by Sophie Blue
Anytime! Have a great time and tell me everything! X
Jumping when the driver’s door opens, I look over to see Tyler slipping back into his seat. He has his aviator sunglasses on and runs a hand through his messy hair.
“It’s definitely getting hotter out there,” he says, grabbing a mint out of the centre console and offering me one. Taking one, I smile in thanks and pop it into my mouth.
“Enjoy it while it lasts, because it never does,” I joke, looking out at the bright blue sky and smiling to myself. The sun really does make all the difference to your mood. The feel of its warmth covering your skin, the light it shines on all the beautiful things around you. It just makes everything seem better.
“Very true. Looks like we’re up.” He points to the marshal who is starting to let the cars board, line by line. Tyler starts the engine and our adventure officially begins.
Chapter Ten
Once the car is parked and we’ve made our way up to the passenger deck, I start to relax. Tyler gestures to a small table by a window which looks out to the sea, and heads to grab us both some coffee.
Sitting down, I pull my leather notebook out of my bag and start to scribble down some thoughts. Losing myself in words is one of my favourite things to do. I may not have been able to finish a poem in far too long, but I still like writing ideas down, in case my muse comes back. I’m still writing away when a hot mug of coffee is placed in front of me. Looking up, I smile at Tyler and thank him.
Pulling out the seat opposite me, he sits down and asks, “What’re you writing?”
“Nothing really. Just scribbling some ideas down,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee and enjoying the strong flavour. There is nothing better than the taste of coffee. Nothing.
“Are you writing a diary of the trip?” he asks, taking a sip of his own coffee and giving my notebook a curious look.
“No, definitely not. I’m pants at diaries. I’ve never been able to keep one for more than a few days.” I laugh in response, remembering all the half-finished diaries in my bedroom at home under my bed. I always start with the best intentions, but they never last.
Nodding, he doesn’t push me further but I’m aware that we’re spending the next however long together and we should really be getting to know each other. I sigh and lean back in my chair.
“When I was younger, I loved poetry. I wrote so many poems, most of which were probably terrible, but my family were too kind to say.” I laugh. “I find it soothing, using my words as a weapon against my emotions. Writing my thoughts down when I feel my head is getting overrun with them. After Gramps died, I struggled quite a lot with my emotions and my mood. I couldn’t get my thoughts down though. It was like my muse died with him. I really wanted to write a poem for his funeral, to honour him with my words. But I couldn’t. Still can’t. It’s like the world knows there are no words that could ever do him justice.” I take another sip of my coffee, and look out at the vast sea, feeling so small in comparison, yet oddly at peace. “Anyway, I still write bits and pieces down when inspiration strikes. Hoping I’ll be able to work up to his poem.”
“That makes sense. Lord knows there’s always far too much going on in my head. Must be satisfying to get it all out and on paper. Have you been able to write anything at all since he passed?” he asks, no judgment, just curiosity and it puts me at ease.
“Not really. A couple of bits but not what I want to.” It’s frustrating. I have all of these thoughts and emotions racing through my mind, but I can’t pin them down with words.
“That’s still pretty cool though. Can you read me one?” He plays with the silver ring on his little finger as he waits for me to reply. I find my eyes drawn to his hands.
“Uhh… I don’t know. I said I wrote poems, not good ones. It’s more of an outlet for my emotions.” Feeling my cheeks heat, I lift my cup to mask my face and take another sip of my drink.
“Who am I to judge what’s good or not? I suck at writing. But no pressure, it’s cool if you don’t want to share. I didn’t mean to push you.” Sending me a reassuring smile, he looks out the window at the dark blue sea as the ferry begins to pull away from the port.
Biting my lip, I look down at my notebook. They’re by no means masterpieces, but they mean something to me. The power that comes from words has always appealed to me. Words can make you laugh, make you cry, make you fall in love. They can hurt you, heal you, save you. I love the idea that my words could affect someone else. Make them realise that they’re not alone and someone else has gone through the same. Words give hope.
