Clockwork

They knew the arrangement: three months exactly. Nothing more, nothing less. This is what they thought about whilst staring into the milky sunrise. The pale yellow of the 5AM sun mingled with the crisp white of the cotton clouds and blanketed the two in sorrow. Three months exactly.

*

June. The clock reads 6.34PM. 

Oh God! She blurts, dragging a limp plastic comb through her long, thick hair. He should know by now that when Mia says she will be ready on time, she is always almost certainly lying. She pats a light shimmering powder onto her rosy cheekbones and stumbles out of the door. 

I’m sorry-- again! She giggles. She is wearing a small white summer dress, dappled with tiny lilac flowers, over which her hair drapes like a rope of luxurious golden silk.

Wow, he returns, you look beautiful.

Jacob always drives with the windows down. He laughs as her hair thrashes in the wind. The two share a common interest in the sun, the way it rises and sets in the same way everyday, yet leaves a different painting in the sky each and every time. This is where they are headed, to watch the sunset in the spot that they had become familiar with over the past few weeks, wrapped up in each other and trying to ignore the clock that ticks relentlessly in the back of their minds.

So, tell me what you’re reading right now.. He utters with a kind of tentative intrigue that nobody had ever taken in Mia’s interests before.

Wuthering Heights, she beams back, it’s a classic love story, my favourite. 

Oh! Like Romeo and Juliet? 

Though he is technically right, Mia can’t help but giggle at his obvious lack of knowledge on the topic. But he always tried his best. 

Together they stare at the scene; the sun dips below the trees and leaves a fiery trail of pink and orange to spread across the sky like ink. With no need to fill the silence, Mia and Jacob’s breathing intertwines in a way that neither of them had felt before. It was almost as though they were conversing through body language- their inhales and exhales making a perfect harmony. Their hands touch and she rests her head on the curve of his shoulder.

Look at me, he says, and seeing the lake of pink and orange reflected in her eyes utters you are so beautiful.

*

July.

Stay still!! He shouts half laughing, half genuinely frustrated.

I’m trying.. she returns, with a mischievous smile.

Jacob loves to paint. And whilst Mia makes the perfect muse, she is not so much a steady model. 

I’m trying to do your eyes, stay still!!!

She pauses a moment, her eyes bright and wide, staring back into his as he returns to his canvas. He captures the swirling blue-green almost exactly. He moves onto her cheekbones, high and rosy. Then onto the passionate lips that are marked with one beauty spot. 

Okay, I think I’m going to need a bigger canvas to fit all of that hair..

An uncontrollable giggle fills the room-- Stay still!

*

Mia just take my hand, you’re being silly now.

It’s too deep!

Trust me, just keep hold of me, I’ve got you.

The lake bathes in the heat of summer and glistens after each of the sun’s kisses. Mia wears Jacob’s t-shirt with her hair wrapped neatly on top of her head to avoid wetting it. He doesn’t care about wetting his hair, swimming circles around her and splashing her playfully.

Have you ever been in love, Jacob? She asks, hoping for only one response.

I haven’t. 

Me either.

The topaz of the setting sun reflects onto each of their faces, casting a golden tint over them as they stare into each other’s eyes. He lifts her out of the water and they sit on the lake’s edge, holding each other. By this time the sun has set and the two look up to see what pictures they can make out of the stars that swim above. And when Jacob catches her eyes in his, he can’t help but say I’m in love with you Mia.

*

August.

They sprint back to Jacob’s car as though they are being chased by something; laughter and Mia’s high-pitched squeals accompany the harsh spitting sound of the rain around them. He should have checked the forecast before planning the surprise picnic date. She carries the basket- filled with damp sandwiches and spoiled desserts- tossing it from side to side as he pulls her to the safety and warmth of the car. They laugh again, Jacobs shirt is almost see-through and Mia's hair is thick with its drink. 

I can’t believe it! She squeals.

Of course this would happen when I plan something romantic.. 

They can’t help but fall into uncontrollable laughter. They feel invincible together as the rain attacks the shield that is Jacob’s car, no longer able to reach them in their bubble. He helps her brush the knots from her hair and she goes on to plait it, still thick and dripping. 

Happy Birthday, he whispers as he hands her a small silver box with a teal bow tied neatly around it.

Jacob… She beams.

Inside was a thin silver band with a single pearl shimmering on top. 

It’s a promise from me to you, that no matter what happens between us I promise you’ll always have a happy memory to look back upon.

He slides the promise onto her ring finger, too big he giggles. Of course it doesn’t fit.

She smiles up at him and laughs.

I love it so much, thank you.

*

Jacob beeps his horn and as usual Mia is running late. She quickly twists two pearl earrings into her ears and slides her pearl ring onto her index finger. 

One of these days you’re going to have to be ready on time you know.

They arrive at a quaint restaurant in the quieter part of town that is dressed in fairy lights and with elegant furniture. They sit across a crisp white tablecloth with a single candle burning in the middle, whose flame pirouettes and leaves a dancing trail of smoke in each shape’s wake. Jacob orders the Penne Pollo and Mia asks for the same and a bottle of red wine.

For some reason I feel like I know everything and nothing about you at the same time, recalls Mia. I mean, I know the obvious things like your birthday and favourite colour but… I don’t know anything real.

Real? He implores.

Tell me a secret.

Are you serious?

Yes! Tell me a secret.

Okay, let me think… He pauses briefly and a short but intense silence swells between them. Okay. I haven’t cried in two years.

What!? Two whole years?

Exactly.

Why not?

I don’t know.. I’ve got nothing to cry over. Okay, you tell me a secret.

Sometimes, when I feel down, I write poems about my feelings and then burn them.

Why do you do that?

She shrugs, how could she explain why she does that when she herself doesn’t know.

The night goes as follows: they eat, laugh, share secrets, hold hands, tell stories, and fall deeper into young love. One month.

*

September.

The days are a ticking time bomb. Mia and Jacob are sitting on her bed. She is reading the last chapter of Wuthering Heights whilst he replies to a long list of emails from his future college. There is a silence hanging over them, but not the kind of awkward silence that makes your stomach feel full of air, but the comforting kind wherein nothing needs to be said. Her legs are resting on top of his so that every now and again he can graze her knee and remind her that he is still right next to her. He types away busily and she turns each page with a forced focus; neither can stop thinking about the time and how quickly it seems to be passing.

When Mia reaches the last few words, she turns on her side away from Jacob and feels an overwhelming weight fall over her. A lump swells in her throat and she begins to cry softly on the pillow. Within what feels like a millisecond, he shuts the laptop and turns to comfort her but instead finds himself, too, weeping. With the same silence swimming in the room around them, they simply lay and sob together.

*

Now they sit and stare as the sun makes its first appearance of the day, breaking through the trees. The melancholy whistle of birds is the only sound that can be heard behind the unified breathing of Mia and Jacob. Her long blonde hair hangs loosely about her shoulders and he twists and fiddles with it as though he is lost and looking for some kind of distraction. The clock reads 5AM and three months has turned into three more hours before Jacob has to leave for good. But they knew that this was the arrangement, three months exactly. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Mia and Jacob’s story should have filled many more pages, chapters, novels. It was the kind of feeling that doesn’t have one explanation. It was the fits of uncontrollable giggling, or the intense eye contact broken only by a smile, or the silence that spoke so loudly as they watched a sunset together. Mia and Jacob’s story deserved so much more, but what more can be expected when love is dictated by clockwork?