by Sally Bryan
I stood almost stupefied, unsure what to make of this. I did spend long hours at a desk studying and had suffered the occasional past complaint but nothing a quick dose of chemicals couldn’t mitigate. And of course I was stressed, both chronically and, thanks to Dan and this bloody woman, acutely. I was under no doubt all would be well just as soon as they were gone from my life for good.
She continued, “and I don’t want to tell you to relax,” she said with a sympathetic hand searching forwards as my arms avoided it by moving from my hips to fold over my chest, “because I don’t know enough to judge but stress will mess you up in all kinds of other ways.”
I gave her my hardest glare and considered that she too might suffer from stress if she knew what actual work was. “Why don’t you just come out and call me an uptight bitch?”
The girl didn’t even flinch, “because I don’t think that but we could all benefit by chilling every now and then, especially when we’re on holiday.”
I didn’t disagree with her on any of that but wasn’t about to be given medical advice from a bimbo and so I rolled my eyes and continued toward the chemist. “Yeah, well, you know, Arwen, I’m training to be a doctor, so you can keep your advice for Dan because I don’t need it.” That was something I hadn’t wanted to divulge about myself because people always reacted in the same way, with reverence and admiration, which I usually found awkward dealing with and it wasn’t like I was trying to impress the girl. So why had I told her when I could simply have ignored her?
But in response to my disclosure, she displayed only a subtle smile and other than that, simply continued walking alongside. “Well then, you know best. Ah…” she thrust a hand into her bag and pulled out a ten Euro note, “here’s for the tolls. It’s more than my quarter but I don’t have anything smaller. Let me know what I owe you for the petrol or diesel or whatever and I’ll make up the difference.”
I stopped mid-stride and felt my facial muscles softening. Now, that was a pleasant surprise and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, other than that I needed it. Had I misjudged her? At least on that score? I took the money. “Um, thanks, Arwen, it’s appreciated.”
“No, no, I feel so grateful to have met all you guys and I’m just happy to contribute.” She smiled and as we entered the shop, we diverged onto separate aisles.
When I came out, the others were all waiting by the camper and I watched as Dan handed a sandwich and banana to Arwen. When I neared, her face perked up and she dashed to close the remaining distance.
“Frey, I was thinking…” Frey? “…you wanna know what the best thing for a sore neck and shoulder muscles is?” She spoke in a low voice, all conspiratorial like, despite the fact her dash had drawn the attention of the other two who were even now scrutinising her behind.
“I’m all ears, Ar.” I caught Gabe’s eye and he quickly spun back to the camper, rubbing the back of his neck.
She leaned even closer, “a massage cures all ails, including your stress and tension. I don’t mind doing it. I’m not very good but I took a course back home so I can at least promise not to make it any worse.”
“I am not stressed!” I growled, provoking a smirk from Dan.
She held up her hands and stepped away. “Ok, I was just offering. Did you find your pills?”
“I got my bloody pills.”
“Uh huh, so what’s your plan once they wear off? Will you be taking them indefinitely?”
For a moment, I actually looked at her inquisitively, genuinely curious if she was truly concerned for my wellbeing, albeit in a pushy way, or was actually trying to provoke me and was in the process of formulating a response when again, I caught Gabe ogling her. “I’m not stressed!” I snarled as I marched over to Gabe and plucked the keys back from his grasp.
* * *
Is it true that bad vibes make bad things happen?
If it was then I could blame my stress.
Twenty minutes was all it took.
And what made it worse was that we were less than thirty kilometres from Carcassonne, from relaxation, good food and a lie down in an air-conditioned room.
“Why didn’t you take a piss when we were at the services?” Dan demanded of Gabe, as though he had a right to tell my boyfriend when he can and can’t relieve himself.
Gabe flecked back his hair and blew out air.
“Is that all you have to say?” Dan demanded again. “We’re fucked and all because you couldn’t wait a few more minutes. How old are you, man?”
