by Sally Bryan
“Don’t be silly, you can’t.”
“I’m not being silly and I most certainly can.”
“No, you can’t. You mustn’t.”
“I can and I’m more than willing to.”
She saw in my eyes that I was serious and then she cast the sheet off from over us and suddenly we were both on our knees, grabbing ahold of each other by the forearms. “Are you really fucking serious?”
I laughed and wept. “Yes. Yes. I’m happy here, I don’t want to leave, ever.”
She laughed and backed away in disbelief but came right back to retake my hands. “But … but you’re supposed to be training to be a doctor.”
I shrugged and barked out loud, “I no longer care about any of that, I want to be with you, I want to be happy and I’ve never been happier than in this place.” I was getting carried away but apparently, as I was finding out, love did that to a girl and I didn’t care and besides, the thing was that ever since waking, neither of us had spoken a word of English. In fact, we’d both adopted Italian and had spoken nothing else these last few days and it made no difference whether desperate, devastated or ecstatic, drunk or sober. I was meant to be here.
Her hands were tight around my arms and she never looked so happy and beautiful as now. “But Frey, I can’t be responsible for you giving up your career and…”
I cut her off and shook her by the shoulders, “it’s my decision and I’m making it so shut up and fuck me.”
She did and when she’d finished and we’d calmed down, we were able to sit back and put some actual thought into this new plan.
It was simple. Arwen would leave the Schengen area, return after the expiration of ninety days and life would be perfect again.
“Where will you go?” I asked.
“I really don’t care, anywhere, oh, but are you sure this is what you want to…”
I cut her off by mashing my lips against hers and by the time I pulled away, she’d got the message. “Not one more word about that, ok?”
She grinned but then her eyebrows drew closer, “we’re forgetting one important detail. Because the day I step back on Italian soil, that annoying ninety-day ticker restarts and then I’ll only have to leave again come the end of it. I want to be with you, Frey, but this isn’t an arrangement we can continue indefinitely.”
I nodded, recognising and cursing the stupid laws that prevented two people in love from being together.
We needn’t have worried, however, because Dayna had the solution to everything.
“It’s called a working visa. Over the years, we’ve helped several people obtain indefinite permission to stay in Italy.” We were having a farewell breakfast picnic beneath one of the orange trees and Dayna, unpacking a batch of prosciutto from a cute straw basket, didn’t even bother looking up as she handed us the lifeline. She’d literally just saved our lives and it was all nothing to the mad woman. “The trick,” she continued as she sifted through the basket, “is not to quit or get fired because everything’s dependant on the job.” She brought out the cheese and delved back within, bringing out a long baguette. “Who was that guy who came over from New Zealand?”
“Jason.” The name sounded strange being pronounced by Alessia. She was leaning back, fussing over and playing with Marco as he giggled and blew bubbles and kicked his legs most adoringly. “He lasted two weeks and couldn’t take anymore, so he left.”
“Which meant that stupidly, he had to leave the continent but he wouldn’t listen.” Dayna rolled her eyes. “Couldn’t take physical labour, if I recall. People have romantic visions of working in a place like this, I know I did, and it is like that in its way, but it’s hard work too. I’m sure he got his Instagram photos standing next to a row of vines though, so it all ended well for him.” She shrugged and passed the platter of bread, ham and cheese. “Of course, you already know what to expect, you’ve been doing it without complaint for long enough.” She perked unexpectedly, “so that’s a yes, of course. Just lay low for a few months in Ukraine or wherever and we’ll send you a formal offer of employment in writing and then you’ll need to do the rest with your embassy.” Dayna was good enough to speak slowly and I understood most of what she said. It was always easier comprehending Dayna or Arwen’s Italian than Alessia’s but I hoped to fix that in time.
But we were beyond happy. It had been an emotional twenty-four hours with Arwen and I declaring our love for each other only to learn soon after we were once again to be parted, and then to be saved by our friends.
“Really, you two guys are the best.” Arwen gave them each a hug in turn.
“It will be our absolute pleasure,” Alessia said, pouring the dark coffee from a Moka pot into four small cups, “and we’ll have a party when you return home. But since you’re staying, you both need to start drinking your coffee black, like normal Italians.”
And there it was. Starting in three months, we’d both be given paid positions at the vineyard and life would be perfect again and what better way of celebrating than a breakfast picnic with friends and loved ones whilst surrounded by such natural beauty as the sun began to establish its heat and Alessia opened an umbrella to shade the baby as we ate pastries and drank coffee.
Arwen repositioned herself to sit behind me and I felt weak as her knees came to settle either side of my hips. “I’m doing you another braid, my lover, and I’m warning you not to tantrum and pull this one out or you’ll find yourself in the biggest trouble of your entire life. You remember what I’m like when I’m really mad?”
I recalled our very first encounter with fondness. “How could I forget?”
She blew on my neck and I shivered as I felt the gentle pulls and tugs of her hands going to work. “Just make sure you don’t forget.” She hummed, “it just so happens they last around three months, give or take, imagine that, you have literally no excuses so I want to see a weather-beaten, worn down, disgusting braid when I return and then I’ll undo the thing myself, ok my love?” She had me.
