Journey to the Centre of Myself

by Andie M. Long

  Mirelle manages a smile. ‘I do actually have a few photos…’

  ‘Well there you go then,’ says Jo. ‘Your job will be safe, as long as you can put up with seeing him every day.’

  She sniffles again. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do when I see him. I miss him already.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ I say. ‘Look at me. You’ll soon be back dating.’

  Jo’s lips purse, but she refrains from saying anything. She doesn’t need to. I can see the ‘look where the married man situation has got Mirelle,’ written all over her face.

  ‘Come on now, dry your eyes,’ says Jo. ‘It’s my party tomorrow and I’ve told everyone how beautiful you are, so they’re not expecting someone who looks like a swollen trout.’

  The thought of looking anything less than one hundred percent soon has Mirelle in the toilets, soaking her face in cold water.

  ‘Well, I didn’t see that coming,’ Jo says.

  ‘Me neither.’

  Later that afternoon, as Jo is chatting away about her party, I decide the best way to get Mirelle out of her funk is to get her a hunk for Friday’s do. I’m hoping Adrian can go, but wonder who I could invite for Mirelle. She won’t want a blind date. I pick up my phone and scroll down to Shaun’s number. I’ll get him to send Kevin. He was a complete muppet, but he’ll fawn after Mirelle, which is exactly what she needs. Yes, she’ll make him feel like shit all over again, but at least it will cheer her up. I text Shaun, making out that Mirelle wants to give Kev another chance and that he can be her plus-one at dinner.

  ‘Okay, I’ll find out,’ he texts back. ‘Do you have a date?’

  ‘I do, but thanks,’ I reply.

  ‘No worries. Is it the husband?’

  ‘Not a chance.’

  ‘Didn’t think so. Well, good luck with it all.’

  The guy is so sweet, it’s a shame I’m hooked on another.

  ‘What are you so engrossed in?’ asks Mirelle. ‘I hope it’s not your married man, you’re supposed to be playing it cool.’

  ‘It’s a surprise for you, to cheer you up actually,’ I say. That meets with Mirelle approval. She claps her hands. ‘Oh goody, I hope it’s something fun.’

  The next time she leaves the office, I tell Jo that we’ll both be bringing a guest, but it’s a surprise.

  ‘Oh, Amber. I hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t want any dramas at my party. Christmas is stressful enough.’

  ‘Everyone will be on their best behaviour, I promise. I’ll even help with the washing up.’

  ‘Okay then, if you’re sure?’

  ‘I am. It’ll be a good night, Jo. Thanks for asking me. I’m looking forward to doing something a bit Christmassy.’

  Jo opens her post. ‘That’s okay. It’ll be nice for us all to get together. Oh no,’ she says putting down the card in her hand.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘It’s an acceptance for my party—from Mr Smith. He and his wife are attending.’

  ‘Do not say a word to Mirelle,’ I warn her.

  Jo’s forehead creases. ‘I think it’s better she doesn’t come,’ she says.

  ‘Oh, you can’t do that to her now. She’ll be devastated. I promise it will be okay. I’ll take care of her.’

  ‘All I wanted was a good, jolly, Christmas party.’

  ‘Me too, and you’ll have one. No drama, Scout’s Honour.’

  Chapter 17

  Karen

  Amsterdam - May 2001

  It’s Jo, my colleague’s hen weekend, and she wanted to go to Amsterdam. Who does that? Isn’t it supposed to be a stripper in a nightclub? Not that I fancied doing that either. Anyway, they goaded me into coming, the office, saying my goody-two-shoes image needed sorting out and a trip to the naughty area of Amsterdam would be a start.

  I let them talk me into it and now we’re here. I’m sharing a room with another colleague, Sarah, who smokes a lot and never stops talking. It's day two and we’re all hung-over after a marathon drinking session. I’m not sure how many Tia Maria and Cokes I consumed, but the bathroom loo got a lot of them back.

  There’s a loud knocking at the door and Jo bursts in. ‘Come on girls, it’s time to go for cake.’ She winks at Sarah.

  ‘I don’t think I can eat anything,’ I groan.

