“Shut up.”
“So when are you leaving?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Nice.”
“And I’m getting a first class ticket.”
“Check you out!”
“Now all I need to do is go shopping for this trip, so I can look good while I do more shopping.”
“That sounds about right.”
“I can’t believe this will be the first time I’ve ever used my passport.”
“Hopefully not the last.”
I mull over that sentence. This will be my last vacation. There’s no other way to look at it. And I plan to have fun, but no matter where I go in the world, there’s no escaping my mortality.
“Cathy...I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.”
“I’ll have to make a list of all the sights you need to check out.”
“For sure.”
“I’m glad you’re doing this, Cathy. Really. I am. You deserve it.”
“Thanks.”
We say our goodbyes. I feel a little guilty that I didn’t even bother to ask Zoe if she wanted to come with me on this trip. I could have easily bought her ticket, too.
But then again, it’s probably best if I go alone. I could use a break from her constant positive reinforcements. And if I’m feeling down, I want the freedom and the space to just tune out completely.
If the shoe were on the other foot and Zoe was sick, she would have probably cured herself by now. To her, the glass will eternally be half full. And for me, the glass is usually shattered on the floor…and I’ve stepped in the glass barefoot.
All of a sudden, I’m not even excited about this fucking trip anymore. What am I thinking? My life isn’t Eat, Pray, Love. I’m traveling halfway across the world for what?
But once again, there’s no backing out. Like a fool, I didn’t even get travelers insurance. And unless I can give these tickets to another Cathy Andrews with my exact birthday, then it will go to waste.
***
Days later, Zoe is weaving through traffic in her Mini Cooper. I’m in the passenger’s seat trying to stave off a heart attack. This car is so tiny and so fast, that I just feel like we’re gonna get trampled all over. We’re sandwiched in by SUVs, semi-trucks, and an F-150.
Zoe is calm behind the wheel, humming along to Dave Matthews Band. I try to focus on breathing, as I concentrate on the road ahead. Only ten miles until we reach the airport. Wouldn’t it be ironic to die like this?
“I don’t think Mini Coopers were built for highways.”
Zoe laughs as she changes lanes with ease.
“Of course they were! You’re gonna see a lot of these in Europe.”
“But I’m not riding in one.”
“Come on.”
She speeds up. I hold on to the dashboard for dear life.
“I told you that I could have taken an Uber.”
“That’s just crazy talk. My best friend is leaving town for two weeks, and she wants a stranger to drive her to the airport?”
“I don’t mind. Really. You can pull over right here.”
I point to some random spot on the highway.
“You never used to be this uptight when you were on Angelo’s motorcycle.”
“You know what ZOE…”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring him up.”
“Sure you did.”
There’s a pause.
“I’m gonna miss your crazy ass, Cathy.”
“I’m gonna miss you, too.”
“Did you tell Angelo that you’re going?”
I just stare at her. She knows the answer to that. Why does she insist on antagonizing me with these fucking questions?
“Why not?”
“Because you know why.”
“What if he shows up at your doorstep with a dozen roses and knocks and knocks on the door, and you’re not there to answer, but he thinks you’re blowing him off?”
“Not gonna happen.”
“You never know, Cathy. You never know.”
“I don’t even think about him that much anymore, to be honest.”
“Really?”
There’s a longer pause. We both know that’s a lie. But it makes me feel so much better to say it. If I say it, then maybe one day it will be true. I hope to God that day is today.
Angelo is always in the back of my mind. The front of it. The sides. He basically occupies every lobe! And I’m disappointed that I haven’t heard from him in so long. Even though I ghosted him. I still have the right to be upset. Don’t I?
Zoe exits the highway, and I’m more relieved than I’ve felt in years. I don’t mind dying. But I don’t want to die on my way to the airport where I’ll be leaving for my first vacation ever. That’s just unspeakably sad…and perhaps even funny in a gruesome sort of way.
“Do you have your itinerary all planned out?”
“I’m on the fence. Should I do the tours, or just go with the flow?”
“Try a little of both. You might meet some interesting people on those tours.”
“Interesting … Is that another word for disturbing? I think I’ll just wing it.”
“I didn’t say they were disturbing.”
“You didn’t say they weren’t.”
She laughs. “See, I’m gonna miss all of this.”
I can’t help but smile. “Yeah. Me too.”
She pulls into the airport. We inch along in the traffic, and she turns her radio down. I look at her profile, and I can’t help but feel grateful. For all of my flaws, and Lord knows there’s a garbage truck full of them, I am lucky to have Zoe as a friend. My best friend.
She stops in front of international departures. My heart skips a beat. I’m here! I’m actually doing this! And part of me feels good to know that I’m doing something exciting without Angelo. I’m still adventurous on my own! I don’t need no man!
But I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if he’d joined me on this trip. There’s probably nothing we wouldn’t try together, both inside and outside the bedroom. I still crave that man just as much as I did the last time he held me in his arms.
“You be sure to text me as soon as you land.”
“Of course.”
I give Zoe a big hug. I’m trying to keep my emotions intact. It’s not like this is our last goodbye. But that day isn’t too far off, and it’s impossible to lose sight of that.
