Burning the Map

by Laura Caldwell

  At last, John pulls back, wiping at the tears with one swipe of his hand. “I’ll be okay, Case. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I’ll call you when I get home. We’ll go to lunch, or dinner, or—”

  “You’d better go now,” he interrupts, but he says this softly. When I hesitate, he whispers, “Please.”

  “You’re sure?” I ask, wondering what else I can do to help him, help me. I feel completely out of control. This is it. This is it.

  John nods, squeezing my hand.

  “Okay,” I say.

  I stand for one last moment gazing at the person who’d been a family member, a friend and a lover for most of my short adult life. And now he would be none of those things. Just like that.

  28

  I walk aimlessly for an hour or so, the sharp whites and blues of the town taking on a warm orange glow as the sun sets west of the village. I’m not really sure where I’m going or what I’m going to do. I just know that I’m afraid to slow down.

  It’s over, I keep telling myself. It’s done. I no longer have a boyfriend, a significant other, a lover. John is no longer a part of my life. I’m stunned by the speed of the events. I can’t stop seeing his face, the tears spilling from his eyes.

  At some point I concede defeat to the blisters forming on my feet, and find my way back to the Carbonaki. By the time I get there, Kat and Sin are getting ready to go out for the night, music blaring from my CD player.

  “What happened to you?” Sin asks, looking alarmed at my tear-stained face and puffy red eyes. She crosses the room and turns off the music.

  I slump on my bed and lie back. “I broke up with John.”

  “Whoa!” I hear Kat say. “What happened?”

  I sit up again and look at them. “He proposed first, and then we broke up.”

  “Jesus,” Sin says.

  Kat sinks on the bed across from me. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  I shake my head. “He had this beautiful ring. I don’t know if he brought it with him or bought it here, but he said he wanted to get married, and he promised he would change. He looked so hopeful, holding out this box.” I stop for a breath.

  “What did you do? What did you say?” Kat asks.

  “I actually thought about it. I thought maybe things could change, maybe I could be happy with John for the rest of my life. Then I realized I wasn’t in love with him the way you should be when you get engaged.”

  “Did you tell him that?” Sin says.

  “I just told him we weren’t right together, and nothing was going to change that.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “He’s crushed, and I’m crushed that I did it to him.”

  “So where is he?” Kat looks around, as if John might walk in the door at any minute.

  “He’s down at the dock waiting for the boat to Athens. He won’t stay the night, and he won’t let me wait with him.”

  “Wow.” Sin shakes her head, gazing at me as if she can’t tear her eyes away. “How do you feel?”

  “Terrible,” I say. “Terrible that I had to make him so sad, and terrible because I’m going to miss him so much. But…” I flop back on the bed again, my mind reeling.

  “But what?” Kat says.

  “It’s just that I knew it had to happen. I knew it was right to break up.”

  “Well, that’s the most important thing,” Kat says. “You have to be sure.”

  “I’m sure, but if you could have seen his face—” I start crying again. “It just killed me.”

  They fuss over me, and I give them the War and Peace version of John’s proposal. We discuss the issue from every possible angle and the conclusion is always the same: You did the right thing.

  “So, girlfriend,” Sin says after the thirtieth rehashing. “What do you want to do tonight? What will make you feel better?” She tousles my hair.

  “I can’t go to the bars. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Well, then how about I get a bottle of wine, and we’ll sit by the pool?” Kat says.

  “That sounds perfect, but I have to make a call first.”

  It’s the crack of dawn in Chicago, yet my father answers the phone with a chipper, “Rich Evers!”

  “Dad,” I say. “It’s me, Casey.”

  “Casey, honey. Are you still in Europe? Is anything wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I say, arranging myself on a hard wooden chair in the lobby of the Carbonaki. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “You’re not bothering me, sweetie,” he says, and then adds, after a moment, “I was worried when I got your message.”

