by Jo Watson
“Yes! Let’s do it.” I snapped out of it.
“Seriously?” He walked up to me and placed his hands on my shoulders . . . such big hands.
“Yes.” I nodded. “I mean, I think so.” My confidence waned for a second and then I remembered that text from Sam. “Yes!” I was emphatic this time. “Absolutely.”
“Great! This is great.” He ran to the dressing-room table and grabbed the magazine. “Let me see what’s next.”
“Wait.” My stomach plummeted. I knew there was something I needed to do first before I could move onto the next step. Something I should have done last night, but hadn’t had the courage to.
“There’s still something I need to burn.” I slowly pulled the diary out of my handbag and held it up. “It’s full of Matt.”
“Well,” he said, looking at it thoughtfully. “We can’t burn it, or we might get arrested. I have another idea though.” He shot me a smile and then looked down at my feet. “How are your knees feeling?”
“Fine actually, thanks.” The cream had worked wonders on them overnight.
“Perfect,” he said and walked over to a small backpack on the floor and started putting things into it.
“Wait, where are we going?” I asked. But he didn’t respond. He gave me a mysterious smile and then headed for the door.
An hour later we were surrounded on all sides by thick, lush, tropical jungle. Vines twisted with fern leaves the size of my head, and every now and then bright pops of color pierced the sea of green. I felt like Alice down the rabbit hole; arriving in a world so foreign and magical.
And the bamboo! I’d never seen bamboo so thick and tall in my life. Standing to attention like soldiers and towering above us like skyscrapers. But what was most interesting about it was that almost every single one was covered in graffiti. You would’ve thought this would have detracted from their natural beauty, but it didn’t. For some reason, each branch became a kind of fascination, with its own unique story to tell, and I couldn’t help stopping and reading them as I walked.
“Did you know,” I called out to Alex, “that Jim loves Steph 4 eva?” I ran my fingertips over the fresh etching.
“Well, did you know, that a man from Japan was here.” Alex pointed to the bamboo next to him.
“Did you know,” I continued, “that Jenny is lit as fuck!”
“Good for Jenny.” Alex smiled at me. “Hey, we should write something too.”
“Like what?”
“We should sign a contract together.”
“Contract?”
“Yes, a promise to get through the whole list and get over our exes. We need something to commemorate this moment and make it unforgettable.” Alex started scratching in his bag and pulled out a pen. “I don’t have a knife, but this should do.” He walked up to what appeared to be the only free bit of bamboo space.
“Hey, wait!” I suddenly remembered something. “What’s number one?”
Alex looked confused.
“Last night you read me number two and we did number three. What was number one on the list?”
Alex pulled the magazine out of the bag, cleared his throat and started reading again. “ ‘Number One. Don’t Jump Into Another Relationship. Your feelings are all over the place right now and it’s easy to think you’ve developed feelings for someone else all of a sudden. This is probably just transference and they are not real. You need to take a break from all relationships and focus on yourself for a while.’ ”
“That one sounds really important,” I said, because it did. It wasn’t flippant like burning paper or jetting off to tropical islands, and it really resonated with me. Focus on myself. God, I wouldn’t even know where to start. Myself had been so wrapped up in Matt for so damn long.
“It is,” Alex echoed, “very important.” He folded his arms and grew silent and thoughtful-looking. I noticed that while he thought, he brought the pen up to his lips and bit the tip between his teeth. He finally spoke after a few moments of silence. “So that’s it then, we make a promise to each other, right here and now, that we’ll swear off relationships for a while and go through this entire list together?” He looked at me and raised the pen in the air.
“Well, the first part will be easy for me,” I chuckled. “It’s not like I’ll be meeting anyone anytime soon.”
“Me neither,” Alex agreed and brought the pen down to the bamboo and started scratching. But it soon became clear that no amount of scratching with a complimentary hotel pen was going to work on the bamboo. This became very evident when the pen snapped.
“Crap,” Alex said and then looked up at me. “What now? We need to do something to remember this moment.”
“My grandmother used to tie string around her finger when she wanted to remember something,” I suddenly said without thinking.
“That’s brilliant!” Alex said. He reached into his bag again and pulled out the small promotional notepad that the hotel had given us. Around the notepad was a small green ribbon, that matched the ribbon on the pen. Alex pulled the ribbons off and walked up to me. “Give me your left hand,” he said, holding his out.
I lifted my hand slowly and placed it in his. Alex began wrapping the ribbon around my ring finger and started tying it.
“Repeat after me,” he said.
“Okay.” I watched, transfixed by his hands, transfixed by the fact he was—for the second time in two days—putting something onto my ring finger.
“I, Val, do solemnly promise to swear off relationships and work my way through the entire list.” He looked up at me and our eyes locked. I swallowed, it felt like something had lodged itself into the back of my throat. Everything around me felt a little more silent all of a sudden.
“I, Val,” I repeated softly, “do solemnly promise to swear off relationships and work my way through the entire list.” I looked back down at my finger as he tied the final knot. It was just a little piece of green ribbon, but it held so much meaning right now that I felt somewhat overwhelmed.
