by Jo Watson
And the closer I got to the one-year anniversary, the worse it got. I saw him everywhere: on the street, at work, in restaurants. I couldn’t stop wondering when he was coming back to South Africa. He’d said a year, and that’s what it was.
And then one day, while sitting in a coffee shop reading yet another self-help book, I caught the glimpse of someone familiar.
Chapter Seventeen
My heart jumped into my throat and then into my ears where it started beating so hard and fast, that I could no longer hear the clang of spoons against coffee cups and the idle chatter of the people around me.
I scanned the room frantically, looking, hoping, praying, wanting to see Damien. But I didn’t. Instead what I saw was Jess, sitting at a coffee table in all her blunt fringed, faded-pink T-shirted coolness sipping on a tall latte and eating a giant piece of red velvet cake. How was she so thin? If I ate that, Leonard would have to tie me to a treadmill, weigh me down with ten-kilogram weights and beat me for the next week while I ran nonstop without sleep.
Lucky bitch.
Jess looked up from the red velvet calorie hell and a huge smile lit up her face. She put her spoon down and jumped up immediately.
“Oh my God! Lilly!” She shouted so loudly that I’m sure not only the whole restaurant heard, but the entire block, too. She hugged me hard and then pulled back and looked me up and down.
“You look amazing. Wow.”
I felt slightly self-conscious and instinctively ran my hand through my new, shorter hair. “Thanks, I got my hair cut.”
Jess looked me up and down again and then shook her head. “No, it’s not that at all. It’s something else.” She paused for a moment and I could see she was thinking. “It’s your whole vibe, I can’t explain it, but you just look great. Sit! Sit, babes!”
I sat down with her and realized I’d forgotten how much I liked her. She was probably one of the most straight-talking people I’d ever met. There was no bullshit with her, ever. “So how’ve you been? It’s been a year, right?”
“Um…” I was wringing my hands under the table in a desperate attempt not to bleat out the following:
So how’s Damien? What does he look like? Is he still so gorgeous? Is he seeing someone else? Is he in love? Where is he? When is he coming home? Does he know how much I love him and want to have thousands of babies with him and change my surname to his and live happily ever after and have amazing sex all night long and spend the rest of the time cuddling? Huh? Huh? Huh?
So I mustered all of the cool, calm nonchalance I could find and simply said, “I’m fine,” but then straight afterward felt like screaming, NOT!
Miraculously, my talented attempts at feigning nonchalance didn’t stop there, “Mmm, great. Yeah. Just…fine. Totally, so fine.” I nodded and tried to smile, but failed dismally when it felt like my face was made of putty and had a mind of its own. God knows what weird expressions it was contorting into right now.
We sat in silence for a second or two, as Jess stared at me with a suspicious look plastered across her face. And then she leaned toward me, slowly and deliberately, “Okay, I’m just going to say it for you then.”
“What?”
“How’s Damien?” The second the words were out of her mouth my sigh of relief was audible and my whole body relaxed.
“So…” All my pseudo nonchalance had left me and I didn’t care. “How is he? How’s he been? What’s he been doing?”
“Honestly…” She hesitated for a moment and I could see she looked very conflicted. But about what? “What the hell, I’m just going to tell you the truth. I’m not going to lie to you or mince my words.”
My poor little heart did some funny acrobatic maneuvering in my chest before it settled into the rhythm of a galloping racehorse.
I didn’t want to hear this.
He was seeing someone else.
I just knew it.
“He’s terrible,” Jess finally said. “He’s so fucking miserable, he’s become unbearable to be around!”
It took a second to switch gears in my brain. “Really?” The word came flying out and I mentally kicked myself for seeming so happy and enthusiastic about his misery. “I mean, really?” I tried to sound casual this time but the giant smile plastered across my face was not helping to convey that sentiment in the slightest.
“Yep. Since you left he’s just been moping around. To be honest, I love him, to bits. He’s my best friend in the world, but if I have to endure another night of ‘Lilly this’ and ‘Lilly that’ and ‘Lilly the next thing,’ I might beat him.”
This was the best thing I’d heard in almost three-hundred-and-fifty-six, bloody long, depressing, painful days.
“And I’m not saying this to try and make you feel bad or anything. I mean I know you’ve got on with your life and started dating again—”
I cut her off immediately. “I’m not dating anyone!”
Jess looked genuinely confused. “Really?”
“Absolutely not. What gave you that idea?” I felt angry with her for even making that assumption.
“Okay, I’ll be honest again. I’ve been stalking you on Facebook…on Damien’s behalf, though. If I don’t voluntarily go to your profile and scan your wall, he steals my phone and does it himself, since you blocked him. And we saw those pictures of you with that guy, that good-looking blond one that had his arm around you. We just assumed you were a couple, you looked like one.”
I mentally ran through my Facebook photo album in an attempt to figure out what she was talking about. And then I remembered it. That “surprise” blind date, when Sue had taken those pictures and shouted out, in a very not-so-subtle fashion, “Put your arm around her, Brad.”
I was mortified then, and I was mortified now.
