Runaways

by Rachel Sawden

  “Xavier!” Leo called out as he came bounding over.

  “Hey man, long time,” Xavier replied with a grin.

  Before he could acknowledge Lana, she flew into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. They devoured each other’s faces while Jade kept her focus on the river, and Xavier and Leo’s friends started whooping and clapping. One guy, with unmistakable flame-red hair, gave me a shy wave. I blushed and raised my hand to Xavier’s roommate who had walked in on us in Wellington.

  “Coming back on the bus with us tomorrow?” Leo asked once he and Lana had pried themselves apart.

  He nodded.

  I swallowed my disappointment at the word “tomorrow”. He was flying off to Fiji for a gig, and I wouldn’t see him for another week and a half. And after that I would only have two nights with him. Unless I won the competition. Even a runner-up prize would give me enough money to extend my trip for another two weeks. My funds were vanishing faster than anticipated.

  “You, me, our rental car, tonight,” Lana said to Leo with her most dominating voice before turning to Jade and me. “Is it okay if I take the car tonight?”

  “Sure,” Jade and I said in unison.

  I was happy that she would get a night alone with Leo.

  Xavier squeezed my hand. “Let’s go see the falls?”

  Ignoring the smirks and stares of his teenaged friends we continued down the path, the gravel crunching with each step. At the end of the canyon the swirling torrents spilled over a thirty-foot drop, feeding into a river below. Blue and white jet boats full of raincoat-clad passengers zipped down the river and performing donuts at the foot of the falls. Following a sign, we pushed through ferns and tree branches through an overgrown dirt path until we reached a hot water beach on the river’s edge. Steam rose from the shallow water pooling between the brown sand and rocks. He took a seat on the sand and pulled me to sit between his legs, both facing the river. I was grateful for his warmth now that the sun ducked behind a cloud. Listening to the faint shrill calls of birds, he nuzzled into my neck, and I stroked the hand that rested on my knee.

  “At the risk of ruining the moment, I have to ask…” he said before pausing.

  His disclaimer unnerved me. “Go on.”

  “What happened in Goa? You ran from me the morning after the Silent Disco.”

  I had to tell him the truth, despite my fear that he would see me in a different light. I sucked in a deep breath and turned to face him. “I was engaged at the time.”

  The memory seemed so far in the past.

  “Oh?” he said, surprise flashed on his face.

  “Yeah. He was my first relationship, and I loved him. I hated cheaters, and I tried to avoid you, but it was like there was this crazy pull between us. And when I woke up that morning, I thought we slept together, and it was one of my worst fears realized. But since we met in that day in the coconut grove, I think I realized that while I did love him, I wasn’t in love with him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I lowered my eyes and fought through the shame.

  “I feel things with you that I never felt with him. Things I wanted to feel. Things I needed to feel. And when I felt them with you, I realized that I couldn’t marry him.”

  “Did you tell him what happened?” he said, pulling my chin so that our eyes met.

  I chewed on my lip and nodded. “We broke up a couple of weeks afterward.”

  A montage of expressions flashed in his face.

  “Please don’t look at me differently,” I said, wishing that I could change the past. “I’m still me.”

  “I don’t,” he said with a soft kiss on my bottom lip. “At least you found out before you married him.”

  As I forced a smile, a cold autumn wind swept over us, and I shivered and held him tighter.

  “Come on, let’s head back and get you warm.”

  ***

  Arriving back at the hostel before dusk fell, Lana dropped us off and continued with the car to find Leo. Back upstairs, I popped to the bathroom in the hallway and when I walked through the door, Jade and Xavier were standing in the back corner of the room. They then turned to look at me, both wearing mischievous expressions. What were they up to?

  “I’m just heading out for a bit.” He kissed me as he walked past me and out the door. It was then that I noticed he was holding a small duffel bag. As he swung the door open, he said, “Be ready for seven.”

  I looked at Jade. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” she said, although her poker face was crumbling. “Why don’t you wear this tonight?”

  She pulled out my red dress from Goa and a black cardigan. I didn’t fight it. I knew Xavier had put her up to it, and I appreciated her support. When the Israeli boys came back to the room, Jade asked them if they wanted to go out for dinner and drinks.

  “You are going out tonight?” I asked, failing to mask my disbelief.

  “What can I say, I feel like dancing,” she said with a wink.

  Once Jade and the Israeli boys left me in the room alone, I slipped the dress on and pulled out my makeup kit. I dabbed on a finger full of manuka honey lip balm I had picked up in a gift-shop in Wellington and swept two coats of mascara on my lashes. As I pressed shimmering cherry-coloured blush onto my cheeks, there was a knock at the door. A watery sensation spread down my limbs. My young lover made me feel like a nervous teenager, and I loved it.

  Maybe I was absorbing his youthful energy.

  I pulled the door open, and Xavier stood in the hallway with a small bouquet of red roses in his hand and a grocery bag at his feet. He wore a clean black long-sleeved t-shirt, dark blue jeans and grey sneakers. His hair was styled and his stubble had been shaped.

  A shy smile crept across his face as he exhaled. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured back. It was my turn to be shy.