Chapter Sixteen
I’m standing at the gate, waiting to get on this flight. I cling to my Starbucks latte and my boarding pass.
The attendant calls out, “Now boarding first class passengers!”
A handful of people start walking towards the gate. The women are clad in diamonds and pearls and the men have watches that are probably worth more than my annual salary. They brush past me.
Then, I realize that I’m one of them. At least I will be for the next fourteen hours. The ticket in my possession says FIRST CLASS. But I feel completely out of place as I hand it to the attendant.
She looks me up and down. I’ve really tried my best to look the part. I usually travel in comfy sweats but today I’m wearing stylish jeans and a blouse. I’ve got on some makeup, too.
She flashes a fake smile. “Have a nice flight.”
I notice pink lipstick on her teeth, but I don’t bother mentioning it. “Thanks.”
I step onto the plane and sit near the front. Wow! This seat is even more comfortable than my couch at home. I’m loving this already.
I watch as the other passengers make their way to coach. I’m so glad I splurged on this. But it’s bittersweet. I’m sure I will only want to travel first class from now on. It’s probably for the best that this is my last trip until I reach my final destination, as in the cemetery down the street from the Target.
Even in the afterlife, I’ll be able to spot the good deals. Maybe I can haunt Zoe from time to time when her favorite stuff is on sale. I’m sure she won’t mind.
“
Can I get you anything to drink?”
I turn around to see a young flight attendant with melon-sized boobs. Obviously, they’re fake. I’m pretty sure they cause unbearable back pain. But maybe it’s all worth it for the attention she gets.
I thought about getting my tits done once. I even scheduled a consultation with a plastic surgeon and everything. But I backed out thinking of all the things that could go wrong. Like … what if I end up with a uni-boob?
I look around and notice that most of the first class passengers are sipping on champagne. Wow. You get drinks before takeoff. I’ve been missing out.
“Yes, I’ll have some champagne please.”
The flight attendant pours me a glass. I drink up and take a deep breath. This is the life! That word again. Life. I need to think about something else. Anything else. I really need to stop being such a bummer. There’s plenty of time to do all the things I want to do. In fact, maybe this is a good thing … I mean, anybody could get hit by a bus while they’re crossing the street. Putting a time-frame on this thing means I can make the most of it.
A few hours after take-off, the flight attendant brings me a steak dinner. And more champagne, too. I could get used to this. I stare out of the window into the darkness.
I binge watch random movies and TV shows until I fall asleep. When I wake up, I find out we still have a few more hours to go. Greeeaaaat! I’m starting to get restless as hell. Maybe I would have been better off going to Florida like Pam suggested.
When the plane touches down in Milan, it’s morning there. But I’m so out of it, I’ve lost all sense of time. I’m groggy as I move through the airport. I know it’s from the champagne, as well as the jet lag. I’m pretty sure I drank a whole damn bottle’s worth.
Outside, the Italian sun is warm on my skin. It feels good after being in that recirculating air for hours. I lug my suitcase to the taxi stand and wait my turn.
A few minutes later, my driver, a man with a mustache that reminds me of the Super Mario Brothers, tosses my bag into his trunk. He opens the door for me. I slide into the backseat. The car smells like cologne and strong coffee.
I turn on my phone and use Google translate to tell him the address to my hotel. He smiles and shakes his head.
“I speak English, miss.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“No problem. Are you here on vacation?”
I nod. I’m really not in the mood for small talk. But I guess it’s rude to just stare at the man.
“You must see the cathedrals while you are here. And I know you will love the Fashion District. All the women love fashion!”
I take offense to that assumption! For all he knows, I might absolutely detest fashion. How dare you pigeonhole me sir?! How DARE you?! Even though nothing could be further from the truth. I love to shop, especially when I’ve been sticking to my diet.
Fuck diets! I’m in a place with the best breads and pastas in the world. Not to mention the pizzas. I’m going to overdose on carbs. Oh! I can’t wait to explore this place.
“Where is the Fashion District?”
“Quad d’Oro. I can take you.”
“Not just now. I want to to check-in at my hotel first please.”
“Okay. You’re the boss. That’s what you say in America, right?”
I smile. He’s working hard for his tip today, good man! As we get closer to the center of the city, I feel like I’ve stepped back in time. Many of the buildings were built centuries ago, but there are a few modern structures in the mix.
We drive by a beautiful old fountain. It looks like the kind of place where you could make a wish that might actually come true. And right now, I only have one wish: his name is Angelo, and he’s over 4,000 miles away.
The taxi pulls up in front of my hotel. He grabs my bag and opens the door for me. I give him a good tip and thank him. Then, I step inside.
The lobby is plush and modern. The man behind the desk checks me in and hands over a keycard. I take the elevator up to the 38th floor. I decided to splurge on a room with a view.
When I step inside, it doesn’t disappoint. A king-sized bed. Upscale furniture. And most of all, a fantastic view of the city. But I feel a little sad thinking of how I’ll be sleeping in this gorgeous room all alone.
It didn’t have to be this way. I could have asked Angelo to come with me. I’m sure he would have said yes. But what’s the point of us getting closer in light of my situation? Suddenly that Queen song pops in to my head—Don’t stop me now—the part where Freddie Mercury sings have a good time, good time!
