Finding You

by Jo Watson

  “Humph,” he mumbled again as if he didn’t give a Continental shit that I would never be able to look at inflatable objects in the same light again. Another key was thrust into my hand and I glanced down at it. ROOM 5. I looked up at the door next to me. On closer inspection you could clearly see that the “1” that was meant to be next to the “5” had fallen off.

  I rushed down the corridor, located my real room, and barged in. The first thing I did was peer into the bathroom… empty. I was finally alone and I was completely exhausted and traumatized. I had hardly slept in over twenty-four hours. I looked at the bed. The duvet had debris on it. The once white pillow had a yellow smudge on it that looked like a Rorschach test—the more I stared at it, the more it started to look like the gates of hell. Tomorrow morning I would definitely go online and find a new hotel, but tonight I would have to stay here and brave it and pray that small mammals wouldn’t arrive in the middle of the night and carry me off. I put my bags down on the floor next to the bed—and that’s when the glossy magazine on the bedside table caught my attention. I reached for it and started flipping through the pages until his familiar face was once again staring at me. This time he was with a woman.

  I examined it further. He and the woman in question were tangled up in each other’s arms, implying some kind of postcoital thing. Both looked naked, and their perfect bodies were silhouetted against atmospheric lighting. In arty black and white, I might add.

  The only things they were wearing were large, designer wristwatches, as one does during sex. Because it makes perfect sense that you would wear a bedazzled timepiece while bonking just in case you needed to time your foreplay or, better yet, the nine-hour-long orgasm you gave her before she passed out from sheer pleasure due to the size of your manly spear.

  They were also lying in the sand together, which I’ve never understood. Sand gets into strange hard-to-reach places under normal circumstances, let alone these kinds of circumstances.

  I flipped through the rest of the pages and a familiar name caught my attention. “Greek pop sensation Helena on what it’s like to get engaged.”

  Never! This couldn’t be the woman he said I looked like. We looked nothing alike. I had more in common with one of those blue things from Avatar than this voluptuous beauty who looked like she ate men’s hearts for hors d’oeuvres.

  I closed the magazine and tossed it to the floor. I was relieved that I had the letters DR in front of my name in case I needed to prescribe myself emergency medicines for tetanus or rabies. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if I slept on top of the covers, fully clothed and wearing my shoes and a hat? Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought to pack a full hazmat suit.

  Oh God! I looked around and let out a loud sigh. This place was more depressing than the latest Adele song. And way too hot.

  WHATSAPP GROUP: Jane goes to Greece

  Jane: If you don’t hear from me again it’s because I’ve been murdered in my bed or died because I caught dysentery from the bedsheets. This hotel is a total dump! You wouldn’t believe it.

  Annie: Take some photos and send immediately.

  Val: That’s why you should never book online.

  Jane: I didn’t. I went to a travel agent.

  Val: Travel agent must have hated you then.

  Jane: Funny you say that…

  I started taking some photos of the hotel and quickly sent them to the group.

  Val: What’s that on the duvet?

  Jane: I’m not sure. And I don’t want to know.

  Lilly: Eeeewww… seen any hot guys yet?

  Jane: No. None.

  I responded quickly. I wasn’t going to admit to them that I had actually just met the hottest man on the planet. In fact, I would rather pretend that I’d never met him at all.

  Jane: I’m going to try and get some sleep. Bye.

  Annie: Good luck.

  Lilly: Don’t die on us. We’d miss you. XXX

  I was soaking wet when I woke up. I was also dizzy, dry mouthed, and felt absolutely disgusting. The heat in the room was unbearable and the long-sleeve sweater, jeans, and sneakers that I’d slept in hadn’t helped much, either.

  I stumbled out of the bed and peeled my clothes off. I looked at myself in the dirty, half-cracked mirror. My chest and forehead were wet with sweat. My hair, as usual, had a mind of its own—hanging in a thick, heavy mop behind my head. My underwear looked great, though. Black-and-pink Victoria’s Secret balcony bra and thong set. I always bought sexy underwear, although I never had an occasion to use it. The only living thing that had seen me wearing it was Fishy, my goldfish.