  “Are you having an affair?” I blurt out. I just have to know. A young couple that is passing by me looks alarmed as I say this, and they stick to the other side of the hall.

  “An affair?” he says, sounding amused. “Of course not. Who would I have an affair with?”

  “Little Miss What’s-Her-Bucket. Your assistant.”

  “Ms. Hamlin?” He sounds entertained at the thought. “No, Casey. I’m not having an affair. Not with Ms. Hamlin or anyone else.”

  “Then why are you and Mom getting a divorce?”

  I hear him exhale loudly, as if buying himself some time to compose an answer. “Your mother and I haven’t had much of a relationship for years. Nothing could make it better, and I decided that life is too short to live like that.”

  “A bit selfish, isn’t it?” I ask, thinking of my mother by herself in the big rambling house.

  “Well, yes. I suppose it is selfish, but Casey, I don’t know that you can understand what it’s like to be in your fifties and realize that the majority of your life has passed you by, and you barely noticed it.”

  “What are you talking about? You have a great job, great family, lots of friends.”

  “Yes.” He paused. “But there are so many other things I wanted for my life, too.”

  “Like what?” I ask, surprised by his words. He’s always seemed like the content suburban family man. Or perhaps I never really looked past that.

  “Well, did you know that I wanted to be a musician?”

  “I know you played guitar in college.” In my mind, I see a black-and-white photo of my dad at a university party, guitar in hand, a group of coeds in front of him.

  “I did play back then, and I always wanted to be in a real band and to write music. Then I got the job at the bank, and I married your mother, and we had kids. I kept thinking I would get back to it, that I would pick it up again, but the years flew by, and I never seemed to have the time.”

  “I didn’t know you were so unhappy,” I say, the bitterness creeping back into my voice.

  “Not unhappy. Just maybe unfulfilled.” He exhales loudly again. “Listen, I know you’re not asking for any words of wisdom from your old man, but if I could give you any advice it would be this—make all your minutes count, every last one of them. And start now because, honey, while the possibilities may seem endless, the time sure isn’t.”

  “Geez, Dad, I didn’t know you were such a poet,” I joke, unaccustomed to his tone. He doesn’t respond. “Guess what?” I say then, feeling the urge to confide. “There’s another breakup to report.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I broke up with John tonight.”

  “Tonight? I thought you were on that trip with your girlfriends.”

  I explain about John’s arrival, as well as his subsequent proposal and departure.

  “So,” I say, when I’ve finished the tale, “maybe we could start hitting the bars on Rush Street together.”

  My father laughs, sounding relieved to hear my attempt at humor, but it stops abruptly. “Are you all right, hon?”

  “I’m going to be fine. It had to happen.”

  “Yes,” my father says. “I know what you mean.”

  The hall phone starts to make clicking noises and a Greek woman’s voice comes on, telling me, I assume, to deposit more money.

  “I gotta go, Dad,” I s
ay.

  “Okay, sweetie. Call me when you get home. And Casey, please know that I will always take care of your mother.”

  “I know you will.”

  “And you make sure you take care of you.” He sounds a little choked up, but it could be the connection.

  Kat, Lindsey and I sit at the edge of the hotel’s pool, drinking wine out of the bottle.

  “My dad says he’s not having an affair,” I tell them.

  “Do you believe him?” Sin says.

  I think about this for a moment. “I do. I think I was looking for a reason for their split, something concrete and obvious, but it turns out it’s not that simple.”

  “What do you mean?” Kat takes a sip of the red wine, her chestnut hair falling over her shoulders as she does so. “If it’s not an affair, then why?”

  “He said they haven’t had a good relationship for a long time, which is true. He didn’t see it getting any better, and wants more out of life than that.”

  “Sort of like you and John,” Kat says.

  Her words startle me. I’m not like my parents. Yet she’s right. I want more from a relationship than I could ever get from John.

