Chapter 4

[asteralison]

 Chapter 4

She saw him immediately when she walked into the dining room the next morning. He was in a corner, staring at his laptop. When he glanced up and saw her approaching, he smiled, and her morning felt so very bright. He stood up as she sat down across from him and took off her mask. She noted that he’d already ordered tea for her.

“Good morning,” he said.

“And good morning to you! Did you sleep or did you run?”

“I did both. Got a 10-mile run in and almost enough sleep. Did you sleep well?”

Both chose the Continental breakfast and ate quickly.

“Jonathan,” she said, stirring her tea, “you and France figured this all out. What do we do with our luggage? I mean, I know what I was going to do, but—”

“Don’t worry. We have a driver for the morning, she’ll be waiting for us out front at 8:15.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

He smiled. “I haven’t done much traveling with a friend as an adult. As in, none. This has been so much fun, having someone to do things with.”

They were just finishing up when a tall woman with long auburn hair and a designer mask came up to their table, calling out to Jonathan. He stood up and put on his mask. Melissa, more slowly, did the same.

“Jonathan! So good to see you!”

“Hello Ariana,” he said.  “It’s been a while.” They chatted for a bit. Melissa sat back down and checked her email on her phone.

“… Hey, since you’re here. I was going to Sydney for the Marathon next year. Did you want to train and then run it with me?” She glanced pointedly over at Melissa and clearly found her uninteresting and looked back to Jonathan. “I’ve not found anyone like you since you left Philly!”

Jonathan turned towards Melissa. “Melissa, this is Ariana Bosworth, she’s a lawyer with the city of Philadelphia and we were in the same running group when I was at Penn. Ariana, this is Doctor Melissa Maitland. She’s a friend of mine.”

Melissa didn’t know if it was intentional, but he’d certainly hinted at the contrast between their places in his life. She stood and nodded at the taller woman in greeting.

Ariana looked at Melissa again, though she clearly thought her short and insignificant. She opened her mouth, probably to press Jonathan on the marathon issue, when he smoothly checked the time. “Ariana, it was great to see you. We have to head out now, drop me an email when you have time. Melissa,” he said, “shall we?” and she felt the ghost of a hand on her back, perhaps not even touching, but the intent of the whole motion was clear.

In the elevator he sighed. “I am sorry. We were a group of 20 runners. Needless to say, there is always that one person or those two people, and Ariana was one of them.”

She nodded, noting that he’d pushed the button to her floor. “I know. The boathouse is the same way. Everyone is great, except the few who are not and make everyone miserable.”

“Boathouse? Do you row?”

“I do. Every weekday at 11 or noon, on Lake Union mostly.”

“I was wondering what you did for exercise, meant to ask”

He got off with her and walked towards her room with her.

“What made you think I did anything?”

She was all ready to go. She put her messenger bag over her shoulder and grabbed her suitcase.

Back in the hallway as they waited for the elevator, he said “When I was trying to get you to breathe deeply yesterday, I had my hand on your stomach. The abs.”

“Oh.” She felt her cheeks redden. At least the mask hid some of that.

 

Jonathan fell asleep the second they got into the car after the Victoria and Albert. It had been, Melissa felt, the best museum experience in her life. They hadn’t had a lot of time, but the curator had walked her through the glass and jewelry exhibits, pointing out items she might have otherwise missed, and giving her backstory on several of them.

Jonathan had seemed distracted during the visit, paying more attention to his phone than to the objects, and now he was asleep. She knitted, only looking up when the driver called her attention to some landmark or another. She’d checked in for the flight on her phone and found that yes, she’d gotten an upgrade from economy, and that she was seated next to Jonathan. A few more hours and this would all be over. She sighed and checked the progress of the socks. She probably would have them done by the end of the flight. Once she was home, on her own turf, with Cate, Mags, their kids, her cats, her work, she’d be on a more even keel and she was sure she’d be able to see this as a brief infatuation that could never be anything more.