  Sudden thought: I hoped my mother was feeding him.

  Another sudden thought: I hoped she hadn’t taken it upon herself to redecorate my flat. About a year ago she had pulled up my old, out-of-fashion carpets and put laminate wood flooring in.

  She was worried that my ugly, out-of-date décor was scaring off potential husbands and giving them the wrong impression about me (i.e., that I was dowdy, boring, and destined for a life of spinsterhood). And when I’d protested and reminded her I wasn’t looking for anyone, she’d reminded me that my eggs were shriveling and dying as we spoke.

  “Tick-tock-biological-clock, dahling.”

  The sun was streaming through the crack in the curtain and highlighting the horror that was my hotel room. I could almost hear my mother’s concern about the type of men I might bump into here. I reached for my phone and did a double blink in case I was seeing incorrectly. The phone said two thirty p.m. As in, the afternoon.

  I’d slept the entire day away; no wonder I felt so bad. I had that hangover feeling one gets from totally oversleeping. I’d wasted an entire day when I could have been out there looking for my father. I quickly scraped back my wild hair, which was made even wilder by the humidity in the room. But no amount of hair gel and painful scraping seemed to flatten it sufficiently today. I grabbed my computer and went online to look for the Aegean Sea Villas. Before booking, though, I decided to leave this one a little review…

  Liked: That I made it through the night without catching a dreaded disease

  Disliked: The fact I could have caught a dreaded disease

  Tips: Make sure you’re up to date with all vaccinations when staying here

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I stood outside on the street with my bags feeling a little like a homeless person. I’d just had one of the most unsuccessful conversations of my life trying to arrange a taxi. And after what felt like a tragic game of Pictionary combined with charades, during which I’d been reduced to making loud vrooming noises and miming a steering wheel, I’d called it a day.

  I surveyed my surroundings and sneezed again. Cats! Had it been daytime when I’d arrived, I might have noticed the subtle clues that indicated that this was the wrong place to stay. Two flowerpots flanked the door, both containing the brown, dead remnants of the flora that had once occupied them. One of them also looked like it was frequented rather often by the local felines and also used to dispose of beer cans. I sneezed again. Why were there so many cats here? Luxury Aegean Villas. Luxury. The only luxury here was that I’d left with my life intact. I took stock of my situation. Now what?

  “If you ever need anything, here’s my card.”

  His chiseled face pushed its way into my brain once more. I could almost hear his business card whispering to me, “Call me, call me now and then have sex with me.”

  Urg. The last thing I wanted to do was phone Zoolandimitri. Yes, I’d thought of that rather terrible nickname while teetering on the brink of sleep last night somewhere between the time he’d kissed me on the neck and the moment he’d whipped my bra off. Okay, fine, I’d had another sex dream. A sex dream with the last guy I should ever have any sort of sex with!

  “Call me. Sex. Phone sex. Let’s have it… Now.”

  His card whispered a little louder this time. I huffed a very audible resigned sigh as I reluctantly fished it out of my bag. I took a moment to study the card. The arr
ogant thing! The back of the card was perfectly normal: name, address, basic info. But the front…

  Was it really necessary to have his face plastered across the front of the card? And with that big, cheesy, self-satisfied grin? It was the grin of a real estate agent trying to sell you four-bedroomed happiness, except he was trying to sell you sex in all four bedrooms and then bent over the balcony rail, too. Possibly in the shower, not to mention against the freshly painted walls…

  My mind began to conjure up images of him showing me around the granite-topped kitchen and then fucking me alfresco.

  Stop it! God, I had to snap out of this.

  I dialed Zoomitri’s number. (That nickname works a little better, I think?) I really didn’t want to see him right now, or ever. Tour guides named Dimitri were bad news. In fact, it was a tour guide called Dimitri that had landed me in the situation I was currently in.

  “Dimitri Spiros.” His voice sounded husky and terribly dreamy.

