Passport to Happiness. Carrie Stone

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СКАЧАТЬ I say with a polite smile that I know doesn’t actually reach my eyes.

      A flicker of irritation flits across his face as he shrugs. ‘Fine, do as you please.’

      ‘Oh, don’t worry, I will.’ Although I’m grinning as I say this, I can’t help but feel put out by his change in demeanour. That’s when I realise that this is going to be yet another totally wasted evening. By the time the food arrives, we’ve had a further twenty-five minutes of chit-chat and I’m no longer enthralled by his movie star looks or his suave clothing. Emir is proving himself to be rather self-indulgent and, quite frankly, a little boring. I’ve managed to glean that he travels endlessly for his work and his salary allows him to do as he pleases, materially speaking. Yet, I can’t fathom for the life of me why he even wanted this date. We’re like chalk and cheese in everything we’ve been discussing. The thing about him that reminded me of Jay is long gone. This one is all about himself.

      I pick at my pumpkin ravioli which, as it turns out, is nowhere near as good as the lobster linguine he practically forced me into sampling to prove his point. Still, I won’t be letting him know that. He’s been rabbiting on about some conference he’s just been a guest note speaker at and it’s just as I finally pay decide to pay him some attention, that my ears prick up.

      ‘Bermuda? Oh, my friend lives there. She’s a lawyer, works in a firm over there. She’s originally from the same town as me though.’ I picture Tilly and suddenly feel wistful for our many Saturday lunches. We used to be so close and yet since her relocation to Bermuda four years ago, I haven’t made much of an effort to keep in touch. There’s always something that comes up and makes me forget to reply. I make a guilty mental note to message her later.

      ‘It’s a beautiful place. You should visit sometime.’

      I notice the bottle of wine is fast emptying into Emir’s glass and as the conversation moves into work talk, the wall clock behind him is a constant taunt of all the things I could have been doing with my evening. It’s clear to both of us there’s little mutual ground and if it wasn’t for his love of over-sharing insurance chit-chat, we’d already be in dangerous awkward silence waters.

      I think about Tilly and Bermuda again, not to mention his previous comment. Of course, I should visit. Why didn’t I think of that before?

      I make it politely through another hour of small talk, when Emir graciously decides to relieve me of my hopefully-not-evident boredom by ordering the bill. It’s dark outside as we leave the restaurant and make our way towards the lake, Emir pointing out small points of interest along the way.

      ‘My apartment is just a short walk from here,’ he says, taking my hand and making every part of my body stiffen. With reluctance, I realise I’m going to have to say something fast. This is not good. Gone are the thoughts of a passionate, guilt-free, one-night stand. As hot as he is – and it’s been seven months since I’ve had any sort of action – I just want to go back to my hotel, take off my make-up, and dress, and jump into my oversized hotel bed alone with my book and a cup of tea made with the complimentary refreshment teabag I’ve been saving. I almost laugh aloud at myself. This is the Everly Carter that has spent the last three days convincing herself she needs excitement and change, and here it is, handed on a plate, yet…

      ‘I’m sorry, as much as I’ve had a wonderful time, I’m going to head back to my hotel.’ The words are out of my mouth before I’ve had time to talk myself back into making the most of wild, no-strings sex with a rich, willing man.

      Emir looks surprised but recovers quickly. ‘Of course. Well, I’ll drive you back if you want to go. That’s no problem.’ He runs his hand through his hair and I can see from his miffed expression that it’s the last thing he wants to be doing. I realise in that moment that he never expected to have to take me home. He just assumed I’d be staying. He’s clearly not happy.

      ‘No, I don’t expect you to do that. I’ll take a taxi; you bought me a lovely dinner and that was more than enough.’ I point to the nearby waiting taxi before I lean forward and give him a swift thank you kiss on the cheek.

      I watch as he takes a step backward, already planning his rapid exit. ‘OK then.’ He appears at a loss for words as he scratches his chin. ‘Well, it was nice meeting you Everly. Enjoy the rest of your holiday.’

      I barely have a chance to reply before he turns and walks away. Quietly sighing with relief, I walk in the opposite direction, wondering why I’ll never learn my lesson when it comes to men. Is it me, I wonder? Am I drawn to men with low self-esteem because I want to fix them, to subconsciously fill a void within myself? That void which seems to be caused by a longing to do something more fulfilling with my life, which until now, I’ve been ignoring…

      Settling myself in the back seat of the taxi and wondering with a stomach full of dread how much Mastercard will have to fork out this time for the fare, I muse on the two more positive outcomes of the evening. First, my realisation that I no longer need to waste time on inappropriate men. There’s no point searching for love until I’ve filled my own emotional needs and found a new purpose; a new mission to provide the satisfaction that I’m lacking. After all, how am I going to attract a healthy, balanced partnership if something inside me isn’t addressed first? Secondly, and perhaps less profound, but still important; the reminder of my good friend Tilly. Isn’t it about time I got in contact with her?

      *

      I look down at my ski boots and up again at Elena. I can tell she’s losing her patience, it’s not the first time she’s told me I have to use the edge of the skis when slowing down. I sigh and try not to wince as I shuffle my bruised feet forward. It’s safe to say that skiing isn’t my forte. I honestly didn’t think it’d be this hard.

      Sure, it was fun for the first day upon arrival at my log-cabin-style hotel with its roaring fire and hot wine. Then there was the excitement of my first time in full ski attire, the thrill of the cable car looking down on the white expanse below and the adrenalin of my first time on the slope. The après-ski however, was a slightly different affair. Instead of the jet-set fashionistas I was expecting, it’s mostly been Jägerbomb-loving men in baggy clothing. And let’s not forget the panda-eyed, middle-aged ski instructors acting like vultures around every single, female beginner that crosses their path. In all, it’s been a positive experience and I’m pleased I spent my final few days here. Now though, I’m over the skiing and most especially this final tutorial. Carrying poles in one hand and heavy skis on my shoulder whilst slipping and sliding in my robot boots is wearing thin. I’m cold, tired and looking forward to a hot chocolate and a pastry in the café. My mobile vibrates in my pocket just as Elena wraps up the lesson.

      ‘That’s it then, you’re all set for the time being.’ She smiles at me as she pulls up her goggles and reaches for her poles. ‘You’ve got enough basics now to enjoy the bunny hill for the rest of your stay. Did you say you’re off home tomorrow or was it Friday?’

      ‘Tomorrow morning actually.’ I shuffle alongside her, watching as she effortlessly seems to glide. ‘It’s been a great break but reality beckons. Back to the grind I go.’ Laughing lightly, I feel a sense of dread at the thought of home and the mountain of work that awaits.

      ‘Reality is what you make it,’ she says matter-of-factly, turning to me with a bemused expression. ‘I couldn’t imagine being back in Russia or doing any other job but this. I really enjoy my life here.’

      Following her gaze, I stare at the expanse of snow-tipped mountains surrounding us, against the backdrop of an icy blue sky etched with sun rays. ‘It’s picture perfect here. You’re really lucky.’

      Elena СКАЧАТЬ