by Sandy Barker
“Is that how you really saw him?” asked Lou, reading my mind.
No.
My stomach churning, I stared at the passing walls of the crumbling buildings and conjured up memories of young Jean-Luc—us lying on my bed, head to toe, reading for hours, us riding our bikes to the beach so we could beachcomb, returning hours later with a haul of shells and smooth rocks, us staying up most of the night watching DVDs and eating an impressive array of junk food. Jean-Luc was the one who’d added Coco Pops to our popcorn, transforming it into CocoCorn, our signature dish.
Hours and hours we’d spent together, sometimes talking, sometimes reading or watching something, but always together. And our letters had been an extension of that. I could tell him things I couldn’t tell anyone else, except maybe Sarah. Things I couldn’t even tell Scott.
When Jean-Luc left, I missed him terribly—even years later when I was in a relationship with Scott.
Scott and I never had long conversations, or went beachcombing, walking side by side and talking about anything and everything. And we certainly didn’t read for hours, content to just be together, because Scott didn’t read—ever.
When I’d cut Jean-Luc out of my life, I’d lost something I’d never really replaced. I met Lou’s eyes. “No. He wasn’t just a pen pal. I loved him.”
“Like, in love?” asked Dani.
“I don’t know,” I whined, hating the sound of my own voice. “Maybe. I did love Scott, but we never had the same kind of connection I had with Jean-Luc.
“Looking back, I think I loved the idea of Scott more than I loved him. He fit the picture of what I thought I was supposed to want—get married, house in the suburbs, two-point-four kids, barbecues at the weekend …” I trailed off. “Does that make sense? I mean, doesn’t everyone think they want those things when they’re young and stupid?”
“Well, I wanted those things,” said Lou. “I still do … someday.” Oh, God, I’d stuck my foot in it—again.
“Oh, Lou. I’m so sorry.” She shrugged, but that made me feel worse. There I was whinging about a relationship that had ended a decade before, and her wounds were so fresh.
“But it turned out you didn’t want that?” prompted Jaelee.
“No. I didn’t,” I replied, tempering my tone. “Scott wasn’t a bad guy.” Well, he was a cheater and a liar, but I left that part out. “But we should never have been together. We wanted different things.”
“And Jean-Luc?”
“I guess we wanted similar things—back then anyway. You know, usual teenage stuff—make a difference, see the world, get all those stamps in our passports.”
“That sounds like you now,” said Lou, being kinder than I deserved. I gave her a grateful smile.
“So, more compatible than you and Scott?” cut in Jaelee. She kept pressing me to go deeper, clearly wanting to get to the bottom of my mess.
“Definitely. Way more, but I obviously didn’t think like that at the time.”
“If you could go back, what would you do?” asked Dani.
“But I can’t, Dan.”
“But if you could?” Lou the dreamer.
I knew the answer. I also knew I needed to say it aloud, make it real. “I’d dump Scott when he asked me—sorry, when he told me—to break it off with Jean-Luc. I’d save myself five years of being with the wrong person.”
“And maybe you would have ended up with Jean-Luc.” Apparently, Dani was also a dreamer.
“Maybe. But right now, thinking about the young man who wrote this letter, I feel awful for what I did to him.”
“Hey, he did okay,” said Jaelee. “He’s successful, well-travelled. He even got married, you said.” I winced at the thought of the beautiful Vanessa, but Jae’s point rang true. It wasn’t like I’d ruined Jean-Luc for love.
The only person I’d ruined for love was me.
“Okay, so now what?” asked Dani. It was a good question, but I didn’t know what was next. I’d already apologised to him, but a thought niggled at me, like a canker sore inside my head.
“I … what if I had dumped Scott? What if Jean-Luc and I had ended up together?” Hearing myself say it made me feel sick. Had I really wasted fifteen years of my life?
“Is that helpful?” asked Jaelee pointedly. I saw Lou shoot her a look, but I probably needed a dose of Jaelee’s pragmatism.