  We spend the rest of the night talking, talking and talking, about everything and nothing. We decide to leave for Athens the next morning and spend our last few days there, seeing the Acropolis and the rest of the sights.

  Later, despite the infusion of wine, I’m unable to sleep. My mind whirs over the last few weeks and spins on to those upcoming. Soon I’ll be practicing law, living a nine-to-five existence, like you’re suppose to when you grow up. It’s not the hours that bother me, though. It’s the drudgery of the law. A science of semantics, of crossing t’s and dotting i’s, built one case on top of another. But maybe it will be more than that, I tell myself. Surely it will be more exciting, more fulfilling.

  I want to sleep, but I keep hearing the note of regret in my father’s voice as he described hopes lost. Don’t let that happen to me, I pray to whatever God might be tuning in, please don’t let that happen to me.

  29

  Sin shakes me awake. “The boat leaves in two hours, Case. Let’s go so we can get tickets and a good seat.”

  I struggle to sit up, groggy from the few hours of sleep I was able to muster. I finish packing, but when I’m done I realize that I’ve left a book and my black dress in the room John and I stayed in. I let myself in with quiet, cautious footsteps, as if something of John might have lingered there. The room is barren, the air stuffy with the windows closed. I collect my dress and book, and I stand staring at the bed, feeling the smoothness of John’s skin as he held me the last night. I’ll never feel that again—at least not with John.

  “Case!” I hear Kat calling from down the hall. “Let’s go!”

  I move to the doorway, but I can’t seem to get any farther than that, nor can I tear my eyes away from the bed, seeing John and me in sweet embraces over the years.

  “Casey!” I hear again. “We have to go.” I finally turn, and slowly I shut the door.

  “You okay?” Kat and Lindsey keep asking me as we walk to the dock, joining a parade of other travelers lugging suitcases and backpacks.

  “Just thinking,” I tell them, but I stay silent.

  I feel like a prisoner being led to execution. Sure, Athens will be fun, but it’s merely the beginning of the end. The end of this vacation, the end of my life as I know it. My future looms bleak. I glance down at my cotton shorts and fitted T-shirt, a vacation uniform of sorts, soon to be replaced with navy suits, pearls and tasteful pumps.

  You’re just scared to work for a living, I try to convince myself. Everything will be fine.

  But I know that I’m lying to myself, as I’ve done so often before. I’m not afraid of working for a living. I’m terrified of working as a lawyer, because I have no passion for it. There will be nothing to get me up in the morning except the promise of a paycheck and the threat of the unemployment line.

  We stop at a travel agency to purchase ferry tickets.

  “Three to Athens, please,” Lindsey tells the attractive young woman behind the counter.

  “Certainly,” she says.

  I watch her turn and move to a table behind her, picking up three blue ferry vouchers. She writes the time of departure and the price on the first one, the second one. And just as she’s about to start with the third, I say loudly, “No. Just two tickets.”

  “What are you doing?” Sin says, sounding irritated. “We’ve got to get to the boat and save seats.”

  “I’m not going to Athens,” I say, sounding more sure than I feel.

  “What are you talking about?” Kat asks, plopping her backpack on the linoleum floor.

  “Excuse me,” I say to the woman behind the counter. “We’ll be one minute.”

  I pull Kat and Sin to the front corner of the store. “Look, I’m going to stay here or maybe go to another island for a while. I don’t know. I just need to figure out what I’m going to do with myself.”

  “What you’re going to do with yourself?” Sin says. “You’re going to Athens with us and then home to start your job.”

  “That’s just it. I’m not going to practice law. At least not right now.”

  “Are you crazy?” Sin says, her eyes wide.

  Kat gives me a conspiratorial grin. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

  “Absolutely nothing.” I tell the truth. “I just know I don’t want to be a lawyer.”

  “You could’ve thought of that three years ago, before you started law school,” Sin says.

  Remembering my dad’s words, I tell her, “Better late than never.”

