Chapter 36
DAY SEVEN
BEN
We don’t go home that night. All professionalism goes out the window because once the last choux bun is eaten and we’ve loaded the dishwasher, put my equipment back into our cars, and wiped down the kitchen counter, the wedding transforms. The nice guitar band go home, the bride gets changed into a sequinned playsuit, and people push back all the tables.
A van rocks up with more champagne, a bevy of younger guests arrive, and a DJ called Diego, (stage name The Big D) turns this rooftop retreat into a nightclub.
Fabien and Odette are far gone at this point on alcohol, joy and possibly other substances so they invite us to stay, drink, dance, enjoy, share in the love.
I don’t have to cook anymore. But I’m glad I’ve made extra bread in case people want sandwiches.
I stand on the lawn and look at my watch, it’s five in the morning.
I don’t think I smell very good or can see straight but I’m glad this all went off without a hitch.
The Big D brought his best Ibiza anthems to that clifftop, there were glow sticks and face paints (Bella drew a moustache on my face and the fact I let her and laughed about it means that she now trusts me), and the whole event was lit up with happiness, people jumping and dancing in frenzied shapes, group hugs, selfies.
I don’t want to be arrogant but my croquembouche will do that to a crowd.
‘BENJAMIN! MY MAN! COME HERE!’ I turn and Fabien grabs my cheeks and kisses me on the lips in a prolonged manner.
I accept the kiss because hell, I’m drunk and he’s French and I’m culturally attuned to these things.
Fabien has changed into a tuxedo T-shirt and the skinniest skinny jeans I think I’ll ever see on a man.
‘You are my saviour, my hero,’ he tells me.
‘Did you receive the transfer, the money?’
‘I did and that was a healthy tip, thank you,’ I say.
‘Deserved. You made a croquembouche in record time. My bride is smiling from ear to ear. The food was exquisite, everyone say so. You have a gift, my friend. Come.’ He hands me a bright-green shot and I down it out of politeness, feeling it burn my eyeballs but immediately rise throughout my body like I’ve drunk aviation fuel.
I seriously thought it was crème de menthe, possibly jelly. Hell, no.
‘Fuck off, Fabien, c’est absinthe!’ I grunt.
‘Oui?’ he says, smiling at me like he hasn’t just given me some five-hundred-percent neat alcohol. He downs his shot and howls into the night sky before making me jump around with him and hug him tightly.
Hell, why not get in a sweaty embrace with a Frenchman you’ve just met? The way I’m feeling now, I’d snog him again too.
‘Water! I need water!’ he suddenly says, running away and I laugh watching him go, pausing to snog another man on the stairs, possibly his uncle.
Fabien, I thought we had something special.
Whatever I just drank feels like gunpowder in my veins so I try and dance or create some sort of movement that matches that description.
‘Woah there cowboy!’ I hear a voice suddenly say behind me.
I turn around and see Chloe, Jess and Miguel.
Jess is barefoot, holding a bottle of Moet, and I have no idea why Miguel is wearing a light-blue dress.
Didn’t I see that on the mother of the bride?
But there’s skipping and dancing and light twerking that one can only do at this time of the morning.
Soon the sun will come up and this party will end.
It will all end. But for now we are here.
Why is the sky green? I run my hands through my hair and do a dance move that involves punching the air like a boxer.
It’s not a sexy move, I know, but absinthe has me in its grip.
I notice Chloe laughing. How is it the morning and you look the same?
So beautiful. I like your hair. I love your hair.
‘Why are you laughing at me?’ I ask her drunkenly.
‘That’s quite a move.’
‘Did you know I could dance?’ As I say this, I spin and point, and even Miguel stops to look at the artistry in my movement.
‘Is there nothing you can’t do?’ Chloe says.
I’m quiet for a moment and I look up to the stars, still swaying and moving all my limbs. ‘I am a saviour, a hero,’ I say in a French accent. They all look at me in confusion because they weren’t here three minutes ago when I was talking to Fabien.
