by Jon Rance
‘You OK?’
I turned around and there was a man, well, more of a boy really: early twenties, English, and wearing a pair of camouflage shorts and a white T-shirt with a picture of The Beatles on the front. He was tall and quite gorgeous actually, with long chestnut-brown hair and sparkling blue eyes, but that should have been the very last thing on my mind.
‘Umm . . . well . . . no, not really.’
I almost started to cry, but somehow kept myself together. I didn’t want the first memory of my trip to be me blubbing like a baby outside Bangkok airport. I also didn’t want my first travelling friend to think I was a stereotypical girlie mess who couldn’t handle life on the road.
‘I’m Jez,’ he said, offering me his hand. ‘Jeremy really, but everyone calls me Jez.’ His wrist was full of different coloured bands, which made me feel about a million years old. I used to wear the same friendship bracelets at sixth form and university before the corporate suits and expensive dresses filled up my wardrobe. ‘You must be fresh off the plane and a first-time traveller if I’m not mistaken?’
‘Is it so obvious?’
‘People that white don’t tend to have spent the last year somewhere warm,’ said Jez and we both laughed. He was right. I was hideously pale while he was the colour of golden syrup. ‘I just dropped a friend off, but I’m heading back to my hostel if you want to join me. I know how daunting the first day can be.’
‘Thanks, I’d really love that.’
The next minute Jez and I were on the Skytrain heading into Bangkok. He took me to his hostel on the Khao San Road, helped me check in and luckily I managed to get a bed in his dorm, sharing with two Canadian girls, a Scottish couple from St Andrews who never seemed to be there and an Australian called Scott, who always was. From feeling the loneliest I’d ever felt and like I wanted to head straight back home, tail between my legs, I became happy, relaxed and, with Jez by my side, I toured Bangkok for the next week.
We went to the Chatuchak market, the biggest market in Thailand, which was a crazy maze with tiny bunnies dressed like burlesque dancers, fried maggots and cockroaches, and a myriad of other interesting and repugnant stuff. We visited temples, the reclining Buddha at the Wat Pho Temple, had incredible, if painful, Thai massages and spent time in Patpong, the red-light district. It certainly opened my eyes to a few things you don’t see back in London.
However, the best part of the week wasn’t the touristy stuff, but the evenings Jez and I would spend in bars, drinking, chatting, meeting other backpackers and generally not doing much. I was almost thirty and had spent the last eight years working hard, forging a career and growing up, but suddenly every day felt like Freshers’ Week. Admittedly, I did feel a bit like the weird mature student I used to try and avoid, with the countless stories about her ‘experience’ in India, but, being around all these younger travellers, life felt fun again and as if anything was possible. It was during one of these nights that Jez first asked about Ed.
‘And he didn’t want to come?’
‘Not really his thing.’
We were at a bar on the Khao San Road. It was late and we’d had quite a few already. Despite it being almost ten o’clock, the air was stifling hot, almost like a heavy mass that sat upon us. We were smoking one cheap cigarette after another, an old habit that had somehow come back to me rather easily, and drinking bottles of Singha lager. Jez had on a black Rolling Stones T-shirt and I was wearing a light green dress I’d bought in the market for next to nothing. We looked like all the other backpackers and I loved it. I loved that I felt like a small part of something so much bigger than myself. I was part of a community, a small band of laid-back people experiencing the world together. My stresses in London felt like something from a different lifetime altogether.
‘I don’t understand. Why would he not want to come travelling? It’s the greatest thing in the world. We have our whole lives to make money, settle down and be as boring as our parents. This is the only time we have to really live, experience life.’
‘Because Ed loves his job and thinks travelling is essentially a waste of time. Something graduates do to avoid work for another year.’
‘And you’re going to marry this man?’
I smiled, but inside I was confused and insecure. Even when I said it, I knew it sounded terrible. I was in love with a man who I felt loved his job more than he loved me. I loved a man who didn’t want to travel, experience new things and was happier staying in London and being a weekend person forever.