“Ok, but don’t laugh, alright? I know I’m not the next William Wordsworth.” I let out a little self-depreciating laugh.
He holds up his hand and gives me a Scout salute again and grins, I roll my eyes at him and flick the page back to my last half completed poem.
“Waves are crashing all around,
Breaking on the shore.
Feels like I’m being pulled under,
Can’t fight the current anymore.
My raft is gone, it kept me afloat,
And I’ve forgotten how to swim,
So here I am, surrounded by waves,
Trying not to give in.
The sun keeps rising, the world keeps turning,
And I watch as people move on,
Sat alone, looking around,
Wondering if how I feel is wrong.”
Closing the notebook, I look up at him. Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “Like I said, they’re just words, but they help me.”
“No, it was great. Powerful. You’re really talented.” Sincerity paints his tone and I roll my eyes, struggling to accept the compliment.
“Hardly, but thank you. So what about you, Tyler from Tyler Tours? What made you decide to go touring around the world?”
“Let’s see. I turned thirty in January and felt like my life was flying by and I hadn’t really done anything that I wanted to achieve, you know? Like, when I was a kid, staring out the window in school and wishing I was grown up, I had all these ideas about what my life would be. I’d be a fighter jet pilot, travelling from country to country. I’d visit the Great Barrier Reef and win big in Monte Carlo. I dreamt up all these things and I realised that I haven’t really done anything. I’ve coasted through life, but not really lived. And I really want to live.” Looking into his eyes, I’m momentarily lost in the deep blue pools. Like the sea, they appear bottomless and wild.
“I get that.” And I really do. I’ve spent so long afraid of everything; I’ve rarely taken a chance.
“So here I am, using my savings, travelling the world with a pretty lady. Could be worse, right?” He winks at me and I blush. Is he flirting with me? Or just trying to divert the attention away from himself?
“After a couple of days with me, we’ll see if you’re still singing the same tune.” I laugh, drinking from my mug and looking around the deck. There are a couple of shops, a mini arcade, and more cafes than necessary. Looking back at Tyler, I ask, “So what other ideas did you have? Do you have some sort of bucket list?”
“Not really. I don’t know. There’s silly things like I’ve always wanted to sing at a karaoke bar, gamble in Monaco, go skydiving.”
“They’re not silly. Are you a good singer then?”
Laughing, he shakes his head. “No, definitely not. I just like the idea of letting loose and having no fear, you know?”
I nod, because I do. I really do. I would so love to be fearless. But I’ve built walls around me so high, I’m not even sure how to begin breaking them down now.
“Why don’t we make a bucket list for the trip? Some things both of us would love to do,” I suggest, I want to try and live a little. This is the perfect opportunity.
“I like that idea. We can go to a casino in Monaco and sing karaoke at a bar… what else?”
“I’ve always wanted a tattoo…” His eyes light up as soon as the words leave my mouth and to be honest I’m a little startled that I said them
out loud.
“Yes! Let’s do it.” He grins over at me. “I’ll get one too.”
“Do you not have any?” I ask, my eyes trailing down his body as if they will jump out and show themselves to me. Not that I would complain if they did.
“Not yet, but let’s change that.” He gives me a cheeky grin and I laugh.
“Ok. Tattoos, karaoke, and gambling. We can add more as we go along if we think of anything. Let’s do this!” I say, feeling excited about what is to come. He holds out his hand and I shake it. It feels like this trip is going to be just what I needed.
“Shall we go explore a bit?” Tyler asks, finishing the last of his coffee and motioning behind him. I nod and finish my drink.
“Sounds good, lead the way, Captain.”
Chapter Eleven
Once we dock in France, our adventure truly begins. Driving through Calais, radio turned up, windows down, I genuinely feel free. My chest feels lighter, my smile is wider, and I am having fun. This is just what I needed.
