe that was just the growing atmosphere “I know! But we can make this work. I can get another job, and we can dip into savings, and I can- “she sounds so desperate. Her body parted from mine. “How many times have we had this conversation?” I’m already tired of this conversation, and we are only a couple of words in. I hate it when she gets like this.

“Considering we’re still having it not enough.” Her voice is a flicker of an argument, “Can you stop it? just stop it.” I find myself refusing to face her.

“We are running in circles,” I reply with soft irritation. “Please.” Her eyes are broken inside. Shattered. Almost. “I want this.” She’s pleading now, and I’m upset. Taking a breath, I ask the questions she refuses to accept exist. “Okay, and let’s say that you do this. You know yourself; you can’t go study and handle what 3 jobs? And those savings?! Those savings you keep going on about are for your future. I can’t let you just throw that all away because you want us to stay together.”

Her face resembles something of a hurt deer. “I’m not throwing anything away. If you weren’t so afraid to go somewhere new, to try new things, to start again, we could build a brand-new life. We could make it work.”

I feel something twist inside of me. Disgusting venom starts to slip. “Scared? You’re the one who’s asking me to leave everything I know and love behind. my family, my home, my life. Because you picked a school 4000 miles across the world?!” throwing my hand in the air across the room in an accusing manner. Dannie folds her arms together, holding herself. As if this conversation was hard on her? For a minute, I thought about screaming, I told her. when this all started. Don’t keep me along if you want to leave. And this is what she’s telling me? “God, Dannie.” My voice is shaken, and I feel my posture cramping. “Could you have picked anywhere further from here?” It's a rhetorical question my shoulder blades feel sore. Dannie makes the action of clasping her nose, leaning against the table. “I don’t want to be trapped here. There’s nothing here for me.” Her voice is shaky, and she knows what I’m about to say. How could you not?

“I’m here." Fuck. ‘For fuck's sake I’m here’ My voice isn’t anything but closed off.

“I thought you weren’t mad.” I wanted her to stop. Of course, that’s what she wants to focus on. Her eyes are unmoving, and in a second, I know what headspaceshe’s in. The one that means we are stuck believing everything she is set on. Committing to her dreams with the least amount of time available. “I’m not mad- “Istart, “I know this is what’s best for you, I know you’ll love it, but it still hurts me. There are other courses, other places that offer the same stuff. It hurts. knowing you had options, and you picked the furthest one.” It's selfish, I know this. She was so obsessed with this stupid school, and of course, at the start, I wanted that for her. “It’s more than the school. This town, Lacy, is suffocating. out there? I can make something of myself.”

The use of my name in this context sickens me.

“Why do you hate this place so much?” I argue

“It was never my home the way it was yours.” She explains

“It was my home. because you were here.” I admit heartbroken. But being hurt doesn't win fights. It just fuels them.

“That’s not enough for me. None of this is enough. passing the exact same three fucking shops, knowing exactly when the Clarks are walking their dog, it’s all routine. There’s so much to see out there. music! cities! foot to taste.

You’ll live and die with the same four corners of this place. I won’t live like that. I can’t live like that.” I freeze at that statement. a shaky breath as I step forward, her finger in an accusing point. I recall my sweet angel. We’d been driving, I had made a joke a playful tease but not the cruel kind, not the kind you hold your breath and not the type of joke you make to taunt, the type of joke you know will be matched. Turning into a light lingering laugher or a belly cramp. The time of joke what leads to fake gasps, charming, pouted lips and narrowed gazes of love. This might not sound all that appealing if you haven’t lived it out yourself. But it’s the constant feeling of knowing inside and out not one thing is mean not one thing is determined to do anything other than to enjoy. I think that’s the secret to it.

We’d been driving and in typical fashion I’d attempted to offend her, in which I was successful, in return there was a sudden break. At first my assumption was something bad, a worrying text or call. Immediately I went to check something hadn’t startled her, to not my surprise but my surprise her arm was crossed over my chest, one arm still on the wheel, she looked half frightened and half confused by her own action, in a spit of a second no less abrupt than the sudden stop, “I did that and my first instinct was to protect you!” She yelled. The plan to make me jump and instead I got an entire flash of complete utter love. Where was that blind saving me now? instead she was hurting me.

