Euro Tripped

by Sally Bryan

  It was by that someone guy, the one who wore the cool hats and then Gabe’s hand slipped from mine and people were jostling and turning to stare at me.

  “You’re my beautiful lady,

  Let’s do something crazy,

  Hey baby,

  What you say you marry me?”

  I was still watching Dan, who was grinning so much some of the words were coming out flat and he nodded at the space near my feet and I twisted around to see Gabe not where he left me a few seconds before but a few paces away, down on one knee.

  My chest thudded as the significance of the moment struck, there were flashes of cameras, a woman squealed and Dan continued to play as he stepped into the gap between myself and Gabe, who now had to shout above the music.

  “Freya, my Doctor,” he swallowed, his skin white as paper but for the red blotches covering his face, “ever since after we met at first when we were at university all those five years ago, I knew that I thought I would want to marry you one day ahead into the future,” he wobbled and I feared he was on the verge of passing out as a bead of sweat dripped from the tip of his chin, “well, there it is … oh…” he delved into his pocket and pulled out a small black box, dropped it, clawed it back and opened it.

  Someone gasped and there were more flashes as I was distantly aware a few dozen people were filming the event. With good timing and a flourish, Dan finished playing and now there was only silence and I could do nothing but glare at the diamond ring being presented to me.

  By now, I was beginning to sweat myself and I coughed, stepping forward, any pain I should have been feeling all across my back temporarily numbed.

  Gabe wiped his free hand across his forehead and shook off the drops. “Oh, I was meant to say … will you marry me?”

  Louise Shilton - That’s who came to mind. Her boyfriend had interrupted a lecture on the nervous system to propose in front of a packed out theatre and at the time, I’d thought that was a damned idiotic way of doing it. She’d said yes and, to the best of my knowledge, they were still engaged four years later.

  “Doc?” He glanced wearily about the large crowd that had just become a whole lot larger, blinked and I guessed the sweat seeping from his forehead was stinging his eyes, though his lenses had steamed up so bad it was hard to see them.

  I scratched the back of my neck, and what would you know, the searing pain hurt like bloody hell, which caused me to wince and someone to my left made a barking noise.

  A man said something in Spanish, a few people laughed, and then I heard some English in an American accent, “boy punching above his weight,” and then, “don’t worry, it’ll soon be over, son.”

  “Doc? Frey?” And there he was, so close, yet I’d never felt so cut off from him than these last few weeks. Why would he choose now to propose? Not just here and now in a packed square in Malaga but now after feeling so distant, now after I’d cheated. “Frey?” He pleaded, his shirt absolutely wet through. At least now the cause of his earlier symptoms was clear.

  “Well? What do you say to the man?” Dan asked as though the answer was obvious.

  I’d been stunned and Dan’s booming Yorkshire accent from so close knocked the clarity back into me. In the moment, all I wanted was to end Gabe’s suffering, to give him the answer he expected, the answer that would end his discomfort and allow him to walk away with his head held high. There’d be time to think about it later, because I was not the woman who’d turn him down in front of his best friend and so many others.

  And damn you, Gabe, for putting me in this position.

  “Gabe,” I stepped forward and grabbed his hand, “yes, I’ll marry you.” Now stand up.

  Feeling the tug from my arm, he stood, yelping out in triumph and embraced me in a soggy hug and I felt the sudden influx of heat flushing through him. “I was so nervous, I thought you were gonna make me wait forever.” He laughed into my ear and spun me around as Dan began playing Celebration by Kool And The Gang. “And I’ve got another surprise coming.”

  “Oh?” I relapsed back into a stunned state as people came out from the crowd to shake Gabe’s hand, pat him on the shoulder, throw money into the fountain for our luck and even pose for photos…

  …Because apparently, I was engaged.

  * * *

  “You were supposed to try it on when I proposed, silly. Here,” he took my hand and slipped the ring on my finger, “I couldn’t wait to see it on you. Suits you, don’t you think?”

