by Carrie Stone
Unexpectedly, I feel pleased to be out of the house. I reach Tilly’s boat and carefully climb aboard, the still water aiding my step. Retrieving the key from my pocket, I slide open the door to the hatch and am surprised to see a soft light coming from beneath the cabin door, three steps below. I think to myself that Tilly must have left the light on and am already down the stairs and pushing open the door, when I realise my mistake, but it’s too late.
‘Huh?’ Squinting, I see that the tiny cabin bed is occupied with two figures, both obscured by a cover until Tilly’s drunken face pops up from under the sheet.
‘Shit. I’m sorry.’ My face flushes with embarrassment as I realise I’ve walked in on her with someone. Panic rising in my chest, I rush to back away. Noticing my missing exam paper at the foot of the door, I make a grab for it as I hastily try to close the door.
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry.’
‘Everly?’
The voice is so familiar, I feel my stomach drop to the depths of my body. My grip falls from the door and I look up, willing myself to be daydreaming.
‘Spencer?’ My heart threatens to burst from my ribcage as a whooshing sound pulsates in my ear. It can’t be. It just can’t.
He’s clearly drunk and confused as he looks from me to Tilly and then to the sheet covering them both. Only his bare chest is visible but as he pushes back the cover further, I’m sickened to see Tilly’s skewed bikini top exposing her breasts. She’s so steaming drunk she barely manages to prop herself up again. Her eyes roll as she tries to focus and fails, flopping back down and seemingly out cold as soon as her head touches the pillow.
My breath catches in my throat and a strange noise escapes from my lips. Tears instantaneously spring to my eyes.
‘How could you? The two closest peop…’ I can’t continue because without warning, I’m struggling to breathe, nausea threatening to knock me sideways as it hits in strong waves. A ball of pain forms in my throat and my chest feels heavy. I can barely see through the blurry wall of water invading my eyes.
Spencer leaps up, clearly disoriented and dazed, naked but for a pair of boxer shorts.
‘Wait. It’s, it’s … s’not.’ He flounders, stumbling as he tries to walk across to me, slurring his words as an overpowering stench of alcohol wafts over to me. ‘Not what … what … it seems.’
I’m so overcome with shock and emotion, my body shaking from head to toe that I barely realise that I’m running up the few steps and scrambling off the boat.
It’s only when my trembling hands reach Tilly’s flat and fumble to find my door key that the gravity of what just happened, hits me. Sobbing, I run to my room and begin chucking everything I own into my suitcase. It’s doesn’t take long and when I’m finished, I heave my suitcase to the door and drag it towards the parking lot, all the while tears falling from me in a steady stream of anguish. I know it’s likely Spencer will come after me but given the state he’s in, I’ll be long gone by the time he manages to appear.
Waving down a passing taxi, I wipe my face and try to exhale some of the pain that’s aching inside me, but it doesn’t work. My heart feels like a knife has been driven into it, the betrayal so raw that I can’t see how I’ll ever recover.
By the time I’m loaded into the taxi and driven out of the marina, I’m simultaneously sobbing and choking back tears.
‘Where you going to, Miss?’ The driver asks hesitantly and perhaps sensing I’m in no fit state for decisions, slows down his speed.
My mind draws a blank and I stare out of the window, willing myself to come up with a plan.
There’s only one place that I can think of and only one person that will be able to help.
Chapter 14
‘You’ve got to eat, girl,’ Shanice pushes the plate of fried fish and rice and peas towards me. ‘You’re wasting away, you need meat back on those bones.’
I smile weakly, looking down at the mountain of food on the plate and wishing I could excuse myself. Instead, I pick up my fork and attempt a small mouthful.
‘It’s really good.’ And it is, but my appetite just isn’t there anymore. It’s been almost two weeks since the night I found Spencer and Tilly together and I don’t seem to be feeling much better. If it wasn’t for Shanice’s persistence in pushing me to go to work every morning and making sure I eat a hot meal at least once a day, I’m not sure where I’d be right now. Her hospitality and friendship has been invaluable.
‘Sounds to me like you’re in for a couple of easier days then.’ She takes a heaped forkful of food into her mouth, chewing enthusiastically. ‘Ooh you’re right. It’s real good.’ Pointing to her plate, she smiles in appreciation. ‘I wouldn’t mind a break, but babies don’t take a vacay from being born.’
