In less than two hours, we had drawn a viable working schematic, agreeable to all, that detailed designated responsibilities.
“I vote Patrick in charge of overall organization,” I said. “Who seconds the motion?”
All hands shot up, unanimously everyone agreed. Patrick beamed at the vote. I could tell he was delighted to be named chief-in-charge, a position I knew he’d claim no matter what, so I had figured why not make it official? We then decided to make Debs in charge of all correspondence between us and the delegates all over the world.
So far, so good. Nobody said ‘boo,’ so I continued, turning my attention to Neil, a wiry man in his late twenties with shoulder-length golden brown hair. “As Neil is our computer whiz and amazing at graphics, it’s a no-brainer that he should head all the artwork and technical stuff to make us look sharp during our presentations.” His tentative smile and nod was adorable. Debs was protective of him because he reminded her of Dr. Spencer Reed on Criminal Minds, and he was adorable when he smiled. But I could see why he wasn’t going to the United Kingdom.
“Fern should be in charge of research, editing and the final proofreading of anything before it goes to print,” Patrick said. I was genuinely surprised that he had managed to stay silent this long.
I knew Fern quite well. She liked to talk about herself and did just that at every opportunity. There wasn’t a soul who didn’t know that she had a graduate degree in English Literature with a minor in Dramatic Arts, and that she had aced both, naturally. We had all been invited to attend the comedy club where she did stand-up too. As my editor, she was able to tweak my composition in such a way that even I was amazed at how smart and witty I sounded after all was said and done, and she had a wicked sense of humor. But her most valuable skill on this project was that she was a pro at training staff in public speaking. One session with Fern and you’d be cured of saying, “Um, er, or ah,” or else.
“I’ll be around for the dress rehearsals if you need,” Fern said.
Debs smirked. “We need,” she said. “Promise you’ll get Janalyn to slow down, enunciate and not go off on too many tangents and you’ll get huge praise from me.”
I cast a sideways glance at Debs, but didn’t get into it with her.
“One last point: Debs has taken minutes today, but we need someone to do it regularly. Any takers?”
Patrick and Fern’s hands shot up at the same time. “I’ll leave it to you two to decide. You can take turns, whatever, as long as I have something to hand Marcus after the meeting.”
We adjourned with everyone on the same page. It was helpful that there weren’t any hard feelings where Debs and I were concerned. Having Patrick in our court had set the tone. The other three members did not gripe about being passed over for the travel, at least not in our presence.
Debs and I were the last to leave the room. I turned off the lights, feeling brighter than I had in years. This new challenge took my mind off introspection. It was already proving to be rewarding, and we were only getting started. Just wait until Debs and I landed on British soil.
“Look out dear sweet United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland,” I said to Debs. “Janalyn Melody Jacobs and Deborah Foster-Baker are headed your way.” If my grin was any wider, the corners of my mouth would reach my ears.
Debs grinned back. “Heaven help the Brits then.”
Day One had flown by at top speed. Only one hundred sixty one days left to go.
Our lives had become filled with routine: Marcus left us memo after memo, but with our exuberance, even he couldn’t succeed in pissing us off. We were nearly there. I wrote a report detailing the harsh statistics, interventions, outcomes, and what we were doing in America to address the obesity crisis within major corporations. I explained how our strategies might be applied to the entire population with the long-term goal being cutting healthcare costs. Debs concentrated on what we could bring to Europe, how business leaders in both the U.S. and Europe could work together and find ways to improve the lifestyle choices of the general public.
Fern had me recite my presentation until my throat was sore, but to her credit, I had memorized my spiels and delivered my lines with better diction than I had ever thought possible. She was a miracle worker. When she was certain Debs and I were ready, she let Patrick and Neil have their final say before announcing to us all that the full dress rehearsal was scheduled.
“We can have access to an empty conference room, fully equipped, anytime you want,” Neil said.
“Good work, Neil,” Patrick said. “Tomorrow at ten sharp we meet to tape the girls’ presentations. Fern can fine-tune anything that doesn’t work.”
“Pat, that’s fine, but we’ll need any staff you can gather to act as our audience participation,” Debs added.
“Already done,” he said. “You’ll have everyone on hand. I also took the liberty to plant questions, so be sure to allow ample time for Q and A.”
“No problem, we’re all set,” I said, glancing over at Debs, who nodded. I then turned my attention back to the whole group. “Any questions?”
All the heads shook no. I treated them all to my most inspiring smile.
“All right, then. If there isn’t anything else, let’s go over it one more time,” I announced. “From the top.”
CHAPTER 6
Judging by the time Debs and I left the office, I must have flown home. My suitcase was already open and filled on the bed in my guest room. For the past few weeks, I had packed items as I thought about them. It wouldn’t be easy to fall asleep at this rate, but who needed sleep when there was this whole other land to conquer across the pond? I checked and rechecked I had my passport. The pictures of the USA that made up an American passport sure were pretty, and soon I’d have my first foreign stamp from an authentic Dublin customs agent. I hardly recognized the sullen woman in the photograph compared to the cheerful person I had become. I’d hardly thought about Faith; that alone was a blessing. In fact, as I thought about downtime in the UK, I grew more determined to add British birds to my lifetime tick-list.
