Journey to the Centre of Myself

by Andie M. Long

  The waiter puts my apple strudel on the table. Bemused, I ask him to take away the half drunk wine.

  ‘You not want it?’

  ‘It’s not mine.’

  ‘Yes, it is. The man,’ he gestures outside, ‘he buy it for you.’

  ‘Oh, well I don’t drink,’ I lie. ‘So thank you, but please take it away.’

  I’m touched by the old soaks gesture and glad I didn’t order myself any wine given the apparent Scrooge-like measures. I finish my meal with a warm feeling inside me, which doesn’t just come from the food.

  Back at the hotel, I run myself a bath. There are two huge bathrobes, so I decide I’ll dry off on one and lounge in the other. The bath doesn’t take long to run and I immerse myself in a tub full of bubbles, courtesy of the mini products left by the sink. As the warmth soaks into my bones, I reflect on the day. Not only have I enjoyed my first day in Berlin, but I went out alone outside of work—and survived.

  Wrapped in my dry towelling robe, I find the BBC news channel and open the mini bar. Next I select a Jack Daniels and pour it into a glass. Then I raise a toast to my successful day, drink up while watching the news and then its teeth brushed and back below the duvet. I imagine I’ll have difficulty sleeping after my afternoon nap, but before long I’m dozing, and I have the most blissful, uninterrupted and restful sleep in years.

  Chapter 7

  Amber

  I don’t know what time we all made it to bed, but I have déjà vu as I stumble down to the kitchen with a hangover. Only Will seems in a fit state to make coffee and toast. Alfie is chattering away, his hands banging on the table while Sam can’t stop yawning.

  ‘Now I know why I don’t drink anymore,’ she says.

  ‘It was a laugh, though, wasn’t it?’ I reply.

  She grips her stomach. ‘It was, but I feel so ill. It was irresponsible of me to drink like that.’

  ‘Right, I’m off, sure you’re okay to get a taxi back?’ Olly kisses Sam on the cheek and then plants one on Alfie. ‘Daddy will see you later, big boy.’

  ‘That’s my name for Will,’ I say.

  Sam and Olly laugh, but I notice Will doesn’t.

  ‘See you later, mate. Thanks for a great evening,’ Olly smacks Will on the shoulder.

  ‘Yeah, no worries, I’ll give you a ring sometime.’

  ‘Bye, trouble,’ he says to me and winks.

  Will aims a sneer in my direction. ‘I’m going to grab a shower.’

  ‘Alright.’

  When he’s out of the room, I turn to Sam. ‘Oh dear, I’m in trouble again.’

  ‘He’s got very serious of late, hasn’t he?’ she says.

  ‘Yup, he’s all grown up. Perhaps it’s time for me to grow up too?’

  ‘You’ve got to be ready, Amber, having kids is a huge undertaking, believe me.’

  I sigh. ‘I wanted one more year. To do a bit of travelling before we went for it.’

  ‘Have you spoken to him about it?’

  ‘Nope. He’s all set. It’s like he can’t think past it now.’

  ‘Well, you ought to try, Amber, before it’s too late.’

  We’re quiet while Sam feeds Alfie the rest of his toast and I feel sorry for myself.

  ‘What time do you have to be at work?’ she asks.

  ‘Nine.’

  ‘Gosh, I’d better let you get ready. It’s eight now.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, I’m a temp. I’ll go in later, they’ll not mind. I’ll turn my phone on and email Jo that I’ll be late and to cover for me.’

  ‘Well, I’ll not be much longer now.’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  Sam sucks on her bottom lip for a moment. ‘Can I ask you something? It’s personal.’

  ‘Fire away. I’m an open book, ask me anything you like.’

  ‘What exactly is the story with you and Olly? He said you had a huge crush on him and dated a few times.’

  I smile. ‘I don’t remember it like that. Did you ever used to go clubbing when you were younger?’

  She nods.

