by Sally Bryan
“And that other guy, you know, Dan, the one you’ve been teasing and leading on for weeks…” my foot tapped against the tiles.
She brought her hands into her solar plexus, “I have never led on anybody. Freya, what happened with…”
I stepped forward, startling her, “listen up, because I’m only saying this once. I’m Gabe’s girl, you hear me, and don’t you even think about telling any tales about what you imagined happened last night or any other time. Gabe would only believe me and Dan’s his best mate. Who do you think he’ll believe? You’re the odd one out here and don’t you ever forget it.” My arms had briefly unfolded and I jabbed a finger in the direction of her face. “And what do you mean by demanding I speak with you in private when I’m with my boyfriend?” I emphasised the last word.
She was hunched over and flapped a pitiful hand, “I just needed to speak with you.” Because she knew I was compelled to accept when Gabe was right next to me.
“Well, that was a dirty trick and don’t you ever do it again.” I wanted to leave right then and there but she’d just started to cry. “And pull yourself together, will you, I don’t want either of them thinking anything’s amiss because there isn’t … nothing happened and nothing ever will.” I skirted her and grabbed ahold of the door handle. “You’ve got mascara on your face. Clean it off before you return.”
I made my way back to the table, smiling, trying to remain composed and reclaimed my half-eaten sandwich.
“Everything all right?” Gabe asked.
“Of course.”
Arwen returned a couple of minutes later and to her credit, to my eyes at least, she appeared to have it mostly together, and I was looking for signs she might crack. She’d wiped the black gunk away from below her eyes, which I assumed she’d also dashed with water. She was almost smiling and walked with an upright gait. All was fine apart from her feet which seemed to drag a little too much for comfort, and the fact she was aimlessly approaching us and not the buffet table.
I turned closer into Gabe and there was an odd silence as both the guys glanced briefly at me, which gave me the impression Arwen was doing the same but then Dan cut the tension I was sure I could feel.
“Well, go grab yourself some food and sit, woman, you look like you’re starving … and you couldn’t fetch me another of these, could you?” He asked, holding up a pain aux raisin, “and it might be an idea to stock up for the day … free buffet and all … would be daft not to take advantage, no?”
“Right,” and then she was moping towards the food, Dan’s vision burning a hole through her pyjamas.
He pinched his thumb and two fingers together and kissed them loudly, turned back to us and dropped his head. “One day…” he said when he looked back up, “if that’s not wife material then I don’t know what is.”
It was too risky, there was no way in hell we were about to have a cosy breakfast for four and so I crammed down my sandwich, sent the coffee after it and had to thump my chest to stave off the approaching indigestion I could feel beginning to burn. “Gabe, let’s go, it’s about time we saw some sights.”
His hand had been reaching for some toast but was diverted when I stood and pulled it away. “What? We only just arrived … Arwen just arrived. Sit and eat your…” he stopped because whatever food I’d had was now in my bag and I now began wrapping his pastries in napkins, ignoring his silent protests, filching them and stowing the lot in my bag.
“Move, Gabe! Dan said, take your food with you.” It was a slight embellishment but the same principal and I glanced up to check on Arwen’s progress.
She was standing somewhat stooped, waiting for her toast to pop and even now the man beside her was checking her out.
Gabe was still gaping up at me, eyebrows turned down, glasses wonky. “We just arrived.”
I made an impatient sigh, “yes, you said but if we don’t go now then the bloody queue at the Casa Milà will be too large and we’ll never get in. You promised to spend some time doing what I wanted and now, after your long absence, you’re about to keep that promise, so get up.” I tugged on his arm and he succumbed, standing and shaking his head but after being absent for two full days, I had him and he knew it.
Dan was too busy smirking to intervene on his friend’s behalf, “have fun,” and doubtless wasn’t completely against the idea of being alone with the woman, which was convenient for me too.