  ‘You’ll like this cake, it’ll make you feel better,’ she says and I understand.

  ‘Space cake?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘No, count me out,’ I say. ‘I can’t deal with that right now. I’ve only just finished barfing.’

  After several minutes of trying to encourage me while the other girls gather in our room, she shrugs her shoulders and rounds up the rest of the gang.

  ‘Leave her. She needs to fix her halo. Your dad’s not here now you know?’

  They all know my father’s a Police Sergeant. It was drilled into me when I started going out that I would not drink underage. Obviously, that’s not a problem now, but it is still expected that I will not get arrested for doing drugs, or being drunk and disorderly. It would bring shame on his position. I can’t even tell a lie without remorse. Someone once told me that the nearer you get to a perfect life and reaching heaven, the worse you feel when telling lies and being dishonest. I must be almost there.

  I still live at home at the moment. To be honest, I’m still treated like a twelve-year-old at home. When I said I was going to Amsterdam, I thought they would ask me not to. They can’t even rest while I walk to the bus stop.

  The girls all go on without me and I lie on my bed and stare out of the window. We are in a hotel near Rembrandtplein. I had no intention of getting pissed with the girls again today. Instead, I fancied a day out alone, abroad for the first time. I get ready and head out.

  There’s a statue of the man himself and I walk towards it. He looks thoughtfully at me as if to ask what I’m doing here. I could do with borrowing his hat as it’s a tad windy. There’s not much around this area other than a few cafes. I think a coffee is in order and head to one of them.

  Sitting alone is strange, but I remind myself I only have to stop for a quick drink and then I can escape back to the hotel if I wish and have a nap. Then I get cross with myself. The victim of anxious parents, I’m always looking for a way out, an escape route. I will sit here and I will enjoy this drink, and I might even have a piece of cake.

  A young bloke comes towards me. He is absolutely gorgeous, with really striking blue eyes and short spiky hair.

  ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Erm, I’d like a coffee, please.’

  He writes it down.

  ‘And I’d like some cake, but erm…’

  ‘I’m sorry. We don’t sell that kind of cake here.’

  I redden.

  ‘Oh no, I didn’t mean that. I’m not sure what cakes you do sell.’ I point at the counter.

  He points to the menu. ‘It’s all in here. Let me show you.’ He opens the menu to the dessert page and holds it in front of my face. ‘I recommend the appeltaart. I bet you can work out what that is.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. That would be nice,’ I say.

  ‘Nice. Where on earth are you from, you strange speaking girl?’

  Overwhelmed with embarrassment, I answer him but keep my eyes on the floor.

  ‘I’m English, from Manchester.’

  ‘Right.’

  I decide to brave a glance in his direction. ‘Do you live here, in Amsterdam?’ I ask.

  ‘Well if I don’t, it’s a long way to my work isn’t it?’

  His tone makes me feel stupid. My first time alone in a cafe abroad and I’m hopeless. I can’t order cake and I can’t talk to people like a normal person. I’m such a fool.

  ‘Actually, I’ve just remembered… I-I arranged to meet someone…’

  ‘No, you didn’t. I’m sorry, I embarrassed you. I’m just fooling around. It’s not often a pretty girl like you comes into my cafe. Sit there while I get your coffee and bun—my treat.’
r />   The apple pie is delicious, with its cinnamon flavouring and thick crust, and the coffee is needed to wash it down. I’m disappointed that my waiter is busy serving other tables, and other than catching my eye occasionally and smiling, he’s not been over.

  I get my bag ready to pay, sad that I need to leave, but I don’t want another drink. My head needs some air.

  I pay another waitress and ask her to pass on my tip. She shouts him over, smiling at him.

  ‘Arjan, this lady has something for you.’

  He puts the money in his pocket and looks at me. ‘Well, I’m disappointed it isn’t your phone number.’

  I gasp and he laughs at me again.

  ‘Oh my goodness, you are so innocent. You shouldn’t be wandering around alone.’

  ‘I’m not alone,’ I tell him.

  His face clouds, ‘Oh, who are you with?’