  ‘Well, I used to go with my mates. Drinks were cheap, and we used to get hammered and I always seemed to end up with Olly, snogging in a corner. We never went on a date. I always told myself I wouldn’t do it again, he wasn’t serious about me, but the next time I went out, there we’d be again. In the end, my friends found a different nightclub to go to, and we moved on. It was a shock a few years later when my new boyfriend introduced me to his best mate.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Well, of course, Olly was all “oh my God, it’s Amber”. Will’s never been able to get over the fact I had a “relationship” with his mate though I don’t see how you can term it like that. I know it still winds him up. He’s convinced I’ll get pissed and snog him again. As if friends would do that to each other.’

  She sucks on her lip again. She’ll be causing a blister. ‘Well, surely after last night, Will and Olly will be clear on the slim chance of that occurring.’

  I blush. ‘God, I must apologise to Olly. That was so rude.’

  ‘No.’ Sam sits up straighter. ‘Please don’t. It might do him some good. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.’

  ‘Are you two all right?’ I ask.

  She hesitates, and then nods. ‘Yes, fine. He’s always been rather too cocky though and if last night brought him down a peg or two that’s a good thing.’

  ‘And will it?’

  ‘Doubt it. Though I’ve seen him checking his receding hairline in the mirror this morning.’

  We laugh again.

  ‘Right,’ she says, ‘I’d better gather my things together and let you get to work.’

  ‘I’ll ring you a taxi.’

  I sit perched on the sofa arm. My eyes follow Will as he picks up his cufflinks from the window ledge.

  ‘You’re quiet, Amber.’ He turns and his mouth is set like a taut wire. ‘It’s not like you at all.’

  ‘I was drunk and enjoying myself, that’s all.’

  ‘You insulted my best friend and embarrassed yourself in front of Olly and Sam. I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘You didn’t need to do anything. I’m a big girl.’

  ‘That’s just it, Amber, you aren’t. Can’t you get it into your head you’re not a girl anymore? You’re supposed to be a grown woman. For God’s sake, you’re almost thirty.’

  ‘And don’t I know it. You’ve about got me in slippers, with knitting needles in my hands.’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ he spits. ‘Why does everything have to be so dramatic with you? I’m asking you to not get drunk out of your brains when we’re entertaining guests and then insult them.’

  ‘Sam thought it was funny.’

  ‘Sam has her own agenda with Olly at the moment.’

  ‘Trust you to take his side.’

  ‘I’m not taking any side, but last night did not help them, and I doubt they’ll be around to repeat the experience in a hurry.’

  ‘Gosh, what a shame.’

  ‘You may not be bothered, but Olly’s my mate.’ He goes quiet and looks out of the window.

  ‘Oh, Will, don’t be like this. I got a bit carried away that’s all. You used to join in.’

  ‘Yeah well, I’ve changed, Amber.’

  ‘But why? I don’t understand why you have to be so serious to have a kid. They like fun, don’t they? Why can’t you be a fun parent?’

  ‘I’m sure I will be, but someone will have to provide the stable environment, Amber, and at the moment, it doesn’t appear it will be you. I’m going to work.’

  With that, he gets his briefcase and walks out of the door. It’s the first time since I can remember that he hasn’t kissed me goodbye.

  I get to work at twenty past nine.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ says Jo.

  ‘Sorry, running late. I emailed you.’

  ‘I’ve not received it,’ she says.

  Andi pops her head around the door. ‘Can I see
you for a minute, Amber?’

  Damn.

  I find out Andi is one of those managers who pretends “we’re all colleagues together,” until something upsets the happy unit. She’s a blonde haired (tied back daily in a ponytail), twenty-five-year-old graduate. As I enter her office, she sits in her office chair, long tanned legs stretched out of her navy pencil skirt. She dresses for her role and today I see her act the part.

  ‘I’m sorry, Amber, but I believe your contract states a strict nine-to-five working pattern, does it not?’

  ‘Yes, I apologise. I sent Jo an email—’

  ‘Well, neither Jo, nor Mirelle, said they’d heard from you, and that’s not the protocol anyway. If you are going to be late, you are to call me direct—at least thirty minutes before the start of your shift.’

  My gaze lowers. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She taps into her computer. ‘So… what is the reason for your lateness, so I can record it?’

  ‘I, err, I overlaid.’