  Extending his hand, I took the bouquet. I brought it to my nose and inhaled the scent.

  “Bring them,” he said, stepping forward, pressing his lips onto mine. “We’ll need them.”

  After he tossed the duffel bag he had taken with him earlier onto the bed, he took me by the hand, picked up the grocery bag, and, with the other, pulled the door shut. He led me down the narrow hallway and one flight of stairs, through the lobby and into the communal kitchen. Jade sat on a barstool at the corner of the metallic island that stood in the middle of the space between the row of stoves and the dining area.

  “It was a fight, but I saved the space you wanted,” she said with a wink as she hopped off the stool and walked by.

  “Thank you, Jade,” he said before turning to me. “Luckily for us, the hostel isn’t that full, so I think we’ll have the kitchen mostly to ourselves.”

  He led me to the tall stool and helped me into it. “I picked up pesto tortellini with tomato sauce. I hope you like that.”

  I nodded as he began to unpack the grocery bag, and sunk into the stool when I realized that this was perhaps the most romantic gesture anyone had ever made for me. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Leaning in, he stole another kiss. “No, just be beautiful.”

  An assortment of knives, utensils and chopping boards were laid out on the corner of the island. On the stove sat a pot with steam billowing through a crack in the lid. When he left me in the room, he must have been prepping the kitchen. All he had to do was turn the water back on for the pasta, chop the onions and red peppers to add to the bottled sauce to cook. When he turned his back to me to open the door of the cupboard, I let my eyes wander down his body.

  “See anything you like?”

  My cheeks seared when I realized he had caught me staring at his ass. “Just enjoying the view.”

  His smile darkened as he placed two wine glasses in front of me. Reaching up to the cupboard again, he grabbed a tall glass and took it to the sink. After filling it with water, he dropped the stems of the roses into it and placed it next to me. Picking up a corkscrew from the
accessory line up, he uncorked a bottle of red wine he had bought when we stopped in at a vineyard on the drive from Wellington. Pouring two glasses, he set the bottle down and took both glasses, handing one to me.

  “To us,” he said, raising his glass. “To our missed connections in Goa and Koh Phangan, and to finding each other in New Zealand.” I raised my glass and locked eyes with him. Before we clinked, he added, “And Fiji.”

  I bit my lip as we touched glasses. The girls and I would be heading to Fiji in fourteen days. I wanted to leave with him, but I couldn’t afford to change my ticket. Tilting the glass back, I swallowed the wine along with my disappointment.

  “Not bad,” he said, swirling the wine in the glass. “Perhaps I should have let it air first.”

  “How do you know so much about wine?” He had flashes of cultured maturity that made me forget his age.

  “We French drink wine once we’re weaned off our mother’s milk,” he said, laying the onions and red peppers on the chopping board.

  “So you haven’t been drinking long then?” A teasing smile tore my face in two.

  He shot me a look that told me I was going to be punished for my teasing. I looked forward to it.

  As the pasta boiled, he chopped the vegetables and heated the sauce, and he teased me with a torturous game of closing the space between us, then pulling back out of reach without a kiss. Punishment. Even though people milled about in the kitchen, as far as I was aware, we were alone.

  “Open your mouth.” His eyes glowed with devilish promise as he held a sauce-filled wooden spoon in front of my face.

  Two can play at that game.

  I grasped his forearm with my right hand, and as I took the spoon in my mouth, I slid my hand down, and then dragged my fingertips along the back of his hand, eye contact unbroken. He sucked in a breath. Placing the spoon down, he cradled my face with both hands, pushed his hips between my legs, and kissed me with such sensual softness that my body begged for more. I pulled at his belt loops and opened my mouth trying to satisfy my need for him. But then he pulled back.

  “You’re hungry,” he said running his thumb over my swelling lips.

  “Tease,” I hissed.

  His lips tilted in amusement. “I can’t let the sauce burn,” he said as he spun around to check the pots on the stove.

  Let the damn sauce burn.

  He continued to season the sauce, drained the pasta, cleaning and packing away as he cooked.

  “Et, voila! Dinner is served.” He gestured over the bowls of tortellini and sauce like a magician who had just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. His face beamed with pride, his unrestrained smile betraying his youthfulness.

  He took my hand, steadying me as I slid off the barstool. He hooked his arm in mine and led me towards the dining area. In a very affected French accent, he said, “Right zis way, mademoiselle.”

  Ever the gentleman, he pulled out a chair for me at a table for four. Once I was seated he made multiple trips setting up the table with the wine and glasses, water, cutlery, serviettes, and the bowls with the pasta. As I inhaled the tomato sauce steam, I realized how hungry I really was.

  Making his way back from his final trip to the kitchen, he announced, “And the piece de resistance,” as he set the bouquet of roses in the center of the table.

  We clinked glasses with a toast and began eating. He was an amazing chef. With only a few ingredients from the store and the seasonings in the communal spice rack, he threw together a dish that was both delicious and comforting. I had longed for a home-cooked meal. I relished every single bite, knowing that a night like this with him was unlikely to happen again. And that simple fact made me appreciate it even more.

