The Longest Holiday

by Paige Toon

  A drop of rain makes its way through the leaves of the banyan tree and lands on my head, making me flinch.

  ‘You never answered my question, by the way,’ Leo says casually. ‘Why don’t you want to go home?’

  ‘Oh.’ My heart sinks. ‘It’s complicated.’

  He regards me for a moment as I stand there, quietly contemplating whether or not to tell him, and then his gaze drops to where the fingers of my right hand are unwittingly fidgeting with the ring finger of my left hand. I left my rings at home, as a bitter reminder to Matthew about what he’d done. My finger feels vacant without them.

  ‘Married,’ Leo says in low voice, which doesn’t belie his surprise. His eyes dart up to meet mine. I don’t deny it. He sucks the air in through his teeth.

  ‘Like I said, it’s complicated.’

  ‘Why isn’t he here with you?’ Pause. ‘Have you left him?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe,’ I reply. I’m vaguely aware of more raindrops falling through the leaves and running down Leo’s slick black hair. My T-shirt is feeling damp. He seems oblivious.

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘How do you know it wasn’t me?’

  ‘It wasn’t you,’ he says firmly, with odd insight.

  My reply comes out in a rush. ‘He had sex with another woman a week before he married me. She’s seven months pregnant.’

  He breathes in sharply. ‘Whoa.’

  It’s the most animated I’ve seen him.

  ‘Fuck,’ he adds.

  His response makes me laugh. ‘Yeah, you could say that.’

  But he doesn’t mirror my expression. His eyes have clouded over. He looks away from me, staring into the distance. An uneasy feeling settles over me. ‘When did you find out?’

  ‘Two weeks before I came here. Marty persuaded me I needed to get away, have some space, clear my head.’

  He nods shrewdly. ‘Did he tell you himself?’ he asks.

  I roll my eyes. ‘No. I saw a message on his Facebook page, asking if he was the Matthew Perry who was at a club called Elation on the night of his stag do. She was just some random girl he shagged in the club’s toilets.’

  My face burns with humiliation as I relay this. He doesn’t seem to notice as he ponders what I’ve said. ‘How did she know his surname if she was so random?’

  I tut. ‘I asked that question, too. They met while dancing to “I’ll Be There for You”, the theme tune from Friends. You know Matthew Perry is also the name of one of the actors? My Matthew joked his nickname was Chandler.’ I shake my head, hating the thought of him flirting with the slapper.

  He snorts in disgust. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asks finally.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him. I haven’t had enough time to think about all this. At the moment, I never want to see his face again.’

  Anger overcomes me, but it’s swiftly followed by a deep and aching sadness. To my horror, a lump forms in my throat and out of the blue I want to cry, but there’s nowhere to run in this downpour.

  He holds my gaze for a long time, and miraculously my tears abate. Right then, I want nothing more than for him to hold me, for him to take me in his arms, for me to press my face into his chest. It’s not about the sex, it’s about the intimacy, and suddenly I crave that with this man. But his hands stay firmly wedged in his pockets. He looks away from me and I take a shaky breath as I notice that the rain has all but stopped.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he says, but neither of us speaks for a while as we walk. It takes some time before it even occurs to me to wonder why we’re walking back in the direction we’ve just come.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I ask with confusion.

  ‘Hemingway’s house is up here.’ His pace seems to quicken.

  ‘But I . . .’ I didn’t want to go to Hemingway’s house!

  ‘You should be with your friends,’ he mutters. ‘And I’ve got some things I need to do.’

  My stomach falls flat and my throat closes up. So that’s it. I’ve scared him away. I can’t speak. I’m too shocked and disappointed to utter a single word.

  We come to a stop outside a white house with a brick wall around it. It shouldn’t be too hard to find Bridget and Marty inside, should I choose to go in. It’s more tempting to go back to the hotel and sob my heart out, instead.

  ‘See you tomorrow, yes?’ he asks bluntly.

  I’m almost too hurt to reply, but I force myself to act blasé.

  ‘If the storm has passed by then.’

  ‘It should do. Storms never last long in Key West.’

  I nod curtly. ‘Thanks for the tour.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ I see something in his expression, but I turn away before I can think any more about it.