She glanced over at Jonathan. He even managed to look good sleeping. No drool.

Eventually, they were at the gate. Melissa settled down with her knitting, they had almost half an hour before boarding. She’d decided she’d do her Cognac and chocolate shopping on the way out of Reykjavik: somehow the idea of being in a hotel room by herself and a bunch of chocolate didn’t sound like a good one if she wanted anything left for Mags and Cate. Plus none of them had tasted Icelandic chocolate before.

Jonathan sat down next to her. He’d suggested they go to the lounge that was available to them, but she’d declined. She was starting to feel uncomfortable because he clearly was. He was not speaking to her much and was much more aware of his cell phone when she tried to engage him. She felt a certain glum dullness. Maybe seeing Ariana had reminded him of what a beautiful woman paying attention to him could look like. She’d noted that Ariana was probably close to her own age, and yet hadn’t seemed at all concerned about subtly signaling her interest in the young man. Melissa sighed. She was too fucked up. Jonathan hopped up, distracting her, and walked towards the bank of windows, bringing his cell phone to his ear. She stared at him for a few seconds, then went back to her knitting. She noticed she’d dropped a stitch a dozen rows back, cursed under her breath, and started unravelling.

“Aren’t they supposed to get longer, not shorter?” he asked as he sat back down next to her.

“I screwed up.”

“Ah.” He tossed his cell phone in the air, caught it, put it in his pocket, worried at his lip. Took a deep breath.

“Melissa.”

“All right?”

“Are you going to be ok, flying?”

Ah. The fear of heights. No wonder he was nervous, he thought he was going to be trapped next to a panicking, sobbing old lady for 5 hours.

She shook her head. “I’m fine, flying. That’s not heights.”

“OK? Seems to me that 30 000 ft is a heck of a lot higher than the London Eye.”

“Flying truly isn’t a problem. No edges. And if you don’t want to sit next to me, that’s fine too. I mean, I won’t need any help.”

He looked at her, dismay on his face, even with the mask. “No. I do. I just wanted to know.”

She shrugged. She didn’t know why he was so jumpy.

He hopped up again, walked to the window, came to sit back down. He was about to flip his phone in the air again when he arrested the motion, took a deep breath, and said, “Melissa. Will you stay in Iceland with me?”

“Oh.”

“I mean, for the time I’m there. We’d have a blast! If you can take off, I mean. But it would be so cool.”

“I—”

“I mean, I don’t know if you can take off work, but if you can, I’m sure we’d get along fine, and the van is meant for two and you said you wanted to do that kind of trip and—”

She put her knitting down in her lap, her hands were shaking. It’s what Mags had suggested. She hadn’t thought it was a likely possibility and hadn’t thought more about it than “I wish.” She admitted to herself that she did wish but was suddenly overwhelmed with fear.

“Jonathan. I can’t. I don’t have any gear, not for camping, or even van camping, my cat sitter—"

“Gear is not a problem. France has a plan. I don’t know about cat sitters, but I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“Work—”

“That I can’t help you with.” His face fell. “I mean, if you can’t, I get it. But think about it. Please”

“I—"

“Oh shit.” He looked panicked suddenly. “Is there a significant other? I’m sorry, I never asked.”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s not that.”  

“And it’s not fair for me to sit here and beg. I’ll leave you alone to decide, ok? We have to board now, and you know I’ll be asleep before takeoff. Wake me up if you want to talk.”

She could tell from his tone of voice that he expected her to refuse, and he just wanted to push hearing that back, didn’t want to deal with the disappointment right away. That touched her, in some way. She couldn’t figure it out. He clearly wanted to spend the time with her, but as far as she could tell he was giving out no signs of being sexually interested, which considering their age difference -and hotness difference she admitted to herself- wasn’t surprising. And yet, he seemed to always come back.

“Window or aisle?” he asked. He put her carryon in the overhead.

“Thank you. I always have to ask someone for help with that.  Aisle or window are both fine, but you’re tall enough that you probably prefer aisle even in first class.” He nodded.