  “That CD you played in the car last night,” I said, blushing as memories of what we did in the car while listening to that CD replayed in my mind. “I like it, who are they?”

  He washed his mouthful down with a sip of wine. “An indie trance band called Moksha. After last night, I’ll never listen to them in the same way. They’re playing a gig in Fiji at the end of the month, I’d love to take you.”

  We met eyes briefly and said nothing more. I pressed my lips together and forced a weak smile. We both knew there was a big possibility that I would be back home by then.

  “Have you heard from the competition yet?” he asked, changing the topic to our only hope of me being able to take him up on his offer.

  I shook my head. “Any day now. So what’s next for you, after you go back to the real world?”

  “I’m going to start university in the fall back in England. My mother and stepfather insist I get a degree, so I’ll study music.”

  I nearly choked on my tortellini with the words, “start university.” I had graduated university three years ago. We really were at such different places in our lives. Thankfully, rather than discussing the sad reality of leaving this world behind, we hid in our happy little bubble of denial and the conversation changed directions.

  “So you said you did your PADI certification in Australia?” he said, reaching across the table for my hand. “How was that?”

  I told him all about Australia, scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef, sailing the Whitsundays, and camping under the stars in Fraser Island. “Oh, and when I was with my parents in Cairns, we scattered Audrey’s ashes in the ocean.”

  He squeezed my hand tighter and said, “How do you feel about that?”

  “Better. I knew it was the right thing to do for the family, and for her.” I paused as my words caught in my throat. I missed her terribly, and had to get used to life without any trace of her physical existence. Letting go of how life used to be is never easy, even when it’s the right thing to do. Feeling tears pooling in my eyes, I changed topics, “So tell me of your adventure making it to Koh Phangan.”

  “I was in Sri Lanka at the time, and I found a cheap flight to Bangkok through Kuala Lumpur, but I kept getting bumped off the flights. I spent two days in the airport. I arrived the day before Full Moon and thought I wouldn’t make it.” He stood and collected the two empty bowls as I stared at him wide-eyed and speechless with disbelief of what he went through to try and find me. “Seeing you was well worth the trouble.”

  As I rose to my feet, he gently commanded me to let him take care of everything. I sat watching him clear up the table and washing our plates, glasses and cutlery, the sadness of our separation already setting in. Once he was done, he took me by the hand and let me upstairs.

  “Wait here,” he said as he opened the door.

  With a kiss, he stepped behind it, and I stood inspecting a spot of chipping paint on the white walls. It was a perfect night, and he was almost too perfect, and there was something about perfect that scared me. As if it were all too good to be true. After Miles, I feared the flaw that lurked under the veneer of perfection.

  The door opened again, and my fears melted when I saw his face. He took my hand and pulled me through the threshold. The room was dark, lit by a single candle. Our little sliver of a bed was strewn with the petals from the rose bouquet. “We’ll have the room to ourselves for another two hours.”

  As I lay naked on the bed, bathed in the flickering glow of the candle, I asked something of him that I was no longer too shy to request. “Speak French to me.”

  ***

  The next morning, we awoke again in a tangle of limbs. In respect for our roommates, we had dressed and cleaned up the petals before they came in. I rolled over and grabbed my computer and opened my email browser. There was an unread message from Awesome Adventures waiting for me, the subject title read: Awesome Adventures Travel Photography Competition Results. A watery sensation rippled through me. Part of me wanted to close it and nestle into my bubble with Xavier. But a bigger part of me needed to know what my fate was.

  Chapter 30

  Date: May 13, 2010

  Miss Rodrigues,

  Thank you for submitting your work to the annual Awesome Adventures Travel Photography Competition. Unfortunately,
your work has not been selected as a winner. We will showcase the winners on our website on May 30th, 2010.

  Please like our new Facebook Page to keep updated on future competitions.

  Kind regards,

  Summer Greene,

  C.E.O.

  Awesome Adventures

  I fought the surge of hot tears pooling in my eyes as I stared at the monitor, re-reading it over and over again hoping the words would magically change.

  They didn’t.

  “Morning,” Xavier said, giving me a poke in the ribs. I was in such a state of shock that my body didn’t register it. “What’s wrong?”

  He pushed up to his elbows, and I held the screen in front of him. His eyes scanned back and forth and then found mine. “Oh, mon étoile.”

  I closed my computer and placed it on the floor as the tears broke free. When I turned to him, he wrapped his arms around me, and I sobbed as quietly as I could into his chest. He stroked my hair, and I listened to the beating of his heart, soaking his shirt through.

  Adam had been right, I didn’t stand a chance. My father was right, I wasn’t being realistic. How could I have been so naively confident to think that I could win? I didn’t have the equipment. I didn’t have the technical knowledge. I wasn’t good enough. I probably never would be good enough to make it professionally. And in two weeks’ time, I’d be heading back to Toronto, having wasted my life savings on a pipe dream as a total and utter failure.

  By the time I had cried myself numb, our roommates were waking up. As I rolled out of bed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the window’s reflection: my face was swollen and red, and the remnants of last night’s mascara pooled under my eyes. Just then, Lana burst through the door, hair mussed and glowing. She stopped in her tracks and her face turned serious.