by Cranford, B.
“Anyway,” she retorted, sounding exasperated with me, “I’ve been here for a couple of weeks and seen everything I could possibly want to and then some. I plotted out my next stop.”
“Yeah? Without me?” An image of her nodding along as I talked about possible places to go and things to see. It had been during our first talk that she’d asked my advice—which I’d been happy to give, if only because it meant I knew where she was. Approximately, anyway.
Which was because I was 98% concerned about her traveling alone and 2% stalker.
“Admittedly, without your expert local advice, it was a lot harder.”
“Not the first time you’ve thought that about me, be honest.”
“Haha, you’re hilarious. I used Google Maps to plan my stops between here and Brisbane and I’m going to go see a giant banana.”
“Two things. One, it’s really very difficult for me when you talk about giant bananas, because the topic is ripe for jokes. And two, I know it’s spelled like you say the ‘bane’ part of Brisbane like Batman’s nemesis, but actually, it’s more like ‘bin’ or ‘bun.’”
“You know, if you told me that Australian people decided on their pronunciations while drunk, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Honestly, neither would I.”
Laughing at my immediate, dry delivery, Bianca had to wait a beat or three to be able to keep the conversation going. “Okay, so, I’m going to drive to Bris-bin but stop at the Big Ba-nah-ner along the way. It’s like halfway, so a good stopping point.”
“Plus, it’s a big banana.”
“I mean, yeah, exactly.” She smiled, brushing a few unruly curls back from her face. They sprang about her head in the sexiest fucking way, taking my obsession with them to breaking point. And then she confessed in a near-whisper, “It was easier planning with you.”
I almost couldn’t hear the words over the gust of beachy wind that blew through, crackling the speaker, or past the rush of blood to my ears. Damn, I was glad I did. Because even though she was saying it was easier, the look on her face, the shyness in her soft words, told me that she meant better. It was better planning with me.
It was a small victory, but I’d take it.
I knew this trip was important to her. And as much as it pissed me off and pained me to have her traveling when she could’ve been staying with me and getting to know me better, I also wanted to encourage her.
“You did good, kid.” I jutted my chin at her, a nod to confirm that she’d planned well.
“I know it’s super touristy—”
“Like Sydney,” I muttered.
“—but it looks like fun.”
And fun was important to her. Maybe not quite as important as figuring herself out, but who didn’t want their overseas trip to be awesome? Only an idiot.
And Bianca Evers was no idiot.
Just look at the man she’d chosen on the plane—me—and you have all the evidence you need of that fact. As long as you ignored the fact that she’d left almost immediately after, of course.
“I’d better go.” She sounded mildly regretful, which I liked but wouldn’t cop to. “I want to grab something to eat, then head back to the hostel to get packed up. I think I’ll leave early-ish tomorrow.”
“You renting another car?” I knew she’d rented one for the drive to Sydney, which allowed her to make some stops along the way, just as I knew she’d returned it upon arrival to make use of taxis and trains and public transport when she was sightseeing.
“Yeah, it makes the most sense. I just hope I don’t end up on the wrong side of the road again.” She widened her eyes in horror and my stomach dropped rapidly.
“What?”
“Didn’t I mention that? Man, that car was coming right at me.”
I felt sick, until I realized she was messing with me. “You’ll pay for that trick, pretty girl.” The words were out before I had the chance to drag them back. I thought maybe I wasn’t supposed to say shit like that to her, except her answering smile was a mixture of naughty and dirty. One of my very favorite combinations. Aside from her and me and naked.
Her teeth bit into her lower lip again. “I can’t wait, Valentine.”
* * *
January 10, 2019
From: Bianca Evers ([email protected])
To: Lucas Hawke ([email protected])
Subject: Big Banana
Luc! I saw the Big Banana, I took a pic with the Big Banana, and pretended to lick the Big Banana. As promised, I attached the photo. I meant to send it last night but the girl sharing the room with me came back and we ended up chatting for a while and I forgot. It was kind of fun talking to her. She’s from the States too, but from the Midwest. I thought about asking her if she wanted to tag along for the next leg of my trip, but then she said she was flying out of Sydney in a few days, so it wouldn’t have worked.
* * *
January 11, 2019
From: Lucas Hawke ([email protected])
To: Bianca Evers ([email protected])
Subject: re: Big Banana
The look on your face is killing me. You look entirely too happy to be licking a giant banana. But I’m glad you had fun. How many banana-themed souvenirs did you say you bought?
Sorry it didn’t work out with the Midwesterner. If you’re lonely, you could always come back here and stay with me. I might not be from Nebraska or whatever constitutes the Midwest but I’m fun. (I’m kidding. Mostly.)
* * *
January 11, 2019
From: Bianca Evers ([email protected])
To: Lucas Hawke ([email protected])
Subject: re: Big Banana
Nebraska IS in the Midwest, good job! And hey, speaking of souvenirs, if I told you I bought you Big Banana boxers, would you model them for me?