  That day I feel like my heart has broken all over again. I don’t go to Hemingway’s house. I feel too sad to put on a brave face in front of Marty and Bridget. I also feel too humiliated. So I jump in a passing cab and head back to our hotel. All the tears from the last week and a half flood me in one go, and I sit on the sofa and make my way through half a roll of toilet paper.

  I can no longer use Leo as a means of taking my mind away from what my husband has done to me. But I’m shocked to realise that I feel more pain when I think about Leo than I do when I think about Matthew. I know this pain isn’t real, though. It’s just more immediate. I think I’m mourning the loss of my distraction.

  I’ll be leaving Key West the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow I will have one last dive with Leo. I have a funny feeling that he won’t even turn up, and I know it will hit me badly if he doesn’t. I don’t feel in any way excited about the prospect of a couple of days in Miami, but maybe it’s what I need. One last . . . distraction.

  How am I going to go home again? That slag is having his baby in . . . Her due date is only five and a half weeks away! I start to cry again. Matthew will go to see it. The baby. After the paternity test, of course. I’ve been clinging onto that one last little bit of hope, that maybe the baby won’t be his, after all. Maybe I would be able to forgive him, then. Maybe.

  My phone starts to vibrate on the table, making me jump. I pick it up, expecting to see Marty’s caller ID, but it’s Matthew. My finger hovers across ‘divert’, but on impulse I answer the call.

  ‘Hello?’ I ask in a shaky voice, still heavy with emotion.

  ‘Laura?’ The delight in his voice is apparent.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘How are you?’ His words come out in a rush. He clearly didn’t expect me to answer.

  ‘Not good,’ I say in a small voice.

  ‘Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.’ Pause. ‘I wish I could hold you.’

  I say nothing.

  ‘Laura?’ he asks gently.

  I take a deep breath. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want you, Laura. I miss you. I’ll be there to pick you up from the airport on Monday morning. Is that okay?’

  I don’t agree, or disagree, but the thought of him now, comforting me in his embrace . . . I want nothing more. What the hell have I been thinking? I’m not going to run from one bastard’s arms into another’s. I sigh. Matthew’s not really a bastard. And neither is Leo. Probably. I guess I’ll never know.

  ‘Have you seen her?’ I ask him.

  ‘No!’ he exclaims. ‘Of course I haven’t!’ He sounds horrified and relief floods me. ‘I won’t ever see her again if it means you’ll forgive me.’

  ‘You can’t do that,’ I say dismissively. He’s being unrealistic. ‘What about the baby?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he says quietly.

  ‘Well, you can’t just not see your child,’ I say.

  He doesn’t comment, but I’m done with this conversation. He’s just telling me what I want to hear, but I don’t want to hear that. I’m not a complete bitch. It’s not the baby’s fault, what’s happened.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ I say darkly.

  ‘Please don’t!’

  ‘I’ll see you on Mond
ay.’ My voice is firm and I can hear him breathe a sigh of relief.

  ‘Okay. Okay.’

  I hang up without saying goodbye.

  Argh! Men!

  Still, anger is a much easier emotion to handle than grief, and I feel a whole lot better by the time Marty and Bridget walk through the door.

  ‘How was it?’ Marty asks, her eyes lit up with anticipation.

  ‘Oh, it was alright.’ I brush her off.

  ‘What happened?’ She’s confused.

  ‘Nothing,’ I reply. ‘Saw a few bits and pieces and came back here.’ I feel too stung to tell her the whole truth.

  ‘Oh.’ She shoots a look at Bridget, which I choose to ignore.

  ‘Is it happy hour yet?’ I ask.

  ‘Not even close.’

  ‘In that case, I might go for a swim.’

  ‘In this weather?’ Bridget asks with surprise.

  ‘May as well.’

  If I have the pool to myself, all the better.

  I try not to let my nerves get to me the next day, when we wake up to blue skies and calm winds. Day Three of our course is upon us, and we’re going for our final Open Water dives.