Sensing we desired one final moment of privacy, Dayna and Alessia had begun discussing something in lowered voices as they propped themselves up on elbows and I was able to watch the two of them together. It was all in the way Dayna’s pupils dilated, how Alessia twirled hair around a finger, the occasional touches and how neither seemed to blink as they spoke. They’d been together for years and even after their recent hardships were still besotted with each other. It was all so adorably cute and I could only bring myself to look away when they began kissing.
Arwen had been quiet and I wondered if, like me, she’d been eavesdropping, but then she finished my braid, moved around to my front and whispered, “I’m gonna try not to cry but I know I’ll fail.”
“Me too.” I fell into her arms and within seconds, we too were sinking into a deep kiss and I knew the next three months would be the longest and most agonising of my life.
Something slammed, which caused me to break apart from Arwen, Dayna and Alessia had done the same, and I scanned the near distance atop the slope, the barn, house, warehouse and finally found Goro, beside the truck, standing and gawping in our direction. His vehicle had been parked there overnight, which wasn’t unusual as he lived in Poggibonsi but now, I guessed, he’d either arrived for work on foot or had spent the night in his truck’s cabin. Either way, he’d seen me with my tongue down my girlfriend’s throat and now I wasn’t sure what to think. At the least, it was enough to give me a hot flush and a weird sinking feeling in my belly because it was crap I had no desire to deal with now or ever.
“Is that the guy?” Arwen laughed and rubbed my back. “At least that ought to solve your little stalker problem. Think he’ll get the message?”
I barked, what else could I do, and then the more I thought about it, I guessed that Arwen was right, “oh, I do hope so,” because I’d told the man, I’d been honest with him and it hadn’t made a difference. “Please say you’re right.”
Throughout this, Arwen’s hand had been n
estled snugly between my thighs and after what seemed like more than long enough to confirm my sexuality to the man, Goro finally jumped back inside his cabin, slammed the door shut and a minute later the truck was roaring down the path, throwing up clouds of dust, before disappearing through the gates.
“Yep, I’d say that’ll do it, Frey.” Arwen laughed again as I shook my head and slapped her on the knee.
“You are just terrible.”
She nodded, “you’ve known this all along.”
But it hadn’t stopped me falling in love with her.
* * *
We arrived mid-afternoon at Pisa airport, Arwen only fifteen minutes before having purchased a ticket to Belgrade, and I still admired the way she could drift from one place to another with no real plan or idea of where she was heading. But then, life gets in the way and it doesn’t matter what dreams you have or how much planning you put into them because everything can change in a second, just ask Alessia.
Of course, it was something I could also attest to and the sight of planes reminded me I should have been imminently boarding one myself because, in another world, I was only two weeks away from beginning my residency. Yet here I was having made new plans to live in Tuscany, with my lesbian girlfriend, no less. Life could be so fucking strange.
“You let me know the minute you arrive.” Oh Christ, but my voice was all choked.
Her face screwed up and she pulled me in for an embrace so that I wouldn’t see her crying but now I was crying too and sod it because I didn’t care. “I’ll miss you so much.” When she brought me back to arms’ length, her face was red and puffy. “And you’d better bloody stay away from all those Italian hunks, as well as the donnas, you hear me?”
My hands were tightly gripping her waist and it was hard to believe that in a few seconds she’d once again be leaving my life. “Then you’d better make sure it’s not ninety-one days.”
We embraced for the final time and then I felt woozy as I watched Arwen wheel her bag through the departure gates, round the corner and disappear and the only thing I could do was remain where I stood, numb and not knowing what to do with myself. Her leaving had all happened so fast, it might take some time to come to terms with.
A jet whooshed overhead and the nearby departure boards flashed with the names of a hundred destinations.
A quick call to Dayna was required.
Because I was due a few days off.
Chapter Twelve
Gibraltar
It was funny because in order to arrive in Gibraltar, I first had to make a connecting flight in London, and that felt strange, to be surrounded by my own people after all this time. I mean, technically, Gibraltarians were British, English was their primary language but they spoke with a unique accent, which sounded somewhere halfway between Spanish and some long-forgotten English dialect. In truth, however, the accent of one man sounded different to the next. To look at them was likewise to notice a range of complexions. There were those who possessed the typical Spanish tan but also many you could place beside any English person and you’d not be able to tell them apart. Of course, there was a large military presence here, my sister had supposedly married one of them, and so there was no knowing who, as I sat drinking coffee on the main quaint street, was a Gibraltarian and who wasn’t.
It was indeed a culture shock. Not two miles away the Spanish border gave way to a country that disputed Gibraltar’s sovereignty and I’d learned that, even today, there were constant disputes and, hard as it was to believe, the occasional sea skirmish between the locals and Spanish.
From what little I’d seen, Gibraltar looked like someone had gone forty or fifty years back in time, picked up a pretty English town and dumped it on a sunny spot between a giant rock and the sea.
