“Saint-Gilles,” Pam called out as she walked. “It’s meant to be beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I waved at them and then pulled my phone out. I went straight to a last-minute booking website and typed in the location and my desired dates. Suddenly, my screen was full of tropical beaches, bright green palm trees, cocktails with long, twirly straws and carnival-colored fruits. A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Sudden images of me on the beach with my face buried in a colorful drink raced through my mind and made me feel very,veryhappy.
I flicked through the pictures and finally found what I was looking for; white beaches, crystal waters, lush green lawns, a colonial-looking hotel and the kind of breakfast buffet you could spend an entire day hanging out with. I pressed a few more buttons and just like that, I was booked in. Maybe three days of sea, sand and fresh air was exactly what I needed to forget this entire disastrous mess. I’d had to dip into my emergency savings fund, but hey, if this wasn’t an emergency then what was?
2 Nov.
Dear Diary,
A spark of hope.
It’s not all doom and gloom, Matt has invited me to his parents 50thwedding anniversary party. I know I am not reading too much into this when I say it feels date-y. All my friends agree too—even Jane and Stormy have come off the fence on this one. Even they concur that an invite like this implies more than friendship.
The best part, it’s an away party. We’ll be taking a drive down to the Midlands, staying there for two nights and returning on Monday morning. The Midlands are misty and romantic. And it’s cold. Which means raging log fires and gluhwein and the need to get under fluffy, warm duvets—hopefully together. So much to do before going.
To Do List
1.Get Brazilian. (Remember to put fear of God into waxologist after last disaster when hot wax landed in a place that nothing should ever go near and the only way to get rid of it was to rip . . . just because the Kardashians wax down there, doesn’t mean you want to.)
2.Eyebrow shaping.
3.Buy condoms—because you are going to use them! (WHOO-HOO! Fist pump. Be positive. Don’t let the fact you haven’t had sex in over a year bring your confidence down. It’s like riding a bicycle. It’s like riding a bicycle. It’s like riding a bicycle—repeat mantra throughout day.)
4.Get new lingerie—not too slutty, but not too Virgin Mary. Maybe pink. Red is too much. Red might say this is premeditated and that you have been anticipating this. White is perhaps too little. (Maybe it would be cheaper to throw the reds into my washing machine with my whites and see what happens.)
This is it. I know it. It has to be! If I am here tomorrow this time and I have not told Matt how I feel, then I fear it will be too late.
More cuming soon . . . (terrible pun intended!)
9 Nov.
Dear Diary,
I’ve waited an entire week to write this because I didn’t know how to face you with the news.
Matt and I didnotwhile we were away at the anniversary party. In fact, I hardly saw him for those two days as he buzzed around with all his other friends and family.
I’m wondering if I can return the sexy undies I bought? I really splashed out this time, more so than usual. I probably can’t, since I did try them on once and ripped the label off. So I guess they will just go into my underwear drawer with all the others I’ve bought for Matt. The drawer is overflowing and I don’t know what to do with them. I have watchedOrange is the New Blackand saw that storyline where the prisoners started selling their worn panties to weird panty sniffers on the internet, that might be a real option for me at some stage . . .
I’m deflecting with humor here. But honestly, there is nothing humorous about any of this.
More later, but probably not . . .
CHAPTER TEN
It was dusk when my taxi pulled up to the hotel. The drive had been spectacular. On my right, the road wound its way along the idyllic, sparkling coastline, and to my left, huge mountains reached up to the sky. When I finally got to the hotel, I couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped my lips. It was gorgeous. It looked like one of those massive plantation houses in Louisiana, hopefully without the creepy horror movie feel. It was set back on rolling emerald green lawns with the tallest palm trees I’d ever seen. I climbed out of the car and was hit by the warm sea breeze. A subtle scent hung in the air too—what was it? Magnolia?
The inside of the hotel was just as spectacular as the outside. It was all so reminiscent of those bygone colonial days. Drinking gin and tonics in white cotton dresses while lounging on the patio and watching the cricket. I felt as if I was being transported back in time.
It was exactly 7 p.m. when I checked in and finally got to my room. The room didn’t disappoint either. It was huge and luxurious and had one of those enormous beds that you could get lost in. The bath was a round tub that was more reminiscent of a plunge pool than an actual bath. I suddenly wished more than anything that Matt would magically appear in the bath, and when I realized he wouldn’t, I headed straight for the very well-stocked minibar.
No, it wasn’t for the alcohol this time. It was the large bag of M&Ms that were calling my name. The giant Twix bars,extra-long, buy two get one free, were singing to me right now. Indeed, it was a massive bag of crisps that implored me to eat it.
But the food did little to comfort me, in fact, all it did was remind me of Matt. Our evenings spent on the couch together eating junk food and drinking beer until our pants were so tight and we had to open our top buttons. It reminded me of all those times that I’d sat there loving him so hard, and not having him love me back.
In fact, most things reminded me of Matt. We’d spent so much time together over the last three years that he’d become an integral part of my life. Like a thread permanently woven into a tapestry, and I wasn’t sure there was any way of getting him out of it without the whole picture falling apart.
My mind whirled in circles and I went to my bag and pulled out my diary again. I hadn’t written in it for a while, but I read it often. I’d spent many a night flipping through it, analyzing the trajectory of our relationship and trying to figure out where it had gone wrong. I kept trying to identify that one moment that should have told me, beyond a reasonable doubt, that he was justnotinto me. I’d thought I’d found it the other day. I opened it and read.
