I leaned back in the chair with my eyes wide as the realization washed over me.
Oh my God. He is in love with me.
Goa flashed in my mind. When we met, he asked me if I had ever felt “mad and passionate and all-consuming” love. That’s what he needed to feel to break through his writer’s block. That’s what inspired him to write. That’s what inspired him to keep seeking me out.
This is crazy.
It was crazy of him to fly from Sri Lanka to Koh Phangan on the hopes that he might find me at the Full Moon Party. It was crazy to pull him into a bathroom stall, and then push him away because I was scared, then pull him in again because I couldn’t fight the attraction, and then yet again push him away because I was afraid. Maybe the reason why I’ve been acting so crazy towards him is that I’m afraid that I’m in love with him, too. I fear most losing control, and what is more out of control than being in love?
Oh my God. I’m in love with him.
I had to find him. I had to see him.
This was the kind of love I had waited for my entire life, and it made no sense whatsoever. He was the total opposite of Adam. My usual type was the older dependable guy who made me think of nesting and baby names, but he was a way too young tattooed musician. We had no future, but even if I could only live it for two days it was more than what some people get in a lifetime. And I knew I would regret it forever if I didn’t go after him.
Chapter 31
I opened the message to respond to him, but as I placed my fingers on the keyboard, Jade rushed into the room.
“Harper, we have to go now.”
“Can I have a few minutes?”
She shook her head. “We need to get the car back to the rental place and deal with that before we get on our flight.”
I checked the clock. More time had slipped away from me than I realized. Deciding to message when we landed in Nadi, I logged off Facebook and followed Jade down the hallway into our dorm room. In the back corner, Lana was furiously stuffing the last of her belongings in her backpack. I helped Jade hoist her overflowing backpack on her back, and she helped me with mine. Then we dashed down the hallway, tossed our key cards on the reception desk, descended one floor in the elevator, and crossed the street to the three-story parking lot. Once our bags were stuffed in the trunk, Jade took the wheel, I slid into shotgun, and Lana hopped in the backseat.
“Alright, New Zealand, thanks for the memories,” Jade said turning the key in the ignition.
But instead of the engine humming to life as it usually did, the car made a sound like a retching puppy. She turned the ignition off and on five times, each time the engine sounded sicker and sicker.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, the engine isn’t turning over,” she said, trying one more time. “Dammit, Universe”
“Sounds like the battery is dead,” Lana said pulling herself forward between the front car seats so her face was between ours.
“When you guys took the car, did you leave the light or stereo on for a long period of time?” Jade asked turning to face Lana and me.
Lana bit her lip and kept her eyes forward. “Define long period of time.”
“Lana,” Jade said in a scary motherly tone.
“She’s asking for a friend.” I glanced at Lana, who was trying to conceal a smirk. Xavier and I played that Moksha CD on our night by the lake, so I wasn’t going to let her take all the blame.
“What can we do?” Lana asked. “Can we call the rental place to come get the car?”
I opened the glove compartment, pulled out the information booklet the rental place had given us, and scanned it. “The only office open at this time is at the airport, and this says that for engine problems we need to call Triple-A.”
Jade gripped the steering wheel and kept her eyes forward. Checking the time, I forced myself not to panic, so I pinched the bridge of my nose and then tried to mimic her zen-like ways.
“I’ll go back to the hostel,” Lana said, pushing herself back and sliding towards the door.
Needing to move, needing to feel as if something was getting done, I decided to go with her. Jade stayed on the lookout for someone in the parking lot to help us jump the car. We ran back to the hostel lobby, and the receptionist found the number for Triple-A in the phonebook for us. I shifted my weight from foot to foot as I watched Lana make the call. After waiting on hold for what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke into the receiver, explaining the problem and our location.
“Thanks for your help,” she said, her eyes meeting mine. Though her tone was polite and upbeat, there was something about the unusually large size of her eyes that made me nervous. “If there is any way he can be quicker, that would be much appreciated as we are trying to catch a flight tonight.”
She then hung up and turned to me. “So there’s good news and bad news. The good news is someone is on the way. The bad news is there is only one person working the city tonight, and there are a bunch of people in the line in front of us. They can’t give us a precise time. They estimated it could be within two hours, could be more.”
“Two hours,” I said, seeing my time with Xavier vanish. It was nearly five-thirty and we had to be at the airport at seven if we had any hope of catching the flight. It would take over a half hour alone to get there, and we would have to find a gas station along the way to fill the tank. Not to mention dealing with the paperwork at the rental place.
Running back across the street, we relayed the message to Jade. She looked at us and said, “What do you want to do?”
Lana and I both had boys waiting for us in Fiji. If we missed the flight tonight, we would not have enough time to get to Malolo to see them.
“Let’s just wait for the Triple-A guy, the rental place will have to understand that we’re getting it back. I doubt it’s the first time this piece of junk has broken down,” Lana said, looking at me to see if I agreed.
I looked at my watch. We just needed to make it to the airline check-in counter an hour before it closed to make the flight. Even if the car were to miraculously start working again, time would be tight. “Okay, let’s go wait on the road and look out for him.”
