by Rich Allen
Chapter Twenty:
The smell of sweet honeysuckle filled Jack’s nostrils as he lost his breath in her long blonde locks.
“You smell real bad,” Zoe said after she stopped hugging him.
Jack smiled as tears simultaneously ran down his cheeks. “Is that it?” he stared at her. “The first thing you say to me - you smell real bad!”
“But you do, Jack. Have you been running to catch a bus or something?”
“A rickshaw actually. Listen it’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it if you want.”
Zoe half grinned; half frowned. “Another one of your stories huh? Listen, you look like you could do with a drink and a sit down.”
“Great idea.”
Five minutes later and Jack and Zoe sat sipping ice cold beers outside a café overlooking the Tritone Fountain.
“I owe you an explanation,” Zoe said, “I mean about running out on you back at the hostel.”
Jack watched the beer sweat drip down the outside of the glass. Did he really want to hear this? “Was it something I said?” he joked.
Zoe smiled as she caught his eye. “No, though you did tell me some pretty far out stuff as I recall. It was my mom. I got a call from Pop early Saturday morning telling me that she’d had a heart attack. I had to leave straight away. I meant to leave you a note but I forgot. I called the hostel later from the hospital but the lady there told me that you’d left.”
Jack reached his hand across the table and placed it on top of Zoe’s. “Is she alright?” he asked.
Zoe nodded. “Yeah she’ll be ok, I think. I’m heading back to Milan later and then back to the States with my parents.”
“So you came back here just for one day?”
Zoe nodded but looked away from his gaze.
“May I ask why you came back?” Jack said.
Zoe took a sip of beer before replying: “I think you know why I came back.”
Jack sat in silence. Had he got this right? She came back for him? He already felt on a high after hearing about her mum’s heart attack. Not that her cardiac arrest had been a good thing, but in Jack’s mind these past few days, an illness of some kind had been his favourite explanation for Zoe running out on him. Not the most likely, but definitely the reason that met most with his approval.
“I can’t believe I found you,” she said. “It was such a long shot.”
Jack grinned. “I think you’ll find that it was me who found you.”
“Let me guess,” said Zoe. “Your mystery man guided you to me?”
Jack gulped down some more beer then placed the cold glass against his forehead. “Yeah, something like that. I wouldn’t have been surprised you know, if you’d run out on me because you thought I was some sort of whack-job. I’d have probably run for the hills if I’d been in your shoes. It’s a relief to hear that I didn’t scare you off.”
“So you’re glad that my mother had a heart attack?”
Jack frowned. How come women always had a loaded question to throw at you? “No, that’s not what I meant.”
She showed off her perfect pearly whites. “I’m just pulling your chain, Jack. What can I say? I must be attracted to strange men. They don’t seem to come much weirder than you.”
“You’re too kind.”
“I don’t even know your surname,” Zoe said.
Jack nodded. “Touché. You first…”
“No, you say first.”
“Ok. I’m, Jack Holden.”
Zoe looked impressed. She held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jack Holden.”
“Charmed,” Jack said as they shook hands in an over the top fashion. “And you are?”
“Zoe Masters.”
Jack smiled. “Delighted to meet you, Miss Masters. Shall I be the Jack of all trades and you can be the Masters of none?”
Zoe shook her head. “I think you should leave the jokes to me, Jack.”
“Ok.”
They finished their beers and Jack ordered two more. Outside, traffic started to build up and Jack and Zoe spent a few moments observing the scene as horns beeped and angry motorists shouted at each other from the comfort of their metal bubbles. Back home, Jack thought that this sort of behavior would be deemed as an incident, but out here it was merely the norm. Italians were passionate people, unafraid of expressing their emotions. He admired them for that.
The beers arrived and Jack raised his glass. “Here’s to swimming with bow legged women.”
“Cheers, Mr. Jack Holden. So are you going to tell me what you’ve been up to these past few days? Last time we spoke you told me about your mystery man, what’s his name… the shark man out of Jaws?”
“Quint.”
“Yeah, that’s him. So did he email you again?”
“Yes he did. On the morning that you left actually. He wanted to meet me in a café. So I went along.”
Zoe leaned in. “No way,” she said. “So who was it?”
Jack took a slow sip of beer. “I’m not entirely sure.”
Zoe looked puzzled. “I don’t understand. You must know who you met.”
Jack realized that it was time to spill the beans. “Ok, listen Zoe, I’ll tell you my whole story. But it starts with a lie and an omission.”
Zoe leaned back and crossed her arms. “What’s the lie?”
Jack took a deep breath. “I’m not thirty four years old,” he said, “I’m forty.” He stared at the floor and then caught Zoe’s eye. She looked stoic.
