Christine sat up and plucked a long strand of spaghetti from her short brown hair. Her hand came away smudged in red. Tenderly, she probed her aching skull with both hands. There was already a small lump forming on the back of her head.
Waist deep in trash set by the curb for pick-up, she held back a retch as the smell of rotten tomatoes filled her lungs. This is symbolic. She chuckled to herself. Christine held her nose as she studied her surroundings. She could not read the street signs, or the names of the shops that lined the deserted stretch. She had been lost in a foreign land when she was mugged a few minutes earlier. Losing everything in her backpack, which was everything she had: map, passport, change of clothes, phone, charger, wallet and toothbrush, had certainly not helped her get her bearings.
Who was she kidding? She’d been lost long before then. Too afraid to make a decision about anything, from what to have for breakfast to whether or not to commit to her boyfriend of 6 years, she had found herself abandoned in Paris on the Love Lock Bridge. Ted had left her there 2 months ago, the place where lovers placed a padlock to symbolize their union. She had never felt more alone until now. She shivered as she considered the emptiness here and decided it was time to go.
She got to her feet and realized her shoes were missing as well. Really?! That man could not possibly wear my shoes! That man… Christine frowned and looked about more carefully. That man was gone, or at least out of sight. She surveyed the street. Nothing appeared to be open. There was an ancient phone booth on the corner opposite. Tiptoeing through debris and broken glass, she made her way to it relatively unscathed. The directions to use the rusted old phone were written in Albanian, as was everything else around her. Only problem with that is she did not know any Albanian. She tried lifting the receiver. There was an actual dial tone. It sounded just like the ones she’d heard in old movies.
Now what should she do? Try using your brain, idiot, instead of relying on Mom, Dad, Ted, or any tool standing nearby to do your thinking for you. She put a tentative finger in the hole marked zero. Nothing happened. Rotary phone, must rotate? The movement was stiff and awkward, but she kept pushing until it stopped. After removing her finger, the dial spun halfway back and stuck. Frustrated, she smacked the side of the box and it wound back into place.
The dial tone stopped. She heard 2 clicks, a pop, and another click, then a voice spoke gibberish into her ear. “Help!,” she cried. “Can you help me?!” More gibberish. The sound quality was so poor, Christine knew she could not have understood a word of English through the old tin can. She tried again anyway.
“Do you speak English?” Gibberish.
“Sprechen sie Deutch?” Gibberish.
“Habla Espanol?” Gibberish.
It didn’t matter. She only knew about 3 words of anything outside of English. “Una cerveza fria, por favor?” Gibberish.
Christine laughed at herself. How could she ever have thought that learning to order a cold beer in every country she visited would be all she would ever need to know? Because you had Ted to take care of everything. Her laugh became hysterical as she noticed the sun was setting behind the rooftops to her left. She drew in a deep breath and calmed herself. Okay. That’s something. I know which way is West.
She slumped against the phone. Who would I call anyway? I’ve burned all my bridges. She thought back to that day on the bridge. Ted had taken her left hand in both of his and knelt before her. “Marry me.” She couldn’t tell if it was a question or a command, but his eyes shone with love.
“No.” She wasn’t sure which of them had been more surprised. Ted recovered first and closed his mouth. The pain in his eyes stabbed an icicle through her heart. The words “not yet” froze on her tongue as she caught sight of all the padlocks surrounding her. It felt like a glimpse into the future, a lock on a windowless cell from which she would never be free to discover her potential, experience the world for herself, learn independence, grow up. A world where she was forever a child, a sheep, a weakling, always following someone else.
He had stood then, turned and walked away. Christine’s heart screamed “Wait!” but her body stood there, unable to move or even utter a sound. She watched this strong, confident man slump and move steadily farther from view. He turned a corner and finally she could breathe. Then she panicked. She ran after him, but he had disappeared into the crowds of tourists. She had no sense of direction. She never had to know where anything was before. By the time she finally found her way back to the hotel, he had packed his things and left.
Christine had waited there for him for four days. He did not return. He did not call. He was gone. She could not return home. What would she say- to her parents, to her friends? They all loved Ted. And they should. He was nothing but wonderful to her. He loved her. Had loved her since junior year of high school. And she had destroyed him. Or had she? Maybe he had been as relieved as she was. Who wanted all that responsibility of taking care of two people? Taking care of one had seemed too hard to her. And what would she say to Ted? What could she say to him? Did she still love him? Could he still love her?
The streetlights flickered on and brought her thoughts back to her current dilemma. Okay. I know the train station is just west of the center of downtown. What would Ted do? Ted would not have gotten lost. Ted, who grew up baling hay every summer, would have scared off an attacker just by looking at him funny. Not helpful. Hmm.
What would Mom do? Mom would have kept her phone in the money belt she bought me. It would still be hidden under her travel vest which would be stocked with everything McGyver would ever need to shimmy out of a 72nd floor window or construct a pipe bomb. Also not helpful.
What am I gonna do? Christine decided to walk a grid until she found the train station, a policeman, or a good Samaritan. Like the one who mugged you? Alright. Maybe not a good Samaritan.
Christine inspected the phone to see if it gave any clues to her whereabouts. It did not, but the coin return yielded a small disk the size of a dime. She pocketed it. A lucky charm? Had to be. See how good you’re doing? A few minutes ago, you were completely lost and penniless. Now you have some kind of penny and a plan! She smiled to herself. She would never have survived this a month ago. She marched out of the box and turned left.
At the next corner she could see a lighted sign on a building that looked about the right size to be a train station. Lights meant people. That had to be a good thing. She’d been closer than she thought. Maybe she had not been completely lost. She lifted her chin and stepped forward purposefully.
Maybe she hadn’t really been running away all this time. Maybe she’d been finding her way. Maybe, not running after Ted, not running home, had actually been brave. The weight of these thoughts slowed her pace to a standstill by the time she reached the double doors.
The movement of people and machinery inside played on the glass before her. She could see herself now, quitting her job at the cable company, leaving the security and suffocation of her parents’ home, going to college…. It all seemed possible now. Anything seemed possible. She opened the door and stepped into her future.