Arwen had popped her toast and was now collecting her condiments so I was quick to snatch up my bag, as well as Gabe, and jerked him towards the exit.
* * *
As it turned out, there was no queue at eight in the morning and Gabe wasn’t happy and neither could the Casa Milà’s unconventional, bizarre ‘open quarry’ appearance placate him.
“There could have been queues and maybe there still will be.” I shoved him over the threshold where we paid the admission fee, “anyway, you owe me big, mister, and no fighting today, no fighting the rest of this trip, no fighting the rest of our lives, ok?”
His eyebrows raised above the frames of his bent glasses. “The rest of our lives, huh?” He pulled me in and his arms clasped around my back, suddenly placated. “So that’s how you really feel is it?”
“Of course that’s how I feel, don’t you?” My face squashed against his collar and he inhaled my hair but then pulled back because the ticket guy was watching and we both laughed before continuing into the building.
And what a building.
If the exterior had been unconventional then it was nothing compared to inside. It had originally been intended as an apartment block and many of the flats were still occupied but that didn’t matter because it was the building itself that was the attraction and perhaps Barcelona’s finest example of Antoni Gaudí’s genius, or madness, and attention to detail. Everything was unusual, from the door designs and door handles, stairs and chimneys to the gentle curves of every wall, the attic and its incredible arches and brickwork. We spent half an hour on the roof, looking out over the city, from where we had an incredible view of La Sagrada Familia.
Gabe took a few photos of the distant church. “From one Gaudí to another. We should go there next.”
“We could but I already went.”
“You did, huh, with Arwen?”
“The Magic Fountain … we could go there.” I was quick to suggest.
“Hmm, I hear the shows are only Thursday through Sunday and only in the evening.” His eyes snapped up. “You any idea what day it is?”
“You know, I have no idea,” I giggled, “that’s what prison and travel does.” But a quick check of my phone revealed it was Tuesday, which ruled out the fountain for a couple of days at least.
As it happened, there were more immediate concerns because Gabe’s bent frames were causing irritation to the skin around his nose and so we found an optician that promised a one hour repair service, which turned into two, and was hardly how I’d envisioned spending my first day alone with Gabe in Barcelona but there was no getting around it because without them he could barely see the hand in front of his face.
When that task was finally completed it was time for lunch and we found a bench in a small park from where I began pulling out the food from my bag.
“You sure you wouldn’t rather find a nice tapas bar somewhere?” He was inspecting a croissant as he unwrapped the napkin from around it.
I unwrapped mine and blew off bits of loose pastry. “Well, we have all this food and there’s that little thing called our budget,” which I’d been meaning to mention, except, he’d been absent, “and that reminds me. I know it wasn’t your fault but the last few days I was left very close to destitute.”
He bridled ever so slightly but his expression was quick to ease and I guessed he felt bad for leaving me with so little money and no means of obtaining any from our Epic Euro Trip joint account. He patted me on the knee, “I’m sorry, Doctor. How about we go to the machine and withdraw you a little something.”
I coughe
d into a closed fist, “well I was thinking, because it’s a joint account, how about I look after the card. It’s just that…”
He turned sharply into me and scowled, “you don’t trust me?”
I held up my hands, spilling pastry scraps over my skirt, “no, no, no, of course, I do but for two days you left me with no means of accessing our money and…”
“You know, you do have your personal account and your credit card.” His glance was hostile and so was his voice and I didn’t like it one bit.
“I’m sorry, yes you’re right.” I rubbed his leg and bit into my pastry and after a minute raised the subject again. “But you know, Gabe, that’s beside the point, I shouldn’t have to go into yet more debt by raiding my personal account when we have a joint account with savings that are half mine.”
“Which is why I offered to withdraw some money to give to you,” he said impatiently.
I shuffled, “yes and I thank you for that but wouldn’t it be better, you know, just in case, if I held onto the card and…”
He threw down both his croissant and pain au raisin, prompting a charge from a dozen nearby pigeons who began fighting over the large unexpected prize.
