4. Chapter 4
Chapter four
T he following week goes by slowly. Very slowly.
I spend Monday morning working from one of my favourite downtown cafés figuring it was time to get out of the house. I order my usual chai latte and sit at my preferred table by the window. Normally, I don’t struggle to focus on work. I’m usually able to block out any background noise and distractions and get things done. Instead, I find myself staring out the window, doing a double take every time a tall, blonde-haired man walks by.
After that miserable day in the café, I decide to work from home for the rest of the week where no blonde men could distract me. But I still find myself struggling to focus. More than once, I catch myself reaching for my phone to text Theo or look to see if he messaged me. With a pang, I remember that he isn’t mine anymore.
He never really was.
Still, it feels like something is missing. Even though we didn’t spend a lot of time together in person, I had gotten so used to talking to Theo over the last five months that his sudden absence has left a noticeable emptiness in my days and I miss him. I miss him a lot.
In an effort to distract myself, I’ve cleaned my entire house and reorganized both my fridge and closet. It’s been nearly two weeks, but my traitorous mind keeps wandering back to Theo. I know his schedule. I know what time he goes to the gym and what days he’s in the kitchen. I know what time he gets off work and when he goes to bed. An evil part of my brain even wonders if he’s going to bed alone, or if he’s already met someone else who’s happy to meet up with him after work.
With a frustrated sigh, I grab my laptop and pull up a blank Google page. I type “Greek Islands” into the search bar and tap the enter key. Choosing the ‘images’ tab, I scroll through photo after photo featuring turquoise seas and white beaches. Tall sailboats against vivid orange sunsets. White churches with domed, blue rooftops and cobblestone streets filled with vibrant pink and purple bougainvillaea.
I had always pictured myself walking down those colourful flower-filled alleyways, hand-in-hand with a boyfriend or husband. I dreamed of splurging on a romantic hotel in Oia, Santorini with a private pool, sipping wine while watching the sunset. Of catamaran rides on the crystal-clear waters and romantic dinners at tiny tavernas in bustling old town squares. I had daydreamed about a romantic escape to Greece hundreds of times but I had never thought about going alone.
But the truth is, I am alone.
And I am tired of waiting.
I scroll back up to the search bar and quickly type in ‘Solo female travel, Greece’. The page refreshes, revealing hundreds of results written by fellow women. So, I start to read.
Over an hour later, I’ve read through dozens of articles by female travellers, all sharing their solo experiences in Greece. Some were backpackers and stayed in hostels while others splurged on more upscale hotels. But no matter the island, no matter the travel style, one reaffirming message keeps coming up. “Greece is safe.”
Minimizing the blog posts, I open another search window, this time to search for flights. Entering my starting point as Vancouver and end destination as Greece in general. Scrolling through the results shows that it’s cheaper to fly to Athens, but what I really want to see are the islands, so I select Santorini.
I click on the dates for a calendar to pop up and scan my options. The fares are more expensive than I had hoped but as I scroll through, I notice a date in green text rather than the typical black. Green is good. Green means less expensive. But the green date is also for next Tuesday.
I hesitate as I stare at the green number on my screen. It’s more than $400 cheaper than later dates but it’s also only five days away. Is five days enough time to plan a trip to Greece? To figure out what I need and pack? Am I seriously thinking of doing this?
I consider calling Mel and asking for her opinion. She’s travelled way more than I ever have. But I decide against it. This is my decision. This is my trip.
My knees start bouncing under me, a sign that I’m overthinking, as I stare at the screen.
“Fuck it,” I yell to my empty apartment. “I’m going to Greece!” I click through to book the flight.