Laughing, I take a sip of elderflower water and set down my fork. ‘Yeah, once graduation day is over tomorrow, then the last day of school term is usually a doddle. Plus it’s a half day. Will be weird to say goodbye though.’ A strong sense of melancholy overcomes me and I feel a lump appear in my throat as my bottom lip threatens to tremble.
Shanice puts down her fork and grabs my hand. ‘Now, now. Things don’t always turn out the way we plan but God has great plans for you. I feel it. So don’t you be fretting.’
‘I know. Thanks. I’m going to be strong.’ I take another sip of my drink and resolve myself to live up to my words.
I’ve heard a lot about God in the last two weeks whilst staying with Shanice. However, whilst I’m not a follower of any religion, Shanice’s words have been a comfort. I’ve been telling myself that there must be something else in store for me, something better. It’s been my constant focus as my last day on the island draws closer. After all, I’ve come so far in six short months and whilst I certainly wasn’t expecting the carpet to be pulled from under me so quickly, and things to turn out the way they have, I’m not going to let this hold me back. For the meantime though, I’ll be going to the UK to take stock and plan my next move. I’m still reeling at the cost of flights but with it being the school holidays and limited availability, I’d had no choice but to pay a premium. The trouble is, now I’m stuck with a long indirect flight via New York. Talk about dragging out the inevitable.
I try not to let my emotions swamp me as I finish my food and make small talk before offering to wash up. By the time I’m finished, Shanice is ready for her evening shift and I’ve got the perfect chance to escape to the makeshift bedroom she’s set up for me in her daughter’s tiny study.
Carefully lowering myself onto the cramped camp bed, I sigh in relief as my head rests against the wall and the tears fall from my eyes to my lap. I’ve wanted solitude all day. From the moment I awoke until now, I’ve craved a private moment to cry and release the build-up. If it wasn’t for school being so crazy busy with events, fun days and quizzes, I’m certain I’d have broken down in the school staff room, long before now. After ten minutes, I’m already feeling better and take a moment to read over the messages from Spencer and Tilly that have been filling up my phone. It seems to have finally gotten through to the both of them that I don’t want to talk after rejecting their dozens of apologetic, grovelling calls. The messages are another story.
I flick through, my eyes skimming over the words. I don’t see how either one can expect me to be forgiving; regardless of the fact they both blame being off their faces drunk. Spencer has repeatedly insisted that Tilly passed out, so he went to help her and ended up falling asleep instead. The fact she was practically half-naked is supposedly due to her bikini top coming loose in her drunken sleep. However, I’m not willing to believe something that sounds so contrived.
Part of me does want to believe Spencer – it’d be a much easier fallout to deal with then. Hell, I’ve even seen him face to face on three occasions after school where he’s discreetly pulled me aside and tried to explain, but I won’t allow myself to cave. I’ll never know for certain if he is telling the truth and therefore will always wonder if he can be trusted. I deserve so
much more than that from a relationship, especially from someone I wasn’t in love with anyway. Tilly is another story. Despite her apologies and even coming to try to reason with me, I can’t find it in myself to forgive her. I cannot help but feel she deliberately sabotaged my happiness. It’s hard to shake the idea that she set Spencer up, especially knowing how much she was veering off the rails with men in the days after Daryl’s dismissal. There is no place in my life for a friend like that.
Taking a breath, I select all the messages from the list and hit ‘delete’. It’s serving no purpose to rehash them. It’s like picking open a wound. Once it’s done, I feel instantly better and more in control, yet strangely sad, for it’s almost like wiping away my final connection to them. I fight back more tears and open my laptop to find a comedy series to stream. Anything to take my mind off the situation.
An hour later, feeling slightly lifted and less teary, I know it’s time to call Amy, who is waiting on my flight details to arrange to meet me when I land. As happy as I’ve been at her being so supportive since hearing my news, it’s also crystal clear that she’s undeniably excited to have me home. Sadly, I can’t say I feel the same.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m now ready to leave Bermuda and the negative surrounding it but I know that I can’t allow this bitter experience to hold me back in any way. It has the power to side track me or to fuel me and I’m determined to choose the latter. Besides, it’s clear this trip back to UK isn’t going to be the answer to my future happiness; an entire world awaits me.