  “Hi… it’s a…”

  “Jane. I was just thinking about you.”

  “You were?” I forced down the bubble that rose up from my stomach. Fucking hell, I hated myself for having this illogical reaction to him.

  “I don’t like him,” a loud voice shouted inside my brain.

  “Oh yes you do!” another part of my body replied seductively.

  “You’re wrong!” the voice in my logical brain screeched back defensively.

  “Well. I wouldn’t be feeling all tingly if you didn’t,” it cooed seductively.

  “Shut up.”

  “What?” Dimitri asked.

  “Nothing. I was just… you were saying?” I deflected quickly.

  “I woke up thinking that you should be in the Sea Villas and it’s some kind of a mistake.”

  “Mmmm, I think you’re right, only I’m not so sure it was a mistake. I’ve actually checked out and made a reservation at the Sea Villas and—”

  “I’ll fetch you now.” And with that, he put down the phone. He was coming to fetch me. I felt almost hysterical with panic and my pulse started pounding a technobeat.

  “See… you’re totally in lust with him,” the voice mocked me one more time before I managed to muffle it and tried to distract myself with my phone. I was sure my friends were all worried about me.

  WHATSAPP GROUP: Jane goes to Greece

  Jane: I’m not dead. I made it out alive.

  Lilly: Yay!

  Annie: Ditto. I don’t look good in black so I was dreading wearing it to your funeral.

  Stormy: Of coursess u Not. Dead. U ‘re only GoinG to dies ins 2076

  Jane: Huh? How do you know when I’m going to die?

  Stormy: the Nnumberss

  Lilly: LOL

  Annie: Haha. Numerology tells you when you are going to die?

  Stormy: alSo sayss whe.n you will get Married.

  Jane: Also in 2076 I’m guessing.

  Stormy: Noo you ‘re gettling married in 2019

  I burst out laughing at the mere suggestion. Me married in two years. The notion was ridiculous. To marry someone, you actually had to mingle with and then date a member of that elusive thing called the opposite sex. Not only that, but you had to fall in love and have him love you back and want to spend the rest of his life with you. Where the hell was I going to find someone like that?

  “Hi.”

  “Aaah.” I jumped at the sound of Dimitri’s voice and suddenly realized he was standing right there in front of me as if he were the answer to my rhetorical question.

  I froze. My stomach knotted, and the familiar nervous nauseous feeling rose.

  I told you so. You want to marry him and have his babies. That voice was mocking me again and I wished I could shut it the hell down.

  He was smiling at me in that unnerving manner again. “What was so funny?”

  “Uh…” I quickly slipped my phone back into my pocket, feeling the desperate urge to say something. Some interesting facts about horses or marsupials or Tibetan singing bowls or…

  “You know, the length of a shadow is constantly changing as the Earth rotates on its axis,” I said, pointing down at the shadow he was casting over my feet.

  “Really?” He sounded amused again. “That’s good to know. I took your advice, by the way.” He smiled and looked down at his feet. My eyes drifted down to where he was looking. “Closed shoes.”

  “I see that.” I was stunned. Had he really changed his footwear because I’d suggested it? Wait… had he actually listened to my ramblings? No one else ever did—except my friends, and that wasn’t guaranteed.

  “Shall we?” He grabbed my bag with one hand and tossed it into the trunk as if it were full of feathers. He’d probably had a lot of practice tossing things around so expertly, like women onto beds for example. I walked over to the door but just as I was about to open it, I noticed the bright-red writing across it.

  DIMITRI’S ISLAND TOURS

  How could I not have seen that last night? Had I known his name was Dimitri, I might never have left with him in the first place.

  I climbed into his car again and tried to make myself comfortable. It was hard. Everything about this guy made me feel as comfortable as if I’d swallowed a cactus and it was now stuck in the back of my throat. In fact, since meeting him it felt like I’d been ripped out of my comfort zone like a baby pulled kicking and screaming into a brand-new world. Hey, good analogy there, Jane. Because like a baby, I seriously lacked any kind of tools to deal with the feelings I was currently experiencing. This guy struck both lust and total fear into my heart, simultaneously.

