Chapter Two

Chapter One

With a shrill rush of wind cutting into her legs, Maria found it difficult to concentrate on her boyfriend as he walked ahead of her, excited to show her the surprise he had been promising all night.

“It’s freezing,” she complained, “I don’t know why we can’t just go home. Please?”

Twinkle grabbed her by the arm.

“No,” he urged, “You’ll love it, I swear. You’ll get warmed up soon enough. It’s because we’ve only just got out.”

Maria was not convinced. True, it had been much warmer in the packed cinema, as they huddled close together, munching on popcorn and sipping Coke while the film played on, but it was so cold outside that she found it difficult to believe that she would soon forget all about it when they arrived at the ‘secret place’ Twinkle was taking her to.

As she watched him, she could not help but smile slightly at how happy he seemed. Whatever it was he had in mind, it must be something special.

They had only been going out for just over two months. To Maria, two months was a fairly big deal, it being the milestone for her previous relationships. Twinkle told her the same, ignoring the fact that his record had been a fortnight.

She definitely felt something for him. He was sweet, slim, tall and attractive. When she met him, he had earrings – twice in each lobe, then one further up in the cartilage of his right ear, and his nose pierced. In the month that followed their getting together, he had somehow acquired a belly button piercing, a labret piercing, and a shrill, cold stud in his tongue. That one hurt the most, but the spoonfuls of ice-cream Maria fed to him to help it heal made it all the more worthwhile.

She admired his hair. It was fairly long, just sitting upon his shoulders, and black. At first, she thought that he must have been dyeing it, but when questioned, he told her that it was natural. She didn’t quite believe him, but it definitely looked real. It wasn’t clumpy or overly shiny, and it felt soft and cared for when she ran her hands through it when they kissed. It often became tangled in her fingers and made him whimper against the walls of her mouth.

“Samienne, where are we off to?” Maria pressed, running a little to catch up with him as he aimed further and further away from the city centre, “We’re never going to get a cab around here.”

“First,” Twinkle laughed, “I promised I would drive you back home. Second, we’re nearly there; just a little while longer.”

Maria fell into his embrace, frowning.

“Alright,” she sighed, “you’re lucky you’re cute, Sam.”

She almost always referred to him as ‘Sam’. Samienne, the name he christened as, was just too long winded, and his preferred pseudonyms of ‘Sami’ and ‘Twinkle’ were too girly for Maria’s liking, so she decided that Sam would suffice. Usually, Twinkle hated people calling him Sam. He found it too generic a name and he’d never liked it. Only teachers called him Sam. However, he cared for Maria greatly, and if she liked Sam, then, so did he.

Without his realising it, Twinkle had begun to change his mind about a lot of things he previously disliked thanks to Maria. There was something about her way of telling things that made them seem better, more convincing. She was skilled at getting her points across, and backed them up with arguments that often made Twinkle swallow his tongue as well as his pride, preferring not to make things awkward.

She had snared him well and he was happier for it. The sadness his mother’s illness had caused in his life had affected him in a greater way than he’d ever expected, and Maria offered him an escape from that and the humdrum of daily life. She was an elegant thing of beauty on his arm, and a wonderful companion in the bedroom – the first that hadn’t disappeared almost as soon as he removed his clothes. They spoke of many things, and though their interests sometimes didn’t see eye to eye, they were good at coaxing the other one into their way of thinking. Maria started to listen to music from the late 80s, and tried her best to read more. Twinkle began to watch more films, and started watching television again, finding the news just as saddening as he had before, but far easier to deal with.

Maria looked after herself. She was fairly slim, but had curves in the right places. Though he hated to admit it to her, Twinkle knew she had particularly nice assets, and although he was in a relationship with her for her personality rather than her looks, he felt somewhat smug whenever another man walked past them, his eyes quickly snapping back upwards as soon as they noticed that Maria was not alone.

Her hair was long and brown, and she straightened it every night before she went to bed, so it always fell just right beneath her breasts. She had bright orange and blonde streaks running through it, which gave her head the distinct appearance of fire in the right light. She occasionally wore make-up, but knew she didn’t necessarily need to. When she did, it was always fairly conservative, apart from the blusher, which burst from her cheeks like apple skin.

Thinking of the reasons why Twinkle admired Maria as he marched her towards their destination, he beamed, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead.

“What’s up with you?” she chuckled.

“Nothing…” Twinkle’s reply came as a whisper, “I’m just happy. That’s all.”

Maria did not know it; and never would; but the place Twinkle was taking her to happened to be somewhere he considered very special indeed, and she was very privileged to be going there. He was taking her to Christmas Tree Park.