“I don’t care how old you are,” she said after pausing for a few seconds. “There was no need to lie about your age.”
Jack took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. He smiled at her.
“So, what was the omission?”
Jack stared into the cool waters of her eyes for a moment and then raised his eyebrows. “Well,” he said, “I came on this vacation to kill myself.”
Chapter Twenty One:
Zoe barely interrupted Jack as he told her the unedited account of the last six days. She sat there with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Jack spared no details about his Suicide Vacation, relaying everything he knew about the bank card, his arrest, all of the emails from Quint and the phone call in the cafe. She sipped heavily on her drink throughout and took a bathroom break when Jack finished the tale with his arrival at the Tritone Fountain after following a trail of scallop shells. Two more drinks were waiting on the table when Zoe returned.
“I took the liberty,” Jack said as he pointed to her fresh beer.
“I’ll be peeing all night. Sorry I’ve been gone a while. Did you think I’d run out on you again?”
“It did cross my mind. It’s not the most believable tale after all. But I swear: everything I’ve told you happened just the way I said. What kind of person would make all that up, anyhow?”
Zoe made herself comfortable. “Well, a fantasist I suppose.”
Jack paused for a moment before responding. Had she meant that as a joke? “Is that what you think? That I’m some sort of fantasist?” His tone had sounded more accusatory than he’d meant. She needed evidence didn’t she? He reached inside his pocket and extracted the bank card, shielding it in the palm of his hand.
“Hey, no need to get excited,” Zoe said. “The reason I didn’t do a runner when I went to the bathroom is because of my gut instinct. It’s my gut instinct that brought me back to Rome and it’s my gut which is keeping me here now. What you’ve told me since we met is fantastical to say the least.”
Jack found a moment’s solace in his beer glass. “So you don’t believe me? Is that what you’re saying?”
Zoe reached out her hand. “No, Jack. I’m saying that I do believe you. And that scares the hell out of me. But I’m not sure what’s going on here. ”
Jack put down his glass and lost himself in her azure eyes. “That makes two of us,” he said. “It feels like a dream, but it isn’t: it’s bloody real. Here take a look.” Jack dropped the white plastic bank card in
front of Zoe on the table. Then he reached into his other pocket, extracted the mobile phone and placed it next to the card.
She picked up the phone first and Jack heard several beeps as she set about scrutinising the device. The last and indeed only call had been from a private number earlier today, she mentioned. Yeah, Jack had already told her all that. Next, she picked up the card and read the name on the front. So this was the card he’d told her about. The one he’d found on the pavement?
“The very same,” Jack said.
“And you say that you used the corresponding Bible chapter and verse from the Book of Jeremiah to access the bank account at the ATM?”
“Yeah. I didn’t have a bean to my name when I went to that cash machine. Now I’ve got five hundred euros in my pocket.”
“You’re right,” said Zoe, “It’s not like a normal bank card is it? She placed the card back down on the table and Jack reached over and pocketed it. “You know you told me about Quint’s voice singing to you down the phone in the café?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well do you think it was somebody doing an impression of Quint or might it have been a recording from the movie? You know, from Jaws?”
Jack took a breath and stared at Zoe. “I honestly don’t know,” he said. “I’m not ruling anything out to be honest.” He hesitated for a moment, and then continued. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but maybe the voice wasn’t human.” Jack immediately looked to Zoe for reassurance but her face remained stoic. The silence was deafening.
Finally, she said: “So what are you saying, Jack? That Quint is an angel who’s sending you cryptic messages via the Bible?”
Jack sighed. “Well, I don’t have a better solution at the minute. The bank card proves that there’s a supernatural element to this whole thing. I mean, come on…I dreamt a cryptic dream that gave me a PIN number to a bank card that I found on the pavement. You said you believed me when I told you about it?” Jack tried to hide the disappointment which must have been written all over his face.
Zoe took a swig of beer and then played with her hair. Jack waited patiently for her to speak:
“You know Jack; the mind is a powerful tool. From what I’ve read about psychology, I understand that it’s possible to make things happen if our minds are charged with kinetic energy. That’s the theory, anyhow. I don’t doubt what you told me about the dream and the bank card, but I sure as hell don’t believe in angels. Maybe the universe is helping you in some way, like the scallop shells directing you to the fountain, but I believe in a rational explanation for everything. Did you have a religious upbringing by any chance?”
This time Jack necked some beer before responding. “Well, yeah, actually I did,” he said. “My parents were Jehovah’s Witnesses. Both Rose and I were raised that way.”
