Down Under With Dad’s Best Friend by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Ten

Candace

I sit on the bed in my hotel room in my vintage dress, feeling like a total fool.

I shouldn’t have allowed Sean to take me to the café, to buy me this dress, to treat me to dinner. I got myself in too far over my own head. I should have known that this was all going to end badly and that I wouldn’t be able to bear the thought of being away from him now that there’s no other choice.

What it all boils down to is what I should have known in the first place. Sean is so much older than me, so much more mature and wise in the ways of the world. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but for all I know, he’s been living with the same woman for the past twenty years and they just don’t believe in marriage.

Of course, there’s one way to find out, I suppose.

I roll onto my stomach and lay on the bed, searching for Sean on social media. I can’t find him, and I even look through my Dad’s friends to see if he’s listed there.

But there’s nothing. As far as social media is concerned, Sean doesn’t exist. And then it hits me even harder: why would he be obsessed with updating his feed and changing his profile picture like people my age? He’s a businessman. He’s important. He has far better things to do with his time, like traveling the world and making huge business deals.

I don’t know why I ever even indulged the thought that I could be anything to him. It was so stupid.

But even so, there’s a part of me that wants to use that number he gave me. I could make something up. I could go out and pretend that I got lost again, even if I knew where I was.

Yeah, great idea, Candace. And then he’ll think you’re a stupid, ditsy airhead who can’t get around a city on her own. Way to impress him.

Or maybe I could call him and tell him that I was being harassed. When he arrives, I can just say that the person went away when I told them that I’d called someone to come and protect me.

But then he might realize that it was a lie, and I can’t do that to him. He might even ask me upfront if I’m telling the truth, and then what would I do? Or worse, what if he told me I should make a police report and even accompanied me to the police station? I might get to spend more time with him, but it would be awful – and anything that could ever be between us in the future would be based on a lie.

Or I could pretend that I got sick. Fake a cough, put something hot on my forehead until right before he gets here, so he thinks I have a fever. And then…

And then when I miraculously get better, he’ll go and I’ll be right back where I started. If he even comes. Maybe he would just tell the hotel staff to look after me or have me taken to the hospital.

No matter which way I look at it, there’s only one thing I can do that has any chance of working at all. I could call him and tell him that I want to spend more time with him. Pure and simple. Not that I need him – just that I want him.

But I could never do that. How could I? I’ll only end up feeling even more like an idiot when he turns me down because his work is more important.

His work has to be more important than little old me.

This is so stupid. It almost feels as though Melbourne has been ruined for me. Like the city is no longer appealing, because if I see it, I know I’ll be seeing it alone.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. If I call up my Dad, he’ll understand. I was stupid and careless on my first day and I got dehydrated, and then I got lost, and then a stranger yelled at me, and I realized that I can’t travel alone. He’ll help me book a new flight so I can go home right away.

But that isn’t right, either. I came here to get away. To prove to myself that I can do this on my own. Now I’m going to let the whole vacation be ruined just because of some man?

Alright, so Sean isn’t just ‘some man.’ He’s everything. But that’s not the point. The point is that I need to stay here. I need to see this through. It might be hard, but at the end of this week, I’ll know that I’m an independent woman. That I can do this on my own. That’s more valuable than going back home to nurse a broken heart.

And my heart doesn’t even have to be broken. I met a wonderful man who was nice to me, and we had a great time together. He knows my Dad, and maybe our paths will cross again in the future. And even if they don’t, I still had a great time. It’s like that cheesy line they say in the movies: we’ll always have Melbourne.

I pick myself up, unzipping the dress, and hang it up in the closet, where it makes all my other clothes look shabby and plain. The best souvenir I could have imagined. Especially since my white dress is probably so badly stained that I’ll never get it out.

I’m staying here, and I’m seeing it through.

But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one call that I need to make. I put on my PJs and pick up my phone, and I look at the number on my screen. If I don’t do it soon, I know that I’ll lose my nerve, and I’ll never call at all.

This is something that I need to do – for myself, as much as anything. To show myself that I can do this. That I’m not useless or helpless.

I take a deep breath, and press the call button, pressing my hand against my chest as if that can stop my heart from beating out of my chest.