Miguel comes over and cups my face. Is he going to snog me too? ‘My Benji is so drunk. Do you want water?’
‘I don’t know what I want, Miggy,’ I say, my eyes watering for some reason. Maybe it’s because I’ve never called him Miggy before.
‘Maybe we take you home? You lie down?’ he suggests, pointing inside to several sofas where the older relatives are sprawled out. I think I spy the uncle from Pacha spreadeagled on the floor.
‘No!’ I say. ‘We have to stay for the sunrise so the ladies can see the start of our last day – horizons, sunrise, all that malarkey.’ Jess is laughing. ‘Alas, he is a motivational speaker too. Look at the sea, it is like life and all its infinite possibilities!’
‘Benji,’ Miguel says softly, looking into my eyes. ‘Are you on drugs?’
I push him lightly. ‘The only drug I’m on is life.’ I dance and this impresses no one. Again. ‘Because Mr Miguel, they are all going home. They are leaving and going back to London and I have no idea where my home is… I want to stay here.’
‘Well, you can’t stay here. It’s somebody else’s house,’ he explains.
‘Not here, here. Ibiza. I want to be here. I’m so happy living in Uncle Lorenzo’s house.
He left that whole house to me, you know?
All of it and I want to make him happy. I want…
I want…’ I look over at Chloe and sigh. I want you.
So very much. I want to see the sun come up with you, and to hold your hand for a bit longer.
But I know now that this won’t happen. I can’t let that happen. ‘Zaha…’ I mumble.
‘Zara is dancing with Bella by the sea,’ Jess explains.
No. Zaha Hadid. I had to go into a side room off the kitchen and Google her but it turns out she’s an architect and Chloe has been offered a job with her.
I heard her tell Zara. A dream job. And I heard the excitement in her voice as she talked about what an incredible opportunity it is, her tone hopeful, joyous and that makes me so proud of her.
I barely know anything about her, but I know that she loves what she does.
I saw the way she’d sit by the pool, how she’d sketch and draw, how she would take in views and the finer points of any old wooden shed or stone hut around these parts.
That job is exactly what she deserves, with all her hard work, her talent.
It could raise her up so much, more than I ever could.
‘Ben. Are you OK?’ I feel a hand touching my arm. Chloe. Her hazel eyes look up at me.
I must look like a big sweaty chicken nugget. I don’t say that out loud but it’s funny in my head so I laugh.
‘Do you need some water? Some coffee?’
I need you. I don’t say that out loud either.
‘Is there any more paella?’ I say instead.
I don’t know why I say that. Rice is not the answer at this moment.
Chloe shakes her head, her touch, once tender and loving is now feeling a bit pitiful.
‘Chloe. Beautiful Chloe. I hope that your life is magnificent and when you go back to London, you realise how fucking amazing you really are. You really are amazing.’
‘OK,’ she says, not quite smiling.
‘Because you should go back to London. You shouldn’t stay here.
What are you going to do here? There’s only so much melon one girl can eat,’ I say, unsure why I sound so sarcastic.
The three of them stand around me silently, listening.
Why are you all standing still? Why do you look so worried?
Let’s dance. I sway my hips lightly. Let’s go proper Bad Bunny.
‘Plus, I have a business to run now, I’ve got to get me some more ladies in to pay the bills.
’ I must be drunk because I pretend to flick paper money off my hand like I’m a gangster.
‘Ladies, he is very drunk,’ Miguel says, absolutely mortified that these words are coming out of my mouth, but I see Chloe silently watching me. Jess puts an arm around her.
‘You know what I mean? I wish you all love, life and peace, and all the good things but let’s not pretend that this was anything but a holiday.
A week-long string of ridiculous events in the sun that I tried to market as a retreat.
’ Miguel’s eyes are wide like saucers. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t see through any of it. It’s not real.’
