Chapter 1
She sits at the bar twirling the tiny little pink umbrella placed gingerly in her drink. It’s hot, underneath her thighs sweat begins to pool and she thinks, ‘thank God I put on 5 layers of deodorant’. She looks around at her surroundings; a divey Indonesian bar scattered with locals, insects, and other creatures she’d rather not know about. It’s grungy and dirty, unlike the majority of tourist trap establishments found only in the hot spots of Bali. She takes a large sip of her mezcal cocktail and luxuriates in her current reality. Alone in a foreign country and feeling pretty damn pleased with herself. The bartender gestures to her drink and gives her a cheeky smile, unable to find the English words for, ‘another one?’ She smiles back and slowly nods her head. They maintain eye contact for three seconds longer than normal, a clear and indicative sign that they both find each other reasonably attractive, although nothing would come from it other than a few more shared glances throughout the evening.
Being one of the only women in the bar, and the only American for that matter, she feels eyes on her, but doesn’t feel threatened or scared. She decides to swivel her stool and face toward the dimly lit, sticky room, sizing up its people and components. A short, stocky, middle-aged Indonesian man meets her eye, he smiles and she smiles back. An old couple in the corner, drinking beers with rather blank faces. And then she sees him. Him? What? She quickly turns back around and her heart begins to race before falling into what feels like her ass. She unconsciously takes 5 more sips (rather, gulps) of her drink as she tries to process what she just saw. Did it get hotter? The sweat underneath her thighs is an ocean now. And what were those breathing techniques her therapist taught her? Before she has time to consider anything, she feels a hand on her shoulder and an all too familiar voice that says, ‘no way’. She turns around and does her best to act completely surprised.
“What the fuck?” she says with a nervous giggle. “What are you doing here?” and they lean in for a long, remembering embrace.
“I was staring at the back of your head for so long dude, thinking it was you but unsure. Then I saw your tattoo and I’m not lying to you, my heart stopped.” he says with a big, goofy smile.
“This is crazy.” She grins back and gestures to the open seat next to her as a million thoughts fly through her head. It had been three years since the pair had spoken, where they ran into each other at a random party, and before that, another two years. ‘Is this a sign?’ her inner monologue asks, ‘this has to be a sign’. She studies his face and is surprised by how familiar and comforting it feels to look at him. He looks the same, a little better even. He’d be 31 now, her 29, five years since their three year long tumultuous rollercoaster of a relationship.
“It's so good to see you, wow. You look really good. How’ve you been?” She smiles back and nervously fidgets with her rings, heart and mind at war with one another. Her body is tense, remembering all the hurt and pain. At the same time he feels like home, someone she can be completely herself around. Devil and angel on her shoulder, she makes an effort to relax into the evening, doing her best to subside the unsolicited flashbacks of her convulsing in the corner from panic attacks and fights.