by Sally Bryan
And I believed her. She could have done the easy thing and chastised me for believing anything Karla had said and denied the rest but she didn’t.
“She threatened me back in Lisbon.”
Her eyes widened to reveal her large blue eyes most beautifully, “what?” And that reaction told so much about how she felt about me, at least, I hoped. “When, where and what did she say exactly?”
“It was in the laundry room, soon after you left me. She was basically using her height to threaten me and said she was your girlfriend now.”
Her head jerked forward. “The absolute rotter. Oh, Frey, it’s not true,” she insisted, “the total, absolute rotter. I should go back there right now just to kick her arse.”
My eyes softened, “unfortunately, it’s a little too late for anything that drastic but I suspect she’ll be spending the next few weeks living in her own painful purgatory.”
“Yeah, but still. Did she hurt you?” She asked this last hurriedly.
I shook my head. “Anyway, it’s you I’m more bothered about right now,” my grip tightened around her hand, “and I know I hurt you, Arwen, and I’ve still not had the chance to properly apologise for what I did,” my words came out strained, “I’m very sorry for the way I treated you. It was the single biggest mistake of my life.”
She clamped her eyes shut and her chin wrinkled, “I thank you for that,” and when her eyes opened they were suddenly cold. “She was a rebound, I guess, I’ve never done rebounds but then nobody has ever dumped me before you. If it could even be called that…” she said the last as an afterthought. “I want you to know that I’ve been feeling like shit this last month, as I’m glad you have too, you deserved it.”
“I deserved it…” I repeated monotone and defeated.
“Yes you did and I want you to know that although I thank you for apologising, I cannot forgive you.” Her hand slipped from mine and it was devastating.
“I…” my mouth moved but I couldn’t speak, “you cannot forgive me?” I finally managed to croak.
“Because you’re selfish.” She spoke with purpose whilst holding my eyes and I knew she believed it to be true.
And why not? It was I who’d cheated on Gabe for a bit of excitement. No, that wasn’t true. I’d certainly felt for Arwen, even if I didn’t know how much at the time. But I’d certainly discarded her like a piece of rubbish the morning after, just to make my life easier, so I wouldn’t risk losing my doctor boyfriend and the status that came with that. And deep down I knew that I’d put up with far too much and held onto him for longer than I ought to have for the same reason.
I was selfish, at least when it came to the big things. Was I really different to most women in that respect? Or most men for that matter? I was human. We each have to look out for ourselves in this life because nobody else will.
“You know, that was the most possessive woman I’ve ever come across,” she began, I suspected because she knew I was having difficulty with the truth she’d just spoken, “she’s the exact opposite of you. Would it kill you to be just a little bit possessive?” Selfish but not possessive, I’d have to take that for now. “Life’s all about balance, you know? All you do is study and now you’ve totally gone off the deep end. Grand theft auto … what next?”
My smile returned. “I could learn to be a little more possessive.”
She slapped the table, “good.”
“And, Arwen?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
After leaving, we pitched the tent on a low clifftop overlooking the Bay of Biscay, where gulls had gathered in anticipation of treats and not too far away, luxury liners and small boats approached the port of San Sebastián. It was the first time this trip I’d used the tent and needed to employ my boot to hammer the pegs into the hard ground whilst Arwen pumped with her legs to inflate the mattress.
She faced away and her braids danced with every thrust of her thighs, blonde hair perturbed against her back in a beautiful contrast against golden skin, the way her back tapered down to an impossibly slender waist to broaden out at her dancers’ hips. I’d missed that body and I longed for it.
I swallowed and hammered in the final peg, entering after her and zipping up the flaps. The faint scent of peach mixed with Aloe Vera was stronger within the cramped confines and there was shuffling by us both as we fumbled with our bags.
“This might help.” She turned on the light from her phone and the interior illuminated.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” She was facing away and her elbow pressed into my neck as she pulled her t-shirt off over her head. “Whoops, sorry.”