Miguel cups my face again. ‘Benji, you shush now.’
‘Why? I am just speaking in truths,’ I insist.
‘Because your words are hurting,’ he says, glancing back to Chloe who has tears running down her face.
I look at her. ‘I’m just being sensible.’
She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and I immediately feel awful.
‘Don’t listen to him. He’s drunk, my darling. He is talking in tongues,’ Miguel says, trying to intervene. ‘Benji, please.’
‘In eight hours,’ I say, looking at a watch I’m not wearing, ‘you should go home, you really should,’ I tell her, looking her in the eye. ‘Leave this place. You don’t belong here, I don’t think it’s right for you to stay. I don’t want you to stay.’
Chloe flinches, taking a step back from me.
‘I don’t know what you’re saying,’ she mutters sadly.
‘I’m saying this isn’t a thing.’ My whole face is frowning, scrunched up tight like a mole, and my eyes feel heavy. ‘None of it is real. Look at the sky and all that sea. It looks like a picture. How is that real?’ I wave my hands in front of my face as if I can double-check reality.
‘You’re saying that this was just a holiday thing then? Just sex? I saw you freak out when I was talking about weddings. Was I just a fling? A lady to pay the bills?’ Chloe asks, her tone changing, anger and indignation tensing her face.
‘You want to get married?’ I ask her. ‘But what about the bills? You want to get married like this? It’s my croquembouche, isn’t it? That’s all you want me for.’ I realise I’m not making much sense now. I should tell them about the absinthe. But I can’t see my feet.
‘I didn’t need that, not yet,’ she says, tears trailing down her cheeks. ‘But I’d be willing to take a chance on all of it, on you. I’m so certain of that. Even after a week. I thought you felt the same way…’
I pause for a moment. ‘I don’t, I can’t…’ I mumble.
She catches her breath for a moment. I try to remember what I was saying, to make more sense, but I’ve lost track.
I felt strongly about something, but it escapes me now.
Something about not holding Chloe back – her doing what she loves.
I mean I can’t see anything. I can’t walk.
I look at Chloe and I wish I could ask her to stay.
You deserve more than me, I think. You deserve a world beyond this small island with a man who actually knows what to do with his life.
I won’t let you stay for me because I don’t think I’m worth it.
But all these thoughts and words that fill my head can’t find their way out.
I think I’m crying now. I can’t feel anything but Chloe turns and runs away.
Jess looks at me strangely for a moment, like her opinion of me has changed in mere seconds.
She follows Chloe, leaving me swaying softly next to Miguel.
‘That’s a lovely dress, Miguel. You look beautiful,’ I tell him, stroking the material with my hands.
But he pushes me away. ‘?Qué cabrón!’ he says with a ferocity I’m not familiar with.
‘Did you just call me an asshole?’ I mumble.
‘Yes, a big asshole.’
I laugh under my breath and continue swaying to the beats below.
‘Why? Why did you do that? That is not you. That is not what you feel? I know you,’ he says.
‘Do you? You knew a little boy without a care in the world who used to come here every summer and run across the grass,’ I tell him, mimicking the action.
‘But your uncle did. And he wouldn’t have left that beautiful house to someone with no corazón. He wouldn’t have entrusted all that magic to someone who wouldn’t know love when it was staring him in face.’
‘Staring him in the face,’ I say, correcting him.
Miguel looks at me. ‘Oh, what is that word your uncle uses? TWAT! You are a twat. Big twat,’ he shouts, putting his arms in the air to show me how big of a twat I really am.
He pushes me one last time before walking away in the direction of the women.
I stand alone as the sky starts to lift, the horizon starts to peel away and shades of red and amber layer on the sea, the sun starts to rise slowly, shafts of light peeking through.
I watch the light appear but then I turn my back on it and fall to the ground, to my knees, the world slowly spinning around me.
Something awful has just happened. But as I work out what that might be, everything goes black.