They sat down. A flight attendant came right away with sparkling wine. They both declined.

True to his word, Jonathan was asleep almost immediately.

The plane took off. She peeked out the window. She tried to knit. She stared at her hands. She did all the things, she reflected, Jonathan had been doing all morning, only she was stuck in an airplane seat -admittedly a first class one-. She desperately wanted to stay and take this vacation with him. She was also deeply attracted to him, she admitted to herself, which complicated things. But then again, if it wasn’t reciprocal, did it truly matter if she allowed herself this small interlude to fantasize and dream? She’d only be hurting herself and she felt she was willing to take the risk of getting closer to someone she would never have if it meant this happy excitement for a while. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way. Rafe maybe. He’d swept her off her feet, literally knocking her over on the lawn of the Harvard Medical School quad, where she’d done her second post-doc. He was from a wealthy family from the Boston area, he said, and had grown up in all those places she’d only read about. He’d been suave, and performatively polite, insisting on holding her chair when she sat down and opening car doors for her. She never figured out what was truth and what was lies, with him. She had been far from her West Coast life and family and friends, and there had been nobody to tell her -remind her- that no man should ever hit a partner, especially not one he towered over and outweighed by about 100lbs. She’d hidden the bruises, not mentioned the slaps, withdrawn into herself and her work, avoiding making friends, in case someone found out about the beatings. Their relationship, if that what it had been, had lasted a bit over a year, about half her time at Boston. She’d been working in the lab, alone, the Sunday of Labor Day weekend. Her supervisor, Beth had headed to the beach, so reasonably confident that nobody would be in, she’d taken off the fleece she always wore, baring arms covered in bruises. A stomach bug, however, had sent Beth and her family home early and she’d decided to catch up on some work in the lab. She’d been horrified when she’d seen the bruises. She, her wife, and her stepson had been there when Melissa moved out of the apartment, and she’d helped Melissa negotiate with the landlord to get a smaller place in one of their other properties. She’d also loaned her the money to eat until the next paycheck, since Rafe had cleaned out her bank account. He’d been a jerk, an abuser, a serial liar, but he’d been a spectacular lover and especially at the beginning had made her feel special.

She was again offered Champagne, and this time she took a glass. Her dating history verged on the pathetic. She and Anthony had broken up after over four years together, just as she was finishing up her first post doc. There had been many reasons for the break-up, one of them being that he didn’t want to follow her to the East Coast, another that he’d been cheating on her, but things had been rocky since it had become clear that a family with 2.5 kids and a dog wasn’t going to be in the cards. She’d probably been on the rebound from Anthony when she’d met Rafe. After Rafe, back in Seattle, Steven. That hadn’t lasted, her fault, but at least they remained friends. Then there had been the weirdo twins, as Mags had dubbed them. She didn’t want to think about them. She’d stopped dating after them.

She took a sip of the wine and sighed. Jonathan seemed to want a friend to hang out with while traveling. She could be that friend. Heck, she truly liked the younger man, in addition to, well, the other stuff.

She bent over to retrieve her laptop and put her knitting away. She had wi-fi. She’d email Mags and Cate and see what they thought.

The first email in her inbox was from Brigitte, her cat sitter.

Mags gave me a call last night and said you might be staying in Yurp for an extra 10 days. Don’t sweat it, I love the cattos, would much rather come over to scoop poop and feed cats in the evening than put away dinner dishes. Plus, until I move out for college, parental allergies mean no cats and my life motto is Crazy Cat Lady Is Aspirational. I think they’re ok on food for at least then if not, I’ll stop by the vet. Also, Pip’s toe is pretty much healed. Check out my TikTok or my Insta, got one of Lilly climbing half-way up the wall after that stupid laser. Later-gator!