I shook my head. “You know what? You’re right, Jae, it’s not helpful. I spent five years with Scott and it wasn’t all bad. And whatever it was—good or bad—it led me to my life in London, which I love.” Was I trying to convince my friends or myself? “So, let’s enjoy the rest of the gondola ride and finish those bubbles.”
“But are you going to see him again?” Clearly, Dani was unwilling to let the “Jean-Luc and Cat” sub-plot go.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s up to him. I mean, I definitely want to stay friends and we’re connected on Facebook now.” She made a face. It said, “That’s not what I was talking about.” I ignored it. “And, he’s ridiculously hot, so if there’s a chance of sleeping with him, I’ll jump at it.” I was making light, but none of my friends even cracked a smile.
“But he told you about being in love with you. If he didn’t wonder about you two having a future, he wouldn’t have said anything about love.”
“That’s a good point, Dani,” said Lou. Great, they were ganging up on me.
I looked to Jaelee for support, but it wasn’t forthcoming. “Dani’s right. It all comes back to that. I think you need to be open to whatever happens.”
“You mean sleeping with him?” That’s what she meant, right?
She shrugged. “Sure, maybe, but probably more than that. I mean it, be open to whatever happens.” I could tell she was losing patience with me, but the thought sat heavily in my mind. If seeing him meant risking him falling for me—again—maybe I shouldn’t see him. I didn’t want to hurt him—again.
At least we’re Facebook friends.
It was my last thought before I put an end to the Jean-Luc conversation by asking Dani about her and Jason.
She waved her hand, “Oh, it’s just a bit of fun—kissing and stuff. We’re not sleeping together. I mean, where would we even do that?” It was a good question. I hadn’t even thought about it. I guessed if they wanted to, there could be some Tetris-like rooming changes, but it would be a little obvious on a coach tour.
“So, you don’t think you’ll see him again after the trip?” Lou asked Dani. I breathed a slow sigh of relief that the conversation was no longer about me and Jean-Luc. As much as I needed their counsel after I’d read the letter, my friends had given me more than enough to chew over for the time being.
“Nah,” said Dani, laughing. “I mean, he lives in New Zealand! It’s, like, literally on the other side of the planet.”
Whereas Jean-Luc and I lived a three-hour train ride from each other.
Our gondolier with the golden voice held out his hand to steady us as we stepped off the gondola, one by one. I was the last off and as my feet hit terra firma, he said in perfect English, “I hope you enjoyed the journey. Have a lovely evening.”
Lou and I looked at each other, horrified. He spoke English!
I could only hope he hadn’t heard Jaelee whining about not having a hot one. I dug into my bag and pulled out a twenty-euro note and showed it to Lou who nodded. When I gave him the tip, he smiled warmly, “Thank you. Grazie.” I smiled back. If he had heard Jaelee, the tip was as much an apology as thanks for a lovely ride.
“And thank you for the singing,” said Lou. “It was beautiful.” He bowed his head.
“That was a big tip,” said Jaelee as we walked away. Lou grabbed my hand, which I read as, “Say nothing, she knows not what she does.” I kept quiet, which was very hard for me. Our gondolier had been lovely and Jae had been so rude, simply because of his looks. I can’t abide that kind of rudeness.
Gondola ride
We spent the rest of our time in Venice wandering and Jae w
as right, it was sublime. I asked the girls about stopping at a mask shop, so I could buy one of those elaborate Venetian masks made of papier-mâché. I ended up buying two. I couldn’t help myself—they were just so beautiful, and I knew Sarah would love the one I chose for her. Although I’d be carting the damned things around for another week and, enveloped in bubble wrap, they were nearly twice their actual size. I thought about asking Jaelee to stuff them into her Tardis luggage.
We made it to the pick-up point with twelve minutes to spare, even beating Georgina. I was relieved, because being in her firing line was becoming exhausting.
Ah, Venice, I thought again as we left the floating city in our wake. Six hours was not long enough; I would have to go back. I longed to wander her streets and canals, to get lost in her for days on end, a certain Frenchman by my side.
