by Beth Rinyu
The fog I was in lifted just enough to register that it was DeAndre. “Every time!” I replied without hesitation. I was the worst when it came to that. The thought of being without my belongings while I was away sent me into a full-blown panic. So far, I had been lucky, and I was hoping this wouldn’t be the trip where my luck ran out. Relief washed over me when I spotted my polka dots making their way through the chute. “That’s me!” I said, pointing to the suitcase.
“Guess you wanted to make sure you saw it coming.”
“Exactly!” I replied, struggling to grab my suitcase off the belt. “What color is yours?”
He smirked. “Hey now, that sounds a little personal…we did just meet after all.” He tried to hold back his laughter. “I’m navy blue.”
I shook my head. “Navy blue…yours and probably seventy-five percent of the people on our flight. Now do you see why I went with pink and polka dots?”
“Oh, no, girl, I’m very resourceful. I have a standout on mine.”
“Mind letting me in on what that is so I can help you locate it?”
“Don’t have to because here it is.” He reached for the suitcase sliding past us and I immediately looked down at his luggage tag to find it adorned in the colors of the gay pride rainbow.
Fortunately, we were greeted right away by a short, portly man with a handlebar mustache, holding up a sign for our tour company as soon as we exited that baggage claim area. He pointed us to an open area where another man with a clipboard was standing. I couldn’t wait to sit down and hopefully catch a few winks on the ride to the hotel. But to my dismay, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. The transportation company was anything but organized, and I was hoping this wasn’t a precursor of what was to come with the actual tour.
After giving them my name, I stood with my head rested against the cement wall with about a dozen other wary travelers while the man who had greeted us, the man with the clipboard, and another man spoke in German. I couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying, but their faces told me they were downright confused. Adding to my exhaustion was the fact the airport seemed to have the heat jacked up to some ungodly temperature. I took off my coat and draped it over my arm, wondering if I could fall asleep while standing up. I closed my eyes and Evan’s face flashed before me. Our wedding day. Our honeymoon to Paris, then Normandy, and ending in Provence. We were so happy, so in love. What could’ve gone so wrong in the near decade we had been married? “No matter what happens or how hard it gets, we’ll always stand by each other and work things out. I will be your umbrella in the rain, your fire in the darkness, and your water in the drought.” Those were the words Evan and I had vowed to each other on that day we said “I do.” He had held true to his word—I hadn’t.
“Thanks for watching that for me.” My eyes sprang open at the sound of DeAndre’s voice.
Shit, was I supposed to be watching something for him? I looked down at his suitcase right beside me and realized I was. “No problem.” I played it off as if I had been keeping a dutiful eye on it the entire time.
“I wasn’t sure how you took it, so I added the cream and brought you back some sugar.” He offered me one of the coffee cups in his hand along with two sugar packets.
“Oh, thanks so much!” I replied, not sure if the coffee would kill me or cure me. My stomach hadn’t been feeling that great, but I knew it was all nerve related. Now that I had made it to my destination without any major snafus, I was hoping it would settle down. I only hoped the coffee didn’t make it worse. But, on the other hand, I could feel a headache coming on, and I knew caffeine would do the trick to halt it from turning into a full-blown migraine. I opened the lid and poured both packets of sugar in.
“So, you’re a two-sugar type of girl,” DeAndre remarked.
My eyes burned with a memory of Evan. It was the day he had finally worked up the courage to ask me out. I had been going into the same coffee shop for a week, working on a research paper that was going to count for half of my grade for the semester. I hadn’t been paying any attention to the comings and goings of any of the customers as I dutifully pounded away on my laptop. If I had, then maybe I would have noticed him straight away. I was deep into the liberation of Nazi-occupied Paris during World War II when he approached me.
“Two sugars and a little bit of coffee with your cream.”
“Excuse me?” I looked up from my laptop to find a tall, blue-eyed, blond-haired guy standing over my table. He had an athletic build and was handsome in a classic type of way, like a movie star from back in the 1940s. I was certain he was at the wrong table. Maybe he was meeting a blind date and it was a case of mistaken identity. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” My tone sounded a little sharper than I intended.
“Well, not formally. I’m in your psychology class, but since I sit in the back and you’re in the front, I guess you wouldn’t know that.”
“Oh…umm, yeah, sorry. Not to mention that class is at eight a.m., and I’m still half asleep.”
He extended the cup of coffee in his hand and I reached for it. “Thanks. Please, have a seat.” I gestured to the empty chair across from me. I closed my laptop and took a sip of coffee. Perfect. How did he know exactly how I liked my coffee?
He was dressed to perfection in a neatly pressed button-up light blue shirt with not a hair out of place. I was keenly becoming more aware of my own appearance as I studied him closer. My messy blond hair was thrown haphazardly into a sloppy bun. I had been cramming for finals and working on this paper for days and couldn’t remember the last time I had even washed it. My oversized hoodie had holes in the sleeves and the sweats I was wearing weren’t much better. Not to mention, the last time my face had seen makeup was probably around the same time my hair had the luxury of shampoo. I really needed to try to make an effort in making myself more presentable when going out in public. But the last thing I was expecting was to have a super cute guy buy me coffee. But here we were, the reverse role of beauty and the beast.