* * *
January 12, 2019
From: Lucas Hawke ([email protected])
To: Bianca Evers ([email protected])
Subject: re: Big Banana
Fuck yes. Did you make it to Brisbane okay?
(Sorry I didn’t reply last night—I fell asleep watching the cricket.)
* * *
January 12, 2019
From: Bianca Evers ([email protected])
To: Lucas Hawke ([email protected])
Subject: re: Big Banana
Actually, no. I decided to go via the Gold Coast. (If you tell me it’s pronounce Gawld Coost or some other drunk pronunciation, I’ll cry.) The one blog thingy I read said it was a good place to stop on the way from Brisbane to Sydney, but since I’m not going in that direction, I decided to flout their recommendation and stay on the way from Sydney to Brisbane.
(Also, I watched some cricket at the backpackers—they told me that’s what Aussies call hostels—and it was boring AF. No wonder you fell asleep.)
* * *
January 12, 2019
From: Lucas Hawke ([email protected])
To: Bianca Evers ([email protected])
Subject: re: Big Banana
I can’t believe you just called our national sport boring. Cricket > Baseball, fight me.
Love the Gold Coast (pronounced exactly as you might expect, so dry those tears, pretty girl), but it’s been ages since I’ve been. I went there for Schoolies, drank way too much beer, got really sunburned, and came back with regrets. Man, it was a good time.
* * *
January 13, 2019
From: Bianca Evers ([email protected])
To: Lucas Hawke ([email protected])
Subject: re: Big Banana
Okay, one, nothing is better than baseball, are you high? YOU’RE the one who fell asleep during your national sport. I think your anger is misplaced because you don’t want to admit to yourself that it’s a slow, boring game and the pants the players wear are too baggy to make up for it. Thus, baseball > cricket. Or maybe baseball pants > cricket, but it’s pretty much the same thing?
And tw
o, you came back with regrets and it was still a good time? What even is Schoolies? Is it like Spring Break, because getting drunk and sunburned and having regrets is kind of the M.O. for Spring Break? Not that I’ve ever done anything remotely like that.
* * *
January 13, 2019
From: Lucas Hawke ([email protected])
To: Bianca Evers ([email protected])
Subject: re: Big Banana
Agree to disagree on the whole baseball/cricket thing? ’Cause I don’t want to think about the pants the players wear. I’ll have you know that I watched it again last night and did NOT fall asleep, so it’s clear the other night was just a fluke.
Also, why do I get the feeling that you have done something exactly like it? And yes, Schoolies = Spring Break . . . kind of. It’s at the end of Year 12, basically a week or two to cram as many people as possible into a room and drink yourself stupid because high school’s over. At least, that’s what it was like about ten or so years ago. Are you in a hostel again, or can I call you tonight?
* * *
January 14, 2019
From: Bianca Evers ([email protected])
To: Lucas Hawke ([email protected])
Subject: re: Big Banana
I’ll never tell you about Spring Break with Ashton in our sophomore year, when we decided that cheap box wine was the best thing ever and tried to go skinny dipping in the ocean, only to get distracted by a hot guy with an ice cream truck. Nor will I ever tell you about how we thought wine & ice cream was an EXCELLENT idea, because if I did, then I’d have to tell you about the hangover I had the next day and how I found out that dairy and I aren’t always the best of friends.
Not in a hostel, YAY! After the backpackers in Coffs Harbour, with the (boring) cricket and a weird smell from the room next door, I decided to splurge. Seriously, it was even worse than the one down in Sydney, and you remember what I said about that one, right? The place I picked to stay is kind of shady looking, but the sheets are clean, and the smell is much more palatable. I’ll call you when I get back from swimming with the dolphins—I booked it yesterday when I got here and there was a cancellation, how lucky is that?
* * *
January 15, 2019
From: Bianca Evers ([email protected])
To: Tamika Evers ([email protected])
Subject: I’m alive!
Hi Mom!
Sorry it’s been a few days since I called, but I’ve been so busy seeing as much as humanly possible. It’s so pretty and sunny and nice here, which I know isn’t the most encouraging word, but I can’t think of anything else to say about it. It fits.
I’m attaching a few photos for you (as proof of life, per Dad) of me with the Big Banana, which I stopped on the drive up here to see, and swimming with the dolphins. It was an amazing experience, but not one I’d repeat. Unless you came with me . . . Oh, there’s a few there too of the other places I’ve been, but I swear half of the photos I take are the beach or the sunset. I’m so predictable.
I know you’ve been worried about me out here all alone, but I promise I’m taking good care of myself and keeping myself safe. My friend, Lucas—I met him on the plane, remember?—and I talk every few days, and I’ve been making sure to keep him up to date on my whereabouts so if I go missing, he knows where to start. (I’m also staying more and more in cheap but respectable hotels, so I don’t get murdered at one of the hostels. I still can’t believe you let Dad talk you into watching that movie, LOL.)
Okay, that’s all for now. I love you and miss you, and I know you think this plan was crazy and out of the blue, but I swear, some days I feel the stress just sliding away.
