And so, despite my exemplary record and consistent glowing reviews—including across-the-board five-star reviews for the trip from London to Paris, highlighting how I made a terrifying experience less so—here I am, on suspension, effective immediately.Matt is still touring around Europe, and he offered to speak on my behalf at the hearing, but I told him it wouldn’t make a difference.Sanjay has been with the company for over a decade and had already proven his sway with the big bosses.I was screwed before I even stepped foot in that conference room.
I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts, I almost miss my stop until I hear the famous ‘mind the gap’ announcement.I leap up and slide through the doors seconds before they swish shut.On the platform, I let the crowd sweep me toward the escalators and through the familiar station.Upon emerging at street level, I’m not surprised to find the sun hiding behind a wall of steel grey clouds, despite the fact it was shining in a blue sky when I headed underground ten minutes ago.I step outside as a fine mist starts to fall.I’m used to London’s unpredictable weather, but after the day I’ve had—hell, after theweekI’ve had—it would have been nice if the sunshine had lasted.
With a sigh, I dash down the street toward the pub where I’m meeting my best friend.With each step, the rain picks up until it’s an outright downpour.I can’t decide whether I feel like laughing or crying.Somehow, I tamp down both urges.
I’m soaked by the time I reach the little hole-in-the-wall pub, a place that, miraculously, few tourists have discovered.Many On the Go guides frequent this place, whether we want a drink, something to eat, or a night of laughter and live music.Each of us has occasionally told a select few of our favourite clients about the pub after making them promise not to share the address on social media.We may be in the business of tourism, but it’s always disappointing when a familiar, wonderfully cozy place turns into a noisy, crowded, tourist-filled hotspot.
I approach the bar, where the owner, Ewan, a burly Scotsman in his mid-fifties, is cleaning glasses.I shake out my auburn hair, knowing it’ll be a mass of frizzy curls when it starts to dry in a few minutes.Ewan gives me a sympathetic look before his gaze slides past me toward the windows.A glance over my shoulder reveals the sun shining brightly again, glistening off the puddles in the street.
“The usual, Fi?”Ewan asks.At my nod, he tells me he’ll bring it over, and jerks his chin toward where Mila is already sitting at our regular table.As I cross the room, a cold drop of rain snakes from my hair down the back of my shirt, skirting down my spine, and sending goosebumps skittering across my skin.
“Where’s your umbrella, and why oneartharen’t you wearing a jacket?”Mila asks as I flop into the seat across from her and release a full-body shiver.She fishes around in her giant shoulder bag and produces a bright purple pashmina.
“Ugh, I could kiss you for this.”I wrap the soft shawl around my shoulders, tucking my arms close to my body for warmth.“I was in such a fog when I left the house, I forgot both.With everything that’s happened this week, I’m amazed that’s all I forgot.I half expected to walk into the meeting and realize I’d put my underwear on over my pants, superhero style.”
Mila makes a quiet hum of understanding, dropping her gaze to the table.The action conjures a vague, uncomfortable recollection from a few days ago, of me begging her to stop looking at me with teary, sympathetic eyes unless she wanted that to be what pushed me over the edge.
Before I can say anything else, Ewan arrives at our table with a tray full of glasses.After unloading my pear cider and Mila’s favourite local beer, I expect him to move on to another table with the remaining drinks, but he sets the tray down, revealing three glasses of amber liquid.
“Jameson,” he says, his voice gruffer than usual.“Might be a bit early in the day for whiskey, but I’d like to raise a glass to Seamus.I’m so sorry to hear of his passing, Fi.”
My mouth opens and closes without making a sound.My throat tightens, strangling any hope I had of forcing out words.The tightness isn’t accompanied by the sting of tears this time, though.Maybe it’s because I cried myself to the point of dehydration in the past few days, and my tear ducts are still recovering.
“Thank you, Ewan,” Mila says.She nudges a glass my way, then hands one to Ewan before taking the final one for herself.