  It was gold with a single diamond, modest and beautiful, not over the top yet neither did I think he’d scrimped and I worried about him getting into yet more debt, though I wouldn’t mention it now.

  More than the ring, however, it was the Gran Hotel Miramar that worried me because it was a five-star hotel and we had a sea view. It was an unnecessary expense yet I felt unable to even gripe about that, he was so happy and I couldn’t bring myself to be a killjoy, not on the day I’d agreed to be his wife and that thought felt so … well, I wasn’t even sure yet.

  “I know what you’re thinking but we were always intending to spend at least one night in luxury, I just brought it forward, that’s all, and what better night than tonight, aye?” He pulled open the balcony door and the fresh sea breeze flowed in. He inhaled, “get a load of that air. You know what this calls for?” He was bouncing towards the minibar now, “let’s see what we’ve got … ah, just the job,” he pulled out a bottle of Champagne and had to move his head closer to the price list glued to the fridge because his glasses were removed on account of them badly needing a clean, “we can justify it tonight, one bottle, maybe two, and don’t worry, they’re only fifty Euros.”

  “Sure, why not.” I was still standing by the door but now stepped inside and dumped my bag on the table before peering into the bathroom, which was incredibly plush with a large assortment of soaps, gels and freshly cut flowers.

  I was engaged to be married.

  And for whatever reason, the one thing that came to mind was the last thing that should’ve been there.

  Arwen.

  Where was she now and what was she doing? Was she still traversing Spain or had she given up five miles down the road? Was she still with Floor and the others? Were they sleeping together? And why was I even thinking about her at a moment like this?

  He handed me a glass that fizzed, “to us and our future.”

  “To us and our future.” I agreed, clinked his glass, sipped and felt relief from the alcohol going straight to my head.

  He held the menu in his other hand. “We’ll be having only room service tonight and I’m thinking something extremely Spanish and exquisite, maybe some chocolate mousse for dessert and you know where that’s going.” He leaned in and with Champagne cold lips, kissed my clavicle before working his way down toward my cleavage.

  “A waste of good mousse … careful, you’ll spill.” I backed away and he laughed.

  “Well, we can’t waste good mousse, not that it would be wasted.”

  “What’s Dan doing tonight?” I glanced across at the balcony, as though doing so would provide the answer.

  He snorted, “well, he ain’t staying here if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “It’s just that I’ve got the camper keys. His things are in there and where’s he staying?”

  He shrugged, “he’s earning money now, he’ll probably just book into a hostel, who cares? Hah, he’ll be the best-dressed guy wherever he ends up.” He opened out his arms to encompass the room, “we’re here, forget about him and let’s just enjoy.” He downed his glass and because mine was already empty, refilled both, handing them to me, then dived onto the large bed and despite his playful mood, his lips turned down and his eyes lost the sparkle of only a moment before. “You really had me worried there for a moment, Doc. I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”

  I perched on the bed’s edge and handed him his Champagne. “Well … did it have to be so public?”

  He sensed my agitation, nodded then slapped
his forehead, “d’oh.” It was an odd response but I wouldn’t press him on it when there were more important things to discuss.

  “Gabe, we have to talk about this.”

  He patted the space beside him. “Let’s take a tumble first. You know what that little red dress does with my ability to think straight. If it’s a coherent conversation you’re after then best leave it till after.”

  I shook my head, “I’m sorry, no we can’t, this is important.”

  He patted the bed closer to me, his fingers stretching playfully towards my thigh. “Hey, come on. I want to give my fiancée a nice, passionate ploughing.”

  “Ugh, is sex the only thing you ever think about?” I shifted away and then his hand slashed through the air and there was a loud smash from the other end of the room. I jumped and needed a second to realise he’d thrown his Champagne glass, which had smashed against the far wall.