  Epilogue

  I’m sitting on my balcony at the Astras Villas in Santorini. I’d considered staying at the youth hostel in the island’s main village of Fira, but I opted instead for this secluded spot at one of the highest points on the island. It’s more expensive, but my credit cards aren’t maxed out yet.

  I know I’m an idiot for spending this kind of money, which comes with an eighteen-point-five-percent interest rate, but it can’t overshadow the absolute giddiness I feel when I look around my room. It’s sparse but cleanly furnished with a double bed, a tiny refrigerator like I had in the college dorm, and a pine dressing table with a red brocade stool. The room is always filled with light from the French doors that open to this balcony. Below my porch a kidney-shaped pool sits surrounded by lime-green tiles, and much farther below that is the Aegean Sea. Only the occasional cruise ship and a tall, jagged chunk of rock, a remnant of a long-ago volcano, interrupt my view. Fuck the credit cards.

  I cut a slice of the cheese I bought today in Fira, lifting my legs up onto the empty chair opposite me. The sun is only beginning to start its descent. I take another sip of crisp white wine, remembering my friends’ reaction to my announcement that I wasn’t returning to the U.S. just yet, nor did I plan to begin my job at Billings Sherman & Lott. Kat was thrilled, telling me she’d join me if she didn’t like her job at the hospital so much. Lindsey was characteristically leery at first, interrogating me until she realized that I was set in my decision. I wasn’t. I was terrified, but I held my ground. For once in my life I was going against the path that seemed the logical, proper route, and instead following what my gut told me was the right road.

  Sin had finally broken into a cautious but warm smile and hugged me close. “Be careful,” she said, “and get your ass home so you can tell us all the details.”

  “I love you guys,” I’d said more than once as they prepared to board the Athens ferry. I’d promised never to let anyone or anything come between our friendship again. They waved frantically from the top tier of the ferry, like two passengers on the Love Boat.

  Gordy Brickton had not taken my news nearly as well as they did. “This is akin to professional suicide,” he’d said when I called, his voice rising. “You will never work at Billings Sherman & Lott, and after this gets out, you may never get a job in the Chicago legal communi
ty.”

  The Miss-Can’t-Be-Wrong in my head jumped up and down, yelling, “Tell him you’ll be starting in a week. Don’t throw this away!” If Gordy was accurate, the law wouldn’t be something to fall back on. There’d be no safety net at all. The new me gave a sharp jab, though, and said, “Stick to your guns, girl.” I remembered the words of Nicky, the Aussie girl I’d met in Ios, telling me that travel and time alone wasn’t about escape but about the learning curve, finding out what you’re made of, finding yourself. That’s how I intend to use this time.

  So I’d taken a deep breath and spoken into the phone as calmly as possible, telling Gordy, “I’ll cross that bridge when, and if, I decide I want to go there. Thank you for everything, Gordy.” And I hung up. Just like that.

  Surprisingly, my parents were both calm, my dad elated even, each telling me to take all the time I needed to straighten my head out (my mother’s words). My mom even told me that she’s started reconnecting with her own friends lately, that she’d forgotten how wonderful friends could be. It’s a lesson we both had to learn, I guess.

  There are times that I can convince myself that I’m like Julia Roberts at the end of Pretty Woman, when she has her shit together and is off to a better life. Then reality hits three minutes later, along with the reminder that I have no money, no job and I am a total lunatic. This lunacy is freedom, though, the first I’ve ever had. I know that I’m as messed up as I always was. It’s just that I feel better about it all.

  As for what I’ll do, I haven’t yet decided. I might stay on this gracious island for a while, possibly tend bar. I’ve always thought female bartenders were a higher echelon of cool, with the notable exception of the French bar wench from Ios. When I return home, I’ll have to do something to support myself. I might start taking interior design classes, my profession of choice a long time ago, before I’d forgotten my passion for it, before I’d convinced myself that lawyering would be more profitable, more secure.