She beamed up at me, her face glowing in the light from the tree. “I told you we weren’t dull.”
The crowd began to disperse after the ceremony, some heading home but many lingering to enjoy the market and the festive atmosphere. Sylvie suggested we grab hot drinks to warm up.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
I was confused when we walked through the door of a diner, and I spotted Emmy behind the counter. She was wearing a green apron instead of her elf costume and working an espresso machine that looked like it had seen better decades.
“Isn’t she supposed to be an elf?” I asked Sylvie quietly.
Emmy must have overheard because she laughed as she handed steaming mugs to another customer. “I’m multi-talented,” she called over. “Elf by day, barista by night, transcriptionist on weekends, and whatever else pays the bills in between.”
“That’s a lot of jobs,” I said when we reached the counter.
“All in service of a greater goal,” Emmy replied cheerfully, pulling shots for what I assumed would be our drinks. “I’m saving for a whirlwind trip to Australia next year. Six months backpacking around the continent, seeing everything from Sydney to Perth to the Outback.”
“Australia?” I asked.
I wasn’t sure if she was considering all the elements of Australia. That place did not mess around. The critters were bigger, meaner, and far deadlier.
She pulled out her phone and showed me a countdown app. “Three hundred and forty-seven days to go. I’ve got it all planned out—flights, hostels, train passes, even a few splurge experiences like scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef.”
I tried to imagine having to work four different jobs just to afford an economy seat on what would probably be a miserable twenty-hour flight to the other side of the world, followed by months of staying in budget hostels and eating ramen noodles. The whole thing sounded brutal to me, but Emmy was practically glowing with excitement as she described her plans.
Yes, I was spoiled. I was used to five-star hotels. Penthouses. Mansions. Private islands.
“Sylvie’s going to come with me,” Emmy continued, handing us some kind of spiced cider that smelled incredible. “Aren’t you? Just think, we could ring in New Year’s on Bondi Beach, watch the sunrise over Uluru, maybe even work on a cattle station for a few weeks.”
I noticed Sylvie’s grip tighten on her mug. Something shifted in her expression. The easy smile faltered slightly, replaced by something that looked almost trapped. Sylvie did not look nearly as excited about trekking through Australia as Emmy did.
I wondered why. It was clearly an excursion they had both planned. But somewhere along the way, Sylvie changed her mind. I was curious about why, but more importantly I was curious about why she didn’t just tell her friend she didn’t want to go.
“Emmy, I really don’t think—” she started.
“Oh, come on,” Emmy pressed, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Sylvie’s discomfort. “When will we ever get another chance like this? We’re young, we’re single, we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. Why not have an adventure?”
“It sounds amazing,” Sylvie said carefully, “but you know my situation with the farm.”
“The farm will be here when we get back. Or it won’t, and you’ll have dodged a bullet. Either way, you’ll have had the experience of a lifetime.”
I could see Sylvie starting to get overwhelmed by the conversation. Her free hand fidgeted with the sleeve of her coat. Something about Emmy’s persistence and the pressure to abandon everything she cared about for someone else’s dream was clearly distressing her. I didn’t understand why she didn’t just tell her no.
Without really thinking about it, I stepped in to help.
“This cider is incredible,” I said to Emmy, effectively changing the subject. “Is this a local recipe?”
Emmy launched into an explanation of the spice blend and local apple varieties. I understood none of it and I honestly didn’t care, but I kept her talking long enough for Sylvie to regain her composure. When there was a natural break in the conversation, I suggested we head back outside to enjoy the rest of the market before it got too late.
“Thanks for the drinks,” I told Emmy. “And good luck with the Australia plans. That sounds like an incredible adventure.”
I guided Sylvie toward the door, my hand in the small of her back. I wasn’t sure where we were going, but away from Emmy seemed like a good start. I led her out through the crowd. The hustle and bustle of the market began to fade as we walked toward the quieter end of the street, where I’d spotted a gazebo that was twinkling with its own strings of lights.
“Thank you,” Sylvie said quietly as we settled onto the bench inside the gazebo. “For whisking me away back there.”
“You looked like you needed rescuing,” I said. “Want to talk about what was bothering you?”
She was quiet for a moment, staring out at the market. “Australia is a nice dream,” she said finally. “But it’s not mine. It’s Emmy’s. I feel like I got roped in and I don’t know how to get off this ride I have found myself on.”