 

Other emails from Mags and Cate, saying much the same as they had the previous evening. Still sipping the Champagne, she checked her schedule to see if there was anything she’d forgotten she needed to be in Seattle for. She would miss a scrimmage with her rowing gals, the Witches (they had special oars that were painted to look like brooms and their boat was black), but they could find someone else for her seat, Stephanie was usually willing. She’d have to give one talk via Zoom, and she canceled, with relish, a dentist appointment.

She finished her wine, handed the glass back to the flight attendant and declined a refill. When he’d gone, she reached over and touched Jonathan gently on the forearm.

He was instantly awake. He didn’t startle awake, he was just… awake and alert, not appearing to need any time to reorient himself to the moment. He turned towards her, his mask hiding his expression.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“One hundred percent,” he said.

“Then, yes. I’d love to stay in Iceland and travel with you.”

His eyes crinkled in a smile, and he took her hand and squeezed it, then dropped it quickly “Sorry, I should have asked,” he said, and she shook her head, it was ok, it felt nice. “Oh, Melissa, we’re going to have a blast together!”

He asked for her email address and sent her an email, telling her she needed to email France, who had a plan to procure gear, and was she particularly attached to her hotel reservation, and this is the itinerary, we can go over it later and adapt it to what you want to do, we’ll hit Blue Lagoon for sure, he also sent her a copy of his packing list, to give her an idea of what she’d need, and while he was talking, she was smiling because he was excited.

She emailed France who got back to her within just a few minutes. Clearly, she’d been waiting for Melissa’s message.

She sent Melissa a link to a gear supplier in Iceland, telling her to order what she needed, and a personal shopper would meet her at the hotel with what she’d ordered, and some extra for sizing. She asked for details of the Blue Lagoon reservation so it could be rescheduled. Asked for details on Melissa’s hotel reservation and asked if she was ok staying elsewhere.

It was all very polite -she didn’t feel bullied or pressured- but clearly France had a plan, and everything would go better if Melissa abided by it.

“I suppose,” she asked Jonathan, “that it would do me no good to say that I can pay for my own gear?”

“No good at all. But. Have you been to Iceland before?”

“No, not beyond a few hours in transit in the airport on the way to London.”

“I have, I did the Golden Circle with my dad and Den when I was a teenager. Gas stations sell hot dogs that are great, much better than what we get, and fries with paprika salt. You can pay for those. How’s that?”

“Jonathan…”

“It’s my fault you’re ending up in Iceland in a camper rather than at home. I can at least make up for it by footing the bill for the extra gear.”

“You know—”

“Yes. But please. And I ate two hot dogs every day we were there.”

She shook her head and turned back to her computer and went to start selecting jackets, long underwear, hiking pants, shirts, hiking boots, hat, gloves…

Another email from France:

Favorite color? And your size? I’m getting you and J some warm pajamas/lounge wear for evenings in the van. I have J’s info.

She had pajamas, and had often slept in long underwear when camping, but it was just easier to comply.

Purple or blues, but I’m not picky. Yellow makes me look dead, though. Size is XS or S. I’m 5ft, 100lbs or I suppose 1.52m and about 45kg. Thank you!

The shopping didn’t take too long. It felt very strange to just order whatever she needed without looking at the price. She got an email from France saying that a young woman called Embla Jónsdóttir would meet her at the hotel with all the purchases.

Eventually it was all done, and she shut her computer just minutes before the flight attendant brought them a light meal.

“Jonathan,” she said, “I do have some work I’ll need to get done while I’m there. A Zoom meeting.”

“I have a paper to write too, I was planning on stopping relatively early, so I had time to work a bit in the evenings. Cell coverage is pretty good, but we can sit down with the trip plan and make sure we’re near some bigger town for the Zoom meeting.”

He fished his computer out of its bag, opened it. “Here’s our van!” he said.

It was a 4x4 Mercedes Sprinter van painted bright orange. “We won’t lose it,” he said. “They’re helpful that way!” and she laughed. He scrolled through the photos, the benches that became a bed, storage, fridge, two-burner stove. Curtains to keep light and chill out, the heater.