There were the red letterboxes of my country and even the old red phone boxes that today, you only ever saw in tourist towns. All the shops were the usual British chains like Marks and Spencer, Debenhams and Costa Coffee. There were not the relaxed tapas bars of Spain but instead English pubs with names that would hardly be out of place in York, Bristol or London, establishments with names like Shakespeare’s, Lord Nelson, Red Lion and The Angry Friar. There were even the old lantern shaped street lights that I loved so much because they reminded me of Edinburgh and all the buildings were in the typical British style, though many had their own unique twist.
But there were differences too. The weather was the most obvious distinction and the streets were lined with palm trees, oh, and for some reason, they drove on the right but by far the biggest and most pleasant shock for me was what I was seeing right now. Because on the pedestrian zone cobbles sat a monkey and he was grinning, scratching himself and causing an obstruction as people simply walked around and took little notice.
I took a photo and sent the image to Arwen, which was when I noticed she’d sent me one herself not five minutes before. She was standing between the two great bastions of a castle, making the peace sign with kissy lips and the message, ‘missing you already.’ I felt the stir down below and closed my eyes as the warmth flushed delightfully through me.
‘WTF? Where are you? I don’t think that’s San Gimmy!’ Came the fast response from her.
I laughed and fired back a reply, telling her I’d come to Gibraltar, on the hoof, in an attempt to find Lizzie, attaching another image of myself sitting at an outside table, drinking coffee surrounded by sunburned Brits.
‘OMG! Just when I thought you couldn’t surprise me anymore. I wish to God I could be with you but I can’t, so I want photos and stories.’
It had only been a little over half a day and already, I missed her more than I knew how to describe and it was only sure to get worse. And then I kicked the table leg because I realised I’d fucked up.
Gibraltar was not in the Schengen area, which meant Arwen could have been with me now. I clenched a fist, watched as my knuckles turned white and decided to keep that annoying fact away from my woman, as well as hope she didn’t find it out for herself - The perils of not planning ahead, à la Arwen.
It was time to move and so I drained the coffee and stood, not knowing what the bloody hell I was supposed to do next. What leads did I have? Not even a full name and I felt a stab of guilt because this was my sister and yet I had not even the most fundamental piece of information. I could phone Dad and tell him where I was but I’d asked for information before and he’d always withheld it and so I doubted my being in Gibraltar would change anything. Had this been a stupid idea?
I plodded down Main Street, forlornly scanning the passing faces, which just went to show how desperate I was. Gibraltar was small, it had a population of only thirty thousand and if I was to bump into Lizzie then we stood a greater chance of it happening in a place like this but still, could I even be sure I’d recognise her after eight years?
I passed a British expat store and, on a whim, decided to go inside. Lizzie always had an obsession with Scottish shortbread and I badly missed Highland tablet, clootie, blood sausage, stovies, bannock, bridie, skirlie and rumbledethumps, amongst others, though here, I was to be disappointed for the most part. Then I saw the Lea & Perrins Worcestershire sauce and didn’t know how to react to that. Of course, it reminded me of Dan, which then made me think of Gabe and then I left the shop without making any purchases.
Of course, I hadn’t taken time off work and flown all the way to Gibraltar with absolutely no idea of what to do when I got here, the plan was always to seek out some sort of authority, which was why I now arrived at 6 Convent Place, headquarters of Her Majesty’s Government in Gibraltar. Finding it was easy, though I doubted the rest would be.
“Hello.” The lady spoke with an accent that could have come from the English home counties.
I took a breath and hoped I could remember the winey speech I’d prepared, about how I wanted to know where my sister lived, except I didn’t know her new name, and could you somehow provide me with her address please and honest, I’m not a crazy woman. Inst
ead, I lost my backbone, or perhaps I was just playing it safe, and used her maiden name instead. “I’m looking for Lizzie Argyle.”
The lady returned to her screen and began typing and for a brief moment, I thought she was actually searching some supposed database of every resident in The Rock and that she would actually hand my sister’s details over but then I realised she was just checking names of the people who worked in the building. “I’m sorry, there’s no Lizzie Argyle here.”
Obviously! And damn you, Arwen.
Her colleague, another woman, who’d been sitting close behind at another desk overheard and after swiftly typing something into her keyboard, stood and made her way over to the front desk. “You’re looking for Lizzie Argyle?”
My eyes widened, a miracle perhaps? It was all in her tone, something that most definitely suggested familiarity. “Yes!” My heart soared. “Do you have her address?”
Her head jerked back and she looked briefly shocked but why? My head probed forwards as I studied her face and I immediately knew I was being ridiculous because this woman was about twenty-five years too old to be Lizzie. But maybe she knew her? “If you would like to wait a couple of minutes…” she left it at that but remained standing, hands held in front of her belly, watching me whilst pretending not to be, and after a minute of not being able to read her face, I began to wonder what game she was playing.
Footsteps trod on nearby floorboards and then a security guard entered from a side door. “Good evening, would you like to come with me, please?”
I glanced at the two women who were now sneering back. “Is there a problem?”
“Miss, please.” He held a hand out toward the exit and so I went, to be taken outside into a small annex of the main building, which had a heavy door, no windows and a grim aspect.
“Prison? Is that where you’re taking me? For wanting to find my sister?” I screeched the last part and he scrunched his eyes closed and winced. “How dare you? I haven’t done anything.”