“I…I wasn’t dating him, well, sort of…just a little…” Great! My nervous stutter made an untimely return. “I mean, we were kind of, but…not really, we only went on a few dates, but I didn’t really like him.”
“Well Damien thought you did. In fact, it couldn’t have come at a worse time for him. He was just about to fly out to South Africa and then he saw those pictures, and, well…”
I gasped. I couldn’t believe it; Damien had been planning to come to South Africa. The timing couldn’t have been more horrid if that bitch Karma, the evil movie producers and writer wench had sat down around a table and conspired together. I mentally cursed Sue for her new obsession with Instagram, and this uncontrollable urge she now possessed to take photos of everyone and then post them on Facebook.
I could only imagine what Damien must have thought when he saw those pictures.
“Why…why was he coming to South Africa?” I finally managed to ask.
I looked at Jess as she moved a piece of red velvet cake around her plate, which left a thick snail-like trail of icing behind it.
“He wanted to get you back.”
“Shit!” I put my head in my hands. “But he’s coming back soon isn’t he?”
Jess shook her head. “He’s decided not to come back.”
Her words stung me. “What? Why?”
“He doesn’t think he has anything to come back to. I think that at the back of his mind he was hoping you guys would get back together.”
Everyone and everything in the coffee shop disappeared in that instant. I took in the full implications of those words.
Damien was not coming back to South Africa.
I would never see him again.
There was no chance for us.
It’s amazing what an impact social media can have on our lives. One photo of me—taken at the wrong time, and with bad hair—goes viral for the world to see; a few innocent photos of me with some guy I didn’t even like has the power to stop Damien dead in his tracks. “So where’s he now?” I asked Jess while waving the waiter down. I needed cake.
“He’s in Japan, but he’s going to Thailand tomorrow, it’s Burning Moon again.”
*FLICK!
The sound
of a light bulb turning on.
The sound of clarity.
Brilliant, shiny clarity.
The same kind of clarity I’d had when I decided to go on my honeymoon alone.
“Where…where is it going to be?” I was getting fired up now and got up from my chair.
“Not sure, the map hasn’t gone out yet.”
“How do I get a ticket?”
Jess looked at me for a moment before her face lit up. “That’s a brilliant idea. Please, please save me from the torture of having a miserable best friend and for God’s sake go and get him. Please. I beg you.”
“I need a ticket. Can I come with you?”
“Sharon and I aren’t going this year. But I can get you one.” Jess jumped up and grabbed me by the shoulders. “And please, when you get there, have sex with him as soon as possible—”
“Jess!” I hissed at her, looking around to see if anyone had heard.
“Sorry,” Jess said. “But I think if a man goes without sex for a whole year it makes him mad. So go and do something about it! For all of our sakes. Please.”
I smiled at Jess; she had such an elegant way with words. “Fine! I’ll do something about it.”
“Oohhh.” She playfully slapped me on the arm. “The new and improved, non-prudish Lilly. I like it. You’re a nasty gurl.”
And then her face changed and her expression became serious for the first time ever. I’d never seen her like this before.
“He’s crazy about you, Lilly. Completely head over heels. I’ve known Damien since we were kids riding our bicycles up and down the street. We’ve been through a lot together and I know him better than anyone on this planet—and that’s why I know you guys are perfect for each other. So go and get him, hot stuff!”
Chapter Eighteen
My mother said something to me once. Well, she’d burbled something to me in a somewhat slurred-sounding voice with the half-closed eyes of a mad, drunken woman, while trying to pick herself up off the floor. (It was a delightful sight, which is probably why her words have stuck with me through all the years.)
“Sometimes in order to move forward, you have to go back to the beginning again.” *Hiccup
At the time I’d paid her no heed. I thought these words, just like all the others, were nothing more than the intoxicated ramblings of my liquored-up mother—the actress who talked incessantly, but never said a single thing. But now, holding a ticket to Thailand in my sweaty hand once again, almost a year to the day, I got it. There I was, right at the beginning all over again. The trip had been very easy to sell to my family and friends this time—they practically pushed me onto the plane when I told them what I was doing. I’m pretty sure I heard Val and Sue breathe a collective sigh of relief, a heavy sigh that had been an entire year in the making.
Walking through the airport again felt strange—sort of familiar, and yet totally different this time. I was different. For starters, I wasn’t wearing any sleeping garments, but most importantly I wasn’t scared shitless that my life was falling apart and that I was alone.
I had learned that life is a game of improvisation—how you have to adapt to the unforeseen circumstances and roll with the punches. But I also learned that as you go, you learn to defend yourself. Until you get stronger, and faster and better.
I felt better.
I managed to get onto the plane this time without causing delays and incurring the dirty death stares of the other passengers. Bizarrely, I was sitting in almost exactly same place as the last time. As I buckled up, I couldn’t help myself and immediately looked down the aisle in the direction that Damien had been sitting before, on the off (far, far remote off) chance that Fate would have brought him back to me that easily, but she hadn’t.
Everyone around me was settling in nicely now as the plane reached its cruising altitude. Books were opened, iPads were turned on and TV screens fired to life. But as they were watching their movies and reading their novels, I was playing a totally different kind of movie in my head, over and over again.