B xoxo
12
Bianca
I ran my hand over the sleek, rubbery skin of the dolphin, fighting the urge to draw back immediately. I was treading water and trying hard not to look as uncomfortable as I felt. The three other people that made up my group seemed to be having an incredible time, but I kept hoping that Leo, the dolphin trainer, would say we were finished every time he opened his mouth.
“You don’t seem as . . . enthused as everyone else.”
I turned to smile at Leo when he spoke—not the words I wanted to hear—and tried to look confused. As if I couldn’t understand why he’d think I wasn’t having the time of my life. “I love it,” I said, casting half an eye in the direction of Isa, the dolphin who had abandoned me after my half-hearted stroke and was now propelling one of the other tourists across the deep pool we were in.
“It’s okay to not like it, ya know?” His face, which bore the marks of a life lived in the sun, crinkled with a grin. “It’s not the same experience for everyone.”
I moved closer to him, and the edge of the pool, and asked, “Really? You’re not just saying that, are you?”
He shook his head. “Bianca, right?”
I nodded.
“I’ve been doing this for years, and I’ve seen people that were so overexcited they freaked out the animals. And I’ve seen people that took one look at the water and walked away. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
I blinked at his words, an echo of something Ashton had said to me before I’d left for South Africa with Mason.
“You don’t have to go with him. You don’t have to go anywhere with him if you don’t want to.”
I gasped, taking in a mouthful of water, the memory one I’d totally forgotten about in the mess that marked the end of my marriage. Coughing it out, I raised a hand to stop Leo from pulling me out of the water. “No, no, I’m okay. Sorry. I just thought of something I’d, well, oh, um . . .”
“You sure you’re okay? You can hop out if you wanna. I’m sure the others”—he waved a hand in the direction of the three other tourists who were laughing about something—“won’t mind. In fact, they’ll be grateful for the extra time they get.”
I coughed again, clearing my throat. “I feel like I should try harder. Make the most of it, since I’m not likely to do this ever again.”
“How about throwing some rings for Isa?” he suggested. “It’s less contact with her, but she loves it.”
“Okay, yeah, that’d be good.” I moved closer to the edge again, pulled myself out of the water, and waited as Leo grabbed a handful of brightly colored pool rings. “What do I do?”
“It’s exactly as easy as you’d think. You toss them further out into the pool, and Isa will collect them on her nose and bring them back.”
He handed me the rings and, once I got the dolphin’s attention, I spent a few minutes throwing them out and watching her glide through the water, chasing them and returning them like a pro. “She’s so smart.”
Leo nodded, his expression like a proud papa. “The smartest one I’ve trained, I reckon. She’s a natural at being around people too.”
I nodded, handing the rings back to him save for the one I’d just tossed out. Upon Isa’s collection and return, Leo reached out, giving her some affection as he retrieved it from the end of her nose. “You’re done?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind?”
“Nah, it’s all good. You can head through there to get back to the changing rooms.” He pointed to a blue door a few feet away. “Time’s almost up anyway. You did really well, Bianca, even though it wasn’t your favorite.”
I walked away with a strange sense of pride at having earned the praise from Leo. He clearly loved what he did, but he didn’t judge me for not feeling the same. Instead, he’d recognized my effort to make the most of the experience, and he’d made it fun in a way it wouldn’t have been had he not found a way for me to play with Isa without having to be pushed across the water with her at my feet.
Back in the changing room, quiet and still as it was in comparison to the activity in and around the pool, my mind inevitably turned back to Ashton and my memory of her telling me I didn’t have to go with Mason to South Africa.
Squeezing my eyes closed tightly, I pushe
d back against the wash of regret that engulfed me. He’d yelled at me, I remembered, when I’d asked him why he’d agreed to take the position overseas when we’d agreed that we would stay home, in the States, for at least a year.
“Jesus, Bianca. Can’t you just shut up about it already?”
He’d been so angry that I’d left him to stew in his mad while I’d headed to The Avenue, Ashton’s bar. I hadn’t feared him, but I hadn’t wanted to be around him either. I’d gone to Ashton’s place because she was my best friend, and I’d known that she’d go along with whatever I needed.
And because I’d needed wine to fortify me.
“I don’t mind going, so much as the fact that he decided without me. He didn’t even pretend to care what I thought.” I reached out for the glass in front of me, already half empty. “I would’ve agreed to go if he’d asked.”
“Of course you would have,” she replied in a low voice. The bar was thankfully quiet, being midweek, and she could stand in front of me and listen while I vented. “He should’ve known that.”
“He should have, yes! Exactly!” I lifted the glass to my lips and drowned the rest of it. “I wish I didn’t have to go with him.”
“You don’t have to go with him. You don’t have to go anywhere with him if you don’t want to.”
I dropped my ass down on the bench that ran along the front of the lockers in the changing area. It’s easy to say that, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have gone with my husband to South Africa, but at the time . . .
At the time, as mad as I’d been that he’d changed our plans—our lives—in an epic way—I’d wanted to go. Looking back on it, though, I wondered if maybe I’d just been blinded by the fact that we’d been together so long, and I didn’t know how to not go with him.