‘One day,’ I said, but my voice lacked any real conviction.
‘Is that like when you say one day I’m going to learn Spanish, or as in one day we’re all going to die?’
‘As in, one day soon,’ I snapped, but more out of embarrassment than anger.
Maybe I should have defended our relationship more, but something inside of me knew I couldn’t. Not at that moment and definitely not to Jez. Jez the free spirit who played a beat-up old guitar and wrote songs and who one day wanted to be a singer. Handsome Jez who made me feel like I did when I was twenty instead of almost thirty. Jez the musician who unfortunately made me think of my father.
‘You know, Ed wasn’t always so annoyingly pragmatic. After we met at uni, he used to love going on minibreaks. We probably hit every European capital during the first few years of our relationship.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘Then what happened’ was a good question and one, if the truth be known, I didn’t really know the answer to. I met Ed during the last term at university and he literally had me at hello. We went from strangers to dating, to living together in a rented flat within six months. Recently though, the magic had started to fade. During the previous year, as his job became more and more demanding, Ed seemed to stop wanting to do anything and our lives ground to a depressingly settled halt. He used to scoff at the obnoxious middle-aged bankers as much as me, but like everyone who starts making six figures before their thirtieth birthday, he changed. The Ed I loved definitely wasn’t the Ed I’d fallen in love with.
‘Life, I suppose.’
‘And that’s it? Life is boring and that’s OK?’
‘No, but it happens,’ I said, before I added swiftly, and rather condescendingly, ‘You’ll understand one day.’
‘What, so because I’m only twenty-two, I can’t possibly understand?’
I hadn’t meant to say that. I hated people who said things like that. Old people. Boring people. People who had long since accepted that life just became a bit of a slugging match and that’s the way it was. Nothing to see here so go home, pop the kettle on and watch the telly.
‘I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry.’
A pang of anxious fear suddenly clamped itself to my chest, threatening to cause me untold pain until I surrendered. I could feel its razor-like teeth tearing into me. Luckily, before it had a chance to really grab hold, Jez smiled.
‘It’s OK, old lady, you’re forgiven. And speaking of life, I have something to ask you,’ Jez said before he looked away for a moment, his normally caramel-brown cheeks turning a bright shade of red.
‘Sounds interesting.’
‘Please say no if you want, but I’m heading down to the islands for a few weeks and I was hoping you’d come with me. I’ve been in Asia for nearly four months, Thailand for almost two and it’s time to move on, but I fancy a few weeks in the sun first. It’s incredible down there. We can scuba dive, snorkel, visit proper desert islands and I know this great little place. It’s so chilled out. What do you say?’
Maybe I should have said no. Jez and I were getting too close. I could feel the thing that starts to happen when you spend every day with someone of the opposite sex – the inevitability of something sexual. Jez was handsome, fun to be around and I knew he sort of fancied me. I wasn’t being arrogant, but it was fairly obvious. I should have said no, but I couldn’t. Jez was my only friend in Thailand and I couldn’t face being alone. I made the excuse that I’d planned
on heading down there anyway, so I might as well go with Jez, but the truth was I was sort of excited about it. I wanted to spend more time with him and see where it went. It felt dangerous and for the first time in years life felt anything but inevitable.
‘I’d love to,’ I said, and with those three words we started planning the next two weeks. We drank, smoked and spoke about nothing but the present and the future. It felt like I had no past and had just begun to live in that moment with Jez. I’d been in Thailand for less than a week and yet my life back home felt like it no longer existed.
I did end up thinking about one moment from my past as Jez and I walked back to our hostel that night through the warren of market stalls, late-night food stands and neon lights. I thought about the day I asked Ed to come travelling with me.
I’d made us a special meal, bought a nice bottle of red and had everything ready for when he came home from work. He was obviously suspicious as soon as he walked in. It was, after all, a normal Tuesday evening. I was usually camped on the sofa in my pyjamas watching television, not propped up in the dining room, glass of wine in hand and looking creepily nervous.