“Gabe!”
He raised his voice, “and what if the local gypsy vagrants try snatching your bag? We’re in Barcelona, Freya, and they’re every-fucking-where.” He jabbed the faint bruise beneath his eye as though that made the point for him which, I suppose, it did.
Because let’s face it, if anyone tried to snatch my bag, they’d probably succeed. Gabe had been lucky but only because he had back up. Put simply, why risk giving me the card when Gabe had already proven he could protect it and so I apologised for causing a spat, we had a nice little make up kiss and shortly after we were at the cash machine from where I was handed two hundred Euros.
“Don’t go crazy with it,” he said with a stern face, “we’re on a bloody budget, don’t forget.”
“I know, there’s no need to be so tetchy. Honestly, Gabe, am I no longer a frugal Scot just because we’re travelling?”
He nodded acceptance and then we decided to spend the afternoon at Parc Guell, which meant taking a taxi through the city and that was fine planning because those who’d taken the bus then had an uncomfortable kilometre long walk up a steep hill on a scorching hot day and by the looks on the faces of the long files of tourists, they were hardly enjoying the hike.
The park was another wonderful demonstration of work by Gaudí, which lay atop a huge hill overlooking the city. It had originally been intended as a holiday home development though due to low sales, it was turned into a monument instead. The park area was large and we spent an hour walking amongst the trees and wildlife though it was the monument zone itself that was the real reason for coming. The best way of describing it would be a fairyland filled with colour and incredible beauty and it didn’t matter where I pointed my camera lens, there was a ready photo just waiting, from the tiled benches and animal mosaics to the grand stairway and towers, and everybody walking around carried huge smiles, which was infectious.
Gabe and I took several selfies from what had to be the best lookout point over Barcelona, with a clear view of the long beach and the metropolis that verged right on to it and it was whilst enjoying the vista when he pulled me in close and pressed his mouth to mine, slipping his tongue inside, grabbing a bun and scratching my face with three-day-old shadow.
“You make me so fucking horny,” he groaned into my ear, “and it’s been too long since I’ve taken you. I think we need to get back to our room and think about lunch only after…” he left the rest unsaid.
I heaved against him, “after?”
“Those two will be out,” he said as though it was obvious, “so we have sex now whilst we have the room to ourselves then when we’re done, we go for something to eat and hope they’re still not around even after that.”
It wasn’t the most romantic plan in the world but, considering there were certain things that needed forgetting, nay exorcising, it was probably a necessary one.
I grabbed his hand, “let’s find a taxi.”
* * *
The ride took a little under half an hour, half an hour of Gabe touching and fondling and caressing me borderline indecently, the driver periodically clocking my eyes in the mirror and shaking his head with the occasional tutting sound.
“I thought that journey would never end.” He took my hand and led the way inside before repeatedly jabbing the lift button in a way that was eerily familiar.
It was six in the evening, which meant most people were out seeing the sites, eating or drinking and the hostel was quiet save for a line of new arrivals at the front desk.
We entered the lift and when the doors closed, Gabe wasted no time in pinning me against the side, his hand tugging my hair, crotch grinding into me, kisses slavering my neck, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” stubble scratching the same, other hand squeezing my breast harder than I’d ever known him do it.
The lift opened, he tugged me by the arm, produced his keycard, slid it through the device, red light flashing green, mechanism clicking and shoving open the door.
“You!” Came the voice.
I was pushed in first and saw Dan stomping straight over, hair unbound, face wild and red, eyes puffed and threatening. My heart thudded, filling me with a sudden rush of adrenaline, my eyes widened but mercifully he stopped a few feet before barging straight through me.
Gabe saw it and thrust an instinctive arm across the front of my chest before placing himself bodily between us. “What the fuck, Dan?” His hands were on Dan’s shoulders now as I backed into the corner, unable to open the door and flee due to the lack of available space. It was certainly one way to kill the mood.