“Oh. There is a version with an optional potty and shower, but I opted against it. Because of the weather, all the overnights will be in campgrounds so with access to bathrooms. We can change and get one with a toilet and shower if you want.”

She shuddered at the thought. “No, I think I’m ok without.”

“Campgrounds usually have bathrooms and showers, and Iceland has an incredible system of public pools. Most campgrounds will have a communal kitchen or eating space. We can, and probably will, cook in the van, but the extra space to wash dishes might be nice.”

“One thing I should mention now that you’re stuck with me. I’m… not a great cook.”

“I figured.”

“Oh?”

“When we were talking about cooking the other evening, you listened, interjecting comments, but not your own experiences.”

She laughed. “I can bake reasonably well, if given a recipe. I’m hopeless at everything else. I eat lunch at the cafeteria at work, and cereal or ramen for dinner more often than not.”

“Well, Iceland isn’t a place you truly go for great food, it’s good serviceable stuff. We’ll be fine. Any dislikes?”

“Not really. I’m not overly fond of fish, but I can tolerate it.”

“If I want fish, I’ll go to a restaurant. We did a camper trip to Grand Teton a few years back with Dad and Den.  We tried fly fishing and actually caught some fish and decided to have it for dinner. Ugh. It smelled like fish for the rest of the trip!”

She’d resumed knitting. Somehow it went faster now. “I’ll have to make you a second pair,” she said. “I’ll have time.”

“I’ll have France check for a good place to buy Icelandic yarn if you want,” he said.

“Oh, that would be fun! France, by the way, is awesome. In an intimidating and impressive way.”

“I know. That said, she’s about as tall as you are, though a lot, um, bigger.”

“Oh. I’d pictured her as a statuesque 5ft10 blonde who doesn’t take shit from anyone. Especially not from pissant researchers free-loading on her boy’s vacation.”

He laughed.  “No, she’s actually thrilled for me, she didn’t like me going alone. And no, she’s tiny, round. Navajo. Always wears beautiful silver jewelry and colorful jackets to work.”

“Navajo?”

“Yeah, my grandfather was from New Mexico, my dad grew up in Santa Fe. Granddad hired France straight out of UNM, and she was with him for the last 25 years or so of his and my grandmother’s life. My grandmother died a few years before he did, I think France kept him together. They weren’t lovers or anything, but she had his life so regimented for as long as it took for him to get through the worse of it.” He looked down as his hands. “She tried with me, after Robin died. But I’d just started medical school, and I think she was frustrated that she couldn’t keep me from thinking. Not that I had the time in med school to do much else than study, but I didn’t have the time to do anything else, so grief just permeated everything.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Again, thank you. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop missing him. Anyhow, back to France. She’s still in New Mexico, and pretty much all the kids who work for her are Native kids attending UNM. She overpays them grossly, which is awesome, and gives them great references for wherever they want to go next. I try to get down to visit her once a year.”

“She seems very attached to you.”

“She is. When I’d go down to visit my grandparents, she was always the one to help out, and often took me to do things. My grandmother had congestive heart failure, so she couldn’t do much, but France took me hiking, brought me to visit her family in Navajo country, drove me down to White Sands and Carlsbad Caverns. And took me to Roswell. She believes.”

“In aliens?”

“Yup. It’s the only out-there thing about her, aside from that, she’s pragmatic, down to earth, and totally awesome.” He was silent for a moment. “When my grandmother got very sick, France was also the one who managed to get things patched up enough between my dad and my granddad that Dad was able to be there when Grandmama died. That meant a lot to Dad, and he and Granddad were able to talk a bit in the last years of his life. They weren’t estranged when Granddad died.” He grimaced. “Despite the will.”

“Was it pure homophobia?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It helped that Dad had me, and surprisingly, once he met him, he adored Dennis, but for some stupid reason my Granddad seemed to think that Dad being gay said something about him. It was one thing I really didn’t like about him.” He sighed. “I remember him asking me when I was small if I liked girls or boys.”