“Sorry.” I had to push my bag towards the flap for some small room and, also facing away, I removed my blouse, quickly peaking once over my shoulder to admire the way her scapulae moved beneath her flesh.
“Could really do with some more room in here.” Her voice was sweet and quiet.
“Yes, some more room.” I pulled on a t-shirt and turned to face her as I knelt and even through the air mattress, I could feel the hard ground beneath my knees.
Her bra was red and the strap pressed into her flesh. A fresh smelling t-shirt was pulled over her and she fanned out her hair before reaching up to tie it into her usual nighttime bun, her single red braid left free, the sinews in her arms just barely visible.
I coughed lightly as she played with the mosquito band at her wrist. “Oh, the sleeping bag.”
“Yes.”
It was down by the flap and I had to gradually manoeuvre myself around to fetch it and then more of the same to bring it back and during the shambles, there was no stopping my feet from rubbing all over her thighs, belly and arms.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry.”
I cringed as I unrolled it and straightened down the edges, a completely unnecessary endeavour. It was a two-man bag and thus far only Arwen had slept in it back in Catalonia.
“An old friend says hi.”
“Excuse me?”
I shuddered, “um, we can get in now … that’s if you’re coming inside.”
Her eyes widened and I heard the sharp intake of air as I realised what I’d said and I could have burst into tears right then and there.
“Arwen, please say something,” I yelped.
“The zips at your side, Frey.” Better than nothing.
“Oh,” I slid the zip all the way down, opened out the bag and from there, navigating ourselves inside was a major exertion with more apologies whenever a foot or an elbow or an arse touched something it shouldn’t have. I didn’t think last night’s awkward pain could be beat, yet here we were.
I zipped up the bag, turned around and found her already facing me.
“Goodnight, Frey.”
“Um, yes, goodnight, Arwen.”
There was a moment, perhaps less than a second, when I saw the hesitation but then we both acted as one, moving our heads closer and there was a quick kiss on the lips.
She turned away, curled up and the light went out.
* * *
The bacon, eggs and tomato sizzled from the small portable stove as I dashed them with pepper whilst to my side, Arwen agitated the cafetière before pressing down on the plunger.
We were sitting in the tent flaps on the edge of the mattress facing the sea and two large vessels that slinked their way out towards the Atlantic. The morning sun had not yet appeared from the direction we’d soon be heading.
“Coffee,” she handed me a mug and sipped from her own as she brought her feet into her body and wrapped her arms around her knees. She was still in her t-shirt, the one that said L♥︎ve Sleep, which strained to contain her breasts, and to have her this close whilst she was wearing it was a distraction. It wasn’t cold but still, her arms were covered in goosebumps, I hoped, though doubted, from sexual arousal.
I crammed an egg and half the bacon into a bread roll and handed it to her. “Breakfast.”
“Ta.” She bit into it
and the yolk drooled down the crust, “oh dammit,” and flicking her wrist, a strand of orange goo was flung into the grass. “Anyway, what happened to your feet?”
I stirred and readjusted myself, “my feet,” I said monotone.
“You were never so cold in Barcelona. You get bad circulation all of a sudden?”
“I doubt it.” There was nothing wrong with my feet or my circulation.
She sniggered into her food and I knew she was playing with me, “well at least they got some action last night, huh?” Yes, action.
I shifted again, “so you were kicking me because they were cold? Is that the line you’re taking?”
She didn’t answer, just struggled to keep the laughter contained and I wanted to drag her back inside the tent and punish her properly but what could I do?
I studied her and bit my lip. “Say, Arwen, your cutis anserina is exposed.”
She straightened and looked down, “my what? Where? How?”
I was about to take a bite but couldn’t and when I began laughing she slapped me on the arm.
“You’d better tell me what that means this minute.”
I had to put my breakfast down. “Do I really arouse you that much?”
