Chapter Fifty-Five
Jenna
While he’s not here himself, Jake is the only person who knows where I am.
He's managing a larger, high-end resort in Morocco and while I miss him, and his absence throws me because this place is so deeply connected to him, I am relieved I don't have to talk about what I'm doing with anyone more than I already did on a rushed phone call to him in the airport before I boarded my plane two days ago on Marty's twenty-ninth birthday.
“I just don't want you to be disappointed,” he said.
“I'll be disappointed if I don't go,” I replied. “So if that's how I'll feel anyway then surely it's worth trying.”
“But have you even considered how you'll feel if he doesn't come? It's an awful lot of money and effort just to get your heart broken. I mean, I could possibly talk to HQ about getting you a refund or credit for next season...”
“Jake!” I said, his name a single staccato noise on my tongue.
“I know what you're doing. You're trying to protect me from pain.
But life is full of pain. Some of it we can't control or avoid, and other kinds of pain are a more conscious experience, and one we maybe risk experiencing knowingly because the risk is worth it.”
“I'm not really sure what you just said.” He sighed. “But it definitely gave me a bit of a headache.”
“I'm saying, I'm ready to feel the heartache of him not showing up. But I'm not ready to ignore the possibility he will be there.”
There was a pause. “It's been five years,” Jake said in a gentler voice. “When I think about how much I've changed in that time...what I've done and how I've grown. You too, Jen. Look at where you're at now.”
“That’s exactly why I wanted to give him that time,” I said in little more than a whisper. “And myself. I needed the time too.”
“But you never forgot him?” Jake asked. “You never stopped loving him?”
“No.” The word hollowed me out. “I never stopped loving him.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” Jake said. “I just pray he shows up.”
I took in a deep breath then. “You know, if he doesn't, that's okay too. In some ways, that will help me move past this whole chapter, if I have to. So either way, if he's not there in two days, then at least I’ll know he's happy without me.”
“Or dead,” Jake said without hesitation.
“Jesus, brother! That isn’t helping.”
“Have you never looked him up?”
“A few times in the first few years but he's not his sister. There wasn't much to see. And then it didn't make me feel good, so I stopped.”
“I wish I could stop doing things that don't make me feel good. Sorry, did I say things? I mean, men. I wish I could stop doing men that don't make me feel good.”
“Jake-”
“No, not now. No time to discuss the tragedy that is my love life when you are literally living out the climax to an early 2000s rom-com, airport and all.”
“Yeah, speaking of which, my flight’s boarding now. I'll miss you in Crete,” I said starting to collect my belongings.
“I'm going to ask all the staff and Matthias to keep an eye on you,” he said.
Matthias is the manager of the neighbouring resort - a tall, silver-haired German with piercing grey-blue eyes. It's his third season working in Crete and we’d met a few times before.
“Please don't,” I said. “I don't need looking after.”
“We all need that, Jenna. Isn't that why you're doing this? Because part of you wants to look after Marty and part of you wants him to look after you.”
“Well, now who sounds like he knows what he's talking about?” I laughed before hanging up.
After arriving at the resort, I spent many minutes walking through the villa looking at, touching and reliving the places Marty and I made love.
When that made me so horny and dizzy I could barely breathe, I focused on unpacking, and then went to the gym for an hour before I swam and sunbathed.
I passed the next day in much the same way.
Today has been different.
All day I've been looking out for him. In the gym, on the beach, in the lobby when I had to dash to the bathroom for my fourth nervous poo of the day. I look for him on my way back to my villa to get ready, and after on the way back down to the bar where I can’t help but feel pulled to be.
I look for him as I think about how familiar the sun's warmth is on my skin, how I can smell sea salt in the air like I did five years ago, how there are the same uneven tiles underfoot and I am wearing the same style of Birkenstocks on my feet even though they're a newer pair, this time patent white.
As I wonder if he still wears sandals like this, I feel a wave of sadness crash into me, slowing my stride. What if I never find out?
What if he doesn’t come?
I haven't heard from him in two years.
He probably isn't going to come.
This is what I'm telling myself as I walk into the bar.
This is what I tell myself as I sit at the only available table and peruse the drinks menu, not really looking at the words, only keeping my eyes busy so they don't do what they really want to do which is scour the crowd for him, for Marty.
He probably isn't going to come.
This is what I tell myself as I order a virgin mojito because I will save drinking alcohol for when he doesn't show up and I can numb the sharpest edges of my pain.
This is what I tell myself as I sip my drink alone and almost can't bear how beautiful the sunset is. All clear skies that idyllically display the blue to purple to pink to copper red ombre shading of the sun’s descent.
I feel the magnetic pull for Marty blast through my bones.
He should be here. He should be here. But he's not.
He's not coming.
This is what I tell myself as I order a second drink, a cocktail now because the pain is already here. It’s because the sun is so low in the sky, and he wouldn't leave it this late. He would want to see the whole thing.
This is what I tell myself when Matthias comes over and asks to sit next to me. Out of nowhere, I recall my brother mentioning his divorce has just been finalised and he looks lonely. I can relate.
Before I agree to let him sit next to me, I do the thing I have forbidden myself to do for the last twenty minutes of waiting.
I turn my head and survey the space behind me, to the side of me and hopelessly, in front of me.
I take my time. I search the space once, twice, but Marty is nowhere to be found.
I sigh as my heart sinks into my stomach and then I smile at Matthias and shift over to make space for him.
After five minutes of pleasant enough small talk, Matthias narrows his gaze on me. “You know, I'm still curious about why you're here, alone, when your brother works somewhere else?”
“It's a long story,” I say, hoping that will put him off wanting to hear it. I glance at the sun now. It is so very close to melting into the horizon.
“I have time,” he says, and the sun’s butterscotch glow emphasises his tan. He’s an attractive man. He’s not Marty, but he’s an attractive man.
I pull in a breath before I speak.
“Well, five years ago I met a man here,” I say. “And we had the most amazing five days together and we fell in love. But then... Then he went back to his home and I went to mine. We agreed to meet up in five years’ time and watch the sunset together, right here. Today.”
He blinks at me. “And that's what you're doing? Or rather... you're waiting for him?”
I grit my teeth to slow the onslaught of tears. “Yes,” I say, my voice cracking in too many places for such a short sound. “I'm waiting for him, like I promised I would.”
“Why didn't you try to make it work? Five years ago?”
“That is an even longer story,” I say with a small smile.
Matthias leans back. “It's my night off. Like I said, I have time.” He lifts his drink as if to toast me.
I let myself do it once more. I crane my neck in every single direction, looking for Marty, searching for a sign he is close by but there’s nothing but the golden light of the sunset illuminating strangers’ faces.
He isn't going to come. It's already too late.
But our story will always be what it is.
The greatest, sweetest love story of my life.
While not easy, loving Marty from afar hasn't been hell, it's been the closest thing to true love I've ever experienced. It’s a love that has stayed with me as I grew and changed and evolved.
Loving him regardless of what he's doing, where he is, who he is loving, it's been humbling and honest and raw.
It's been the most human thing I've ever done, and I have no regrets.
I take a sip of my drink, a deliciously sweet and juicy Sex on the Rocks, sink back into my chair, then I watch the last minutes of the sunset as I tell my story. Marty's story. Our story.