“I’m Evan O’Rourke, by the way.”
“Jillian…Jillian Lawrence,” I replied to his greeting. “I have a question…” I flashed a wary smile. “How did you know exactly how I took my coffee?”
His gaze fell to the table, then back at me with a wide grin stretched across his face. “Well, let’s just say, I saw you in here a few days ago and then again today…I’m very observant when I have a vested interest in something.”
A vested interest? Why on earth would he have a vested interest in me? This guy could probably have any girl on campus that he wanted. Why would he be interested in a girl who looked like a bag lady, and one who was only attending this expensive college because she was there on a full scholarship?
He must’ve sensed the confusion on my face. “I guess I’ll just get to the point. Would you like to go out with me sometime?”
I turned around and looked over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t addressing someone behind me.
“I’m asking you, Jillian.” He chuckled.
“Thanks so much, but…” I folded the napkin in front of me over and over again until it was just a small square.
“Oh, sorry…I thought you probably had a boyfriend, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
I wanted to tell him I didn’t have a boyfriend. I wanted to tell him that deep down inside, I’d love to go out with him, but words seemed to be failing me. He stood up and pushed his chair in while I remained mute, staring up at him.
“It was great to meet you.” He extended his hand, and I blinked hard, finally snapping out of my stupor.
“No,” I replied.
He titled his head and a stray piece of hair fell over his left eye. “No?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” A fragment of optimism washed over his face with my declaration. “I just…it’s…well…” I couldn’t find the words because there were none. There was absolutely no reason why I should be turning him down for a date other than my own self-doubt.
I watched him walk away, and I was still dumbfounded. He had such a confidence about him. One I had lacked my entire life. I took a sip of my coffee and stared into space, wondering if I’d be sitting in that same spot in twenty-four hours, already knowing the answer that was screaming to me deep within my heart.
CHAPTER 3
“YOU CAN LEAVE your bags here and check back around three. The rooms should be ready by then,” the hotel concierge said.
“Should be ready by three?” I whispered to DeAndre. Christmas carols played softly in the background as I looked around the lobby and eyed up a little sitting area consisting of two love seats and an oversized chair all gathered around a roaring fireplace. Like an oasis in the desert where I could sit down, relax, and if I just happened to close my eyes…what would it hurt?
“Oh no, you don’t!” DeAndre tugged at my arm, pulling me away from my welcoming refuge. “You gotta stay up, so you’ll sleep tonight.”
“But I’m so tired,” I whined.
“Hello,” a man with what sounded like an Italian accent greeted. “I’m Nino. I’ll be your tour guide for the trip.”
“Hello,” DeAndre and I said in unison.
“Can I get your names?” he asked, looking down at his clipboard.
We each gave our info, and he rattled off some things to do while giving us a quick tutorial on how to work the subway system. My mind was drifting back to the love seat while DeAndre listened to him carefully, asking questions every now and then.
“Okay, girl, let’s get this day started.” DeAndre directed his attention back to me. I threw my head back in protest. “Jillian!” DeAndre scolded. “What if you never get to Munich again and you slept through half your time here?”
“Exactly!” Nino agreed. “There’s plenty of time for sleep. Go enjoy the sites!” Easy for him to say. I was certain he had more than likely gotten a full night of sleep.
“Fine,” I relented. “But first, can I hit the ladies’ room?”
“I guess, I’ll allow that,” DeAndre teased.
I walked down the hallway and located the bathroom. As I entered the stall, I wondered if DeAndre would come in looking for me if I decided to take a nap on the toilet. Certain he would, I finished up and decided to tough it out until the room was ready. I didn’t want to see my reflection as I stood at the sink, placing my hands under the tepid water, waiting for it to warm up, but I couldn’t help myself. Worse than expected. Purple shadows outlined my swollen blue eyes, my blond hair was plastered to my head, and the makings of a zit was beginning to form on my chin.
I splashed some water on my face, washing off any last remnants of makeup from the day prior, then patted my skin with a paper towel. I reached for the elastic band on my wrist and cinched my hair into a low, stubby ponytail.
“Pretty scary,” I whispered to my reflection. Truth was, I hadn’t cared much about my appearance since Evan had died. Most days it was a struggle just to get out of bed and find shoes that matched. In a way this trip made me step up my game. I had taken an overdue trip to the salon, had my hair that had lost any semblance of style months ago cut into a shoulder-length bob and gotten my uni-brow waxed back into two. The girl at the salon tried talking me into getting my nails done as well, but I drew the line with hair and brows. I had to admit, it did make me feel human again on the outside, but on the inside I was still like a zombie who was being forced to face this world full of guilt and regret, wishing I could go back and change the past.
I reached into my purse and applied some tinted lip gloss just as a woman walked in and flashed a nervous smile at me through the mirror, the kind that says, I want to be friendly, but I’m not sure how you’ll respond. I smiled back, thinking how put together she looked, but at that point in time, it didn’t take much to look more put together than me.