A man who had loved me once.
Venice
***
We arrived at the campsite around 9:00pm and, taking advantage of an early night, disappeared to our respective caravans. Apparently, there was a bar at the campsite, but our escapades the previous night had left me craving an early bedtime.
Lou and I said goodnight to Jaelee and Dani—hugs all around—and after a quick trip to the ablution block, were in our wee-ridden cabin and ensconced in our sleeping bags by 9:30pm.
“That was an incredible day,” said Lou.
I turned my head so I could see her in the dim light seeping in through the skylight. “I am so glad, Lou. Those plans you had with Jackson … well, it must have been hard for you.”
“I’ve been doing so well up ’til now.”
“You have. You’re amazing.”
“But then the whole thing with the gondola … it just brought it all back, you know, the hundreds of times I’d tried to work it into conversations—every time we talked about how to spend one of his work bonuses, or where we wanted to go for our vacation. All those times I hoped—that he would get better, that we’d actually go somewhere.” I could hear the anger in her voice, then she was quiet for a moment.
“All the times I hoped I hadn’t married the wrong person.” The fight had left her voice, resignation in its place. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know what to say. Lou would know, if our situations were reversed.
“You girls, you were awesome today,” she added, giving us far more credit than we deserved. “I loved Venice.”
“Even the Jaelee-and-the-gondolier incident?”
She giggled. “Oh, that girl. She can be quite the little witch, huh?” Understatement of our tour.
“There’s a lot more going on there than she lets on, I think.”
“Oh, I know there is. That’s why I give her a pass so often.” Mama Lou was back.
I smiled into the darkness. “It’s been a good tour so far.”
“It has.”
“You know, I always swore I’d never do one of these.”
“A bus trip?”
I didn’t correct her. “Yes. The way Sarah described them, they never had any appeal.”
“So, if you hadn’t slept with your roommate, uh …”
“Alex.”
“Right, Alex—then you wouldn’t be here.”
“Huh. I guess that’s true.”
“And we wouldn’t have met.”
“Hmm. Also true.”
“You should thank him.”
I chuckled quietly. “I guess I should. Although he is moving out now. I’m not sure I’ll even see him when I get back.”
“He must be really upset.”
How had I not thought of that? Here I was feeling all sorts of guilt about Jean-Luc and I hadn’t given Alex a second thought. He’d said he was in love with me. And even if it was misguided and unreciprocated, that didn’t make his feelings any less real. And I’d literally run away from him without even the courtesy of a proper conversation.
I was a complete and utter cow.
***
“Did you send it?” asked Lou. We’d been on the road for several hours, having already stopped for morning tea, and the whole time I’d been agonising over the Alex palaver. I’d decided to text him an apology.
“Yep. Longest text message ever,” I replied.
“What did you say?”
“That I’m sorry I didn’t know how he felt about me, and I didn’t want to hurt him, but I know I probably did, and I’m sorry he thought he had to move out, and that I hope we can still be friends.”
“Yeah, that is long.”
“That’s the abridged version.”
“Right. Did you mean the last part?”
“About staying friends?”
“Yup.”
“No. I mean, we weren’t really friends to begin with. We were just flatmates, but it’s what you say, isn’t it? To be polite?” My inner Englishwoman speaking.
“I guess. It’s not exactly honest, though.”
“Geez, Louise. I think the most important thing is that I apologised. He probably doesn’t want to ‘stay friends’—” I used air quotes “—Sheesh!” She raised her hands in surrender and I immediately back-pedalled. “Sorry, Lou.”
“No problem.” It seemed so easy for her, forgiving people. I wanted to be like Lou.
And I wasn’t sure why I was so tetchy; I had no reason to be. I’d had a whopping nine hours of sleep—a new tour record—and we’d had a decent breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast. And even though we were going to be on the coach a long time that day—more than six hours—Northern Italy had epic scenery. I mean, epic.
So, no reason to be grumpy other than my inner voice chastising me for being, as I’d realised, an utter cow. I got out my phone and sent a series of messages to my people.
