Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Does It Matter

He places his hand on her leg, and she smiles. How long she had waited for this night. For years, Clint never paid any attention to her—not once showing any signs of interest. Then, two days ago, he sat down next to her at lunch and asked her out. She was shocked at first, wondering why someone like him would even pay any attention to her. But he did. For the next two nights that followed, they had intense hour-long phone conversations. They walked to and from school together, and he even introduced her to his mother. Now, tonight, they were sitting together in a theatre, watching a movie, sharing popcorn like a real boyfriend and girlfriend. The movie played out quickly, and soon they were out in the night air, where he noticed her shivering in the cold.

“You should’ve brought a thicker jumper,” he says as he quickly pulls off his coat and wraps it around her. She blushes.

“Now, won’t you be cold?”

“It doesn’t worry me,” he replies with that cute smile he always flashes around the school. They slowly make their way down the street, talking about what they would do if they had been the ones to find the old treasure map like the kids in the movie did. Eventually, they come to a great water fountain that stands in the town’s centre.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks.

He laughs. “Asking to ask a question is never comforting.”

“I have to ask, because I haven’t yet—I mean, wait, it all made sense before I said anything,” she says nervously. He grips her hand tightly.

“You want to know why I asked you out?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, we’ve never had a conversation, we’ve never hung out in the same crowds. The closest we’ve ever come to each other before two days ago was six years ago when you wanted to sit next to Debbie Heshnear on the bus, and you asked me to swap seats.”

“Debbie Heshnear, was that six years ago?”

“Don’t avoid the question. Why now? Don’t take it the wrong way—I’m not complaining. But why now?”

“Because it was supposed to be now, not twenty-five years down the track,” he replies.

“Sorry, what does twenty-five years have to do with it?”

“Everything.” He looks at her through shimmery eyes as the moon shines off the water in the fountain, bathing him in its reflection. “I’ve been thinking this over, wondering how I was going to tell you this, and I still don’t know how. But, I guess the easiest way is just to tell you and hope you don’t think I’m crazy,” he says as he motions for her to sit on a bench beside the fountain with him. She nervously sits down, and he squeezes her hand. “Twenty-five years from now, we’re going to bump into each other in a bookstore. We’re going to start chatting; the chat is going to lead to us having coffee together, reminiscing over school days, what we’ve been doing with our lives, and what we plan on doing. That coffee is going to turn into dinner, then dinner is going to turn into breakfast,” he says, taking a deep breath. “And that breakfast is going to turn into the best four years of our lives, and then…” he stops as tears run down his face. She places a hand on his arm and squeezes it.

“And then?” she asks, wide-eyed.

He looks up at her and slowly runs a hand across her cheek. “And then you’ll be diagnosed with stage four cervical cancer, and I’ll watch the woman I love more than anything else in the world slowly die before my eyes, powerless to do anything to save her. I’ll throw every cent I have at it. I’ll sell my Dad’s business. I’ll do anything I can. But nothing will stop it—no amount of surgery, no amount of money, not even the best doctors will save you. And I’ll watch it all, not being able to do a single thing to help. And then, you’ll die….” He wipes his tears from his face and takes a few moments to gather his thoughts. “After you died, I hit rock bottom. Nothing was worth anything without you. I was lost, beaten, and alone. Whatever time passed after your funeral was a blur. I was just so fucking done with everything, wishing every night that I could have you back in my arms, wishing I had just come up to you in school and asked you out. I wished for that every second of every day for weeks until I ended up in hospital. I wasn’t taking care of myself—I couldn’t—and almost died. But I didn’t care. In fact, I almost wanted it. And then one morning, I woke up in my bed at my parents’ house. At first, I thought it was a dream, but the longer it continued, the more I realised I was back, and I had a chance to save you, to build our lives together like we were supposed to.” He looks at her and can see the doubt in her eyes. “Ask me anything, ask me things I wouldn’t know, things I couldn’t know, and I’ll answer them.”

“Does it matter?”

“What?”

“Does me asking you questions, does me interrogating you like a criminal, really matter? Honestly, I think you’re crazy, but then again so am I. So what if your story’s true, so what if it’s not—does it change anything now? Does it change this moment and the last few days? I mean, this could all be a dream, this could all be in your head, or you’re dead and this is whatever follows, or maybe you’ve just lost the plot. Who knows what the truth is—the only thing that matters is this: in the end, does any of it matter?” He grabs her quickly and kisses her passionately, taking her by surprise, but she does not fight it; she, in fact, encourages it.

They part and sit there with their foreheads pressed against each other, staring into each other’s eyes.

“I guess it doesn’t,” he says with a smile.