Twinkle was not the only person who knew the park by that name. Almost everybody called it that. It was difficult not to. The park wasn’t much – very manmade, with large fences all around it, and trees planted strategically so that they looked orderly. It was a big park, though the fences that housed it made it seem smaller than it was. It seemed to begin small, the entrance gate leading into a long, narrow path of concrete, surrounded by green fields. As one walked up the path, the park opened out its mouth, into a yawn of more greenery, giving way to the hills at the very back of the park, where more trees had been planted in large clumps, to give the appearance of miniature and altogether unreal forests, where hid the magpies and rabbits late at night.

By day, the park was a playground of small children playing with their mothers and fathers, dogs running after tapered branches thrown by their bored walkers, and groups of boys playing football – one or two girls sat at the sidelines cheering them on, usually accompanied by another on her phone, looking thoroughly bored.

At night, the park underwent a metamorphosis. At precisely 10pm each night, the trees on the distant hills ceased to be shadowy memories of the day gone by, and they found themselves illuminated with tiny white and blue fairy lights that somebody in the council had decided one day would make the place a lot brighter, more inviting to tourists. It didn’t. Instead, people generally wandered in the other direction, aiming for the bustling city centre, where lights of another nature beckoned them in. The lights hanging in the windows of bars, the streetlamps shining spotlights on the women whose stiletto heels have broken, the spit trails and the broken bottles. After all, Christmas Tree Park was out of the way. It was just far away from the centre for it to be uninviting, yet near enough to a house belonging to one Emelyn Leluna, for Twinkle to find it his home away from home – the place he went to when everywhere else had managed to lose his interest.

Something about the skeletal figures, hopeless after 1am when the programmed lights automatically went out, called to him. They were asking him to come nearer, and though they spoke in whispers and mangled words, he knew they meant him no harm. As they reached up to the sky in the lonely way that trees did, they offered him a blanket of bark and branches, for him to sit underneath and read, listen to his CD player, or, if the mood struck him, write in his dog-eared journal. He did not write anything he considered good enough to show anybody else, though he craved attention for it from someone, if only he met the person he felt would understand, and though his words were not particularly similar to those he had read in English classes, by his friends going through their fragile relationships or anguish with their awful parents who offered them nothing but a roof over their heads and food in their mouths, he still felt they would be laughed at by the majority. Instead, he wrote whimsical stories and haikus (though he didn’t really know what a haiku entailed), and decorated the margins with swirling images that came to him when the music flooded through his headphones, or when a moth fluttered past the white of his page, confusing it for something burning.

“We’re almost there,” Twinkle urged, sensing Maria’s discomfort in the bitter wind. She sighed.

“We’re almost at your house,” she noted, “Could we not have got a taxi up this way?”

“I suppose,” shrugged Twinkle, before grinning at her. She raised an eyebrow.

“What?” asked Maria, brushing a sliver of orange from her eye, “What’s going on?” Twinkle didn’t answer. Instead, he asked her to shut her eyes, and took her by the hand to lead her onwards. Maria’s curious nature urged her to open her eyes and as soon as she did so, a clammy hand covered the eye in question instantly.

“Wait,” Twinkle whispered, and Maria jumped a little at the sound of creaking. The noise of her heels against hard floor echoed and once again she tried to see where they were, seeing only blackness and sensing nerves.

“Okay. Just wait there.”

Maria was standing, shuddering and hopping from foot to foot in the cold, taking in the sounds around her of an aeroplane passing overhead, and a body against wood, heavy breathing mixed with the crackle of dead leaves.

“Right,” she could hear that he was breathless, “you can open them now.”

Maria let out a laugh as she peered upwards at the tree, her boyfriend perched awkwardly between branches, a halo of fairy lights behind his head.

“What is this place?” she smiled, “It’s lovely!”

The butterflies came instantly. Twinkle felt his stomach heave and he suddenly felt higher up in the tree than he had before.

“It’s Christmas Tree Park!” he announced, “Isn’t it great?” Maria smiled again, unaware that she had stopped shivering.

“It is really nice,” she whispered, “I’ve never been here before. Not at night, at least…” Twinkle nodded.

“I figured as much,” he shrugged, “It is a little out of the way, but I like making the effort some nights.”

The pair looked at each other for a moment, and when Twinkle felt that Maria wasn’t finding the park as captivating as he did, he reached into his rucksack and grinned.

“And now,” he announced, “for the best part.” Pausing for effect before he produced a large bottle of vodka, Twinkle examined Maria’s face for signs of approval. When she grinned at him, he knew he had done right, and he offered her the bottle first.

Back at home, Emelyn had long since gone to bed. The night’s offering of television had bored her, and though repeats of old comedies were always inviting, it had gotten to that point where even they weren’t funny, and the thought of a warm duvet was far more inviting. It was twenty past twelve.