I power up my cell phone, hoping to see a voicemail or a text from him—Angelo, not Freddie Mercury. Nothing. Just a few work emails. Doctor Patel. More Burger City coupons too. Then, I remember that I promised to text Zoe.
I made it safe.
How was your flight?
Amazing. I’ll catch you later.
Okay. Have fun!
I slip out of my clothes and take a shower. Even though I was flying first-class, I still was on that plane for fourteen fricking hours! I shampoo my hair and lather up with plenty of soap. It’s a nice shower, lots of settings. One is like a waterfall.
When I’m all done I step out and wrap a towel around my body. I pour myself a glass of water and take my medicine. I look in the mirror. I don’t seem to be any different, but I wonder what’s happening inside my body. What is this disease eating away at?
Stop it, Cathy. I splash some cool water on my face. Then, I blow dry my hair. Todd redid my color just before I left town, so it looks good. I could pass for a natural blonde.
Then, I get creative with makeup. The lady at the Mac counter talked me into these glittery eye-shadows. I try to apply them like she did, but I come up a bit short. Oh well.
I open my suitcase, trying to decide what to wear. I settle on a sundress and sandals. I think I look pretty cute. I snap a picture of myself and send it to Zoe. She replies with a very happy emoji. Or is this the one that’s laughing? Hard to tell. Is she laughing at me? Do I look ridiculous?
Stop it, Cathy! I walk out of the room and take the elevator back to the lobby. Despite my jetlag, hunger is the ruling emotion at the moment. I approach the concierge. I’m on the verge of blurting out: Me want food.
But I manage to say, “Hi, do you have any restaurants in the area you could recommend?”
He nods.
“There are several. If you like fine dining, there’s the …”
“Which one is closest?”
“Oh. There’s a great place right around the corner.”
“Sounds perfect.”
I walk out of the hotel hoping to God that I don’t get lost. I don’t know a word of Italian. But maybe I deserve to get lost if I can’t find a place that’s supposedly literally around the corner.
As I concentrate on the directions, I hear a man whistle. I look around for some gorgeous Italian woman. Then, I realize there’s nobody here but me. He’s hitting on me. He raises one of his thick eyebrows.
“Bella!”
I forgot what that means but he’s smiling, so it must be a compliment. Hopefully, it’s not anything vulgar. Do I look like a prostitute today?
“Hi …, no Italian.”
He blows me a kiss, and I keep walking. I’m not thinking about men right now. Except for one. But I can’t have him, so that’s the end of it.
I find the restaurant. Or at least I find a restaurant. This is good enough for me. I walk in. A hostess with a warm smile greets me.
“Welcome.”
“Table for one.”
She keeps smiling, but I can see a hint of sadness in her eyes. Does she feel sorry for me? Or am I just reading too much into this? Or is it a little bit of both?
I follow her to a table by the window. She hands me the menu. I’m grateful that there are pictures. I don’t understand a single printed word. I wonder if Angelo speaks any Italian? Too bad I’ll never find out.
My waiter, a tall, thin man with dark gray hair a
pproaches me. He grins and fills my glass with water.
“Ciao. My name is Marco. Can I get you something besides water? Maybe some wine?”
“Yes! Bring out a whole bottle of … What’s good here?”
“I recommend the Lombardia.”
“Sounds good. And I’ll have that and that and that!”
I point to a picture of a calamari appetizer and two pasta dishes.
“You’re a very hungry, signora.”
Is he trying to carb shame me? Yes, I’m a hungry fucking American and damn proud of it!
“I will put the order in right away.”
“Thank you.”
He heads towards the kitchen. Soon, I’m gorging on bread, calamari, risotto, and boscaiola. And the wine has me nice and tipsy. Marco brings out the dessert menu, but I have to decline. If I take another bite, I will burst like that blueberry girl in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
In my delirious state, I don’t even realize that Marco is flirting with me until he says:
“You are very pretty.”
Overstuffed. Yes. Pretty? I feel anything but that. Still, I nod and smile. I notice his wedding band. Not that he’s my type at all, but come on? Marco, you’ve got a wife at home. This is going nowhere.
Fine! I’ll have the dessert!
***
The next day, I head to the Fashion District. The women are so well put together here, that they’re like freaks of nature. Plus, they walk around the cobblestone streets in high heels like they’re wearing Sketchers.
I buy clothes, silk scarves, and jewelry. I get a bunch of stuff for Zoe, too. I have lunch at a little cafe that serves sandwiches. I think back to my sexy picnic with Angelo.
Later in the day, I discover God’s most sacred creation … limoncello. It gives me a buzz like no other. I can’t stop drinking the stuff. But it’s a little sad to get wasted all by myself.
On the taxi ride back to the hotel, I see a gorgeous Italian man on a motorcycle. This must be Angelo’s distant cousin. Oh God. There’s just no escaping him.
The next day, I take the train from Milan to Venice. The city on the water seems to sparkle. You have to walk or ride a bike everywhere. There are no cars.
Dieting Makes Cathy Crazy Page 13