  When I was around him, I felt my control slipping. I could always rely on my control, but lately it had been letting me down. The mere fact that I was in Greece was a sign that it was failing miserably. Failed. No, it had definitely failed. Past tense. And truthfully, I feared what would happen if it failed in front of him. I could never give in to any physical feelings I was having for Dimitri. Ever. If I did, I was no better than my biological mother. And I didn’t want to be anything like her.

  Zoomitri climbed into the car, and I made sure to avert my gaze as quickly as possible. My phone suddenly buzzed and I glanced back down at the screen to see a WhatsApp message from Stormy.

  Stormy: corrections…! its actually 201 8. Youll get MaRried mext year !

  Another laugh escaped my lips, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Dimitri turn to look at me. It made me feel so uneasy that I wanted to jump out of my skin. I angled my body away from him, trying not to look too rude, and stared out the window. We drove slowly through streets that were lined with more potted plants than I’d ever seen in my life. Greens, reds, yellows, pinks: Flowers exploded out of every pot with such vibrancy. Pots of cacti and other things that looked like they could seriously injure you were also in abundance. But it was the bougainvillea that stood out the most. Pinky-purple and thick, it peeped out of every corner, casting a colored glow on the white walls around it. The color was so bright you couldn’t quite believe it even existed in nature. It looked more like a color you might find in a box of children’s crayons.

  For the first time I also noticed the brightly colored houses peering at me from behind all the whitewashed ones. A bright-orange one, a pale-pink one, and a few terra-cotta homes decorated with bright-blue mosaics stood out against all the pristine, snowy whiteness. This place was an electrifying kaleidoscope of color. I was so deep in thought that I hardly noticed the sound until Dimitri embarrassingly pointed it out.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “What?” I was genuinely confused until I heard the loud gurgling sound emanating from my stomach, followed by the painful, acidy feeling that crept up my esophagus. Great! Nothing like sharing embarrassing bodily noises with a hot stranger. But hell yes I was hungry. No, starved. I hadn’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours—something my mother would probably congratulate me on.

  “I guess I am.”

  “I wouldn’t have eaten there, either. Call me t
otally crazy, but I just have a thing about catching food poisoning.”

  I heard a small chuckle leave my lips, which I instantly regretted. My laugh only seemed to encourage him.

  “I went onto TripAdvisor when I got home and read some of the reviews. One person actually said it looked more like a crime scene than a hotel room. I was so tempted to drive right over and save you.”

  Save me? In an uncontrollable instant my brain started conjuring up all sorts of images: shining armor and Rapunzel and breaking down the door with bare fists, lifting me and carrying me out of the room in his arms and then having sex with me. Valiant savior Sex! Now.

  “Not that you seem like the kind of person that needs saving,” he quickly added. He turned and smiled at me again. His smile was very different this time. It didn’t have that crazy-sexy quality to it; instead it seemed friendly and familiar. And strangely, this smile unnerved me even more than the other ones. Those were predictable; this was not. I kept quiet and decided not to say another word. I didn’t really want to encourage conversation. I was not here to become buddies with the model slash tour guide slash whatever else this man was. And certainly not anyone named Dimitri.

  He stopped the car and jumped out. I opened the door and was immediately greeted by an onslaught of busyness. I was surrounded by narrow cobbled streets brimming with shops, restaurants, stalls, and throngs of mesmerized-looking tourists. I scanned the area, trying to look past the crazy mess spread out in front of me.

  “Where’s the hotel?” I couldn’t see anything that resembled one.

  “I’m taking you somewhere first.” He flashed me another worrying grin before walking up one of the streets. It was rather comical actually. Heads turned, mouths gaped, and several women looked like they were about to take off their clothes and throw themselves into his path and onto his penis. I wondered what would happen if he walked around holding a sign that said FREE SEX. How many women would take him up on his offer? Probably all of them.