Chapter Four
Marty
I’m standing at the bar trying to catch the staff’s attention so I can order two mocktails for myself and a woman who is doing something to me. Something strange and brilliant and terrifying. I’m not sure how I got here, but I might be happy I’m here. Maybe.
Actually, I do know how I got here.
It all began a few months ago when I reluctantly agreed to accompany my parents on a luxury holiday to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary.
Then this morning my mother woke me at the arse crack of dawn, bossed me around until I was in a taxi on our way to the airport, where we barely spoke a word to each other until we’d all had coffee, and even after that our limited conversation had felt like a huge effort.
It was no different on the plane when I grabbed the single seat across the aisle from the rest of them and shoved my headphones in my ears but didn’t listen to a single song.
Music is still hard for me.
I felt a bit bad about ignoring them all, so once we got to the airport I collected the bags from the carousel and pushed the trolley to where we found our transfer car.
But then my mother gushed about how helpful and strong I was and how happy she was that I was with them and that made me shove my headphones in again as soon as we were on our way.
I still didn’t listen to anything as I watched the island pass us by.
The sunshine reminded me of a million places I didn’t want to think about.
The heat took me back to sweaty days I shared with someone I missed.
And the blue of the sky taunted me with so many memories, I closed my eyes for the last twenty minutes.
As soon as we got here, I realised that Mum and Dad must have spent a ton of cash on this holiday.
From the champagne offered upon arrival – which I insisted they all drank while I sipped an orange juice – to the way the receptionist called me ‘Sir’ even though I am almost certainly younger than him.
This resort is pure luxury, and it made me feel an uneasy amount of guilt that my parents couldn’t be here by themselves.
I mean, they could have. I told them to, many times.
But they would never have gone if I hadn’t agreed to join.
They would never have left me on my own.
So that’s how I got here, to Crete.
As for how I got to be standing at this bar, well, that’s a longer story, even if it took less time to play out.
It began by me walking into our villa and realising it was the most luxurious accommodation I’d ever stayed in, and for that reason and a hundred others, I couldn’t stay inside it a minute longer.
I couldn’t hear my father boast about how many different types of coffee pods we had, nor could I watch my mother clasp her hand over her mouth at how “simply stunning” the view was.
Not that she was wrong – it was a truly impressive panorama of the peninsula – but it hurt to have such beauty in front of me.
And when Maeve started to do a video of herself standing by the pool – our own private pool, for Christ’s sake – I knew I had to get out of there.
I rushed to what was my room, dumped out the contents of my duffel bag and filled it with my gym gear, trainers, a change of clothes and a pair of swimming shorts.
Then I yelled out that I was going to go find the gym and I ran out the door before anyone could stop me.
There followed nearly two hours of the treadmill, the stationary bike, the rowing machine and then far too many reps on far too many weight machines.
When my legs started to shake and my hollow stomach grumbled at me for food because it hadn’t had any since the sub-standard airport breakfast, I stopped and finally took in the view, too tired to resist its splendour.
The rugged beauty of the view appealed to me.
It was breath-taking and memorable, but not in a pristine or lush way, rather in a very raw and rough way.
I liked how the blush-red soil, arid climate and sun-filled days didn't seem to be a hospitable environment for much more than low-growing bush, olive trees and some cacti, meaning the volcanic mountains inland were a mix of muted greys, earthy greens and terracotta oranges. This contrasted with the sparkling sea that these jagged hills tumbled into. The water’s bottomless blue was as calming and clear as a cloudless sky, as long as I didn’t let any memories creep in.
I accepted then that this was probably one of the better things I'd agreed to do with - or rather, for - my parents in the last few months.
Indeed, I had spent most of the last few weeks moaning profusely to Dad about bringing our race bikes to ride early every morning here but looking at the landscape, I suddenly couldn't wait.
It would be good to explore the roads for the first time tomorrow morning, to feel a breeze in my hair and some more muscles ache in my legs.