“What did y—” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, none of my business!”

Jonathan laughed. “I told him puppies. Oh, pretty young I figured out what he wanted to hear, but I always said puppies. Or kittens.”

“And now? Puppies or kittens?”

She loved that she would tell how wide his smiles were behind the mask by how his eyes looked.

“To be honest, I don’t know. Dad’s allergic to dogs, and Den to cats, so I’ve never lived with either. Dogs sound like fun for running and doing outdoors stuff. Cats? I’ve never really been around ‘em.”

“Cats,” she said softly, “are the soul of a home, I think. Mine are.”

“Tell me about them,” he said.

“I have Lilly and Pip, they’re three now. Mags’ twins found them next to a dumpster behind a supermarket. It was a litter of four, and mama was missing. Mags got the four kittens to the vet and went back to trap mama the next day. Two of the kittens, Tom and Jenny, didn’t make it. My two, Lilly and Pip, did. They were a bit young to wean, but their mama was in bad shape, so I raised them with teeny little bottles. Lilly is a wild child of a cat, in real life she’d have been a daredevil rock climber or skydiver. Pip is more laid back. She jumps over him and he just lays there.”

“Photos?”

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You are asking a crazy cat lady if she has photos of her cats? Really?”

They both laughed, and she took out of her phone, showing him photos of both cats. They were tabbies with white chests, faces, and paws, and Lilly had a white tip to her tail. She liked that he was interested, or at least feigned interest well.

“Have you always had cats?”

“Yup. My mother’s name is Freya, she came with her parents from Norway. Are you familiar with the myths about Freyja?”

“Not off the top of my head.”

“Norse goddess of love, beauty, and fertility, she gets half the souls of folks that die in battle, Odin gets the other half for his Valhalla. Freyja rides on a chariot pulled by two cats, some say the ancestors to Norwegian Forest cats. My mom has always loved cats, and she had cats my whole life. I love them. I lived in the dorms at Stanford for my first two years, but then got an apartment with Mags and Cate and they were willing to have cats, and I got my first two, another boy-girl sibling set, Jasper and Pearl. They died just a few months before I got Lilly and Pip, within months of each other.”

“Photos of them?”

“Ok, dude, what do you want out of me? Nobody asks for MOAR cat photos from a crazy cat lady.” He poked her and she laughed and showed him Jasper and Pearl, who had been creamy colored part Siamese.

“Pearl was OMG loud and talkative. Jasper was his mama’s boy, always wanting a cuddle.”

“Will I get to meet Lilly and Pip?”

She looked at him. “I hope so. They tend to like visitors.”

He nodded. “Good. And by the way, the answer is ‘girls’.”

She was, not for the first time, glad that the mask hid her blush. There was a little pinch as well. If he liked women, then, well, it was pretty clear to her that he didn’t feel anything special for her.

His phone buzzed and he checked it, reading an email quickly. “OK. France says all your purchases, plus a few extra things, are headed to the hotel with her shopper, and she said she’d booked us a suite, because, and I quote ‘if you can’t spend a night in a large hotel suite without killing each other, you’re not going to survive 12 days in a camper van together’. Also, she is making dinner reservations for us and wants to know if we have clothing. I do, suit and tie from the conference. You?”

“Same,” she said. “Nothing interesting, but suitable business attire.”

“I’ll tell her. And so you know, I do make decisions on my own much of the time.”

She laughed. “I get it. This situation is rather unprecedented, right? What would you have done for dinner without me?”

“Well, I was going to pick up the van tonight, and I’d have gone food shopping and just eaten bread and Nutella or some such. But, uh, so you know. If you hadn’t said yes to coming with me, I was going to ask if you minded if we at least spent the evening together. I pushed back my van pick up until tomorrow, on the off-chance.”

“Jonathan—”

“I enjoy spending time with you,” he said.

She nodded. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

 (c) 2022 Leila Belhadjali