And it could only mean one thing.
Dan knew!
I knew it at once. And now he was about to tell Gabe and my life as I knew it was over.
My mind rushed to find an escape, it was instinct, self-preservation, and in the few seconds they were shouting, whilst Gabe struggled to keep Dan at a distance, I managed to knock up a few desperate excuses.
She’s lying. She’s crazy. I didn’t do it.
But before preemptively blurting anything out, I was able to calm and control myself just enough to remain quiet, to be sensible. I still didn’t possess the facts, was it really so bad as the worst case scenario my mind had instinctively thrown up?
“Mate, settle the fuck down, that’s my girlfriend your shouting at.” His voice was high-pitched and quivering. Poor Gabe, he must have been terrified, not to mention the fact he’d been thrust into the middle of this, and all because of me. “What the fuck has she done?”
“What has she done?” Dan jabbed a finger to within an inch of my mouth, his eyes so white, “why don’t you ask her what she’s done?”
“Oh, God, please.” My knees were quivering and had the wall not been there, I could not guarantee I’d be standing. But this was the absolute worst thing imaginable. Clearly, he knew about Arwen and I and now, backed into a corner, figuratively and literally, I was supposed to confess to make things easier on myself. Did he really know?
Luckily, Gabe spoke before I got the chance, “because I’m asking you, you’re the one who’s upset, so why don’t you tell me why.”
“She’s gone, that’s what she’s done!” He rushed forward again but Gabe was ready.
“Will you give us some space … back the fuck up and let’s talk about this.”
But really? She’d gone? If that was true then I had no idea what to make of it, not right now when I couldn’t think properly. There were so many questions but how to ask them when Dan was in this state?
There was a brief merciful silence as Dan’s nostrils flared and Gabe almost dared lower his arms.
“Right. That’s better.” My man breathed, “now, by she, you clearly mean Arwen.”
“Really? She’s gone? Where?” I jumped in, “and why?”
Dan’s left eye
narrowed and I knew he assumed I was acting the innocent. “Perhaps you could tell me?” He continued, his rage having subsided almost as soon as it had blazed, his chest shaking, head drooping and he wobbled over towards his bed at the far side of the room to perch on the edge, holding his face.
I breathed and felt at least a little relieved because I was beginning to suspect Dan didn’t actually know all that much. Certainly, Arwen had not blabbed about what the two of us had done in this very room only the night before.
“Are you all right?” Gabe asked me and I nodded and then he looked back to his friend. “Mate?”
He made a strange sigh that sounded full of anguish and I felt for him. “She went all weird not long after the two of you left. She cried at breakfast … wouldn’t tell me what the fuck was the matter. I thought I’d take her out for a few drinks, work on her a bit, and then she’d tell me what was wrong but I never got the chance.” He was speaking to the floor, the occasional word coming out as a palpitation. “I went up to shower and when I found her again, her bag was packed. She said she just couldn’t stay anymore, that she wasn’t welcome and that she’d decided to do the fucking Camino, whatever the fuck that is. She told me goodbye, that it had been incredible and maybe one day we’d meet again.”
Oh, fucking Christ! I thought as I took a deep breath and the influx of oxygen enriched my every muscle. She’d actually gone and done it. And indeed, her bed was bereft of all her things.
“Dan,” I croaked, fearing my voice might provoke him again but I just had to know, “what exactly did she say?”
“I just told you what she said,” he grunted, “and the next thing I knew, she was wheeling her bag outside and there were four others, a smelly looking tramp, an unimpressive midget, a Bob Marley wannabe and some reject from the Rocky Horror Freak Show with a grin wide as a grand piano.” Which had to have been Floor. “I begged and wept, made a tit out of myself in front of a roomful of people but she left anyway.”
And that was when it really hit.
Or rather, dropped out the bottom.