Her eyebrows dipped most comically. “What the heck are you talking about?” And she grabbed my arm, which was also covered in goosebumps, though not from the cold and I stopped laughing and there was silence and her hand was still there and my gaze lowered to her lips as she did the same but then she removed her hand and wiped the spot she’d been holding. “I got yoke on you.”
I leaned back on the mattress, “yep,” breathed and deigned to eat my breakfast and then there was a succession of vibrations from the pocket of my shorts. “Oh shit, I think a hotspot just found us.” I had a feeling what it was, indeed, I was surprised it had taken this long and pulled out my phone whilst bracing for the inevitable abuse. There were several messages and twenty-six missed calls.
‘Hey, did you and Arwen hit a club last night? You still out? Or did you come back and go somewhere for breakfast? I think we just missed you.’
‘Just let me know, we’re kind of worried here.’
‘It’s lunch and you’re still not here?’
‘Ok, now I’m getting really worried. Where are you?’
I was reading them out to Arwen, who was silent, as she leaned into my shoulder.
‘Those Belgian losers say they don’t know where you are either and neither does anyone else at the hostel, will you just fucking call to say you’re ok, this is most unlike you.’
‘Fuck! Someone’s stolen the fucking camper! My passport’s in there.’
‘Freya, did you take the camper? If so, where are you? Is Arwen with you too? Are you ok?’
‘WhatsApp says you ain’t even getting these messages. You have no idea how worried I am.’
I turned to Arwen, “tell me we did the right thing.”
She wasn’t smiling, “we did, of course, we weren’t sticking around with that lot any longer but, in retrospect, perhaps we could have left a note at reception.”
I stared at the screen, “he’ll see the little ticks on the app and know we’re not dead.”
She nodded, “let’s get moving.”
She drove and we headed east, which was the only way we could feasibly go, crossing the French border within minutes and then traversing the Northern Pyrenees in the direction of Toulouse. We had no real destination but of course, that was the point, and I remarked how I was now living life the same as Arwen, like a nomad, as thrilling as that was, for a few more weeks at least.
“You’re right,” I told her.
She glanced across from behind the wheel. “Of course I am but about what specifically?”
“I’ll send a text to let them know we’re both ok and that they should just enjoy the rest of their holiday without us, although I’m sure that’ll open the floodgates.”
She nodded and I sent the text, though because of the mountains, there was no signal.
“They’ll get it when they get it, I suppose,” and I propped my head against the window.
An hour later we hit another hotspot and a barrage of messages and missed calls came through all at once. I read them out.
‘You did take the camper! You STOLE it!’
‘The hostel showed us the CCTV, there’s no denying it.’
‘You fucking bitch!’
‘Doctor, I’m so sorry, please come back.’
‘Just got your text and how can I enjoy the holiday with no camper? You fucked up everything! If I ever see you again…!’
‘How am I supposed to get to Porto now?’ I squinted at the screen. “I thought they were going to a party island?”
‘I fucking hate you.’
‘Forget what I said, I didn’t mean it, I love you.’
‘Ok, this is getting really fucked up now, we already know Arwen’s a dyke but that Belgian Flower girl’s saying that you’re one too.’
‘Freya, tell me it’s not true.’
‘Oh my God, I just had a terrible thought … Are you the reason Arwen left our group? Why? Is it because you turned her down or did you actually cheat on me?’
‘Flower says you did!’
‘We haven’t fucked in weeks!’
‘You fucking bitch!’
‘I’m gonna tell your fucking dad and see how you like that.’
“Arwen, what a mess this is.” There were several more messages but I couldn’t bring myself to read them and instead, I shut down the phone and began tapping it against my leg.
She scratched her neck. “Sounds like he’s in a state, for sure.”
“Why am I feeling so bad about this? After the other night, they don’t deserve my thoughts and sympathies.”