  I’m resolute as I get ready. I will not let him see that he’s got to me. He hasn’t. He’s just some bloke, and I’m married. I’m going back to work things out with my husband in three days, and I’m going to enjoy the last bit of time that I have away from everything going on at home. I pause in my actions for a moment, realising that I just said I’m going back to work things out . . . Am I? Maybe. Anything’s possible. I’ll see how I feel when I get home, but it’s certainly becoming clearer that that’s where I need to be, away from all this nonsense.

  He’s not here. His battered white hatchback is not in the car park when we arrive. I still have that funny feeling that he’s not going to come, and the disappointment is hitting me so hard it’s painful. Stop it, Laura!

  I’m furious with myself, but I can’t stop feeling nervous as we get kitted out for the dive.

  I see Tegan on the boat as Jorge leads the way. And then Leo steps out from the cabin and my heart flips over and over and over, and I wish I could stop it but I can’t. I could kick myself for being so happy to see him. What is wrong with me?

  His dark eyes bore into mine and he nods brusquely. I quickly avert my gaze and step onto the boat.

  I sit at the back, near the platform. Marty and Bridget chat amiably to Jorge and the others, but I watch the receding shoreline without talking to anyone. When we finally moor up, I set about quickly getting ready, keeping my back to the front of the boat so I can’t see him approaching. I sense him behind me before he speaks.

  ‘BCD?’ he asks, and we set about making our buddy checks, but I don’t meet his eyes.

  Leo’s fingers seem to linger on my waist when he checks my weight belt, and it makes my pulse quicken, but I make the same checks on him succinctly and perfunctorily, feeling his gaze on me as I continue to avoid eye contact.

  ‘All set,’ he says eventually.

  ‘Yep,’ I reply bluntly. I take my fins to the platform and slip them on there. I’m buggered if I’m going to walk backwards like a dickhead when he doesn’t. I pull on my mask and he does one final check, flashing me the okay sign. I don’t return it.

  ‘Big step,’ he says, and I raise one eyebrow at him, seeing the amusement in his eyes, before doing just that.

  Once again, the life underwater takes my breath away. Tiny yellow fish dart around coral, swaying in the current. A shoal of black and white stripy fish passes by as we sink to the bottom. I kneel on the sand next to Leo, but don’t look at him. Then his hand is on mine. I look as sharply as I can under the circumstances, but he’s flashing me the okay sign. I feel anything but, although I return the gesture, and then Marty and Bridget have joined us.

  Jorge leads us in a group across the coral, and once more I find it quite easy to adjust my buoyancy. Down here I feel weightless – literally and metaphorically. I feel better with every kick of my fins as we glide through the brilliant blue water.

  Leo and I are behind the others when I see the reef shark. I know it’s highly unlikely to hurt me if unprovoked, but I still tense with fright and grapple for Leo’s arm. He looks around quickly and follows my gaze, before taking my hand in his. It instantly calms me, but that feeling is swiftly followed by jitteriness. He doesn’t let go of my hand as we watch the shark dart around the nearby coral before swimming off into the blue. He’s still holding my hand and by now my heart is beating so loudly I’m surprised the fish aren’t frightened by it. He lets go only when the others come to a stop up ahead. I’m glad he can’t see my blush underwater.

  Back on board, I can barely look at him, and for all the wrong reasons.

  ‘Good dive,’ he says quietly as he strips off beside me.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Tegan calls him away to help her with something and I slump onto the bench as the weight slowly but steadily returns to my shoulders.

  We go for a quick drink at the Tiki Bar. Marty and Bridget are in high spirits at completing their course. Now we can go diving anywhere in the world, and I should be happy like them, but I just feel dead inside. They sit at a table with Ted and Monica and I go to the bar to order our drinks.

  ‘What time do you leave tomorrow?’ I freeze as I realise Leo has joined me at the bar.

  ‘Eleven-ish,’ I reply with a sideways glance at him. He nods and looks up as the bartender materialises in front of us. I give him my order, then turn to Leo. ‘What are you and Jorge having?’

  ‘I’ll get these,’ he says.

  ‘Don’t be silly, it’s the least I can do . . . for my buddy,’ I add in a slightly silly voice.

  He smirks and glances at the bartender. ‘Two beers.’

  ‘Could have guessed that.’ I smile at him and suddenly feel awkward.

