This story takes place in the distant past - before smart phones, before internet cafes ... before the internet (when 'you've got mail' meant an envelope with a postage stamp on it). Like most of my stories, this one is hard to categorize: it combines Erotic Couplings and Romance - so I called it a novella. The meaning of the title will become apparent further on.
*
My buddy Steve drove me to the airport. My parents couldn't be bothered. Or maybe they stayed away to make a point. They disapproved of my decision to take a year off after getting my Honours degree. They were convinced that this whole 'Trip to Europe' thing was just nonsense. I was supposed to 'settle down' and get a job.
- "I envy you this trip, Chris." said Steve. "You're going to have a blast."
- "Hope so. Still wish you were coming along, though."
He looked rueful, for a moment. "Nah - I can't. I'm at the critical stage with Kayla - you know? Three months away would be too much."
- "I understand." I said. "She seems like a keeper."
- "Yeah." he said. "That's how I feel. Hey - don't forget to send me a postcard!"
- "I will. Thanks, man." I gave him a hug, and went off to join my travelling companions.
A few months ago, another friend, Glen, had heard that I was going to Europe. He invited himself along.
- "You're going to Europe? We should totally go together, Dude!"
Glen said 'Dude' way too often. But I didn't know how to say 'No' to him. So here I was, at the airport with Glen, his girlfriend Ellen, and her older sister, Maureen.
I knew Ellen from high school. She was a good-looking, social butterfly type - and therefore utterly out of my league. But she knew my ex-girlfriend, and we had run into each other a few times a year after graduation.
Her sister, Maureen - everybody called her 'Moe' - was three years ahead of us in school. I had seen her perform in a school play, in a comedic role - she had made me laugh several times. Moe was shorter than her sister, wore frumpy clothes that hid her shape, and never seemed to bother with makeup. She always looked just slightly dishevelled, with her hair out of place, her sweater wrinkled, or one sock falling down.
But for some reason, Moe was more attractive than her sister - or my ex, for that matter. There was just something ... indefinable about her. She was who she was, and she didn't seem to care what anybody else thought.
The girls took some time at the check-in counter, insisting that they needed aisle seats, directly across from one another. They were so persistent, that I leaned over to whisper to Glen: "What's the big deal?"
Moe heard me. "It
is
a big deal. Both of us suffer from TB, and it's a long flight."
- "TB?" I repeated.
- "Tiny bladder." said Moe. "You don't want us climbing over you every hour to go to the can, do you?"
We had time for a couple of drinks before boarding, so all four of us were lubricated before we even got on the plane. I ended up in the middle seat, between Moe and an elderly woman. I helped the old lady get her carry on into the overhead bin, then sat down with my book. This trip seemed like the perfect opportunity to read Lord of the Rings again.
If that sounds anti-social, I should point out that Glen and the sisters were only going to be with me for a few days. I had three months, and I planned to spend the first third of it in Britain and Ireland. They had two weeks, and were only going to be in London for three days before heading off to Amsterdam and then Paris.
I had tried to convince Glen that they needed more than two weeks, but he was convinced that they could see everything they wanted to see in that time. I didn't try particularly hard to talk him out of it. I think I was mostly relieved that I wouldn't have to be with them for very long.
The old lady beside me did crossword puzzles for a while, and then put a pillow behind her head. I offered her mine, if it would help.
- "I should be fine." she said. "Thank you, though." She closed her eyes.
Glen, Ellen and Moe wanted to play cards, but it just wasn't practical, with all the traffic up and down the aisle. Glen started to play some two-handed game with Ellen, which left Moe on her own. She ordered another drink, and a beer for me - yeah, they were
complimentary
in those days.
- "Are you the one dating Carol Sullivan?" she asked me.
- "I was."
- "Not anymore? You finally dumped her?"
- "No - she broke off with me."
- "Oh. Sorry." said Moe. "Why?"
I put my book down. "You really want to know?" I said.
- "Why not?" said Moe. "Five more hours in the air. Tell Aunt Moe all about it."
- "Is this a free consultation?" I asked.
- "Well, you might have to buy me another drink or two."
- "I can afford that."
- "Alright. So what happened? With Carol?"
It felt odd, to be discussing Carol with a near-stranger. I hadn't even told Steve the whole story. It might have been the beer I'd consumed, or the strangeness of being on a plane over the Atlantic. Or maybe it was something about Moe that encouraged openness.
- "When I told Carol that I was going to take a year off to travel and work, she wasn't too happy. She dumped me a week later."
- "What was she supposed to do while you went travelling?" asked Moe.
- "I was sort of hoping that she'd come with me."
- "Oh."
- "She wanted me to start my 'career'." I said.
- "What the fuck can you do with an undergraduate degree?" said Moe. "If you're lucky, you can be a glorified gopher for the suits in some big company."
- "Exactly." I said. "A fate worse than death. I told Carol that I wanted to work for a while, and make up my mind about what I want to do. I was considering maybe volunteering overseas - or possibly teaching." At that point, I remembered my manners.
"What do you do, Moe?" I asked.
- "I'm a glorified gopher for the suits in a big company." she said.
- "Oh. Shoot - I'm sorry."
She laughed. "I'm just fucking with you. I'm a research assistant - one step above glorified gopher."
I glanced towards the elderly lady, to see if she had heard those F-bombs, but she appeared to be asleep.
"So, Carol?" prompted Moe.
- "Oh. She, ah ... she wasn't too keen on me teaching."
- "She dumped you for that?" said Moe. "Well, Chris, I don't know you very well, but you can take my word for it: you're lucky to be rid of her. She would have made your life miserable. Or she would have dumped you later. Worst case-scenario: a few years from now, she's fucking your boss behind your back."
I just stared at Moe. That was ... a really harsh thing to say. But a part of me - a fairly large part of me - agreed with her.
- "You ... you may be right." I said.
- "Damn straight. I've known Carol since she and Ellen were in Grade 6. Carol's a bitch. No two ways about it. You're lucky to be rid of her."
I had been heartbroken, or depressed, for months. Moe was the first person to suggest that getting dumped might have been a positive thing. She saw my confusion.
"Come on, Chris. She was a user. How many times did she make you pay for pussy?"
I choked on my beer. The old lady still seemed to be asleep, but I couldn't believe that Moe was talking like this.