Gabe continued staring into the soil before shuffling to the front of the vehicle and leaning against the bonnet.
I stomped up to the moron. “You have no right to complain. You’re lucky to even be here.”
He turned on me, a few strands from his man bun falling loose and limp over his face. “Lucky? Will I be lucky to die of thirst? Oh, and nice driving Sabine Schmitz.”
“Ugh.” I clenched my fist and stomped into the cornfield for respite, lest I do something I’d regret. And who the fuck was Sabine Schmitz?
It was true that Gabe had needed to pee and, being on a minor road as we neared the destination, I’d stupidly gone off the beaten track and in the process, popped a tyre. It was just one of those things, they happen, and then we get heated and say things we don’t mean and so I was right to withdraw from the argument. I also had no desire to be close enough to provoke another infuriating lecture from Arwen, this one about how we were only in this situation because my karma was bad and that somehow I’d intentionally driven into a big hole as a cry for help. I plucked at a corn reed and tore it into strips, closed my eyes, breathed and thought about the future, all the great places I was still to see, hopefully.
When I returned they were still bickering, although slightly more civilly as they scowled into their phones.
“Hey Gabe, do we have international breakdown assistance?” I asked and he nodded.
“We do but they can’t make it out until tonight. It’s a rural area.”
I sighed but tried to remain positive. “And how far to the nearest town?”
“Like he just said, it’s a rural area.” Dan shook his head and made a mocking laugh. “If you’re volunteering to walk all the way to Carca…wherever, then go ahead, I’m sure you’ll be missed.”
My jaw dropped and I looked to Gabe, expecting him to reprimand the jerk and for a second it looked like he would.
“Carcassonne is the nearest town, Frey.” He said instead, astonishing me.
“Are you kidding me?” I stared wide-eyed at my man, who apparently was too weak to rebuke his friend for speaking to his girlfriend in such a disrespectful way. “Gabe?” I implored but he just looked down at the dirt.
I was seething and the mid-afternoon heat burning down hardly helped. I pulled out my phone, “right, I’m calling a bloody taxi and we can go quarters on the fare.”
It was bait and Dan immediately turned away in embarrassment.
“Ah hah.” I pointed and felt a surge of glee, “what’s the matter, Dan? Can’t pay your share?”
He whipped back on me, “I can pay, Freya, just not right now, that’s all.”
“Yes that’s right, you need a stupid guitar string to pay your way but can’t be bothered walking into a shop to get one.” I stomped closer, tilting my head up to meet his eyes and feeling the ache in my shoulders. “What are they, like two Euros? Not once have you even offered to pay your share for anything.” There was a slamming sound from somewhere close. “Well, it stops here. From now on you pay your way or we’re off on our own, right Gabe?”
Gabe threw up his hands as Dan grabbed and squeezed at the man bun atop his stupid head, dislodging yet more strands. “Well sorry, Princess, we can’t all have parents who own half of Scotland and maybe you should show a little more charity to those less fortunate.”
My mouth plunged open again as I cast an accusing eye on Gabe. “What crap have you been feeding him?” I turned back to Dan, giving him my best scowl whilst having
to yell above a new rhythmical squeaking sound that was coming from somewhere nearby. “And so what if my dad has money, it’s not like I go begging for handouts every day, is it? There is such a thing as trying to make it on your own, you know, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“And what’s his name?” Dan ignored my point and smirked, “Angus? Angus? If that ain’t the stupidest thing I ever heard…”
My dad’s name had nothing to do with anything and I was about to berate Gabe for talking about my family like that when everyone’s attention was seized.
Because the camper was vibrating. No, not vibrating, it was springing and rising up from the ground.
Gabe stepped forward, “shush.”
“What the heck?” I murmured and we all ran around to the back of the camper. I gasped, “Arwen!”