Putting my sunglasses on, I look out of the window and take in the beautiful scenery. What a gorgeous day! Passing me his phone, Tyler says, “Pull up my music and let’s get the tunes playing.”
I scroll through his music and settle on a country album that I love. Country music is so uplifting and easy to listen to.
“You a country music fan too?” I ask, approving. I start making a road trip playlist, adding all of my favourite songs and a few I haven’t heard before.
“Hell yeah. Country boy for life. Who’s your favourite artist?” he asks, tapping the steering wheel in time to the Luke Combs song that I’ve put on. With his aviator sunglasses and messy hair, he looks really good behind the wheel. Focus Isabelle!
“Probably Brad Paisley. He was the first country artist I properly listened to, and I fell in love with his words.” Memories of dancing along to his albums in my childhood bedroom flood my mind and I smile.
“Good choice!” Tyler nods in agreement. “Plenty of Brad on there, some other good ones too.”
We bought some snacks on the ferry, some bottles of water and a few sandwiches. Tyler’s hoping to make it halfway to Provence today with minimal stopping, and that’s fine by me. I’m eager to get started on our adventure.
One of my favourite songs comes on, Today by Brad Paisley, and I lean back in my seat and smile. Tyler starts singing along at the top of his lungs and I giggle.
“Come on, get involved!” Laughing, I join him in belting out the lyrics. We sound terrible, but it’s the most fun I’ve had in ages. For the first time in a long time, I sing like no one is listening. Like I used to sat in the spare room with Gramps.
Chapter Twelve
Age Seven
Running into the spare room, I see Gramps strumming away on his acoustic guitar. A huge Elvis fan, the room is decorated with pictures of The King and music memorabilia.
“What are you playing?” I ask, sitting on the floor and watching him as he tunes the guitar.
“Nothing yet, Sunflower. I’m making sure it sounds ok,” he replies, twisting the tuning pegs until he is satisfied with the sound coming from the instrument.
“Will you play me something?” I ask, looking up at him with a smile. I love hearing Gramps sing. I wish I could sing like him.
Smiling back at me, he grabs his guitar pick from the desk to his left and starts to strum, “Let’s see. Oh, you know this one!”
As he starts playing, I recognise the tune of one of our favourites, Daddy’s Taking Us To The Zoo Tomorrow. Giggling, I join him in singing it. Badly, I’m sure, but I don’t care. I sing it at the top of my lungs and Gramps does the same. I love these little moments we share. Nothing in the world matters but me and Gramps singing and laughing together. I will never get tired of singing this song.
By the time we finish, we are both laughing.
“Will you teach me to play, Gramps?” I ask, looking at his guitar and wondering how he makes it play songs.
“Of course, Sunflower.”
Chapter Thirteen
With the room key in his hand, Tyler leads me out of the lift and down the corridor, towards our room for the night. I asked if we could get a twin room. I wasn’t keen on being on my own in a strange place overnight. Tyler was really sweet about it and promised to look after me. We stopped just outside Dijon for the night, Tyler had put in some solid driving hours and was getting tired.
Stopping outside room number 140, Tyler puts the keycard in and we watch as the light flashes green. Pushing the door open, he motions for me to enter first. I take in the clean, open space and drop my bag on the single bed by the window. This will do nicely for tonight. A TV on the wall, two single beds, a dressing table with tea and coffee making facilities, and a bathroom by the entrance. It is just what we need.
“Coffee?” I ask, plugging in the kettle and emptying a sachet into a waiting mug. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is, coffee is always needed.
“Please,” Tyler replies, throwing his bag onto the single bed I haven’t claimed and stretching. I try not to follow the movement in the mirror I am stood in front of, but it isn’t easy. His t-shirt rides up a little and I get a glimpse of his perfect abs. Pulling myself from those thoughts, I focus on the important task at hand. Coffee.