Jade stayed behind with her yoga teacher’s course book on the lookout for anyone who could give us a jump, and Lana and I made our way down to the street to make sure the Triple-A guy found us. The street was quiet with barely any traffic. A taxi with its light on sped down the street, and I toyed with the fantasy of hailing it down, but the fear of traveling alone wouldn’t let me. The three-story car park stood behind us, and a five-story office building with few lighted windows stood ahead of us. To the west, the halo of the setting sun glowed orange against the darkening sky.
“Have you spoken to Xavier?” Lana asked, leaning against a lamppost.
“He sent me the lyrics he was talking about.” I looked down and kicked at a wad of gum. “He said he loved me.”
“Well, that was obvious. And how do you feel about that?”
“Scared.” I looked up and met her gaze. “Because I think I’m in love with him.”
She squealed and threw her arms around me. I sighed and hugged her back.
“We can’t have a future. This will all come to an end in a few days, for good.”
“Honey, don’t worry about the future, all that exists is the present.”
“Wow, Jade’s yogi-ness has really rubbed off on you.”
She gave me a soft punch in the arm, “I rarely think about the future because you know what I’ve learned? After shit went down at the station, and I thought my life was over, things worked out well with getting interviews and even a book offer. And even though my broadcasting days are over, I’m excited for what’s next, but I’m not trying to get attached to a future, or even think that far ahead. Everything always works out eventually, so don’t let the fear of the future rob you of a wonderful present.”
“You and Jade should really consider getting back in the hippy business to
gether, tank-tops with motivational slogans,” I teased.
She punched me in the arm again. “Just think about what I said. Leaving him at the end of those two days will suck, but the sadness will fade, and you’ll have amazing memories to giggle at when you’re old and grey.”
My hopes rose with each car that turned onto the street, only to fall when I recognized it as anything other than a Triple-A truck. Though we played round after round of Animal-Vegetable-Mineral to pass the time, anxiety pulsed as I checked my watch every two minutes. It was past six-thirty and there was no sign of Triple-A, and Jade hadn’t called down with good news about getting a jump.
“If we don’t leave in ten minutes, we’ll miss the flight,” I said, fighting the tightening feeling in my chest.
As I said that a cab turned onto the road, it’s orange light beaming from the roof.
“Take the cab,” Lana said.
“What about you and Jade?”
“We’ll just make the flight tomorrow and stay on the mainland.”
“What about Leo?”
“Harper, I like Leo, but I don’t love him. I won’t regret not being able to see him, but I will regret it if you don’t go to see Xavier.”
I shook my head as my throat felt as if it were closing in on itself. “I can’t go alone.”
“Why not.”
“I’m scared.”
She raised her hands and said, “Consider the hot sex you’d be giving up.”
The cab was a hundred feet away and approaching quickly. I could make the flight; all I had to do was raise my hand and flag it down. What was I afraid of? I had traveled from Cairns to Arlie Beach by myself, but I was already familiar with Australia and had hostels pre-booked. I had been prepared to fly to Singapore by myself, but that was just an idea, an abstract and distant possibility. Even though this trip raised my confidence, the memory of Audrey’s murder still haunted me. Through the past few months, I had my girls, we had safety in numbers, and so the thought of arriving in an unfamiliar country by myself in the dead of night with nowhere to stay scared the shit out of me. I couldn’t go alone. Going alone wasn’t part of the plan. And I couldn’t help but feel like if I went alone, I would be flaunting Audrey’s death. How could I survive, and she didn’t get the chance to?
The taxi hit the fifty-foot mark.
And then a voice rang in my head, clear as day. “I’m with you always.” As a warm breeze caressed my face, a strange sensation took hold, just as it did in the desert in Pushkar, and I felt as if someone was holding my hand.
An image flashed in my vision of Xavier and me laying in the shade of a palm tree on a white sand beach, with the warmth of joy and love washing over me like the rising tide. It was what I fantasized about each time I dove into Tahitian Heat and stared at those paradisiac posters on the walls of my old apartment.
It was a reality waiting for me on the other side of fear.
Just before the taxi passed us, as if I had stepped out of my body, I raised my hand and called the taxi to stop.
***
Date: May 22, 2010
Nadi, Fiji
The plane landed on the Fijian capital airport runway with a thud, and as I looked out of the window, unable to see past the glow of the wing lights, I wished I had the girls at my side. The airport was small and dusty, and, save for the handful of passengers on my flight, empty. We hadn’t booked a hotel for the night, and I had no idea where to go or what to do, but thankfully a group of Australian girls let me tag along with them. We shared a minivan taxi and after driving through sandy roads flanked by palm trees and broken lampposts, more buildings began to appear. The main street ran a little longer than a Toronto city block, and most of the buildings stood only two stories tall. The windows on the second story were covered in bars, and metal roll-down shutters were pulled over the storefronts on the ground floor. Not a single soul walked the dark streets.
