Nicole has managed to pull together twenty-odd friends. (Actually on short notice—and I didn’t have to ask; someone laughed at how chaotic Nicole was to set this up last minute. Apparently it’s a habit. The knowledge allows me to exhale, but then immediately makes me panic again. I’m in Nicole’s toptwenty?) I know about half of them from work.
Stewart hands me a mimosa to enjoy while we wait for the bus to arrive, and I meet Reg’s husband, José. True to his profession (Pilates instructor) he likes to manoeuvre people into positions as needed. He also says to me, when I flinch at him getting dangerously close to my butt, ‘I’m not gonna touch you there. Noooooo way, José.’ I decide I love him. Stewart gives me a long-winded update of his torrid love life, which has really gotten out of control since the last time he saw me. I imagine most people would have zoned out halfway through, but I’m too thrilled he wants to tell me, even if it’s just my lack of discouragement that spurs him on.
I meet Nicole’s flavour of the moment, Matt. If I were a betting woman (and I can’t stress enough that I’m not), I’d bet money that he doesn’t last until Nicole’s Eurotrip. I have never seen a young man look so bland about every aspect of life. Hand him a beer on the bus? Grunt. Get picked to be captain of a team to compete against his girlfriend? Okay. Venture out into no man’s land and get taken down by a rainstorm of paint bullets, dying in a blaze of glory? Cool.
‘Gertie,’ José says, making my name sound much sexier than it has any right to. He links arms with me as we walk, camo-clad, to our starting position. ‘I feel as though we are best friends already.’
I giggle. I imagine José has that effect on everyone, regardless of gender. ‘Are we?’
He pats my hand. ‘Certainly! My dear Reggie has told me so much about you.’ That can’t have been a long conversation, unless it’s the ‘so much’ from before, when the whole staffthought my place of residence was up Bee’s ass?
‘All good things, I hope?’
He winks. ‘Some good things,’ he says and pauses for dramatic effect. ‘And some naughty things.’
‘Well, now I know he’s pulling your leg!’ I laugh. I allow myself to believe, from José’s open face and genuine smile, that Reg has had nice things to say about me.
‘Now,’ he goes on, ‘tell me about your men.’
That catches me off guard. ‘My men?’
‘A beautiful girl like you must have many men following along after her!’
This optimism suggests that Reg and José’s marriage predates the horror that is online dating. This is nearly no woman’s experience with men these days, least of all mine.
‘No, my love,’ Reggie says, approaching from behind us. ‘Remember that we are going to share all of our salacious secrets with Gertie?’
‘Ah, yes, and then they’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand!’
That sounds terrifying.
I thought Nicole was kidding when she said to wear something I’m not attached to. I did what I was told because I felt physically incapable of doing anything else (note for Arthur: deep down I am a rule-follower, and my people-pleaser tendencies extend beyond Bee), but I was certain they’d supply overalls or whatever. And they do, but the protective suit I am given is so loose as to be ineffectual.
The first game, to ease us in, I guess, divides us into two teams and requires us to capture the flag from the opposingteam’s camp and return to our own base. In a random selection, I end up paired with most of Nicole’s uni friends, who I don’t know. I spend most of the first twenty minutes hiding out behind a deconstructed cubbyhouse before getting supremely bored, so I sacrifice myself as a diversion to allow my teammates to steal the flag. We still lose, but it doesn’t feel like that when my team surrounds me, shouting praise for my attempted heroics.
The second game is every person for themselves, and I’m not going to lie, it’s going well for a while there. I take out Bland Matt, which is supremely satisfying, and I hit two others and scare a few more. It’s all going well until an invisible sniper makes contact with the back of my helmet, sending paint oozing down the back of my neck. I hear a giggle in the distance and I know: José. Sweet, kind, treacherous José. He wins it all in the end.
On the bus ride back, about half of the group falls asleep instantly. A long, hot day in the sun (and beers) can do that to a person. I find myself sitting next to Nicole; Matt is snoring in the back with a precarious can of Carlton teetering on his chest.
Nicole hugs me. ‘I’m so glad you came, Gertie!’ she says.
‘Thank you so much for inviting me.’
‘Of course! I’m so glad we’re friends now.’ That solves another riddle. We’re friends. With no qualifiers. Cool. This is totally cool and chill. Don’t make it weird, Gertie, or you won’t have friends for very long. I need to change the subject before I do something like beg for reassurance that we really are friends or ask her what her definition offriendsis. It’s a new mantra—don’t do weird shit in front of your friend(s).
Change the subject. ‘Have you done any more planning for Europe?’
Nicole squeals excitedly. ‘Yes! We just booked our Croatia sailing last week before the early bird ended. The girls were being absolutely useless, so I had to put my foot down and just book it.’
The girls in question are asleep behind us. ‘Well, you don’t want to miss out on a discount.’
‘Exactly! And I had to make sure we got the cabins on the deck because everyone told me that the ones below start to smell really rank after a few days.’
‘I bet.’
‘I mean, the boats are way better now than they used to be. There’s aircon and all that stuff. I’m sure the boats were a bit more basic back in your day.’ How old does Nicole think I am?
‘I’ve actually never been to Croatia!’ I’ve never been to Europe. Or the Northern Hemisphere.