  ‘Are you feeling any better about going home?’ I realise he looks as uncomfortable as I must do.

  ‘No,’ I say with a half-hearted shrug. I can’t think of anything better to say and then the bartender returns with our drinks, so that’s the extent of our conversation.

  ‘Come on, then.’ Marty slaps my knee half an hour later.

  That means we’re going. I’ve barely spoken since sitting down. It’s like Leo and I have been in a competition to see who can say the least.

  ‘Good luck, girls! Have a great time in Miami,’ Jorge says warmly.

  ‘You, too,’ Marty responds. ‘Maybe see you there!’

  ‘I doubt it. It’s a big city,’ he replies cheerfully.

  ‘Thanks so much for everything. You’re a great instructor,’ Bridget says to him.

  ‘You’re welcome.’ He grins. ‘Keep diving!’

  ‘Yeah, thanks,’ Marty adds.

  If I could feel any less alive I would surely turn into a zombie.

  ‘Bye,’ I say to Leo.

  ‘Bye.’ He offers me a brusque smile, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

  ‘See ya later!’ Bridget calls as she and Marty start to wander away to the car, but I can’t tear myself away yet.

  ‘Thanks again for all your help,’ I tell Leo.

  ‘You didn’t need it,’ he says.

  ‘Leo!’ We turn to see Tegan beckoning to him from the office.

  He stands up, so we walk together across the road towards the office and the car park. But I can’t think of anything at all to say, and neither, it seems, can he.

  ‘See you, then,’ I say when I reach the point where I have to tail off.

  ‘Bye,’ he responds, heading into the office with his head down.

  I feel so flat. That felt wrong. Surely that won’t be the last time I see him? Maybe I can pop by in the morning. I hold onto this thought to try to ease my pain.

  We go out for one last night in Duval Street before returning to the balcony for a nightcap. Bridget and Marty call it a night, but I tell them I’ll stay here for a little longer. I’ve got too much on my mind, and I’m
not ready to say goodnight to Key West yet. I can hear the low hum of traffic passing by on the street below, and the leaves on the Spanish laurel tree in front of the balcony are rustling in the breeze. Latin music makes its way to my ears. On autopilot I get up and walk to the far end of the balcony. Leo’s garden is lit with fairy lights, and I don’t care if it’s a bad idea or not but I’m going to say goodbye.

  I hurry down the steps before I can change my mind.

  My spirits deflate when I peer through the palm tree near the street to see Carmen and Eric sitting on the sofa, but thankfully Jorge and Leo are in the armchairs. I’m damned if I’m going to let Carmen put me off what I set out to do.

  Four sets of eyes stare at me as they hear the gate latch.

  ‘It’s just me,’ I say, lifting my hand in a half wave as I close the gate behind me. Leo and Jorge seem surprised, thankfully not unpleasantly so. I try not to look at Carmen or Eric.

  I halt in my steps as the dog starts to run towards me, barking. Damn. Forgot about him. I hope he doesn’t bite me.

  ‘Max, enough!’ Eric shouts, but Leo is on his feet and jogging over to me. I freeze as Max crouches and growls at my feet. Leo tugs him away with a few sharp words. The dog runs off with his tail between his legs.

  I glance up to see Leo giving me a guarded look. He’s wondering what I’m doing here.

  ‘Sorry, I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t really get to say goodbye before,’ I tell him quickly.

  He nods his head towards the house and I follow him.

  ‘Hey, Laura,’ Jorge says as we pass the chairs. He looks relaxed, like he’s been drinking for a while.

  ‘Hi,’ I respond, adding, ‘Hello,’ out of politeness to Carmen and Eric. He replies with a lazy, ‘Hey,’ but she just gives me a hard stare.

  ‘Laura.’ Leo’s voice sounds from behind me. He motions for me to follow him into the house. I would so rather be inside with him than out here with her, so it’s a relief to go with him.

  ‘Ignore Carmen,’ he tells me roughly as he leads me into the kitchen. ‘You want a beer?’

  I look up at him. I think he’s had a few, like Jorge. ‘Sure.’

  He grabs two bottles from the fridge, cracking them open and passing over one.