Then Alex passed me his hand and I began doing the same. I almost forgot to make him repeat the words as I studied his hand carefully. It was big, his fingers were long and his fingernails were perfect. Prominent veins crisscrossed the back of his hand, making it look strong and powerful. When I was done, I pulled away and we stood looking at each other in complete silence. There was this sense in the air that the two of us had just done something significant together. Something important that needed to be respected and could never be undone. His gray eyes seemed to have darkened a little in the shade.
“Come, we better keep moving,” Alex suddenly said and started walking again.
I followed him.
I still had no idea where we were going, and no matter how many times I asked, it was still “a secret.” It was hot and humid, and got worse the further we walked. The path quickly got steeper, and soon my legs didn’t feel like they could go on much further.
“Alex,” I moaned, “are we almost there?” My left calf muscle felt like it was about to explode out of the back of my leg.
“I think so.” He turned around and smiled at me as he continued his fast stride. I’d been watching him walk for quite some time now, and I was certainly able to deduce one thing from the experience: this man went to the gym! With each step his calf muscles, unlike mine, tensed and relaxed—God, he had better legs than I did!
I confess to allowing my eyes to drift north, to where the legs met the body, aka his arse. And although it was hard to tell through those shorts, he did seem to have the kind of arse that a girl—if she were so inclined—might want to dig her nails into. Not that I was inclined to do such things.
And then, without warning, the incline got even steeper. So steep that it felt like climbing a ladder. The burn moved from my calves to my thigh muscles, which never got a workout, except when hovering over public toilets. The burn moved up further and into muscles I didn’t even know I had.
“A . . . le . . . x,” I puffed as I
tried to keep up.
“Yes?” he replied casually over his shoulder as if he wasn’t even moving.
“When are we there?”
“Soon!” he shouted.
I still had no idea what was at the top. And just when I felt I couldn’t go on any longer, I could hear something. The distinctive sound of falling water.
“A waterfall?” I asked. “I thought we were here to burn my diary.”
“I have a better idea,” he said, ducking under a thick, green overhang. We were in the midst of a rain forest now, complete with a green canopy above our heads. Shafts of sunlight penetrated the green roof, sending beams of light down onto the leaf-covered path. And when the warm breeze blew, these patches of light moved around like lights on a dance floor.
With each step the sound of rushing water grew louder until finally the path ended and we stepped out of the canopy and back into the sunlight.
I exhaled loudly when it all came into view. It was spectacular, not to mention so high up that I felt I could reach out and touch the clouds. I was nervous to approach the edge, but I felt compelled to look over it. I moved slowly to where the green grass ended and the rocks began. I could feel the cool spray of water on my face. I finally reached the edge and peered over. A massive cascade of water crashed down over the rocks and into the bluest pond I’d ever seen.
“Now what?” I asked Alex, who was standing a little too close to the edge for my liking.
He turned and looked at me slowly, and pointedly. “I think you know.”
I nodded and slowly put my bag down on the ground. And with a very tentative and trembling hand, I took my diary out. This was more than just a diary to me, this was a record of Matt and mine’s relationship. I opened it and ran my fingertips over the words on the crinkled pages, as if reading them like Braille. But then panic gripped me.
“I don’t know if I can do this.” Doing this would be letting him go. All my memories of him, all the records I’d kept for the last three years of my life were contained between these pages. If I didn’t have this, what did I have of these last three years?
“You have to do it.” Alex walked up to me and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I clutched the diary to my chest, my heart, and walked over to a rock and sat down. I opened the diary onto the last page I’d ever written. Alex also sat. I took a deep breath and for some reason, started reading it out loud.
“ ‘14 Feb. (Six months ago)
“ ‘I had to drag you out from the bottom of my cupboard for this. You were covered in dust and when I opened you, fish moths ran at me (note to self: maybe need fumigator—or maybe need to clean and dust better). Anyway . . .
“ ‘Matt is engaged.
“ ‘To Sam.
“ ‘He even got down on one knee, he told me. Then to make matters worse, he posted one of those cheesy engagement shoots on Facebook. All 100 of the fucking photos. Matt never struck me as an “engagement shoot kind of guy.” That is the kind of thing we would have laughed about together. But he did one. And they were on a white horse in one of the pictures. A WHITE HORSE!
“ ‘Matt is so different now, though. Since meeting her he’s started acting and talking differently. He even dresses differently too.’ ”
At that I heard a mumble from Alex. I continued to read.
“ ‘I think it’s because she’s super-fancy and from some fancy, rich, posh family. (I wonder if he farts in front of her?)
“ ‘It was so hard to act happy for him. It was so hard not to burst into tears. I don’t think anything has ever hurt me this much before.
“ ‘I can’t do this anymore. This needs to end. I am torturing myself.
“ ‘No more . . .’ ”
I turned the page. My mouth was getting dry and a lump was forming in the back of my throat. I briefly looked up at Alex and he gave me a small smile and reassuring nod, the kind that showed solidarity and urged me to continue.
