Timidly

14 | it takes time

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Manny P.O.V

I LEAVE DONNA in the hotel room with a handful of magazines and the promise to be back before nightfall. Yet, she doesn't answer, instead turns away when I lean in to hug her. Shit, I upset her. That's the problem with my friendship with Donna. She completely shuts the world out when things go badly, or when she's feeling crappy. Years of being in her life have helped me come to understand it. Still, it hurts when my best friend pushes me away.

But even Donna must realise that staying here is not how it should be. That we can't start fresh without confronting the past; making amends with those we've drifted apart from. It's just the law of family. You must never turn your back on family. I wander around the streets for a bit, the sun setting in the distance, people disappearing into buildings or out of view. I make my way to Mirror Garden, proud of myself for remembering the directions to where the park is built. A couple of stranglers are puffing cigarettes in the entrance way, their backs pushed up against the graffitied walls, but apart from that, it's deserted. Making my way inside, I sit down on one of the many benches, emptying the contents of my both my pockets out into my lap. A key for the hotel room settles on my thigh, along with my wallet and touch-phone.

I pick up the first item my fingers brush; a leather wallet, worse for wear, the colour of a muddy brown. It's carried more recipients than dollar bills for years, with slips where I keep my bus and library card. A thick piece of paper tumbles out, the laminated cover glowing. It's a picture. One of Minnie and I when we were only small, innocent children, untouched by the horrors that are growing up. My sister and I are smiling in the image, grinning even, like complete idiots as our tiny bodies are wrapped in stripped scarves, our feet supported by bright red rain boots. Flashbacks of that day return to me, and my eyes begin to run.

"Why can't we be this close again, MinMin.." I sniffle, tucking the photo back into my wallet, where the memory is forever kept safe. I now clutch my phone in my hands, the screen blaring, the device cold. I promised Donna I would call Minnie, if she contacted her mother, and look where that got her. In hospital, as pale as a corpse, barely clinging onto life. I cannot talk to my little sister over the phone. It has to be face to face, sibling to sibling. It has to be real, where every word is crisp and directed, instead of muffled over the line. So I make a decision, shoving my phone back into my pockets, along with everything else. The moonlight is now beginning to stream in through the glass panels above, illuminating the flowerbeds and patches of grass. It's a beautiful sight, and I wonder if Donna would have thought so too; if it was photo opt worthy enough for her standards.

But I'm not even sure if anything is considered enough nowadays.

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FOUR DAYS GO by, and Manny and I have barely spoken, let alone discussed the argument that caused us to steer clear of  one another. I know it's not his fault; it's mine. In these kinds of situations, it's always my fault. I get too passionate, open myself up, then build up my guard again, higher and stronger than before.

In that time, I have coffee with Nina, who for the first time allows me to lead the conversation, instead of taking over. It's hard for her, you know, to bite her tongue. Shane, Karen and I decide to have lunch together. They take me to a fancy little diner like out of a 60's film. The entire time, the two share quick glances and hide their flustered faces behind the card menus, acting as if I don't know there is something going on.

Viktoria takes me shopping, despite my polite protests. She buys me more outfits than I've brought to London, each one more expensive and extravagant than the last. The probability of me actually wearing them in public is a slim to none ratio. The sales ladies all seem to know Viktoria well; hugging and chatting to her as if they're old friends. "I come here a lot" She says sweetly, each time one acknowledges her.

All in all, I take part in activities with my new friends, as my oldest companion and I drift further and further apart. Now, it's sad that I'm not able to go to Manny for advice. I know there's a simpler way to straighten out this dilemma, but that would mean accepting...

Accepting that I'll have to go home.

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Manny P.O.V

IN THE FOUR days Donna and I struggle to speak to each other, I sleep on the couch. Like a husband whose wife is upset, I give up the bed so Donna can have her space. This means every morning my back cracks from the uncomfortable positions my body has been in. How a 5'9 teenage boy shouldn't be sleeping on a sofa for a dog. But I don't complain, I deal with the soreness I have to endure for the entire day. But then miraculously, one night, a voice cuts through the air.

"Okay..." She says, puffing her pillows as I awkwardly climb onto the couch. Apart from her late night conversations with Costello, Donna's voice is music to my ears; like a track on the radio I haven't heard in years. "If it means that much to you, I'll go. But understand that I owe you nothing"

I know her saying it aloud means shes accepted it; even if not entirely. I cautiously stand up and stride over, opening my arms up invitingly. When I feel Donna's head on my chest, I know all's forgiven and understood. The best part of this all, is that I get back the left side of the bed.

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