“Wow. JW’s!” Zoe looked shocked. “That’s pretty full on religion for a kid. Maybe your mind is somehow utilizing all that formative stuff. I think that Quint is somebody from your past, playing games. I mean anyone can play a movie clip down a phone line. And all the other stuff you’ve told me, well, yeah – it’s weird, but weird stuff happens all the time. Yeah, maybe you had a premonition with the dream about the birthdays, y’ know of Joel Coen and Don Cheadle, but I have a friend back home who had a premonition once. They’re not that uncommon. Sometimes our dreams speak to us. As for finding the bank card, well yeah, you can call that fate – but it’s still not supernatural.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. Psychobabble from a trainee dentist, huh! It seemed to him that Zoe was in denial about the obvious supernatural events surrounding his vacation. “It still doesn’t explain the Michael Stipe incident,” he told her. “Or the fact that Quint knew about me wanting the Roy Orbison song played at my funeral.”
“Someone could easily have hacked into your email account and read your suicide note, Jack. I’ve had my email account hacked into before.”
Jack shook his head. “I didn’t imagine Michael Stipe.”
Zoe smiled at him. It was an apologetic smile, but Jack didn’t mind her playing devil’s advocate. He’d certainly have raised doubts about such a curious story had the tables been turned.
Zoe leant over and placed her hand on top of Jack’s. “Well anyway,” she said, “I guess congratulations are in order about the book.” She raised her beer glass.
“Thanks.” Jack slowly raised his glass to touch hers. “Best not count my chickens just yet though. It might not lead anywhere.”
“Pessimist!” said Zoe. They smiled at each other.
Jack grabbed hold of her hand and looked deep into her eyes. “So, have you got a hotel room for the night?”
Zoe shook her head. “I only came here for the day.”
“Of course. You need to get back to Milan. ”
Zoe nodded. “Well that was the plan, but... listen, give me five minutes to make a quick call.”
“Ok.”
Zoe got up and walked inside, away from the street noise. Jack watched her as she spoke into her phone. A few minutes later she returned to her seat.
“Everything ok?” Jack asked her.
Zoe put her phone away. “Yeah, Mom’s stable. I’ve told Pa that I’ll be back in Milan tomorrow. He’s going to call me if there are any problems.”
Jack felt shocked but happy. “Are you sure?”
“I spoke to my pa this morning and told him that I might possibly stay over in Rome tonight. I didn’t actually think that I would, though. My mom’s going to be just fine, by the way. She’s a tough old cookie. I’ll be back at the hospital tomorrow lunchtime. I spotted a three star around the corner from here. Do you fancy spending an evening in my company?
Oh boy yes. “Sounds perfect,” Jack said.
“Tell me something though, Jack. You told me that you came on the trip to end your life. You don’t still feel suicidal do you?”
“I did when I thought you’d run away from me. If I hadn’t had my café appointment with Quint, then who knows...”
“I’m so sorry. I should have just left you a note at the hostel, but I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now and that’s what counts. To answer your question: no, I don’t feel suicidal anymore.” And that was true, because Jack now felt an unfamiliar feeling coursing through his veins. He thought it might be hope.
Chapter Twenty Two:
The clock by the bedside table read seven thirty. Jack had been awake for ten minutes. He felt Zoe’s soft hair tickle his nose as he listened to her gentle breathing. He had his arm wrapped around her torso as they lay there spooned under the bed sheets.
Zoe’s arm reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. “What time is it?” she asked. Her voice sounded gruff.
“Seven thirty.”
“In the morning?”
“No. Evening,” Jack said.
“Sorry,” said Zoe, “I must’ve nodded off.”
“Me too. Are you ok?”
She turned over and placed her head on Jack’s chest. “Yeah, I think so. What about you?”
Jack stroked her hair and remained quiet for a few moments, lost in the madness of the past week. Best to just come out with it. “Do you think I’m mentally ill?” he asked her.
Zoe giggled. “Well if you are then I guess I must be as well,” she told him. “We’re a match made in …an asylum.”
He stopped stroking her hair. “The scary thing is that I think we’re both perfectly sane,” he said. “Well maybe not perfectly, but sane enough if you know what I mean. The fact that I’m questioning my own sanity must make me sane don’t you think? I mean mad people never think for a minute that they might be off their rocker.” Jack heard Zoe yawn and he kissed her softly on the head. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about all that weird stuff anymore, well not tonight anyway,” he said.
“Agreed. I think we need to spend a little time in the ordinary world.”
Jack couldn’t resist it. ‘Came in from
a rainy Thursday…’ he sang. He’d always loved that Duran Duran song.
Zoe smirked. “You never told me that you couldn’t sing.”