To Jane:
Hi. Any ideas about a new flatmate? I’ll ask around at school next week. Hope you’re having a good week. Leaving Italy today for Switzerland. Amazing scenery. Ciao! Cat x
To Mum:
Thanks for the letter! Tour is very good. Will call when I get home for a proper catch up. Love to Dad. Catherine xx
To Sarah:
May try to FaceTime you later. I saw J-L. He kissed me! And he said he was in love with me years ago. OMG! Anyway now I’m all confused. ARGH! Going to Lauterbrunnen today. Loved Rome and Venice. Love you. Cx
I sent the last message, then sat back and looked out the window again. We were on a highway wending through a mountain pass somewhere north of Verona when I saw signs for Lake Como and immediately thought of George Clooney. Maybe we could take a little detour and pop in. Surely, he would love having a busload of strangers show up for some Nespresso. “Buongiorno, George, Amal!”
My mind is a weird place sometimes.
***
I thought Northern Italy was stunning and then we got to Switzerland. It was like seeing the Duchess of Cambridge and thinking, “Wow, she’s beautiful,” and then Gal Gadot walks by.
The valleys were so incredibly green. I couldn’t think of any time I’d seen that vibrant a colour in nature—it was like the grass was made of parakeets. The slopes of the valleys rose to rocky peaks dusted in snow and dotted with chalets, dark wood structures with apex roofs and green shutters. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I would have thought the entire scene was CGI.
We stopped for a late lunch and a quick visit in Lucerne, which looked like a film set. Yes, Italy was nice, but Tom could have taken me straight to Switzerland and left me there for two weeks and I would have been happy. We only had an hour to go, see, and eat, and I was far more interested in going and seeing than eating, so I talked Lou into buying takeaway so we could wander around while we ate.
Confession: in Lucerne, takeaway meant McDonald’s. We would have had anything else, if anything else had been available, but fast food was scarce. It was a minor indiscretion never to be repeated on the tour. And, let’s be honest, McDonald’s fries are amazing.
Burgers and fries in hand, we headed across the nearly seven-hundred-year-old wooden bridge that traversed the Reuss Ri
ver, Chapel Bridge. It was magnificent and as we crossed from south to north, we got an incredible view of Mount Pilatus in the distance.
The greenish-blue water was like glass and on both banks the town was reflected in perfect twins. The single apex roofs we’d seen on chalets all the way to Lucerne were mirrored in the architecture of the town’s buildings—offices, hotels, residences—but were more formal than the chalets, more austere. The air smelled clean and I took in great gulps of it as I downed my yearly quota of saturated fat.
“This is unbelievable,” said Lou, echoing my thoughts.
“I know. I had no idea that somewhere so pristine even existed. It’s as though every single detail has been chosen with care. Even Monaco isn’t like this.”
“It’s like we’re on a movie set.”
“I was thinking that too.”
“I wish we were staying here instead.”
“Stop reading my mind,” I teased.
She smiled at me, then checked her watch. “We should make our way back.”
I nodded and stuffed the rest of the fries into my mouth as we walked back across the bridge.
On the coach, I doused my hands in hand sanitiser to rid them of the smell of grease. Lou held her hand out and I squeezed out another dollop.
“We hope you had a good lunch,” said Georgina. Lou raised her eyebrows at me. My stomach lurched and I was already regretting the burger. “We’re going to make a quick stop before we head to Lauterbrunnen—”
There were groans—loud groans—from some people on the coach. I knew that sound. It was the sound of thirty teenagers being assigned homework over the weekend. To be fair to the groaners, and you may be surprised to learn that I wasn’t one of them, it was a long travel day. But still, Georgina looked like she was going to cry.
“Ahem.” She cleared her throat into the microphone—not passive-aggressively, but clearly trying to keep it together. She threw Tom a quick look. “Uh, so, we have a quick—really quick—stop planned. It’s, uh, something pretty special, so, yeah.” She sat down quickly.