“Hey, dickhead!” A voice snaps me out of my thoughts and back into the beach bar. A voice that is both angry and familiar.
“Shit,” I say and close my eyes, not bothering to turn around.
“Yeah, I found you, you dope. Do you even know how many kittens Mum is birthing right now?”
I turn and watch my sister Maeve come to stand next to me at the bar, her hands on her hips. “Probably several and they’ll be better sons to her than I’ve been so win-win, I’d say,” I reply.
“You can’t just disappear like that!” She swipes at my forearm. “And you definitely can’t just go straight to the nearest bar and start drinking. Jesus fucken Christ, Marty!”
“I didn’t!” I protest, feeling spikes of irritation climb up my neck. “First, I went to the gym, then I went to the spa where I had a very traumatising swim and sauna, and now I’m here, about to order a mocktail. Thank you very much for having zero faith in me.”
Maeve studies me. “Seriously?”
I lean forward and breathe on her nose with a loud Ahh. “See, no booze,” I say with a smug smile.
She pulls back and waves her hand in front of her face. “Ew, Marty! Why are you such a scabby spanner?”
“And why are you doing Ma’s dirty work for her?” I snap back.
“I’m not. At least I wasn’t going to at first. I was prepared to just let you go and be moody by yourself, and I told Mum as much. But then it was like four hours you’d been gone, and she was nagging at me about how we’ve got dinner reservations and...”
“And you thought the worst too,” I say, but the spite has gone. Instead, I’m just disappointed. Disappointed in them. And, as always, disappointed in myself.
“I didn’t think the worst,” she says quietly. “I was worried.”
My shoulders sink as I sigh. “I’m sorry I disappeared,” I concede. “I needed some space.”
“Save it for Ma.” Maeve glances around the bar, her eyes lingering on the horizon where the sun is perfectly positioned in the centre of the sky. I estimate it’s about an hour away from sinking into the sea.
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” Maeve says and I go to reply, but she’s already got her phone out, taking photos. I look away and manage to get the barman’s attention.
I’m about to ask Maeve if she wants a drink but she’s stepped further to the side and is now shooting a video, moving her phone in a full circle taking in the bar and the beach.
I roll my eyes and order drinks for just myself and Jenna, who I then turn to look at.
She’s talking with her brother, who is so red in the face it makes my own cheeks feel hot.
Taking in Jenna’s side profile, I shake my head when I think about how I first came to lay eyes on her.
That’s also not much of a pretty story because when I first walked into the beach bar, I was focused on one thing and one thing only; getting a drink.
Rightly or wrongly, I felt like I deserved it.
I had all but convinced myself one would be acceptable.
But as I searched for a space at the bar, my eyes had lingered a moment too long on a figure standing at it.
Specifically, on a pert and firm bottom.
The owner of the backside in question had been leaning against the bar, wearing cotton shorts that were almost irresponsibly tight - although he had the legs and butt for them.
The cream and beige hues of his clothes matched his colouring, all soft earthy shades - chestnut hair atop his head and lighter, sun-bleached hairs lacing his tanned calves – and I strained my neck a little to try and get a look at his face.
When that failed, I went back to looking at his butt.
I knew what I was doing. I was waiting for the rest of my body to wake up, specifically for some heat to land in my groin, but alas, nothing. I knew I was looking a moment too long because the man with the nice arse had a companion who turned her head and clocked me.
I’m not sure if it was being caught out or if it was what I saw in her heart-shaped face, but immediately, I felt something.
Taking in her tanned skin, slim nose and warm brown eyes that sparkled in the sunlight - and, arguably best of all, a pair of full lips that were an almost unnatural pink - I felt restless but not unsettled.
Watching her chubby cheeks bunch up below her eyes when she smiled, I felt something simmer inside me.
And when, from even a few metres away, I noticed a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose, I felt that simmer rumble to a slightly alarming boil, but it wasn’t unwelcome.