  ‘Oh-kay. Well, perhaps you could set an extra alarm in future, to ensure you’re on time?’

  I nod.

  ‘We’re running an extremely tight workforce. I shouldn’t need to remind you everyone needs to pull together as a team. I appreciate anyone can overlay, but I must bring to your attention that should this become a habit, as a temporary member of staff, I would have to report you to your agency and request a replacement.’

  ‘It won’t happen again. I can assure you.’

  ‘Okay, Amber, that’ll be all. All our staff are equal here, the fact you’re a temporary member of staff does not make you any less important in our place of work.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Right, well back you go to the office. I expect you’ll stay over to make up your time?’

  My eyes widen. ‘I’ve stayed over my hours plenty of times.’

  Her lips purse. ‘Yes? Well, I’d still appreciate you staying over tonight.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘No, of course not. I’ll get back to it then.’

  ‘Thank you, Amber. Don’t forget my door’s open if you need any support.’

  I head back into the office, switch my computer on and throw a few files across my desk to look busy.

  ‘Everything okay?’ asks Jo.

  ‘Yeah, just reminded of the rules.’ I sigh.

  ‘You look like shit,’ says Mirelle.

  ‘Yup, heavy night.’ I wink. ‘I don’t know why my email hasn’t arrived.’

  ‘Oh, it came through while you were in with Andi,’ says Jo. ‘I’ll show it to her later, it might get you off the hook.’

  ‘Nah, it’s too late now. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Do you want a drink?’

  ‘I’m gasping for a coffee,’ I say, ‘and then I’d better get on with some work as I reckon Andi will keep a close eye on me today.’

  As indeed, she does. Usually never seen, she drops in three times over the course of the day to make sure everything is okay.

  ‘I checked with Mr Smith,’ she says, ‘and he’s very pleased with your work, Amber. Bearing in mind you’ve taken on a lot of an experienced staff member’s workload, he’s very impressed.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What was that all about?’ I ask the others after she’s left.

  ‘That’s how she operates,’ says Jo. ‘Once she’s reprimanded you for something, she comes back and butters you up, so we know she’s still “one of us” and appreciates us.’

  ‘Yeah, doesn’t mean she actually thinks you’re any good,’ says Mirelle.

  ‘Thanks for that, Mirelle.’

  ‘Anytime.’

  Jo leaves at four as she starts an hour earlier than us.

  ‘So how was the Hula bar?’ I ask Mirelle.

  ‘Oh, so good. We wore little hula skirts and drank Blue Hawaii’s all night. I was well drunk, so I’m surprised I didn’t look like you this morning.’

  ‘Give it a couple of years. I was like you at your age.’

  ‘There’s not that many years difference between us.’

  ‘It’s enough, believe me. It all changes.’

  ‘Sounds like you aren’t too happy about that.’

  ‘Are you happy? Having a fling with a married man doesn’t sound like much fun. Doesn’t he have to keep going back to his wife? It must make meeting up difficult.’

  ‘It’s not as difficult as you might imagine. He’s always been sporty, so he tells her he’s off to the gym, and I don’t have to wake up next to a stinky-breathed sweaty body, so all’s good where I’m concerned.’

  ‘Don’t you want more? What if you fall for him?’

  ‘Nah. I like it as it is. I get sexy times with no strings. He makes me feel like a goddess.’ She shakes her hair. ‘Then he goes home and I can please myself.’

  ‘Greedy.’

  ‘Hahahahahahaha.’

  Andi walks back in. ‘Right, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow girls. Don’t forget that extra alarm, Amber.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I reply with a false smile that masks a grimace. God, why does everyone treat me like a kid? I think back to what Will said that morning. Probably because I’m always acting like one. Maybe I do need to grow up. The thought is sobering. I note my hangover has passed.

  Chapter 8

  Karen

  Breakfast the next morning is a further delight. I walk into a large room that has the delicious aroma of bacon and eggs. Enjoying the view of a different part of the River Spree, I feast like it’s the last supper, still shuddering at the thought of the other night’s remnants. My taste buds awaken as I take my time dining on a cooked breakfast and follow it with toast, tiny Danish pastries and fresh orange and coffee. Then I finish with a decadent drink of Rose Cava. I’m there about an hour; I don’t remember ever taking this long over breakfast. When I was at work, mornings consisted of a quick slice of toast, and at weekends sometimes I’d have nothing at all. I realise I haven’t been caring for myself properly for a long, long time.

