ERICA
2015
Fred had excused himself to go to the toilet. I was sitting in the aisle seat, and we had the typical struggle of me stepping out to the aisle while he wiggled himself out of his seat.
At first I had felt hesitant in telling a stranger so much about myself, but he was very easy to talk to and besides, it took my mind off what was to come and made the flight seem less long.
When Fred came back from the restroom, I chuckled when he made a face at the prospect of having to shove himself back into the cramped space of his window seat.
“Do you want to trade places? You can stretch your legs in the aisle for a while,” I offered.
“You don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” I said and I moved over and he let himself drop in my seat with a sigh.
“So, when was it you moved back to The Netherlands?” he then asked after he had installed himself again. He had planted one of the passenger pillows behind his head and followed my example by kicking off his shoes.
It was in 1997 and I had stepped on an airplane that was heading in exactly the opposite direction.
I remember crying all the way from the United States to Amsterdam. Why had this happened and how could things have gone so wrong? Every time I closed my eyes I would get visions of Oliver fucking Tess and it made my stomach turn. And now he was going to be a father. To someone else’s child. That thought killed me, for I felt it should have been me. I had never exactly told him, but in my mind I had already pictured our whole lives with each other. After seeing the world together we would settle down in a beautiful vibrant city, like Rome or Paris, and then he would ask me to marry him and I would be the mother of our two... no, three beautiful children. We would grow old together and take long walks along the river Seine, and when the time came we would be buried side by side.
We were supposed to experience the whole baby and parenting thing together, but he had gone and created a child with someone else... another woman; a complete stranger. It was supposed to be with me.
I felt immeasurably betrayed and simply overcome by jealousy and sadness. My pain ran so deep it was as if he had died and I was mourning him. By the time I arrived at my destination I had made a decision. I would never let someone hurt me like this, and I never, ever wanted to see Oliver again.
I had agreed I would stay with my aunt Karen. She said I could stay in Lynn’s room, for she had moved out a couple of months earlier. I agreed, for my aunt lived ideally close to the center of Amsterdam, in a typically tall and narrow house along one of the canals.
When I left for The Netherlands I had asked my parents not to elaborate on the whole Oliver situation to my aunt or cousins. I didn’t feel like going into the matter, nor answering any painful questions. As far as they knew, the reason I so hastily came to live with them was because I wanted to continue my studies abroad and didn’t want to fall behind. The name Oliver only briefly came up, as in “by the way, Erica broke up with Oliver” and “she doesn’t want to talk about it.” My plan was to stay with her until I found my own place and got settled in.
I was late enrolling into any university but eventually managed getting accepted at the Amsterdam University of the Arts. I bought a cheap bike and used it to get to classes or anywhere else I needed to be in the city.
I focused mainly on my studies and was glad my mother had consequently spoken Dutch with us, otherwise it would have been quite difficult to follow the courses. I made some new friends at the university and now and then I would go out with them, but mostly I hung out with my cousin Lynn and her friends. I frequently thought about my old university, my friends and family, but most of the time all I could really think of was Oliver.
Every time someone would catch me teary-eyed I would lie and tell them I was homesick. My aunt and her family tried to make me feel at home as much as they could and though I had no trouble fitting in, I just couldn’t put him out of my head and missed him terribly.
I missed hearing his deep voice and his infectious laugh. I missed holding his hand and his arm wrapped around my shoulder. I missed the taste of his mouth, how his hair smelled and the way he buried his nose in my neck. I missed his skin and feeling the weight of his warm body on mine, while he tenderly sank into me. I missed our talks and silly fights. I missed looking into his breathtaking blue eyes, and I even missed his smelly feet.
I think it was Lynn who said she missed “the sunshine” in me; she perfectly described how I was feeling.
We were nearing the summer when Lynn asked me if I wanted to join her and her roommate on a trip. She said it would be good for me; lift my spirits, so to speak. I loved Lynn dearly; we were very much in sync and I guess she somehow felt there was a lot more to the story of me moving to The Netherlands than just wanting to study abroad. But she respected my silence about it and never asked.
I was reluctant about the trip at first, but then I remembered the whole point of me going to Europe was just that; meet new people, see new things, have adventures and forget the past. Besides, Lynn’s bubbly personality would make the trip fun, which was something I needed to be doing. Having fun.
Lynn and her roommate invited me over for drinks and together we sat down with a Lonely Planet Europe travel guide and mapped out the route we wanted to follow. They had no idea where to start, so I told them about the trip Oliver and I had planned and we decided to take that as our starting point. Both Lynn and her friend didn’t feel the need to have every destination or detail of the trip set in stone, therefore we ended up not planning much after all and preferred to travel wherever the wind took us.
I arranged to meet them at the train station, for they lived just a few blocks away from there. Aunt Karen dropped me off, and while Lynn kissed her mother good-bye and promised to keep her informed of our whereabouts, I went to buy our train tickets at the booth. When I came back my aunt was starting to head back to her car; she waved at me and told us to take care and have a good time.
We hoisted our heavy backpacks up on our backs and embarked on our trip.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Lynn said and her curly blond hair sprung about as we walked toward our train platform. Her enthusiasm was rubbing off on me and I suddenly felt a sting of excitement, which made me smile. Lynn caught me smiling to myself. “I see the sun has already begun shining,” she said and winked at me.
I couldn’t help but laugh.