It was stupid, but in my head this trip had become the indicator for the rest of my life. I’d thought it would jumpstart something, that it would give me the momentum to move forward. I had pinned every hope, every doubt on this trip, intending it to fulfill the former and dash the latter. Unfortunately, it was doing the opposite.
Maybe it was time to cut my losses.
The permanent knot in my stomach loosened slightly.
The water battered my back, and I took each tiny blow, willing the water to take some of me with it. Slowly, slowly the tension melted out of my muscles, my lungs lost that aching feeling, and the sting of emotion at the back of my throat receded.
Life was easier when you stopped caring, when you stopped expecting things to get better.
Feeling more in control, I dragged myself off the shower floor. I shut off the water, and reached for a towel.
Then I scrubbed.
At my hair. My face. My skin. I scrubbed myself dry while all my hopes for this trip, for life, twisted down the drain.
I left my hair wet and wavy, and collected my things from where someone had placed them neatly at the foot of the bed. I balled up my wet swimsuit in the T-shirt I’d been wearing and did the walk of shame wearing the wrinkled shift dress I’d worn yesterday before the baths.
It was possibly the shamiest walk of shame in the history of all shaming.
But at least it was short.
I exited the nice boutique hotel to find myself on a familiar block. I was across the street and just a few buildings down from my hostel.
“Jesus …”
I jogged across the street, and pushed open the door to the hostel. I reached in my bag for my phone to see what time it was. I didn’t actually use the phone to call anyone. It was more of an emergency kind of thing. And it had all my music. I was still fishing around in the bottom of my bag when I entered the dormitory with my bed to see Jenny, John, and Tau packing up their things.
I gave up my search for my phone.
Tau saw me first and nudged Jenny.
“Kelsey! Where did you go last night, you little minx?”
I opened my mouth to tell her where I’d been, that I’d been just across the street, but then pulled my lips closed. I threw on my most convincing smile and said, “Oh, you know me.”
There was no point in telling people. Been there. Done that. Fucked things up even worse. Besides … there was nothing to tell. Nothing happened. And it’s not as if we were really friends anyway. They were little more than cardboard cutouts to me. Superficial people to be with and be seen with. And I was the same to them.
“Oh my God,” Jenny said. “I freaking love you. Was it the army guy? I bet he was fantastic. Come out with us and tell me everything.”
I moved toward my bed to put down my things. I’d not found my phone yet, but I was fairly certain it couldn’t be much later than noon.
“You’re going out now? It’s so early.”
Jenny shrugged. “We’ve got to check out in, like, ten minutes, but our train doesn’t leave until tonight. So, we figured a little day drinking was in order. You know, to end our Budapest weekend in style. Come with us!”
I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, unsure how to get out of this.
“I don’t know if I’m up to day drinking, honestly.”
“So come for the company,” John said.
I didn’t think I was up to the company either.
The hesitance must have shown on my face because Jenny picked up her backpack and handed it to Tau. “You guys go check us out,” she said. “I’ll be right there.”
John waved on his way out, and Tau nodded. Then Jenny turned on me.
“Okay, what’s up? I know post-coitus glow, and you don’t have it. So where were you really last night?”
I plopped down on the bottom bunk bed that I was currently calling home. The mattress was so thin that I could feel the wooden slats below it.
“Nothing. Just …” I sighed. “I’ve just had a bad week is all. Last night just continued my slump.”
“It’s probably just mental. Maybe you need a change. New atmosphere. You could start fresh.”
That’s all I’d been doing. Starting fresh. But I was learning that the stench of the past tended to cling despite changing locations.
“I don’t think that will help. I think I’m going to go home.”
“Are you serious?”
I threaded my fingers together in my lap and ran my thumb across my palm.
“Yeah.” I nodded and said more firmly, “Yeah, I am.”
She ducked underneath my bunk and sat down beside me, the bed groaning. “You can’t. Not yet. If you go home now, when you’re unhappy, that’s the only way you’ll remember this trip. Go home on a good note at least.”
I brushed my thumb across my palm again, scraping lightly with the nail of my thumb.
“You’re not wrong.”
“Of course I’m not. I get being homesick. And the culture shock can come a bit out of nowhere and bite you in the ass. But you’re going to want to look back on this trip fondly. As a good thing … right?”
“Right.” I nodded. Jenny’s advice sounded a lot like what I would have told myself. That is, if I weren’t so mixed up and broken down. It was stupid to try to pin all my hopes on this trip. I was expecting too much. Too much pressure.
I still thought going home was the best choice, but I was pretty sure I could handle one last hooray.
“Thanks, Jenny.”
She smiled, and lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
“I’m the queen of sabotaging good things, but I’m at least pretty good at recognizing the same tendency in others. One more trip. Do something you’ll remember, something impossible to regret. Then take that moment home with you.”
I nodded, emotion tickling at the back of my throat.
She slipped off my bunk and headed for the door. “Facebook me and let me know how it goes.”
She was almost out the door when I called, “Jenny?”
She balanced a hand on the doorjamb. “Yeah?”
“Would you recommend Prague as a place to remember?”
She smiled.
“Hell, yes, I would. And I happen to know that a train is heading that way in just over eight hours.”
Prague it was, then. My last adventure.