‘Shit, is it our anniversary or something?’ he said as soon as he walked in.
‘We aren’t married, Ed, and we got together in May. No, it’s something else. Here have a glass of wine.’
I handed him the wine and made him sit down.
‘Are you . . . pregnant?’ His face lit up and I could see he already had the next twenty years planned out in his head.
‘I’m not pregnant. Listen . . . there’s something I want to say and I want you to take it seriously.’
‘OK,’ said Ed, taking a sip of wine.
‘I know we have a great life here, good jobs, a nice house and friends, but I’m not happy and haven’t been for a while.’
‘I don’t understand, Kate. Are you breaking up with me?’
‘I’m not breaking up with you, Ed, you idiot. I love you.’ I took a deep breath and then a large mouthful of wine. ‘I want us to take a gap year and go travelling.’
There, I’d said it. It was out there. My hopes and dreams were hanging tantalisingly by the merest of threads. I waited for his response, which came quickly and resolutely. I’d been thinking about travelling for years, but it took Ed only seconds to stoically squash my dreams.
‘We can’t. It’s impossible.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it just is.’
‘But I have that money from Nan. We could rent out the house for a year to cover the mortgage. Please, Ed, just think about it. We could go to Asia, Australia, South America, wherever we want. Just you and me having the time of our lives . . .’
‘We can’t.’
‘That’s not good enough, Ed. I need more than that. I want us to do something incredible and life changing and you don’t. I need to know why.’
‘Because I have my job. You think they’ll just give me a year off? I’ve worked too hard and too long to give it up, Kate, and honestly I don’t think travelling is that important. We’re not teenagers anymore, we’re almost thirty. It’s time to put down roots.’
‘And you think travelling is just for kids? Some immature rite of passage?’
‘Honestly, yes. It’s what young people do to avoid work, but we already have careers, a proper life, and we can’t just throw that away because you’ve got itchy feet . . .’
‘For fuck’s sake, Ed. Young people, itchy feet, that’s all you think this is? I’ve wanted to travel since I was a teenager and you said we would, remember?’
‘Calm down, Kate, please. Look, if you want to do something we can go away for a few days over Christmas . . .’
‘I don’t want a fucking minibreak, Ed. I want to see the world.’
‘But why do we have to take a year off to do it? Why do I have to give up my job?’
‘Because it’s turning you into a boring old fart, Ed, that’s why and if we don’t do this, I don’t know if we’ll make it.’
‘Oh, here she goes with the emotional blackmail.’
‘It’s not emotional blackmail, Ed, it’s the truth.’
‘Well if I’m such a boring old fart, maybe you should go without me.’
‘Maybe I will.’
‘Good,’ barked Ed.
And that was it. The year was whittled down to six months, but Ed still wouldn’t come. He didn’t see the point. I loved him dearly, but why couldn’t he see it from my perspective? Why couldn’t he realise he was becoming exactly the sort of boorish bloke he used to openly mock? Why couldn’t he leave his shitty job for me? Why didn’t he want to travel and see the world? I suppose what it all boiled down to was – why couldn’t he be more like Jez?
To: Emma Fogle
From: Kate Jones
Subject: I made it!
Em,
I made it! I’m here! The first email from my trip. This is so strange. It reminds me of university when you were in Bristol and I was in London and we used to email each other all the time. Remember how far away that felt? Now I’m in Thailand and you’re in London and it’s even further. I hate being apart from you. I’m going to miss our weekly get-togethers, our chats on the phone, Starbucks on Saturday. Any chance you could pop on a plane and visit? I’m sure Jack wouldn’t mind.
How did the film meeting go? Did you get the part? I have a feeling you did. Shit, Em, imagine if you did and then you became this super-famous film star? My best mate the film star. That would be so crazy. You deserve it though. Just make sure you take me on a few red carpets with you! Did you meet Rhys Connelly? Is he as sexy in real life? I bet he is.