The taxi dropped us off in front of the only building with light glowing from its barred windows. The skeleton staff of the guesthouse greeted us, and after the five Aussies had checked in, I paid for a room and booked my ferry ticket to Malolo for the following morning. My plan to message Xavier was derailed when I was informed that the Internet had stopped working that afternoon, and I had to hold out hope and believe that I wasn’t about to walk into a very awkward moment. With time to think on the flight, I knew I would regret not going, and that regret would be worse than any heartbreak. If he had moved on, my heart and ego would heal with time, and I’d look back on him with rosy retrospection as I did Miles and commend myself for my courage for going after him alone. But regret remains and festers, kind of like herpes of the soul.
The manager then showed me to my room, and I was left alone for the night. The room was claustrophobically small but clean enough, with white tiles worn from age and walls stained by dripping rust water from the air conditioner. Pushed against the back wall stood a double bed with a faded floral comforter, flanked by two bedside tables. Thankfully it had an ensuite bathroom, so I didn’t have to leave the room. Fearing intruders, I dead-bolted the door and pushed my heavy backpack against it, barricading myself in.
After barely sleeping a wink that night, both for fear of being murdered in the night and of facing possible heartbreak the following day if I survived, I scarfed down my complimentary toast and butter and coffee and then made my way to the ferry. The manager arranged for a taxi to pick me up, and after driving out of the tiny capital city, and drop me off at the threshold of a beach. The driver instructed me to wait on the beach for the ferry. I took my bags and made my way to the nearest empty beach lounger. Facing the vivid turquoise ocean, the white sand stretched into the horizon on either side of me. Lining the beach stood a string of guesthouses and hostels, and I took note of the name of the one closest to me. If the girls stayed there, I could find them easily when I returned to the mainland.
It turned out that the “ferry” was just some guy’s boat, no larger than thirty feet in length, clearly used for fishing in between taking passengers between the Yasawa Islands. With my heart in my throat, I boarded the vessel and sat on the roof with ten other people, all headed to various islands in the archipelago. We left the main island and for half an hour we skipped over the water between islets and sandbars, which was such a stunning shade of turquoise it almost glowed, until we approached an island with a long wooden pier extending into the water.
A group of six Fijians stood on the end of the pier wearing grass skirts and floral shirts, three with full-sized guitars, one playing a ukulele, and the others clapped as they sang, welcoming us to Malolo. The island was small and densely forested, surrounded by rocky coastline and reefs in the shallows. As each passenger stepped onto the pier, we were draped with a flower lei and handed a purple-pink cocktail with a skewer of fruit poking out from the ice. I was so nervous I knocked my drink back faster than I could say, “Bula!”
Worried my legs were going to give out on me as I walked the pier, I stopped to steady myself at the threshold of the sandy path that led to the reception area. The path took me past a rectangular pool, filled with guys and girls splashing about. As I made my way to the reception desk, I scanned each face, not recognizing a single one. To the right of the reception was an open-air dining hall that faced the ocean, and to the right of that, a common area, with ping-pong tables and hammocks, the roof held up by wooden columns. Like the pool, it was swarming with backpackers, but none were Xavier.
“Excuse me, where is Bure Five?” I asked the woman who stood behind the reception desk.
She extended a long finger and pointed back towards where I had come, “On the other side of the pier.”
After thanking her, I retraced my steps and found bure one, then two, and so forth. At the end of the line of bures, and past a hammock suspended between two palm trees, sitting on the edge of the coastal rocks, I found number five. Like the others, it was a hut with cream-coloured walls made from concrete and its roof made from pa
lm thatching. Anxiety knifed at me, and I began to see spots as I walked to the flower-lined path to the door, and I reminded myself to breathe. The sliding glass door was open, and sheer curtains billowed into the hut. I took a moment to collect and calm myself and knocked on the glass three times.
No answer.
I popped my head through the open glass door and held back the curtain. The interior was spacious. A couch, love seat, and glass coffee table stood in the corner to my left, and along the right wall ran a counter with a sink, stove, and fridge. A closed door broke the wall opposite me, and I assumed the bedroom was beyond it. Before I knew it, I was padding across the white tile into the room.
Then, the clicking of the bedroom door startled me. I froze in place, my eyes glued to the door, holding both fear and hope in equal measure. The door swung open, and there he stood, raven-haired, skin washed bronze from the sun, eyes piercing, wearing nothing but a white towel hanging dangerously low at his hips.
His brow knitted, and his lips curled. “You came?”
I nodded, then straightened my back. “Am I interrupting something? I mean, are you here with someone else?”
He closed the gap between us and took the daypack that hung from my chest, gently placing it on the floor. Cupping my face in his hands, he tilted my head up, so my eyes met his. “As I’ve said before, there is no one else.”
“I love you,” I blurted out without thinking. His eyes softened, and his lips parted. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for how I’ve —”
Before I could finish my sentence, his lips claimed mine.
***
For two days we explored the island, and by night each other, professing our love with urgent whispers in the dark. At the end of each day as the sun tucked itself into the horizon, I sat with Leo, who was disappointed that he would not see Lana, and we watched Xavier perform his set. He sang the songs he had written, the songs that his affections for me inspired, always ending it with that rendition of “Sex on Fire.” And on our last night, we lay in a hammock bathed in starlight as I listened to the waves crash and his heart beat.
Runaways Page 30