“You must be shattered. You drove so much today,” I say, moving to the bathroom to rinse the kettle out before filling it up and then returning to put it on to boil.
“Nah, it’s not too bad. More stiff from being in the same position for so long. But I like driving. We saw some beautiful sights today, granted just from the car window, but still. It was good.” Smiling, he moves his bag to the floor and lays back on the bed, resting against the headboard and closing his eyes.
Once the kettle is boiled, I add the water to the mugs and stir, asking over my shoulder, “Milk and sugar?”
“Just milk please, I’m sweet enough,” he jokes, sending me a cheeky grin and I roll my eyes at his cheesiness.
Pouring in a couple of the UHT milk pods, I pass him his mug which he gratefully accepts, before grabbing my own and sitting in the chair opposite the dresser.
“Still glad you came?” Tyler asks and I smile.
“Absolutely. I’ve had so much fun today and we’re only just getting started.” I can’t remember the last time I laughed as much I have today or felt so at ease. We sang country music all day, laughed, and played lame car games to pass the time. I feel like I’ve known Tyler forever which is crazy.
“Good.” He smiles at my response and says, “So tell me about your grandad. Since this trip is in his honour, I feel like I should know a bit more about the man himself.”
Sipping some of my coffee, I smile as the memories of Gramps flood my mind. I put my mug down and grab my handbag, pulling out my notebook. Opening it, I flick to the pocket at the back, pulling out a photo. I stand and pass it to Tyler.
“This is Gramps and me,” I say, smiling down at the photo. I remember when it was taken. We’d surprised Nan for her birthday. She had no idea my parents and I were driving up to see her. We rocked up at lunchtime, and I still remember her surprised face peering out of the conservatory. We ate cake, listened to the jukebox, and took so many photos that day.
Tyler looks at the photo and says, “What was he like?”
“Where do I start? He was goofy, and funny, and loved gadgets. Always on his computer. He was an avid biker and car enthusiast. He went through vehicles like they were going out of fashion. He was loving and the life of a party and he was my best friend.”
I’m brought back from my memories by Tyler’s soft hand taking mine. It’s comforting and I’m grateful for it. “Sounds like he was a great man.”
“The best.” I smile, as he passes me back the photo. “I thought I could take a photo of that photo in each of the sunflower fields we visit. So it’s like he got to visit them too, you know? Is that silly?”
“No, not at all, I think that’s perfect.” Sending
me a reassuring smile, I nod my thanks as I put the photo back in its safe place.
“Thank you. For bringing me here, encouraging me to take the leap. Just… thank you.”
“Any time.” He smiles. “Right, I’m going to jump in the shower. Unless you wanted to get in first?”
“No, you go ahead. I’m going to give my mum a call so she doesn’t think I’m dead in a ditch somewhere,” I joke, rummaging in my bag for my phone.
Laughing, he gets up and digs through his bag for his toiletries before heading to the bathroom and closing the door. I plug my phone into the charger and scroll through to find my mum’s number. Dialling the number, I bring it to my ear and sit back on my bed.
“Hey sweetheart, how’s it going?” she asks when she answers. Mum and I have always been close, but after losing Gramps, we got closer. We both struggled with his loss and relied heavily on each other.
“Good! We’re just outside Dijon. Stopped here for the night before we drive to Provence tomorrow to see some sunflowers.”
“That sounds lovely. Are you in a hotel?” she asks, and I nod as I answer even though she can’t see me.
“Yeah, we found a budget hotel. Grabbed some food before we stopped and are just getting ready to call it a night. Another long day tomorrow, but it’s going to be good,” I say, smiling.
“It is! I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” Mum says and I can hear the pride in her voice. It warms my heart. She more than anyone knows how I’ve struggled these past few months. Some days getting out of bed seemed like an impossible task.
“Thanks Mum, I love you,” I say.
“Love you too. Call me if you need me.”
“Will do, send my love to Dad. Night!”