The pair of them were becoming increasingly intolerable to be around, and that was before the culmination of violence, but still, it was probably no way to have left things with them, Gabe especially. I sighed and could feel my heart beating unusually fast but then all I had to do was look to my right for a reminder of why I was doing this, putting myself through it all, everything. I never supposed coming out was easy, but this?
She peered at the road. “It’s something I’ve had time to think about myself. I don’t know … you already broke up with him so how much do you owe him, really? But the decent thing would at least be to call him and…”
“And say we’re together?” I anticipated her with a yelp. “How would that make things better?”
She regarded me with a stern expression. “That’s not what I was about to say, Freya, because we’re not together. Just say you’ve gone travelling with me because, quite honestly, that’s all we’re doing. And then say they’re both jerks and you felt threatened for your safety. At least then he’ll know you’re alive and can, hopefully, move on.”
“Easier said than done,” I muttered and she tutted in response and then for a while I went into a sulk as I thought about her words, her adamant and disheartening words. After ten minutes, I felt the need to broach an earlier subject and only after speaking did I realise the unfortunate yet apt timing, which pretty much proved it all. “Do you really believe I’m selfish?” I clamped my eyes shut, turned away and heard her sharp exhalation. I was stupid.
“I don’t think there’s much more for me to add here, Freya, do you?”
But I wanted to give us a try, a proper one, Arwen and I, which meant doing whatever needed doing. “I will call him and tell him everything if that will prove to you that…”
“…You don’t need to devastate him, he doesn’t need to know you had a meaningless fling with another woman just to prove a point to me.”
“It was not meaningless, Arwen!”
“It was at the time!” She grunted and I hated it. “Selfish maybe was the wrong word but you certainly don’t give a shit about other people’s feelings … the way you told me to fuck off out of your life…” she made a high-pitched yelping sound, “but forget me for a
moment, what about Gabe? Sure, he may have turned out to be a violent drunkard on a downward spiral but after five years, I’d think he deserved an explanation before taking off like that … with his transport, not to mention his heart. Look, I don’t care necessarily, it’s your life and it’s your camper too and he probably deserved it on some levels but it was your relationship and if you’d do a thing like that to him after five years then what else would you do to me?”
For too long I was stunned and could say nothing, I’d never seen her like this. And she was right. “The guitar string … I didn’t buy it for Dan, I bought it because I wanted to hear some music.”
“Which means you’ve never done a damned thing for anybody in your life.” She looked across, hummed and almost smiled. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
“I have that.”
And that meant I had to change, starting with Gabe. One call, say goodbye, mail his passport and move on so I could have a chance with Arwen. A simple plan.
Then we were both shaken when my phone rang and Gabe’s image flashed up on the screen.
It was a split-second reaction with no thought put into and I’ll never know how it even happened but I threw the bloody phone straight out the open window where, I assumed, it smashed into a million pieces.
And the most frightening thing was, I was supposedly training to be a doctor.
Chapter Eleven
Chianti
On the road from Toulouse to Provence, we passed Carcassonne in respectful silence as we gazed at that place that held memories for us both, spending a night on a marsh with a hundred flamingos just outside of Toulon, short stops in Cannes, Nice and Monaco, where Arwen was propositioned by a fat billionaire with a yacht moored on the Med, crossing the border into Italy, passing through Sanremo, onto Genoa and north to Milan, where Arwen was approached by several people calling themselves fashion scouts because we were stupid enough to spend too long in the wrong part of town, Lake Como and over the Swiss border where the prices terrified us into returning south, Verona and the supposed balcony from Romeo and Juliet and realising that if we travelled any further east, we’d miss the rest of Italy, which couldn’t be allowed to happen, coming back on ourselves to head south, Bologna, the incredible Florence with its art and museums and architecture and Michelangelo and da Vinci and old bridge and palaces and onto Pisa. By now we were deep in Tuscany with its endless rolling hills of grapevines and winding roads and beautiful medieval towns until, quite by accident, we passed the one place that rivalled Carcassonne’s majesty and stopped.