She was there, thumping down with her foot, flip flops and all, onto the jack, working away as her thigh muscles strained from the effort. The boot was open and a panel from below had been removed, I guessed, to access the jack. She made an exaggerated expression of exertion, sticking out her tongue and panting. “For your information, we’re quite close to the town of Bram … a strange name, I know … and it even possesses a garage, but French prices? I don’t think so.”
The camper was rising, it was actually rising, to the extent I could now slide my hand underneath the flat.
“I’d like to jack her up,” Dan muttered in monotone.
She strutted over to the tyre and in one motion tore off the hubcap before crouching, grabbing the wrench and unscrewing the nuts, one by one, and tossing them to Gabe. “Don’t lose those.”
I snorted into my hand as his eyebrows dipped and I knew he was feeling more than just a little emasculated but, like a good boy, he put them in his pocket for safe keeping.
“Oh, and your international assistance?” She eased the wheel off, which wasn’t light, and carried it to the boot, returning with the spare. “You’d might like to consider changing companies,” she slid the wheel into position and gave it a spin on its axis, “or possibly even a refund. You got nuts?”
Dan slapped Gabe hard on the back and doubled over laughing whilst I was compelled to watch, absolutely impressed and feeling more than a little bad for poor Gabe.
He shambled forward, red-faced and coughing into a closed fist. “Um, yes, here they are.”
She replaced the nuts, tightened them with the wrench, clipped on the hubcap and made everything right again in the boot, setting the flat tyre, wrench and jack back into place before closing the hatch and beaming at the three of us, oil and dirt covering her hands, forearms and jumpsuit.
“Ready? Carcassonne awaits.”
* * *
“Gabe? We’re nearly there.”
His head turned from the window and he gave me a small smile in response, which was the most I’d got from him since rejoining the road.
Arwen laughed from the back and I checked the mirror to see Dan sitting beside her on the bench, their shoulders and knees touching. He made a sweeping movement with his arm, followed by an engine sound from his mouth and she laughed again. He leaned further into her and they bumped knees and then there was a terrible grating noise as I drove over the rumble strip.
“Freya!” Gabe perked to life and corrected my steering. “I think we’ve already used our spare wheel.”
The vibration shook us all and it felt like my brain had been rattled in my skull. “Sorry, guys.” I waved to them in the back and made a double take as I stared ahead.
The approach to Carcassonne was on flat ground, which meant we could see it from miles out, a double ring of fortifications beside a river, atop a steep hill and countless towers that sprouted up from within. I ached to be there because from out here it appeared as some other world from a different age, a place I was never meant to see, preserved through time by a thoughtful, cultural people. Britain possessed no place like it and if it did, I wondered if my people would protect it the way the French had, or would they simply modernise it, demolish the ancient walls to build roads, replace the cobbles with ugly asphalt, sink telegraph poles into the turf and worst of all, a McDonalds and Starbucks on every corner, the cancer that made every town and city the same. Not so here and my arms tingled as we drove past the sign ‘Welcome to Carcassonne.’
Carcassonne, like other similar towns, was actually two places; the old and the new, the latter built up due to the tourism brought by the former. Mercifully, they were separated by a respectful distance, by fortifications and a river and never before was I so happy to have to park in the new and make the long walk to the old, which included the steep hill and an ancient drawbridge spanning the river.
After the eventful journey, we made the walk in fine spirits, Gabe and I lugging huge backpacks as Dan dragged his unceremoniously over road and turf. The excitement shone from Arwen who seemed to bounce, even up the steep hill, as she wheeled her exceptionally large case as though it weighed nothing, her filthy oil stained clothes not harming her mood.
The posters on TripAdvisor had repeatedly told of Carcassonne’s legendary resident and as we entered the hostel, we met him in person.
