Chapter 13
The words Hippie Market hang over the entrance in huge white letters.
The grounds are packed with vendor stalls, all decked out with colourful flowers and peace signs.
Mia and I are met with the scent of incense mixed with an aroma I distinctly remember wafting over from the room across from mine in my student days.
My roommate was a huge reggae fan and during exam weeks, he would blast Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds through the house non-stop.
Cause every little thing... gonna be alright.
.. It didn’t take long for me to start hating that song.
Felix and Juan have been trying to grow their woodworking business, so they have a stall rigged up at the market today, too.
Between all the products on display and the colourful canopies shading all the stalls, I don’t know where to look first. The sun is high in the sky, turning the sandy ground rainbow colours by casting its rays through the bright pink, blue, and green canopies that flutter above all the jewellery and purses on display.
A man with a thick head of grey hair is devouring what looks like a phenomenal brownie behind his stall of precious stones.
He gives me a friendly look through his round John Lennon glasses and holds two fingers up to greet me.
Intrigued, I approach his stall and let my fingers wander over a bracelet with blue beads.
That one’s made of Larimar, the man says, swallowing a bite of brownie as he slides the paper plate with the rest of the treat off to the side.
Eyeing the pastry, I feel my stomach rumble.
Sometimes it’s called the Stone of Atlantis.
This one has some small imperfections, but a flawless one would be priceless.
A shock of recognition flashes through me as I stare at the blue gem.
The white lines swirling through the blue are still so fascinating to me.
The man smiles widely, knowing that he’s caught my attention and I notice he’s missing a molar.
His skin is deeply tanned and leathery, like he’s spent his whole life roasting in the sun.
Do you believe in gemstone therapy?
I shake my head. Admittedly, a similar gem helped me overcome my greatest fear eighteen years ago, but I know now that it wasn’t the stone’s doing. My eleven-year-old self just needed to project the confidence she had lost onto something outside of herself.
The man smiles. I thought as much, he says, shaking his head.
You look like the type who gets in her own head all the time.
Someone who overthinks things instead of trusting her gut.
Larimar helps people let go of anxiety and heavy feelings.
It brings inner peace and a sense of contentment.
I think it would do you good. When he sees my hesitation, he amps up his selling technique.
I’ll add in a special homemade brownie. My wife’s recipe.
He winks at me. One for you and one for your friend, so you can both relax a little.
He nods at Mia as she moves closer to me, suddenly much more alert at the prospect of chocolate.
I look at the silver strand that holds the beads.
The bracelet is very beautiful and our lunch was four hours ago.
I fidget with my necklace and finally nod, then fish out my wallet from my bag.
The man claps his hands eagerly, then accepts the money I hand him.
As we stroll along the market, I take a big bite of my brownie. It’s perfect: a crisp top layer that crumbles when I sink my teeth into it before they reach the fudgy middle. I let out a delighted squeal when I realize the intense chocolate flavour is paired with a hint of hazelnut.
My new bracelet dangles elegantly from my wrist and it’s a perfect colour match for the dress I’m wearing. When we stroll past a stall full of dream catchers and other wall and window hangings, my ears are flooded with the melodious sound of wind chimes made from bamboo and stained glass.
Ooh, check out those bikinis! Mia shouts, delightedly pointing at a stall with swimwear. The suits are hanging from a large beam right below the stall’s white canopy and they come in a full spectrum of bright colours. The edges are embellished with beads, as are the ends of the ties.
Mia’s signature style makes her look like she ran straight through a rainbow, so the thought of carrying that theme through to her swimwear is pretty thrilling. Once she’s settled on a purchase—a yellow bikini with a beaded fringe in a variety of colours—we walk on.
I’m starting to feel weirder and weirder and my fingers have gone all tingly.
Suddenly, I can hear every sound coming from the people around us with extra clarity, and there’s some kind of buzzing in my ears, too.
No idea where that’s coming from. The flutter of the market’s canopies and tarps no longer sounds like it’s being driven by a gentle breeze, but by gale force winds.
Astonished, I stare at my hands. I have ten fingers.
I rub my thumb and index finger together and I’ve never noticed how soft my skin is before. Wowww.
I let my cousin in on my secret. You really need to try out my hand cream. It’ll make your fingers feel super soft.
Mia blinks a few times, quietly starts to chuckle, then descends into a full-blown laughing fit. Her laughter is contagious and before I know it, I’m doubled over, too.
By the time we reach Felix and Juan’s stall, I can’t stop myself from gawking at all the pieces on display. I’m overwhelmed by the beauty of the gorgeous paint colours they’ve used on their carvings.
This is all stunning, I say as a compliment to Felix as he gives me an odd look. I pick up a carved wooden owl from the table and study it closely, rolling the wood between my hands like I’m molding a hunk of clay. It feels... hard and... and...
Rough? Felix suggests, since my vocabulary has been magically reduced to that of a four-year-old.
YES! Thank you! I shout, pointing the wooden owl at him.
I can’t believe you just made this. I run my fingers over the intricate carvings.
So. Gorgeous. Does it fly? With some added encouragement from Mia’s excited shrieks, I gear up to chuck the statue through the air, but Felix manages to snatch it from my hands.
He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his short brown hair.
Party pooper, I taunt, ignoring Felix’s disapproving glare.
What is going on with you? he asks, putting the owl back down on the table.