“At least I’m happy! At least I can look around and come to that conclusion. You think this place isn’t a home, but you are the one ruling out the possibility of us ever making it one.” I bring myself back to what's happening right now. “I feel lost. I want to be able to find myself.” What kind of movie quote is that? Everyone feels lost. You don't see them packing it up to fuck off. “And that clearly can’t involve me,” i say, although I hate the words leaving my mouth because that means it's true. Watching her struggle to fix this sting a little. “That’s not what I meant.” A shaky breath from Dannie she shakes her head.

She is equally upset. running a hand by her neck. “This isn’t fair,” I express through broken emotion. ‘You didn’t want to move last year. I asked you last year. I told you if you wanted this, we should break up.” I meant it then! Of course, I meant it then, I meant it when I could cope with her vanishing off, when I mentally preparedmyself for it, but now it's fresh, now it's new, now it's coming faster than I could ever have anticipated. I was ready for the days of same clothes and depressingly watching reruns, i was ready to sit awkward when people ask what happen as if they aren't happy to have a wild drinking buddy back. I was ready to survive without her.

“And I didn’t want that either.” I never told her what to do, I did the opposite.

“So, it’s my fault you stayed?” I told her to go. “It’s nobody’s fault.” Dannie says it like she really believes that.

“Then why is this so hard...?” And in her usual fashion she is about to be right.

“Because I love you, and you love me” I move forward. face red and flushed as i seek comfort in Dannie’s shoulder, crumbling into her. I'm not ready. Dannie holds me tight. tighter than before. “We can do long distance? We could make things work. I could come see you every other holiday. We can start writing cute letters, you’ve always liked that, from that one movie you love. It can be all romantic. this doesn’t have to be the ending.” she pleads in a whisper.

I don't speak; "We can FaceTime every night. I'll send you over different types of sweets. And you can send me some home goods," Dannie offered, her voice tight with forced optimism. this had come like a rogue wave, pulling her away just when I thought we were finally, truly, settled. "You know it won't work," I finally rasped, my voice hoarse from unshed tears. "We don't know yet?" Dannie pleaded, her eyes stinging. She, the pragmatist, the voice of reason, was suddenly clinging to straws. It made me laugh softly, a broken, watery sound. "You are never the overly positive one," I joke. "Thought I'd try something different," Dannie mumbled, tracing circles on the back of my hand. "I don't want this hurt to keep hurting." I wish I could have enjoyed that for a second longer, but my brain doesn't let me. "So,tell me! What can make this work?" Dannie challenged, her gaze unwavering, searching. it was too much pressure. "Can we just watch a movie?" I asked, deflecting. My head was tense. sore. "We should talk about this," Dannie insisted, but her voice lacked conviction. "And we can, tomorrow. Can we please just watch a movie tonight?" my voice cracked. But I sang it through a hum like we really would just talk tomorrow.

We retreated to the living room, a silent agreement passing between us. Blankets were pulled up to our chins, the familiar weight a small comfort. Dannie must have felt guilty cause she shared her favourite one with me. The opening credits flickered on the screen. "I'll never understand this movie," I muttered, a tiny smile playing on Dannie's lips. "Me neither."

"Why do we keep picking it, then?"

"We know how it ends,"

I replied, dishearten leaning closer. "No, I swear, there's another reason." She paused, searching her memory. "We watched it one night... we came in from the movies, and we'd been watching some new horror, something about possessed dolls, and you got so scared you refused to sleep. This was the first thing that came on. "Oh, yeah. There was too much blood in that movie," mimicking a shudder. My fingers are tracing a pattern on Dannie’s arm. I suddenly feel lighter than I had been all day. Dannie pauses, "I love you." I know she does, "I love you too." It’s final, we shared a soft kiss, almost too gentle to feel, before turning our attention back to the TV. The cheesy special effects and nonsensical plot were a buffer, a distraction from the looming separation. For now, in the shared silence, surrounded by the familiar, we could pretend, just for a little while longer, that everything was still alright. The future was still uncertain, but our love was not.

I left the next morning. Peacefully and full of love, the way Dannie and I always were, the way I wanted to keep it. I had stayed up all night trying to perfect the ricepudding recipe that she praises so much and left it for her on the kitchen counter with a note. I imagine Dannie waking up and wondering where I am and then stumbling into the kitchen half asleep, searching for me in an oversized shirt. I like to think it didn't hurt her as much as it did me, but I know the truth.