I just need to work out where to go to next.
*
‘Is anybody sitting here?’ I point to the seat and am relieved when the Amish man shakes his head. Plonking myself in between him and the wall, I put down my holdall and steer my oversized suitcase nearer to my feet. JFK airport is heaving with people – so many that I’m seriously beginning to regret the four-hour wait before I can check in for my flight to London. I’m thankful to be hung over and tired though, as it’s helping to numb my emotions.
I know it wasn’t my finest plan to drink on my last night in Bermuda but an afternoon saying goodbye to pupils and fellow teachers had hit me hard. Topped with the unbearable thought of everyone and everything else I’d be saying adieu to this morning, Shanice included, it seemed a good idea to open the wine and before I knew it, one bottle had become two. Still, it’s taken off the raw edge and for that I’m super grateful. Even if my head is banging and I’ve a nauseous stomach.
It’s a further three hours of killing time by people-watching, nibbling on crackers and dozing before I finally venture out of my seat, my left leg a dead weight beneath me as I walk across to check the flight information screen.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ My last remaining vestige of hope drains from my energy. ‘Delayed until further notice?’ I can hear the whiny, strangled tone of my own voice and a businesswoman nearby glances at me pitifully. ‘No fucking way,’ I whisper, as hot rage fires up inside me. Grabbing my suitcase, I stomp across to the nearest airline information desk.
It’s a fraught fifty-five minutes later when I’m finally resigned to the fact that my flight will not be taking off for another six hours thanks to a fuel issue with the aircraft. It didn’t seem to have any effect venting all of my anger at the thin, pale and tired-looking woman representing the airline. She simply repeated to me the very same spiel, in her droning accent, that I’d heard her dish out to every raging fellow passenger in front of me. My only option is to wait or to change flight.
My earlier seat is of course gone by the time I walk back to where I’d settled myself in. I stand for a while before spotting a Starbucks across the way with a customer beginning to vacate their seat and make a dash for it. The overwhelming smell of strong coffee does little to help my hangover but I take a deep breath and steer myself towards the small table, thankfully tucked in a corner, three well-thumbed magazines on the seat. I’m in for a long six hours and although I just want to curl up and cry, there’s no choice but to suck it up and ride out the shit storm. Picking up the magazine, I try and concentrate on the pictures of American celebs that I don’t even recognise and reluctantly get lost in their drama.
I’m finishing a second cup of English Breakfast tea that frankly tastes crap, when I spot him and abruptly feel the breath leave my body. There’s a physical feeling of being winded and it’s so unexpected, so random that I can’t help but give a small gasp.
It’s his hair that always gave him away, the silky hair I’d run my fingers through. The hair that smelled of apple wax and curled gently at its ends. I scramble to sink lower into my seat, my breathing returning in rapid, shallow waves and as I look at his familiar profile and feel a pang of nostalgia, it’s only then that I see the tiny boy beside him. An exact replica, dressed in a matching green jumper and jeans, sitting upon a bright blue Trunkie. Jay Junior. I pray with every fibre of my being that Jay doesn’t turn around and see me. My eyes dart in every direction looking for his wife, Sarah, but she’s nowhere in sight. I watch as the boy points to something and Jay shakes his head, the very same way he once used to shake his head at me and I feel a pang of melancholy.
Jay turns slightly to the right, saying something to the waiter and I’m startled to notice that he’s receding a bit at the temples. There’s a few extra lines where there once wasn’t and a slight pepper grey running through the front of his fringe. From this side angle he isn’t as trim as a few years ago and I see a hint of tiredness beneath his eyes. As if sensing being watched, his head suddenly turns.
I hold my breath and feel my eyes widen as he looks directly at me, our eyes lock, the astonishment written all over his face. For a moment we both stare at one another in disbelief and then, his expression softens, his eyes twinkle in recognition and he gives me a warm smile and nods. Just like that.
A weird serenity surrounds me, the earlier feelings of panic replaced with a peaceful calm. Moments later, he turns and walks out without another glance in my direction, Jay Junior obediently following beside him.