  “Gabe, what the hell has got into you?” I leapt up and paced into the open space. “Why did you do that?”

  He sprung up and faced me from across the bed as a sudden gust lifted the curtains and made them flare inwards. “Ugh, did you really just say ugh? And what do you fucking think is wrong with me? You’ve been frigid as fuck ever since this whole trip began.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Why, why can’t we have sex? Answer me that!”

  My faced clenched up and I turned around, whipping up my dress from the back, the movement striking me with sharp pain. “Because, Gabe, my considerate fiancé, somebody was too selfish and thoughtless to protect my skin after I did the same for him.”

  For a moment he just glared wide-eyed at my back, which was red, unsightly and peeling and if that didn’t cure him of the horny monster then nothing would. His mouth slackened, “no … you’re blaming me for that?”

  “Uh huh, and it kills to even move, why do you think I’ve been shifting about so awkwardly and carrying my bag by the strap? And you never once asked if I was ok.” I shook my head, “honestly, Gabe, you don’t notice these things yet I’m the one who’s neglecting you?” And as I yelled it, I finally understood what the problem was, or at least one of them. “You take me for granted, Gabe. You’ve barely considered my feelings this whole trip.” I thrashed a hand through the air as someone shouted from the next balcony. “You never used to be like this. Back home you were always so wonderful but now? I don’t know what’s happened but you just don’t consider my feelings anymore. You drink all the time, you’re aggressive, you get into fights, you get arrested, you throw your glass in a rage and I worry where it might lead next. Gabe, we’ve lost something and it scares me.”

  He stamped onto the balcony, angled his head around and shouted, “mind your own fucking business,” before slamming the door closed and scowling, “you’re blaming me for everything? Do you have any idea about the pressure I’ve been under and…” he was about to say something else but cut himself short and I could tell he was frustrated about whatever it was.

  “Gabe, we’ve both been under pressure, why do you think we’re here now?”

  He bared his teeth, “no, you don’t get it.”

  “I get that you’ve been anxious all day about proposing but you’ve not been yourself for just as long as we’ve not been ploughing, as you so articulately put it.” I waited and hoped he’d tell me what the problem was but he just remained silent. “Well?”

  He exhaled and glanced at the wall, to the shiny wet patch with lines dribbling towards the floor and the shards of glass scattered over the carpet. “Why didn’t you just ask me to apply your sunscreen? I’d have been happy to.”

  I threw my arms up and the pain made me regret that but clearly, I wasn’t worthy of knowing what was going on between us. “Should I really have to? You ought to be looking out for me. I didn’t even have to ask Arwen, she just…” I bit my tongue.

  His head jerked, “Arwen?”

  “Sunscreen, Gabe! Marriage,” I was quick to mention, “there’s that little thing called residency approaching and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you we have specialism after that. We’ll have other things to worry about when we return home. Do you really think now’s the best time to be considering this?” I was a lot calmer now and my sudden mentioning of marriage had eased his demeanour also.

  He breathed and casually pulled out a chair at the table, patting the other seat for me to join him. “Of course, I’ve given it more thought than you’ll ever know.”

  I dragged myself over and sat, eyeing the kettle and thinking a nice cup of tea was probably in order for this conversation.

  He read my mind, “I’ll get it.”

  And when he returned and we were both calm, we engaged in a rational conversation like two doctors rather than two brats. We spoke about our residencies and the likelihood of being separated, possibly at opposite ends of the country because it was quite feasible that I’d be in Brighton whilst Gabe would be stuck close to my dad in Inverness, or vice versa, or a dozen other possibilities and what would that do to our relationship then?

  From across our tees and a very nice hotel pen and notepad, I reached across to take his hand. “I know you’d like to be near my dad but what good would that do us?”

  He shuffled, “that’s the beauty of us being married, we’d be a special case and could request to be kept together for the sake of family.”

