“Valeria Ivanov?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” I replied passing over my ticket and passport.
She smiled at me. “I’m so glad. We were starting to think you weren’t going to make it.”
“I’m here,” I said, “and I’m going to make it!” I said that line with a kind of poignant reverence. Yes, I was going to make it.Wasn’t I?
She tore my ticket in half and handed me the smallest piece. I gripped it in my hands and followed her down the carpeted corridor and straight up to the open door of the plane. The air hostess at the gate smiled at me.
“Welcome aboard,” she said. And for some reason I wanted to cry at the kindness in her voice. I had to fight the urge not to hug her. I walked down the aisle to what looked like the only empty seat on the plane.
I slipped my small bag into the overhead storage compartment and sat down, buckling myself in. I did a double take when I saw who was sitting next to me; the Americans from the queue. The man shot me a curious eye.
“So, you’re coming then?” he asked sarcastically.
“I am.” I smiled back at him. “But to where?” I asked.
“Huh?” He looked at me oddly and then glanced at his wife.
“Where are we going, exactly?”
His eyes flashed with surprise. “Réunion,” he said slowly.
“Re-who-where?” I asked. I’d never heard of the place in my entire life!
The plane started moving and then it suddenly dawned on me.What the fuck was I doing?I’d just boarded an international flight by “accident” and I had no idea where the hell I was going.
15 Sept.
Dear Diary,
Yes! I know. It’s been a while. But I’ve been away, burning in the fiery pits of friend-zoned hell.
Half of my friends think that maybe I need to accept the fact that I could be in the friend zone, and the other half still think that it can’t possibly be platonic. Platonic friends don’t spend so much time together. They think that maybe he knows how serious a relationship this would be if we got together, and maybe he’s just not ready for it? (That’s the current working theory from Lilly and Annie anyway.) Jane and Stormy are leaning more towards the whole, “he’s not into you” thing.
I don’t know what to think anymore. I went to see a psychologist, not because I’m depressed or anything like that, but because I felt like I needed an outside opinion. But apparently psychologists don’t like to ever give opinions on things. I thought it was their job to give opinions and help you figure out what the right thing to do was. But NO! She kept saying, “What do I feel should happen?” “What do I think he feels?” “What do I think it means?” “What do I think that will mean for me?”
HELLO . . . If I knew the answers to any of those questions, I would not have come to you.
Anyway . . . Whatever . . . More later . . .
CHAPTER NINE
Réunion Island; a French island in the Indian Ocean. It’s known for its volcanic, rain-forested interior, high mountain ranges, coral reefs and tropical beaches.
Well, according to the in-flight magazine I’d browsed during the flying anyway. The flight had been short, only a few hours, I hadn’t expected that. Since I’d never heard of this strange place, I was sure it was going to be somewhere far away, like in the Bermuda Triangle. Instead, having it right off the South African coast made the fact that I didn’t know it a little embarrassing.
The flight had given me a chance to talk to my new American friends though. Pam and Bob, who hailed from Texas and had come on an African safari to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary. I’d told them my entire story and they’d weighed in, and both agreed. Matt definitely had feelings for me, because there was no such thing as a truly platonic friendship, they said. I felt somewhat better when I finally disembarked. That is, until I realized I had no idea what the hell I was meant to do next.
I stood in the airport looking around. I couldn’t quite believe I was here. The people rushing past me all looked like they were in high holiday spirits. I stood there considering my options, before deciding that the best thing to do would be to book a flight straight back to South Africa.
“What do you mean there’re only two flights a week and the next one is full?” I asked the woman behind the counter.
She looked at me and repeated the same thing, a little slower this time. “There are only two flights a week between Réunion and South Africa, today’s one back is full and the next one is in three days’ time.”
“Three days?” I couldn’t quite believe it. This threw a spanner in my works. I couldn’t stay in the airport for three days, could I? At that, Pam and Bob walked past me.
“Goodbye,” I called after them. “Where are you staying, by the way?”