I don’t look away until they vanish from my vision and only then does the significance of the event hit me. Of all the times, of all the places, of all the moments. Why now? I’d lived in fear of bumping into Jay and his new family for years, I’d relived the pain of him leaving me countless times, I’d continuously played out in my mind what I’d say to him in the scenario of bumping into him unexpectedly. And yet, what just happened?
Bizarrely, I find myself giggling – an exciting, liberating sound to my ears. Extraordinarily, I feel as light as a feather, as if everything negative connected with Jay has just been melted away with that one nod of his head. My earlier reservations about life going forward have disappeared and everything is instantaneously clear in my mind.
For so long, I allowed the past to hold me back. It trapped me into believing it held power over my future. It was only the random set of events leading to my unexpected job in Bermuda that helped me to find happiness again. Just because things have gone sideways with my life in Bermuda doesn’t mean that I should allow it to hold me back from immediately taking control of my happiness again.
I know now that there’s so much opportunity waiting for me, so many countries to explore and volunteer programmes to potentially be involved with. I also know that love will come when it’s supposed to. All along I’d had doubts about my feelings for Spencer and in the end he obviously wasn’t the man I thought he was. I know that going forward I don’t deserve any less than someone who will love and respect me. The way I love and respect myself.
I glance down at the open magazine in front of me, my eyes drawn back to a photo of a celebrity couple frolicking on a tropical Indonesian beach, and I’m suddenly hit with a realisation.
The answer to my current predicament isn’t in temporarily going back to London, where I don’t want to go anyway. I clearly haven’t been paying enough attention to the feelings of apprehension and foreboding. It’s been trying to te
ll me not to revert to what I left behind; the very reason I walked away from London in the first place was that the old wasn’t making me happy. And even though this London trip was only intended as a short-term solution, it still won’t make me happy. If anything, it will make me feel worse.
I quickly push away my teacup, stand up from the small table and with a newfound purpose firing my spirit, grab my holdall. It’s unmistakeable to think that seeing Jay had no meaning. I realise now that the answer has been staring me in the face for the last hours. The events of today have been trying to tell me something and seeing Jay has given me a sense of closure that I didn’t even know I needed. The past has finally been put to rest.
It’s so obvious now what I should do, that I smile to myself all the way to where I’m heading.
My heart might be bruised and my pride dented, but I absolutely refuse to let my episode with Spencer and Tilly undo the progress I’ve made within myself. It’s time to grab my happiness again and show the world just how far I’ve come. It’s time for Everly Carter to dust herself off and get back on the horse. If anything, it’s made me even more determined to find the life that’ll tick every one of my boxes. I know I’m so close, I can almost taste it…
Chapter 15
A heavy scent of incense greets me as I arrive in the hotel lobby. I should have guessed from the breath-taking winding entrance as we drove uphill, past colourful frangipani trees, pretty stone waterfalls and huge intricately carved wooden statues of Hindu deities, that my Balinese taxi driver had chosen one of the better hotel chains to bring me to. I’m not complaining though; after a twenty-two-hour flight, it’s most welcomed. Especially since the jet lag feels to be hitting hard. I just hope it isn’t going to cost me an arm and a leg.
Walking over to the reception desk, I observe the high-domed ceiling, supported by carved timber beams, mimicking the grand lobby in which I’m stood. I can’t help but be impressed with the natural beauty all around me, as whichever way I look, I have a direct view right out to the beach and sea beyond. There’s a serenity and peaceful vibe that’s been with me from the moment I landed on this wondrous island. Despite the hectic, crazy taxi journey from the airport to here in Seminyak where I’ve decided to stay until I get my bearings, I can’t help but be overawed by the colours, culture, and vibrancy of this place. It’s the one place I’ve always longed to visit; the one tropical paradise I’d aspired to experience for many years but had naively assumed was out of my reach, a holiday of a lifetime best saved for a honeymoon or suchlike. At least until now, that is. Sure, it’s not a place I’d ever considered travelling solo to … but why on earth not?! My decision to visit couldn’t have come at a more appropriate time. Bali is known as the land of God, the place to reconnect with our essence and I just know it’s going to give me back mine.