“ ‘Dear Diary,
“ ‘I said no more, and I meant it at the time, but somehow Matt exerts some kind of power over me that makes me forget all the promises that I make to myself. He asked me to be his best man at his wedding and to speak at his engagement party—and guess what I did? I said yes. YES! Of course, I said yes. I always say yes. I haven’t been able to say NO to Matt in three years and all I want to do is say it. No, no, no, no, NO!
“ ‘How is this such a hard word to say? But every time he asks something of me, I feel this feeling building up inside and it becomes impossible to stand my ground and remember everything I’d promised myself the day before.
“ ‘The sad truth is this . . . I fucking love him and I don’t know how to turn it off and make it stop. And I’m so tired of loving him.’ ”
I looked up from reading the diary. My eyes were filled with tears. Alex looked at me as if he knew exactly what I was feeling.
“So, make it stop,” he said to me. “We both have to make it stop.”
I nodded feebly. I stood up slowly, walked towards the edge and looked down into the crystal blue pool below. The water was a bright sapphire blue, except where the waterfall crashed into it. There it was a frothy, turbulent white, like a cappuccino.
Alex walked up to me and stood by my side. I held the diary between my hands and looked down at it one last time and then, with all the might and all the strength I could muster, I threw it into the air as high as it could go.
The diary soared into the sky at first. It was beautiful to watch, like a bird flapping its wings and climbing, and then it seemed to slow down, it paused, looked like it was hovering for a moment or two without moving, and then its trajectory changed.
It started to fall. Faster and faster and faster towards the bottom. It tumbled and somersaulted in the air. It looked like it was flapping its wings frantically, trying to stay up, but it was impossible. The inevitability of gravity pulled at it. And then it crashed into the water.
I stood there and watched as the book floated around for a while, the current from the raging waterfall pulling it closer and closer and then, all of a sudden, it disappeared into the foaming waters. I gasped as the turbulence ate it up violently. It re-emerged again, only to be dragged back under by thousands of pairs of frothy fingers. And then, finally, I couldn’t see it anymore. It made no more reappearances and it was . . . gone.
I imagined it at the bottom of the pool now. Drenched and soaked. I imagined the ink streaming off the pages and bleeding into the water until finally disappearing. Forever. All the words I’d ever written, melting and disappearing off the page, as if turning back time, as if they had never been there in the first place. Erasing three years of memories and stories. I felt a tear slip down my cheek. It was sadness, but there was something else in the sadness too. Hope? Relief?
Another tear trickled down my face as I stared at the waters below. It was still hot and humid, but suddenly, a cold shiver ran through me, as if a ghost had just crawled over my skin. Maybe it was the ghost of Matt finally leaving me. I felt the solid weight of an arm around my shoulders and looked to my left. I’d almost forgotten about Alex.
“How do you feel?” he asked in a soft voice.
“Good, I think.” I smiled at him. “Something feels different I guess.” I said it and meant it this time. Not like all the other times I’d said it over the years. Something did feel different this time. Maybe this list would really work? I hoped it would work.
Because trying to get over Matt for these last few years had been like that diet you were always going to start on Monday. Sunday night you would binge on your favorite foods and then swear blind that on Monday morning you would wake up and only drink green kale smoothies for the next month until you lost all the weight.
But around lunchtime on Monday I always slipped and fell off the wagon . . .
And that was Matt.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“So, what’s next?” I said, sitting opposite Alex at the table by the swimming pool. We were back at our hotel, it
was evening, and we’d spent most of the day hiking and exploring the forest.
“Well,” Alex said, opening the magazine once more. He read. “ ‘Number Four. Commit Murder, On Social Media. His status updates. His thoughts in 280 characters or less. His face in dreamy Valencia filter that really brings out his eyes . . . or worse, him and his new bae in sexy black and white #powercouple #blessed #loveofmylife
“ ‘The last thing you need right now is to have your ex in your social media space which means that’s it’s time to commit murder. Unfriend, unfollow, unlike and un-everything him from your life.
“ ‘You’ll never get over him if you spend your days looking at the time he ate a protein smoothie bowl and posted it on Insta #Chiaseedsarethenewblack
“ ‘And he’s going to notice that you unfollowed and unfriended him. But keep your profile open for a while, just long enough for him to go and look there and see those gorgeous pictures of you having so much fun without him. If you can, grab some arm candy and pose with them, and be sure to put it on Insta for him to see that your life continues without him. In fact, whenever you do something fun, post it.’ ”
“Aaahh, I see,” I said, sipping on the pink cocktail—which, in the short time we’d known each other, had kind of become our thing.
“So, let’s do it,” Alex said. “Let’s take ludicrously sexy photos of ourselves and post and hashtag the hell out of them and then order another drink and defriend them?”
I laughed. “I don’t think you’ll be getting a ludicrously sexy picture out of me anytime soon.”
“What?” He almost shouted this part. “Are you kidding? You don’t even have to try, you’re just naturally smoldering.”
“Smoldering?” Now I was really laughing.
“Totally.”
I eyed Alex suspiciously. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better, you know that, right?”
“I’m not. I assure you.” He sipped his pink drink slowly and looked at me. Scrutinizing me. I suddenly felt a rush of warmth through my body and the back of my knees tingled again.