I exited the ladies’ room, pausing for a moment and listening to the soothing voice of Harry Belafonte singing, Mary’s Boy Child, faintly through the overhead speakers. My favorite Christmas song was oddly providing me a sense of comfort at that moment. I couldn’t help but wonder if all Christmas songs were in English. A silly thing to ponder, but my wary brain couldn’t handle much else for the time being. As I turned the corner and headed into the lobby DeAndre was standing next to a tall dark-haired man, laughing like they were old friends. DeAndre had a contagious personality. It was apparent within just the first few minutes of meeting him. I cleared my throat and they both stopped talking and focused their attention on me. “Oh, Jillian, meet Theo, he’s in our group,” DeAndre introduced.
The man who stood before me had a headful of thick, unruly, dark curls and was uniquely handsome. His big eyes were a shade of bright hazel green with the left one appearing to be turning slightly outward as if he had a lazy eye that had never been corrected. Oddly, it made him even cuter in a weird sort of way.
“Hey there, I’m Jillian.” I extended my hand to him and he took it gently in his.
“Nice to meet you, Jillian.” His voice was gravelly and his accent British. “Is this your wife?” he asked DeAndre, whose smirk was growing larger by the second as I tried to stifle my laughter. Clearly, he didn’t realize that DeAndre and I had only met ten hours prior or that DeAndre was gay, so it was a totally logical question. Given the fact that DeAndre and I were both privy to this information coupled with the jet lag that was making us both loopy, neither one of us could hold back our laughter.
Theo flashed an awkward smile, and I finally pulled it together enough to form a coherent sentence. “I’m sorry, we’ve both been up all night with the flight and everything, so we’re being a little silly.” I cleared my throat, trying to sound a little more serious. “We actually just met about a half hour before we got on the plane.”
“Oh.” He nodded, still seeming a little perplexed by our bizarre behavior.
“And…I have a boyfriend,” DeAndre clarified.
“Oh…okay.” Theo nodded once again, this time with more confidence now knowing the cause of our laughter, even managing a slight chuckle himself over the whole misunderstanding. “So, I know you’re both from America, but what part?”
“New York,” we both replied in unison.
“I’m from the city and Jillian here is from the country,” DeAndre added.
I rolled my eyes at him, remembering our conversation at the airport bar about the demographics of where we lived. DeAndre was a diehard New Yorker, growing up in Queens and now living in Manhattan, so anyone who didn’t live within the five boroughs was considered a country bumpkin in his opinion. “I actually live about forty-five minutes from the city. So not too country,” I retorted. DeAndre held his hand up in a dismissing manner, not wanting to hear it.
“And you?” I asked. “I’m assuming that’s a British accent I’m hearing. What part of England are you from?”
“Accent? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Theo teased. I wasn’t sure if it was said accent or his raspy voice that made him even more attractive. “Faversham. It’s about fifty miles or so southeast of London, so I guess you could say I’m a bit of a country…or town bumpkin if you will.”
“I’ve never heard of that town. I’ve been to London and took a day trip to Brighton and another to the Cotswolds.”
“Never to Canterbury?”
“No, but it actually was on my list.” I wasn’t lying, I had gone to London with Evan on one of his many business trips there that we parlayed into a mini vacation. Our time was limited, so we had to scale back on some of our adventures. Vowing that we’d hit all the places we missed “next tim
e.” Little did we know at the time, there would never be a “next time.”
“Well, if you had gone to Canterbury, you would have passed right by my neck of the woods. I’m only about ten miles from there.” Theo paused, diverting his attention from our conversation as he gazed over my shoulder. The playful expression on his face morphed into one of concern. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I turned around to find the strawberry-blond-haired woman who had entered the bathroom while I was in there. As she stood there now, looking at her minus the reflection in the mirror, she didn’t seem as put together as I had thought just a few moments ago. Her wool powder blue coat was unbuttoned as she held her hat and scarf in her hand. Her skin was pale and the dark circles under her eyes actually gave mine a run for their money. Theo walked past me and took her backpack from her, tending to her so sweetly, reminding me so much of how Evan would have cared for me.
“Sit down for a moment.” Theo motioned toward the love seat.
“I’m fine,” she replied in the same British accent as Theo, instantly making her sound so sophisticated. “I just need to grab a bite to eat, that’s all. I’m Kate, by the way.” She introduced herself to DeAndre and me, shaking both our hands. She held on to mine a little longer, settling her eyes into mine and smiling, making me feel instantly at ease with her.
“Well, we were going to venture out and grab some breakfast,” DeAndre announced. “Would you two care to join us?”
Theo looked at Kate and she nodded. They made such a nice couple. He appeared to be a little older than her. I had him pegged to be in his late thirties or early forties and her in her late twenties, but you could tell he was in tune with her feelings. A lot like Evan was with me before life got in the way and pulled us in two different directions.
“Jilly Doodle Dandy, how are you feeling?”