We come to a dead end outside a cathedral. There’s a wedding going on, people cheering outside, throwingconfetti at the bride. I find myself staring as Gus witters on about where to go next. It’s not that I’m jealous… Well, ok, maybe I am. They look happy and deliriously in love as the groom dips his bride and the guests cheer and clap. I don’t think that scene would’ve happened at my wedding.
And the fact that I’m admitting that to myself now, at this inconvenient time for reflection, makes me both envious and horrified. How close was I to securing a future that I didn’t even really want? What happened to me?
“Sara!” Gus barks, waving a hand in front of my face. “Where did you go? Are you listening?”
I blink several times, then nod. “Yeah.”
He laughs. “No, you weren’t.”
“I am now.” I shake myself out of it. “What next?”
He proceeds to show me the leaflet we were handed at the port office. According to the map, the port is meant to be through an arch, under a bell tower, at this end of Old Town. We glance around, trying to find said arch.
Once we’ve worked out where to go, we bolt in the right direction.
As we’re navigating twists and turns, the bell chimes from the tower.
A tourist walking in the other direction shouts, “RING THE BELL!” This is followed by a round of laughs from passers-by. I don’t have time to work out what it means.
“What time is it?” I ask Gus, panting as we push through the crowds. It’s so damn busy here. I think late afternoon is peak tourist hours, despite it being sweltering. Surely, this place is so much nicer in the evenings or early hours when it’s cooler.
“I don’t want to tell you,” Gus says – a far too ominous a response for the situation at hand.
But it’s for good reason.
At the port there’s no sign of our ship.
No staff in the familiar uniform.
Only fancy smaller yachts with expensive looking owners.
There’s no way our cruise, despite looking like a yacht, could squeeze into this harbour. I walk a little further along towards the end of the dock. The cruise is there, but it’s a speck in the distance, as big as the end of my thumb and appears to be moving away.
I exhale slowly, and as I do, a devastating feeling washes through me from head to toe. I feel a warm tear run down my cheek. Pressure starts to build in my chest again, so I take a seat on a stone bench and press my face into my hands.
Someone takes the spot next to me, and I can tell by his soft breathing that its Gus.
“This is karma,” I whimper. “I deserve this.”
He makes a tutting sound. “I find that very hard to believe,” he says.
I sit tall again, giving him a miserable glance. “I ran away.”
I knew coming on my honeymoon was a bad idea. I knew it was too soon. I don’t believe in fate and myths and luck like my friends do. I’m too much of a realist for that. But I do believe this is the universe’s way of telling me that I’ve royally fucked up.
“I was meant to be getting married two months ago,” I say, sniffing. “And now I’m here on my own.”
“Shit. Ok, what happened?”
“I couldn’t go through with it. I left before the ceremony.”
His eyes widen. “So, you’re like a runaway bride?”
I make a half-laughing, half-sobbing sound that ricochets off the huge stone wall behind us before dropping my head again and whispering, “Yes.”
Gus blows out a breath. “That’s… I mean, are you ok? What happened?”
“Ugh. It’s so complicated.”