It went a little something like this.
I arrive at Burning Moon, looking gorgeous, of course, and I immediately go to find Damien, who was no doubt already settled into his favorite moon-watching spot. I walk up to him confidently and call out his name. As he turns, our eyes lock and he smiles at me—that slightly crooked, sexy, sideways, naughty-boy grin that is his trademark.
He was wearing black—faded, torn and slightly creased black. His hair would have grown a bit, and it would be messy. I would smile back at him, and then I would run and jump into his arms. We would hug, and tell each other that we loved each other and that we no longer wanted to be apart. We would kiss and it would be amazing. The moon would slowly start turning red in the distance and we would make love (and not for Jess), and that would be it.
Simple. Damien and I would be together.
End of movie. Roll credits. Applause.
I played this through a few more times in my mind’s eye, each time adding a little something extra here and there as I went. By the third rerun Damien wasn’t wearing a shirt, by the fourth he was completely naked—followed by several other variations of that scenario, which I’m not sure I should share with you. Just use your imagination…it was a very long flight, okay? But somewhere around the sixth rerun I think I managed to fall asleep.
* * *
I woke up with a fright after a series of X-rated dreams about Damien and the feeling that my stomach had just fallen onto the floor and rolled to the other side of the plane. I opened my eyes and looked around, only to see fright and shock plastered across everyone’s faces as they clutched onto each other and looked around wide eyed.
“Please would everyone go back to their seats and buckle their seat belts, we will be experiencing some turbulence as we approach the airport, due to a large storm. There is nothing to worry about, so if everyone could please stay calm.”
Great!
Now this, right here, is why I’m not a fan of flying. Sardine can in a storm, that’s what we were. I braced myself for what can only be described as a rollercoaster of hell; we bounced and dropped and shook and shimmied. And then I did it—I started to imagine my untimely death, nose-diving out of the sky, or being hit by a bolt of lightning. If I died today I would only have one regret.
Damien. Or, more specifically, not being with Damien.
I’m not sure what I believe in, but I threw some prayers out into the universe—one to each deity, just in case—and vowed that if I was spared, I would give more to charity, not throw my old clothes out and rather give them to the homeless and, of course, I would find Damien and never let him go again.
We finally landed safely and the whole plane, including myself, clapped enthusiastically. You could feel all the passengers sigh with relief as the mood instantly changed—the realization that you are no longer potentially going to die can do that to a person. I looked out the window. Holy wow, they weren’t joking when they said it was storming. The rain was pelting down in thick, heavy sheets and the whole world was wet and glistening. It reminded me of my first night with Damien in the storm. I had thought about that night so many times over the past year. I hadn’t wanted to forget a thing about our time together. I’d often imagined him down to the minutest detail.
The plane came to a stop and I jumped up and grabbed my bags speedily this time, eager to disembark as quickly as humanly possible. My destiny was out there after all, and I needed to go find it and claim it.
The airport was exactly as I remembered it, but this time, as I walked past the guards they smiled at me. No one pounced or took my photo or pointed or stared. I went through customs without incident but just as I was about to exit, I heard a familiar voice call my name.
“Leelee.” The Thai accent was unmistakable and I knew exactly who it was the second I heard it.
“Hi!” I turned around and came face-to-face with the smiling faces of the two guards from the year before, Ang and Ginjan. It was uncann
y how all of this was playing out as if it was an exact repeat of the previous year—except this time I wasn’t being dragged off in handcuffs, looking (and I suspect smelling) like a hobo.
“You come back!” Ginjan said with such enthusiasm that it seemed to be our cue to start hugging each other like long lost friends—which I guess in a way we were.
“I did.” I said, half-squeezed to death in Gin’s surprisingly grip. “You become famous last year after you left airport.”
“Yes, your picture was everywhere, and we all say, ‘we know that girl,’” Ang added.
Yes, the infamous photo had quickly developed a life of it’s bloody own, even after I’d returned to SA, and there was no stopping it, from Patagonia to Papua New Guinea. It was everywhere.
The picture was finally forgotten and my five minutes of infamy were over.
“So you have boyfriend now?” Ang asked me.
I shook my head. “No.”
“So you and that other guy just become friends?”
“Which other guy?”
Ang pointed in the direction of the door. “The one that was just here. The one you with last time. The thin one?”
My heart started racing—could it be true?
“Damien?”
Ginjan nodded. “Yes. One with tattoos and dark eyes.”
My adrenalin spiked and my whole body woke up instantly. “Damien was here?”
I looked in the direction that Ginjan had pointed, but couldn’t see him.
Ang nodded and looked at her watch. “Only five minutes ago. He went through customs and Ginjan and I say to each other, ‘Yes, we know him.’”
“What?” My shriek startled them, and some other tourists who were standing too close, too.
My new set of BFFs looked curiously at me. “This is good or bad thing?”
“It’s good. Very good! I came here looking for him.”
Ang and Ginjan both looked at me with doe eyes and then said a few things to each other in Thai. Before I knew it, they’d grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me across the airport whispering.