Nothing. I just wanted to free the bird. Birds should be free to fly. I illustrate my point with flapping arms and Felix’s frown grows deeper until the piece of jewellery on my wrist catches his eye.
Where did you get that bracelet? he asks. His eyes dart from the beads to my face and back.
Felix has beautiful eyes. I should tell him that. It’s important to be aware of having beautiful eyes. You have beautiful eyes, Felix, I declare.
His cheeks go pink as he shrugs awkwardly. Oh, uh... Thank you?
I give him an encouraging thump on the arm. You’re welcome.
Juan’s voice drifts over from somewhere behind me. Eva, any chance you bought that bracelet from the man near the entrance? The one with the grey hair and the round glasses? Any chance he offered you a brownie?
I pull up my shoulders and turn toward his direction. I don’t know. My gaze glides over Juan’s arms. Great muscles.
Pretty sure that’s a yes. She’s high as a kite. Felix’s voice has a hint of a chuckle in it.
Hey! Why does a newfound appreciation of the finer things in life have to mean she’s stoned? Juan sounds insulted. Flexing his muscles, he moves an extra heavy wooden statue to a new spot.
Mia has slumped down into a little chair inside the booth, humming a song as she gently sways back and forth.
Felix looks helplessly from me to Mia and back. Now what? We can’t exactly let them roam around like this. Eva is liable to rob a food truck in this condition.
It’s only an hour and a half until we’re supposed to pack up. They should be able to chill out until then, right? Juan replies, walking out from behind their display table to guide me to the chair next to Mia’s like I’m a toddler who just wet herself again despite months of diligent potty training.
The minutes fly by and every time someone attempts to haggle with our babysitters over the price of a wood carving, Mia and I crack up laughing.
Juan throws me an irritated look during a negotiation with one particular customer.
But this isn’t just any customer. This is a customer with a hot dog.
I lick my lips in delight as the man works his way through his snack.
I’m hungry. Hungrier than I ever thought I could be.
I drum my hands on my thighs impatiently as I look around.
At least one of these stalls is bound to be a food vendor, right?
Both Felix and Juan are occupied with other things when I slip out through the back of the booth and into the market.
People bump into me while others beat wooden drums and children screech all around me.
For a second, I think I’m losing my mind, until I spot a stand with vegan hotdogs and fries.
I stride like Moses through the sea of people, all of them parting to let me through.
My eyes are locked on my target and my stomach rumbles in agreement as I get closer.
An aroma of warm buns with sausages, falafel, and fries wafts over to meet me.
What can I get for you? asks the man behind the counter.
My body jolts. He has dark hair, a tattoo on his lower arm, and chocolate-brown eyes. For a moment I’m completely speechless, but then I manage to clear my throat. Elias? I whisper.
The man raises his eyebrows inquisitively, and then I see his brown eyes shift to green and the lines on his arm transform into a large mermaid instead of a tangle of ships and coordinates.
He gives me a questioning look. What can I get for you?
he repeats, assuming I didn’t hear him the first time.
Ummm, six.
Six what?
Six hot dogs, I clarify, holding up eight fingers.
The man looks at me, clearly puzzled, then shakes his head and starts to add sausages to buns. He finally hands me a paper bag and I pass him a fifty euro bill.
Keep the change, I say, fishing the first hot dog out of my bag and shoving it into my mouth.
I eagerly lick up the sauce that trickles down onto my hands as I walk through the crowd in search of a quiet spot to sit. Except that spot doesn’t seem to exist. The noises swirling around me become louder and louder and it feels impossible to escape.
When I spot the Hippie Market exit, I practically sprint toward it and take a seat on the stoop.
What I actually want to do is cross the street to the little bench overlooking the sea, but the stupid stop sign won’t change to green.
I stare intently at the octagon while I grab hold of hot dog number four and gobble it up.
I hear my phone ringing in my purse, but manage to ignore the sound. That food truck guy really looked like Elias. Elias with the gorgeous eyes, the washboard abs that look robust enough to scrub tar out of clothing, and the phenomenal hangover breakfasts. Elias... Elias...
I grab my phone from my bag and open my messages. Our last text was a month ago, right after we downed that bottle of tequila together. Annoyed, I swipe Felix’s incoming call off my screen and start to tap out a message. I’m feeling exceptionally complimentary today.
Shit, I hiss when a blob of ketchup lands on my touchscreen. I wedge the hotdog into my mouth so I can wipe the screen and use both thumbs to appropriately sing Elias’s well-deserved praises.
When Felix’s name pops up on my screen for the umpteenth time, I sigh deeply and tap on the green phone. What?
Thank God! I hear his loud voice coming through the speaker. I was worried you’d been hit by a car or something. Where are you?!
I’m sitting out by the road. I’m waiting for the stop sign to turn green.
You’re... waiting for the stop sign to turn green? Felix repeats, sounding astounded.
Yeah. It’s been red for at least half an hour and I really want to go sit on the little bench. I give the white ‘STOP’ letters an angry glare.
Felix bursts out laughing. Okay, don’t move. We’re coming to get you.
By the time Juan and Felix’s van pulls up in front of me, all of my hot dogs are long gone and I’m covered in ketchup—a visual that pushes the guys into an extreme laughing fit.
Mia’s already snoring in the back seat and I feel my head get heavy and my eyelids droop while Felix secures my seat belt for me.
I barely hear Felix turn the ignition before I drift off into a deep sleep.