“The bit where they started dancing was cute,” Maria was sat with her back pressed against Twinkle, who was leaning against a tree, bottle in one hand, the other gently stroking his girlfriend’s cheek. He murmured a reply of agreement, before taking another swig of the vodka.

“You’ve gone quiet,” noted Maria. The stroking ceased and Twinkle shrugged before he started again, absently.

“Don’t worry,” was his reply, as he settled his chin on the top of Maria’s head, his eyes raised skyward.

It was a lovely night. The clouds were heavy and low, but they didn’t show any signs of rain. It would be a shame to ruin such a perfect time between them, after all. The sky itself was somewhat purple, and it glistened with the stars, which had been scattered haphazard, avoiding each other. Above everything, Twinkle’s gaze was on the moon. It very often was. That bright white ball always managed to capture some sort of feeling in him – and tonight, for some reason, it just happened to be loneliness. He didn’t know why. There was no valid explanation; as he thought about it, he had his arms wrapped around a beautiful woman; yet the feeling was there, just faintly tickling the skin he had exposed, pulling his hairs upward, making small, fleshy bumps.

“What’s on your mind?” Maria’s voice was low, tired. She did not like the thought of him worrying, but his silence had begun to bore her. The seat of her skirt was damp with the grass, and though she hadn’t quite noticed it, she certainly would when she stood up, away from comfort, when the cold made its entrance.

“There’s nothing,” Twinkle began, before shifting. Maria felt herself being pushed out of the way, so she stood, and looked down at him. He was lay awkward, his legs spread in different directions, his hair tangled up by his impromptu, wooden pillow. The bottle was still tight in his hand, and still fairly full. Maria knew what to do.

“Well, don’t worry,” she offered, lowering her body down to him again, pushing her lips to his, the vodka still heavy on his breath. As they kissed, Twinkle curled himself around her, and he felt himself slipping down the tree, his head falling into grass, mud, fallen leaves and bits of bark. He ignored it. The throbbing pain would go away with every time she opened and closed her mouth around his tongue, replaced by a pain in his chest – an ache that grew ever stronger every time they met up, one that scared him more than most things in the world- scarier than roller coasters, more creative than a bad dream.

Standing together, Maria and Twinkle were the only two people in the park. They stood entwined, and as they continued to kiss, they blocked out the sounds of the wind whispering rumours to the trees.

The night went on, and the vodka was drained to three last droplets, which were manoeuvred with precision from the bottle to the tip of Maria’s finger, which slithered past Twinkle’s soft lips. He bit it gently, and Maria laughed at him grinning around her nail. She admired for a moment his gleaming white smile, especially the tiny twin fangs that sat delicate in their respective places, giving her dreams and fantasies of vampires when he was tucked up and distant from her in bed.

Having lost track of time, they only knew how late it was when the park suddenly turned black. It was past 1, and it was time for the tree-lights to go to bed.

“We should get you home,” Twinkle’s voice was soft and hot against Maria’s ear, and she smiled inside.

“Okay,” she replied, and reached blindly for his hand. He found hers, instinctively, and began to lead her out of the park, having done the walk back to the gate without the aid of the lights many times before. Just in the distance was the hazy promise of a streetlamp.

“I can still drive you back home,” Twinkle offered, “If you don’t mind walking back to mine.” Secretly, he wished that they would get to his house, and she would be too tired to leave again – captive by his soft cushions and the sweet smell of hot chocolate, laced with orange, which he had been anticipating since the cinema.

“No,” Maria replied firmly, yet after a moment’s considering. She knew, too, that she would be too tired to leave again, but something was holding her back.

“Then, I’ll put you in a taxi.”

The taxi came sooner than Twinkle wanted. He thought that if he wished enough for one not to show up, she would give into him, but she hailed the first black cab that came by, and as the little yellow light at the front of it died, Twinkle felt the perfection of the night die slightly as well.

“I’ll call you,” he promised Maria, pulling her close, “I…I’ll see you tomorrow.” They kissed, and Maria opened the door of the cab. Before she left, she told him she would see him tomorrow too, and kissed him on the cheek. Compensation enough for what was and wasn’t said, Twinkle smiled at her words and as the cab drove further and further away from him, he kept his mouth shut firmly – too afraid to open it for fear that the butterflies inside him would escape and the moment would be lost forever.

Taking one last glimpse at the dormant park, Twinkle furrowed his brow as he felt something curled around the stud inside his tongue. He removed the object from his mouth and it unfurled itself, paper blue and iridescent, floating to the floor with a heaviness that scared him, as began his long trek home.