The three of us lift our glasses in unison.“To Seamus,” Ewan and Mila say.
“To Dad,” I murmur.“Sláinte.”My fingers shake as I knock back the drink.I barely feel the burn past the strangled, raw sensation in my throat.
“He was a good man, not that I need to tell you that,” Ewan says.“I always enjoyed our chats when you’d bring him by for a pint during his visits.Never saw a prouder father, I can tell you that.”
I maintain eye contact with him as he speaks, despite the fact his glistening eyes and rough voice make me want to crawl under the table.“Thank you, Ewan.”The words come out as a whisper.That’s all I can manage.I want to tell him how much my dad liked him, and that he often asked about him, but I can’t.
Ewan rolls his lips inward and gives a knowing nod.“You let me know if there’s anything you need.Anything at all.Drinks are on me today.”With another nod, he lifts the tray with the empty whiskey glasses and hurries back behind the bar.
I blow out a long, slow breath, noting the look of concern on Mila’s face.“It’s okay.I’m not going to start crying again.”
Her mouth twists to one side.“It would be perfectly understandable if you did.In fact, I almost wish you would.You’ve been eerily calm since…” She trails off, her expression morphing into a wince.
She’s referring to my complete and utter meltdown after finding out my dad was gone.Wracked with a toxic triple-whammy of grief, guilt, and self-loathing, I spent hours locked in my room, sobbing until I finally fell asleep.That was followed by drinking myself into oblivion.I didn’t want to feelanything, and I hoped the alcohol would not only numb the pain, but also drown out the voices in my head telling me I was a terrible daughter and I should have been there for both of my parents.
They were the same voices that told me I should have immediately booked a flight to Toronto instead of lying to my mum about being in the middle of a tour.I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth about the disciplinary hearing, especially considering I was hopeful the outcome would be much different.Mum told me the funeral wouldn’t be right away anyway, so a few extra days didn’t matter.I tried to get the hearing moved, but my bosses refused, claiming too many people needed to be in attendance for them to reschedule at the last minute.
The sound of Mila clearing her throat pulls me from my musings.Probably a good thing, since my train of thought was veering back toward the way Mila chose to sober me up yesterday: by forcing me into a cold shower.Her tough love did the trick, and to her credit, she never even batted an eye as I raged at her and flailed around, soaking her with frigid water.
“I’m almost afraid to ask how the hearing went,” she says now.
I’m too exhausted to rehash the details, so I stick to the facts.“Two months suspension.Effective immediately.”
“Well, fuck.”She says it so matter-of-factly, I almost laugh.Then I almost cry as she rises from her seat and rounds the table to sit in the chair next to mine.She wraps her arms around me, enveloping me in her familiar jasmine scent.
I’ve known Mila Bartek since the day I started working for On the Go Travels.We went through training together and were lucky enough to end up living in the same company-owned house with three other tour guides.Even though we’re rarely all there at the same time since our tours range anywhere from day trips to weeks-long excursions, Mila and I have always been close.We’ve co-hosted several larger tours together over the years, and when we’re in different cities or countries, we’re always texting and video chatting, sharing stories of our adventures or misadventures, and giving each other tips about the cities we’ve visited.
With a tired sigh, I snuggle close to Mila.She makes soft, reassuring sounds while rubbing my back.I haven’t shed a single tear since my cold shower sober-up yesterday, and the fact I don’t cry now makes me think I truly am all cried out.
“I hate to ask this, but did you consider playing the sympathy card?”Mila asks as she releases me and eases back in her chair.
“It occurred to me,” I admit.After years of devotion and passion for the job, not to mention my impeccable record, I honestly thought there was no way I’d get more than a slap on the wrist.How two consenting adults spend their personal time shouldn’t be anyone’s business, but my bosses maintained that some people get the wrong impression, or form attachments or even grudges, all of which can reflect badly on the company.
