Journey || Erik Durm

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CHARLOTTE:

                ANOTHER life existed by the seaside.

The ocean was a seamless merge of aquamarine and ripples of white pirouetting, disguised as tidal waves; an unending glimmer akin to fabric satin in concurrence with the unfathomable skies.

I closed my eyes in the heart of the autumn afternoon, feeling waves lapping on my tingling feet.

At last, it was the day of Halloween, and the beach swarmed with adolescent youth, indulging in fiery bonfires, nestled around cocoons of strangers and friends alike. There must have been so many parties unfolding on par with one another; in fact, there were always frivolous parties in happenings around here, I'd realized; in the time I had worked by the beach, I had seen more cases of drunken mistakes and heartbreaks and hookups than imaginable.

A few days ago, after the ludicrous encounter with Erik, I'd been tempted to have rebound sex myself. There were so many temptations too: flocks of needy boys seeking one-night stands.

I couldn't do it.

Before I could kiss—or even approach—them, a resolute photo of Erik flashed in my mind, hounding me with regret.

I regretted everything that had to do with him.

I regretted our conversations and our fights and the nights we spent in restlessness, having solely one another as sanctuaries. But more than that—more than anything else—I regretted the day I had begun falling in like with him.

Ugh.

Mama would shake her head and murmur an I told you so.

One night as I had visited her in the hospital, eyes reddened with tears due to a heartbreak encounter with a boy, she had taken my hand into hers and smiled knowingly, telling me, Oh dear, you can't go along falling in love with boys like those, and at the time, I remembered feeling something akin to discontentment and rebellion, mindlessly retaliating within; Don't listen to her, Charlotte, because you can fall in love with whoever the fuck you want to, even if they fuck you over in the end.

Erik had been that elementary heartache magnified.

All I had wanted was a home—somebody to call home—and he had tumbled along, the embodiment of nonchalance, having that irresistible tendency to twitch his lips into his signature smirk, tugging my heart with indescribable sensations. But that was only the half of it, I reminded myself; it made me bitter to think about how our story had ended, but the truth of it was that Erik had left me disarray.

He had always left me disarray and he always would.

Never have I ever listened to Mama and always have I ever wished I had.

"Charlotte!" Manila called out, nudging my arm and breaking me from my reverie. "You ready?"

I nodded with an aura of reluctance. Today was the football game between Borussia Dortmund and Bayern Munich. Papa was to be there, and it would be our first meeting. It had taken so long for Manila and I to arrive to this point, but now that we were here, I felt at a loss, wondering if all of the journey had been worthwhile.

What would I say?

Thanks for ditching my mom, jackass, which crossed my mind too frequently, or I miss you, Papa, which I did; I missed him for the memories he never gave me.

"It's going to be an interesting game," she assured, noting my glum expression.

"Let's just go," I heaved, and we walked across the beach to the parking lot, leading ourselves to Manila's car. I fastened the seatbelt with ease, and as the car gained motion, I discerned the palm trees that sweeped in the distance. Laying my elbow on the window and my chin in my palms, I said, "My pals are going to meet us there too."