Bird-watching was a hobby I’d inherited from my paternal grandparents. When they were alive, their interest in plants and animals, especially birds, had bordered on the fanatical, especially Grandpa. Many happy days were spent searching for some rare bird along scenic paths all over New York, New Jersey, Connecticut and Pennsylvania, long before I met Faith. With renewed vigor, I vowed to pick up where I had left off.
The house phone rang. I answered on the first ring.
“I’m so ready,” Debs said, her voice at least an octave higher. “You?”
“Absolutely. Let’s go through the checklist.”
“Okay, I’m glad Marcus sent all the bulky pamphlets and other stuff via airmail. I forgot to mention that I checked with guest services, and they received it all, thank God. I have my flash drives, backup CDs and a master copy of the really important printouts,” Debs said.
“Me too. It’s all backed up on my computer, e-reader, tablet and phone.” I glanced over again to be sure everything was where it should be.
“Overkill, but good thinking,” Debs said.
“I’m packed.”
“So am I.” Debs took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I was tempted to do likewise. “Here goes,” she said. “Besides formal wear, dresses, suits, and all that, are you sure you have ample sightseeing attire?” Leave it to Debs to worry about the leisure portions of our trip.
“Check,” I said as I fingered through the items in my suitcase, being careful not to mess up my neat packing job.
“Running shoes, decent sport socks, Band-Aids?”
“Check.”
“Good. Shorts? Bras, underpants, socks, pantyhose, toothbrush, paste, soap, a raincoat—?”
“I know how to pack. What are you, my mother?�
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She laughed. “Heaven forbid. Okay, but one last and most important thought: be prepared, ’cause you never know when a fuckable babe might fall right in your lap. Make sure you have every single necessity for super-duper sex. Now that’s not something your mother would say, would she?”
“Goodnight, Debs,” was all I said.
“Night, night.”
My cheeks felt flushed. I had not been in the meat market for so long, I’d passed my sell-by-date. But just in case, as an afterthought, I packed my brand-new and barely used “pussy pouch” that housed condoms, lube, and a vibrator, turning an even brighter shade of pink as I thought about Debs’s remark.
Snapping a rubber glove before shoving it into the bag prickled my flesh in a most pleasing way, thinking about the kinkier stuff I used to enjoy with Faith. I packed the pouch and gloves into the suitcase between clothes and prayed my case wouldn’t be chosen for inspection. I zipped it shut, wheeled it by the door, and was more than good to go.
Tomorrow seemed like a lifetime away as I crawled into bed. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this animated. I drifted off to sleep dreaming of English pubs, Eliza Doolittle, and my mom singing along to “My Fair Lady” during my youth.
I woke before the alarm clock, did a few last-minute chores, and made sure all the appliances were unplugged. The taps weren’t leaking, the toilet wasn’t running and the lights were all off. I had stopped my mail days before and had given my plants to a neighbor who didn’t mind watering them, and at this point, I couldn’t think of anything else to do. So I called my parents to say good-bye—again. A glutton for punishment, I listened while my mother made sure I knew everything there was to know about staying safe and being careful.
I stopped her mid-sentence. “Mom, staying safe and being careful are virtually the same.”
“I know that, darling,” she said, “but you can never be too careful—”
“Or safe,” I interrupted.
“Exactly,” she said. “You’ll be in a strange country. Make sure you know where you’re going at all times, and be aware of your surroundings. Don’t get lost. No daydreaming.”
“They speak English in England,” I said pointedly. “And I doubt I’ll venture too far from the convention center. If I do, I’ll be with Debs or on a guided tour.” Daydreaming? I hadn’t done that since grade school.
“Good girl. Wait, Dad wants to say something.” She put him on the phone.
“Hi honey. Have fun and be sure to say ‘blimey,’ ‘quite right,’ and ‘cheerio,’” he joked.
“Okay, Dad. Will do.”
Mom must have leaned in even closer to the mouthpiece, knowing her, but she raised her voice anyway. “We love you. Don’t forget to text as soon as you land, and call once you get your English phone.”
“Love you both. Be good, and send hugs to the gang for me.”
“Your brothers are already jealous. Baby sister is going to Europe.”
“Don’t rub it in, or I’ll have a huge price to pay when I get back. Just tell them I’ll bring home souvenirs. Lots.”
“We will. Shoot us e-mails every now and then. Don’t forget.”
“Stay well. And Dad, don’t forget your water pill.”
“Janalyn, you just worry about yourself. Make sure you—”
“I know, I know. Love you. Gotta go now. Bye.”
I texted Debs, who I knew must be in the airport limo car that was picking us up by now.
On your way? Jx
Almost there. Calm down.
Who says I’m not calm?
I know you. Now chill.
I need a drink.
Soon. After check-in, my treat.