  ‘I’m on a hen weekend. We go back home tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘That’s a shame. I would have liked to have shown you around, show you the best of Amsterdam.’

  Really? He wants to spend time with me? I’d rather be with Arjan than a group of drunken girls.

  ‘I could meet you later, erm, that’s if you want to?’

  ‘How about here, six o’clock?’

  ‘Yes, fine.’ I smile.

  ‘Now tell me your name, lovely lady, so I can whisper it in your ear later.’ He winks at me and I manage not to pink up this time.

  ‘My name is Karen.’

  ‘No, no, that’s too plain for you. You’re Karenza, much better. Now, one final thing.’

  I’m about to ask what but as I open my mouth his lips touch mine. I back away in shock.

  ‘Oh, Karenza, I have so much to show you. Of Amsterdam, of course. I am a gentleman.’

  I leave the cafe, butterflies trying to escape my stomach.

  The girls arrive back at the hotel giggling and either spaced out or drunk.

  ‘You are so going out with us tonight, Princess Pure,’ says Jo.

  My eyes widen.

  ‘Oh my God, you are not, are you? Are you a… virgin?’ says Sarah.

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Oh my God, you so are.’

  Sarah laughs and falls on her bed. The others join in and laugh too.

  ‘No, I’m not and actually, I have a date tonight.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘He’s called Arjan, and he’s meeting me outside Coco’s at six. He works there,’ I add.

  ‘Well, someone didn’t stay in all day...’

  They crowd around me, dropping to sit on our beds and I fill them in.

  ‘Well, we’ll drop you off to meet him on our way out. We need to vet him.’

  ‘I might nick him if he’s hot,’ adds Sarah. ‘I could do with a bonk.’ She sits up. ‘Hey, do you want me to crash with the other girls so you can bring him back here?’

  ‘No,’ I state shocked.

  ‘Oh, I think you’d better bunk in with us, Sarah, just to be on the safe side, and you,’ Jo points at my chest, ‘have a good time.’ She raises an eyebrow at me.

  They’re as good as their word unfortunately and insist on walking to the cafe to drop me off. As soon as they spot Arjan waiting outside they turn and regard each other. Clearly this attractive man is not what they were expecting their nerdy colleague to have landed.

  They all take turns shaking his hand. He looks bemused.

  ‘I promise to take good care of her.’

  ‘Oh dear, perhaps we’d better swap you for another bloke then,’ says Jo.

  ‘Right, well have a good time all.’ I push the nearest to me away.

  ‘We will,’ another girl, Sally, giggles. ‘Make sure you have a good time too.’

  They totter up the street in their stiletto heels, giggling away and they haven’t even started drinking yet.

  Arjan nods toward them. ‘You... came away with that lot?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Crazy girl. I bet they’ve seen nothing of Amsterdam but the inside of bars. Where are they off to tonight?’

  I blush. ‘You know...’

  ‘Oh, look, there’s that little blush I love.’ He touches my cheek. ‘Are they off to the Red Light District by any chance?’

  ‘Yes, and I was so not going there.’

  ‘Who says we aren’t? The night is young yet, Karenza, and you need to escape that prison you appear to have put yourself in.’

  He takes me to the house of Anne Frank, which is now a museum. Within minutes, I am fascinated by the story of this young girl and her diaries and purchase a book to read back home. This is not what I was expecting Arjan to show me and I relax in his company.

  ‘Okay, time for some food and drink now,’ he says, and we head for a bar. We take our place at a table outside.

  ‘Do you trust me?’ he asks.

  ‘I don’t know you.’

  ‘Well, I want you to trust me. After our food, I will take you to the Red Light District.’

  I open my mouth to protest. ‘Karenza, you are too careful, you need to open up, live a little. You will be okay. I’m not going to make you take part in a live show or something you know.’

  I nod, pout and turn away. He says nothing, and then I sense movement. He walks away and goes into the bar. This shocks me. Any other boyfriends I’ve had have tried to placate me if I’ve sulked. Arjan seems indifferent and I don’t like it.

  I sit up, smooth out the skirt I’m wearing and lift it higher so it shows some leg. I need to get his attention back.