He was standing behind the desk as we joined the back of the short queue and watched, intrigued. The man, French, slight of build and bespectacled was the type you’d normally walk past without a second thought. The guest at the front of the queue was Japanese and what made the hostel warden particular was that he was speaking to him in Japanese. Money was exchanged, a room key was handed over and the tourist went on his way. The next man was Chinese, who began speaking in English, and when the warden commenced speaking in the traveller’s native tongue, he physically jerked back, scratched his head, took a second to adjust to the shock and continued. I watched, fascinated and carefully scrutinised the warden’s face for his own reaction and although he’d make a great poker player, I decided there was the slightest hint of enjoyment displayed in the eyes and cheeks, to surprise people.
Languages have always fascinated me, I love listening to people speaking them, they’re like riddles that have to be decoded step by step and if I hadn’t been in intense training to become a doctor, I’d have been a linguist instead. Unfortunately, the joy of being in a foreign country and speaking to the locals in their own vernacular was one more thing I’d almost certainly never get to experience and I hated that none of my high school French had stayed in my head.
When the transaction was completed, Dan stepped up.
“Language?” The warden asked in English.
“I can, yes.” He dragged his filthy bag up to the desk and traipsed leaves all over the clean floor. “Whatever costs the least.”
“Ah, well let’s see. You have the option of a bench on the walls, the gutter in the alleyway, the moat,” he winked at me and I giggled, “or you can pay fifteen Euros for a reasonably comfortable dorm room bed.”
He slapped down his money. “Aye, it’ll have to do then.”
“And would you like breakfast?”
Dan glanced over at Gabe, who nodded, “that’ll be a yes,” and consequently had to pay an extra five Euros. Dan took his key and shambled up the stairs as his bag clattered against every step.
Arwen stepped up and began speaking in French. The man’s face lifted, although whether it was from talking to an English speaking girl in his native tongue, or from being face to face with a girl like her, it was hard to say. And she was good too, I could tell despite not understanding any of it. She was certainly fluent and spoke with swagger and at one point the warden laughed, which made me feel like I was being left out. Arwen handed over forty Euros and received a key with a different coloured tag.
“I’ll catch you guys whenever.” She addressed us both with a wavering smile.
I stepped abruptly forward. “Wait, aren’t you sharing our dorm room?”
She jangled her room key and broke eye contact. “Sorry, I kind of need my own space.”
That was a bummer.
Come to think of it, she’d been the only one of the four of us who hadn’t shared our dorm back in Bordeaux.
I frowned, “oh, ok then.” She was about to turn away but I reached out and tapped her shoulder, “but you can come for dinner tonight, right?”
Gabe rubbed his chin, “um, Doc, you do remember we’re on a budget, yeah?”
I could have kicked him. “Shush.” Who was he to talk?
Her chin tilted up and she smiled cautiously, her feet already pointing towards the stairs. “Um, only if you’re really sure?”
“Of course I’m bloody sure.” I insisted with a nod.
She mirrored my nod and grinned. “Oh, well, then that’s a yes, I’d love to meet you all for dinner.”
“That’s great.” And it was. Still, a bummer about the dorm though.
When Gabe and I arrived in our six-man room, the contents of Dan’s bag were already strewn across his bed.
“Oh, Jesus.” Gabe protested, making a dash for the window and prising it open. “He must be in the shower.”
I recoiled, yet couldn’t look away. “He’s a pretty laid back guy, huh? When he ain’t causing stupid arguments.”
His clothes were all spread out, mixed with tokens and keepsakes from all over the world; South America, North America, Russia, the Japanese text on the empty KitKat wrapper especially stood out. He’d even visited countries I’d never considered viable destinations; Tajikistan, for example. Mixed in with all this was a fine layer of sand, no doubt unwittingly collected from a hundred beaches, which he’d managed to scatter across the bed and floor. Though why he’d exhibited his underwear for the benefit of everyone else, I couldn’t fathom, and yet it was hardly surprising he had.
“Next stop, Barcelona,” Gabe said in a low voice as he closed the distance between us, maintaining firm eye contact all the way.
I instinctively reached out and pulled him into me. “And it can’t come soon enough.” I looked away, regretting the words as soon as I spoke, a revelation that piqued me.