  Back in my room, I consult my guidebook and decide to find a bus tour. That way I can take in all the major sights before I head back to the U.K. I wish I’d booked a longer trip, but I presumed a couple of days would be enough. I throw the guide in my bag, determined to return at some point. I don’t know where I’ll visit next, but I need a longer trip.

  Well wrapped up again as the cold is biting, I walk down Freidrichstrasse and head for Unter den Linden, a lime tree lined Boulevard that leads to the Brandenburg Gate. As I turn the corner, I spot the gate in the distance and leave the shops behind to walk onto the Pariser Platz, a square full of people dressed as cartoon characters. I watch people having their photo taken with Minnie and Mickey Mouse, and then witness the most bizarre scenario as a Bear and Mario have a heated exchange over what I guess is one of the more lucrative pitches.

  Just through the gate, I find the tour bus recommended by my guide book, find a seat and put in my earplugs to listen to a sightseeing tour of Berlin. The snow comes down again, making it difficult to see all the sights out of the window. As we carry on, I consider how in Britain the bus would have stopped by now, in fact, everyone would have stopped by now, and been panicking about a tiny dusting of snow. Here it’s around six inches deep. The bus has winter tyres on and I pass several road clearing vehicles; Berlin refuses to give in to the weather. Halfway through the tour, I get off and call in at a coffee shop for tea and a piece of stollen, and then it’s back on another of the same operator’s tour buses for the rest of the trip. The buses cease touring at three p.m. and it’s now two, so I settle down to see everything else.

  I don’t know what I expected the Berlin wall to look like. As I listen to the guide on my headset, I discover it only went up in nineteen sixty-one. The image of families separated by this dividing line is haunting. Now only a small part of the wall remains, a fragment they call The East Side Gallery. The wall runs with picture after picture. Our b
us slows so we can take in the view. I hold my camera to the window and record the whole way down the wall. We pause by the famous drawing of Brezhnev and Honecker by Vrubel and a shiver travels down my spine. I’ve never been particularly interested in German history before but as the bus passes Checkpoint Charlie it becomes real to me, what people had to go through who lived here. The view from the window is obscured by falling snow so I leave the bus tour and walk back to the hotel. I walk between the checkpoint and ponder on how many people must have wished to pass through and couldn’t, trapped.

  As I return to the hotel, my feet crunch through the snow and I have to keep wiping snow from my eyelashes. I think of the walls erected by Adrian and myself, seemingly to protect us, but, in fact, serving to keep us on opposing sides of a fine line. This week I’ve taken a step to bring down the wall, but I’ve yet to see whether this leads to unification or complete devastation. However just two days into my fortnight to myself, I imagine small steps to freedom. I call back at the chocolate shop for one of their famous Hot Chocolates and choose some truffles to take with me.

  That night I dine on my own in the hotel restaurant sampling different tapas, and then I retire to my room and eat my torte. As my fork crushes the structure it once again brings to mind walls coming down. I update my journal and pack my belongings, ready for the flight home the next morning. While writing, I reflect on just how much I’ve learnt about myself in these two short days, and how I’ve given myself time to both mourn and gain release without someone stepping in to protect me. I’m like a shadow becoming human, gaining structure, the bones building around the frame, awaiting solidification and some added flesh.

  It’s time to rebuild Karen.

  I lean back against the pillows and consider my next move. I’d booked a return to Manchester so I’m heading back there in the morning, but then where to?

  Such a lot of my life has been spent within that city and yet I have hardly any roots there—even less if I’m no longer with Adrian. I pull my robe around me and think. Next I’ll go back and pack more clothes for a longer trip. Then I’ll have a day or so in Manchester to see if I feel any allegiance to the city, or whether I want to start again somewhere different. There’s one place I need to visit, one root in the city that will tug me back, that’s wrapped around my heart. I’ve not been back since her burial.