  I laughed and almost sent tea down the wrong pipe, “don’t leave us much chance to breathe do you?” I continued laughing but his expression remained neutral, he couldn’t have been serious. “Hang on, hang on. That scenario would depend on us getting married before making the decision.”

  And still, his expression remained stern, “yup.”

  I gaped, “as in … within two months from this moment?”

  He nodded, “don’t you just hate long engagements?” Fuck, he was totally serious.

  I blinked hard and shook my head several times, “you want a quick wedding just to ensure we’re not separated?”

  “Hey, you said yes, you agreed to be my wife and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I see no point in putting it off.”

  I was still trying to fathom his rationale, it was completely out of nowhere. Being engaged was one thing but talking about going through with it so soon really brought it all to the fore.

  “Think about it, Gabe, it’s not very likely we’ll be separated, our choices will overlap somewhere so there’s no point in panicking and going through with a rushed wedding only to find we’ve been accepted to the same residencies, so can we please calm down here?”

  That at least was statistically true because we’d spent hours discussing our options and had both made certain to choose the same towns and even in the unlikely event nothing matched up, we could simply pick up the phone and cause bloody hell. But even that scenario was unlikely because we’d both opted for emergency medicine, one of the most underserved fields of medicine in the country, which gave us another advantage. Put simply - We would not be separated. And again, I tried to impress this upon him, and that even if we were parted, it was still no reason to jump into a quick wedding.

  We went round and round in circles, discussing, arguing, debating this one point until darkness arrived, we ordered room service which, despite it being exquisite could hardly be enjoyed and then finally, I said something in the heat of the moment.

  “Gabe, it’s just so much pressure out of nowhere. You’re pressuring me to marry you the minute we arrive home and all after proposing in a way that pressured me to say yes.”

  “What?” His mouth fell open to reveal the churned up squid rings within and he made an odd sound swallowing in haste, “you didn’t mean it?”

  I rubbed my arm, “well…”

  His skin had turned white again and he was quick to interrupt, “wait, wait, wait … let me ask this some other way. If I had asked you in private, for example, in here tonight, what would you have said?” The hurt on his face was painful for me but I had to be honest.

  M
y arms were pulled in close as I unknowingly rubbed them and I had to force myself to meet his eyes. “I think that after these past two weeks, I’d have asked for time to think about it.” And that answer told me so much and after his face crumpled, with immediate tears flowing from the slits in his eyes, as weak as I was in the moment, I was quick to follow up. “But if you’d have asked in Dinan or Bordeaux or Edinburgh, I’d have said yes without thinking.”

  He snorted into a napkin and seemed to take hope from my addition. “Then let me ask you this … are we engaged or not?”

  Chapter Seven

  Somewhere In Tuscany

  It took twenty minutes. Twenty minutes for the builders, tilers and carpenters to drive their vans and pickups back down the dusty path that meandered towards the gate of the Giordano Vineyard before the goods wagon filled with wine heading for Siena could finally get out. And when it did there was another altercation between the drivers at the gate, insults about their mothers, threats about what would happen to their daughters and then all was forgotten, temporarily at least, as they went about their business.

  Alberto tugged at the long grey hair at the back of his head and grunted at his daughter. “One day, this infernal wine shop will be finished and we can get back to normal.” He closed his eyes, tried to remember what normal was and pined because his life would never be normal again.

  Alessia, ever with hands on hips, watched as the three trucks ground slowly back up the path, and dreaded the process having to be repeated again when the wagon returned. “We need to widen the path, tarmac it.” She waited for the drilling to cease before continuing. “We need to modernise.”

  For a while, Alberto didn’t speak. She was right, of course, it would make certain things easier around the vineyard but modernism was not what Vino di Giordano was supposed to be about. They traded on tradition and little had changed in over four hundred years. They made premium wine at Giordano, some of Tuscany’s best, they produced less but sold for a higher price and when the tourists arrived, that’s what they wanted to see and taste - Tradition.