You’re a pal. :)
I put my phone back in my bag. Remembered my camera and threw it in there too. The camera on my iPhone was good, but my digital took sharper pictures and was much easier to download.
I couldn’t stand the wait. In around seven hours, we would be in Ireland. Add two and a half hours until we landed at Bristol Airport and another two-or-so-hour drive, and we’d be in Devon. I looked up the weather report for Torquay on my phone, then locked up and took the elevator down to the lobby, and just in time too: Debs was waving from the tinted back window of a limousine that had just pulled up.
“Hello there. Is that all you’re taking?” she asked as she stepped out. “One suitcase and a carry-on?” She looked dumfounded.
“Yeah, why?”
“Don’t look now, but I have two suitcases, a carry-on and my handbag. Are you sure you’ll have enough to wear?”
“Are you kidding me? They have laundry service and shopping centers. I am positive I won’t be naked, even if I don’t do a wash.”
Our driver was grumpy for a man who would eventually expect a decent tip, but at least he hefted my suitcase into the trunk.
“What’s with Smiley?” I said, nodding toward our driver.
“Beats me, but it may have to do with the weight of my bags.”
“What could you possibly need to warrant two cases?”
“I’m prepared for any scenario. How did you fit everything all in one case?”
“I’ve got talents.”
“Yeah, right.”
As I settled into the backseat next to Debs, we squeezed hands and bounced around in our seats like schoolgirls.
“I checked earlier.” I told her. “Local weather reports show England is enjoying an unusually warm and sunny summer, with very little precipitation expected.”
We high-fived, and with it, any hope at sophistication flew right out the open window.
As our limo driver left Manhattan Island for JFK International Airport, he spoke in broken English, thickly accented, that sounded like it came from one of the many countries of Eastern Europe.
“We’ll take bridge; tunnel back-up,” he grunted.
“Fine, whichever way you think best,” Debs said. I let her take the lead.
But as we approached the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge, my entire body tensed up. I should have insisted on the Midtown tunnel, even if the traffic was lighter on the bridge. Too late. To my disbelief, I started shaking at the sight of it. I shouldn’t be so traumatised by something as mundane as the bridge I proposed to Faith on. But I hadn’t been near that bridge since that night Faith broke my heart. Debs grasped my hand between both of hers, tightening her grip to steady me. I didn’t let go until we were off the bridge and traveling south on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. I finally relaxed when I could see the Atlantic Ocean from the car window; the view from Belt Parkway heading east had a calming effect. I managed to tell myself that we were going to have a blast in England.
Luckily the flight was uneventful, a few turbulent spots aside. At one point, it got so bumpy I didn’t think a lap belt would provide a strong enough hold. I watched two and a half mediocre movies, ate whatever they put in front of me, and couldn’t read more than a sentence or two before my mind wandered. Debs had to pinch me a few times for reassurance we were really flying to Europe.
By the time we landed at Dublin Airport, I was happy to walk the long passages toward to the exit, once I could get my frozen muscles to unthaw and I could walk properly.
“I told you to get up and walk up and down the aisles,” Debs scolded, when I kept wobbling.
“I know—next time.”
“Are you okay otherwise?”
“Aye, I’m a wee bit tired,” I said, imitating the local dialect poorly.
Debs was busy keeping her eyes peeled for exit signs and directions.
I meanwhile, found it hard to walk a straight line, no matter what I had told Debs.
“Are you drunk already?” Debs said, her voice sounding playful and very, very New York in this airport full of lilting I
rish accents.
“Aye, high on life.”
“Stop saying ‘aye’!”
“Aye.” I popped a piece of chewing gum into my mouth and offered Debs one, which she accepted. I was grinning while I chewed with my mouth open.
“No cracking, or I’ll leave you here to your own defenses,” Debs warned while fumbling in her handbag. Between her wheeled carry-on, a leather satchel, and a plastic bag of snacks and magazines she’d purchased after check-in at JFK, I couldn’t figure how she could juggle it all.
“What are you looking for?” I asked. “You don’t really expect to find anything in there, do you?”
“Our itinerary. Just checking that we have enough time to hit a local bar.”
I produced mine out of my breast pocket. “We do. Now let’s get us a proper Guinness.”
We rolled our carry-on luggage, speed-walking on the cool moving sidewalks as we headed outside. My first breath of European air was damp, but I still found it refreshing; it beat recycled airplane air. It wasn’t raining, but the fine mist was like walking through a cloud. I spotted a five-star hotel within walking distance. “Let’s head over there.”
Debs craned her neck in the direction I nodded, “That looks good. Let’s.”
We stepped into the lobby. “This place looks fancy enough,” Debs said. “I’d prefer a traditional Irish pub, but this will do as a second choice. Lead the way.”
That’s just what I did, and we soon found ourselves at the bar; it wasn’t empty. “My treat.” I glanced at the menu. “Four euros each? What’s that in dollars?”
“Don’t worry, I got it,” Debs said.
“All right. I’ll buy in Torquay, then.”
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