  One thing I was not expecting as we enter Rossebuurt, as Arjan terms it, is the beautiful architecture. We walk down streets alongside groups of men, women and couples. The reflection of the neon lights on the buildings glistens on the water. Out of my comfort zone, I move closer to Arjan. He looks at me and takes my hand in his. ‘You’re fine,’ he whispers in my ear. I summon up the courage to stop and look in a window where a small brown haired woman is sat on a chair. She smiles at Arjan. Other men are looking through the window at her and I can hear them egging each other on to go inside.

  I turn to Arjan. ‘This is so weird.’

  ‘No, England is weird,’ he says. ‘The fact you have to sneak around for sex and can be arrested. Here, it’s available for all to see and have. Here,’ he puts my hand on his chest, ‘We are completely open.’

  My heart is beating fast. ‘Let’s carry on walking,’ I say.

  We walk past signs declaring live sex shows and peep shows. There are sex shops selling items that make me squirm just thinking about what they could be for. I think about my friends and wonder what in the hell they’ll get up to tonight. I dread to think where they are and what they are doing.

  It all makes me think of sex and my inexperience; not that Arjan knows that. I’m tingling in places undiscovered and have excitement in the pit of my stomach. I try my best to ignore it.

  ‘Ready to move on?’ he asks and I nod, relieved.

  We move onto Nieuwmarkt Square where we head to a bar and he orders us a bottle of wine. I drink fast as I’m nervous. We chatter on about what I’ve just seen and my impressions of it. The wine makes me bolder.

  ‘You talk to me as if I’m a naïve young girl. I’m twenty. Not innocent. I’m aware of what happens between men and women.’

  ‘Oh I don’t see you as a naïve young girl at all Karenza,’ Arjan says and I note a sensation akin to a slight tickle between my legs.

  ‘Do you have anything else to show me?’ I ask, emboldened by booze.

  ‘I do,’ he says and pulls me to my feet.

  He stands me in front of a cream and red building with Gold Turrets. Its arches and architecture stand out against the usual shop doorways nearby.

  ‘What is it?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s a Buddhist Temple. They built it last year. Quite something isn’t it?’

  ‘Do you like architexture?’ I ask.

  ‘Architexture. Oh dear, I think you’ve had a little too
much wine.’

  ‘I’m fine, ar-chee-tec-ture. See? Perfectly so-berrr.’

  ‘Well, yes, I do like ar-chee-tec-ture. However I need to earn money, so it’s the cafe for me.’

  ‘Well perhaps later you can study it?’

  ‘Yeah, perhaps.’

  He looks down at me. ‘Oh, Karenza, you are so beautiful.’

  I stretch on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

  Then I look him in the eyes.

  He pulls me closer towards him. I can make out his excitement against my thigh. I put my hands around his neck and pull him towards me. Our lips meet. We accidentally smack teeth, so move our lips into alignment. Our tongues tangle in each other’s mouth.

  ‘Do you want to come to mine?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes,’ he whispers, before he blows warm air on my ear, followed by a gentle nibble.

  I thank goodness that Sarah vacated my room and we jump in a taxi, melding together in the back of the cab.

  The ‘Do not disturb’ sign is on the outside of the door and chants of ‘Go Girl’ echo and carry outside the door when the others return. I don’t care. My first time is special and I’m glad I saved it, but it’s lost in repeats as we make love all night long. We sleep spooned, his arms enveloped around me, and I am content until the morning comes and I realise when I leave at lunchtime it will all be over.

  He changes his shift to start at noon and we spend the morning walking, overlooking the water and chatting non-stop. He’ll write, phone, visit, if I’ll do the same. I am hopeful for the future as we make our plans.

  ‘Now I’ve found you, I will never leave you,’ he tells me.

  But Arjan left a lot sooner than either of us realised he would and we were both to blame.

  ***

  I sit on the bed, in my latest hotel room, near the London Eye and Big Ben. With my head against the headboard, I try to gather my thoughts about what I need to do next. My room has an Apple Mac and free Wi-Fi so I can do some internet searching for photography courses. I ring and order a room service lunch as I’m exhausted after my drunken late night, early start and all the travel.