I guess I should tell you something about Thailand. I suppose first I should tell you about Jez. There’s a boy, of course. It isn’t like that though. He rescued me from the airport when I was on the verge of a breakdown. He’s good-looking, but far too young for any shenanigans. Anyway, as you know, I didn’t come away for that sort of thing. I came away for me. And thank you by the way for pushing me and pushing me to do this. It’s terrifying and scary and I’ve probably cried or almost cried more in the last few days than I ever have, but I’m glad I’m here. I just wish you were here too! I wish Ed, you and Jack were all here.
Thailand, well Bangkok I should say, is crazy. One moment it sort of feels like you’re just in a big city and then you see an elephant walking down the street! It’s so weird. It’s really helped having Jez by my side. He seems to know what he’s doing and he takes me off on crazy adventures every day. He’s made the transition easier, especially because I had such a hard time on the plane after leaving you all at the airport and with Ed being, well, Ed. How was he after I left?
I’m still getting my bearings but every day it gets a bit easier. I’m a little homesick and suddenly six months feels like the longest time in the world. It’s also really weird sleeping in a room full of strangers when I’m used to having a whole house, but I suppose I’d better get used to that.
I should probably get going. I’m at an Internet cafe and I have no idea how much this is costing and there’s a little Thai man at the register who keeps giving me strange looks. I’m going to try and email you every week, but I can’t promise anything. Jez and I are heading down to the islands in the south of Thailand next week. It feels a bit weird, travelling with a bloke, but he’s the only person I know and we get on really well. Don’t mention anything to Ed if you see him, I don’t want him getting the wrong idea.
Miss you Em.
Love K x
Ed
The house always felt cramped with Kate there. Her bottles of lotion and moisturiser, hair straighteners and curling tongs forever took up most of the space in the bathroom. Our bedroom always had small piles of her clothes lying around, as if some ancient civilisation had put them there, carefully constructed at key points around the room. The lounge was usually cluttered with dog-eared celebrity magazines and the kitchen always contained at least one slightly coffee-stained mug she hadn’t got aroun
d to cleaning. But now she was gone, it felt so large. The bathroom was mainly empty, the small piles in the bedroom were gone and the lounge and kitchen were clean and spotless. I hated it.
It was a week after she’d left and I was sitting in the lounge trying to watch television, but my mind kept drifting to Kate. I couldn’t stop myself. Everything reminded me of her. Even things that seemed completely unconnected brought me back to her in some way. During the week I’d kept myself busy at work and I’d had drinks with Georgie, plus a quick wet lunch with Jack, but the weekend was biting and cold.
In the month before she left, Kate had hired out the basement of a pub in Islington for her leaving do. To be honest, I didn’t see the point in a big leaving party. It was only six months, but Kate insisted on it. She wanted to get all of her friends, family and co-workers together so we could rejoice in her decision to leave us for six months and bugger off around the world. I’d been dreading it ever since she told me. It felt like she was rubbing salt into an already gaping wound. People still didn’t understand why I wasn’t going and so I’d spend the entire night fielding questions about what this meant to us? Had we broken up? Was I fine with it? How was it going to work, exactly? And really, why wasn’t I going? The truth was I didn’t know how or if it was going to work. I’d been trying my best to avoid thinking about it and I was still holding out hope she would see sense and not leave.
A few days before the party, I found myself walking past a jewellery shop on Wandsworth High Street and suddenly a plan began to take shape. It was like a mini Big Bang and once it exploded I couldn’t stop the ever-expanding universe of ideas, mapping out a perfect future in my head. I stopped and gazed through the window at all the rings and then I saw a man inside. He was around my age, dressed smartly in a bespoke suit and he was buying a ring. He looked so happy and a bit smug and it struck me straight away. Why didn’t I ask Kate to marry me? I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. It would solve everything. I was sure she’d say yes and then maybe she wouldn’t leave or even if she did we’d be engaged instead of just dating and it would mean something. I stopped looking through the window and immediately went into the shop in search of the perfect ring.