The Basics: The canals of Venice are a wonder to behold.
There are no cars in Venice. There are no roads. Want to get somewhere? Walk, take a boat, or swim. Just kidding. Don’t swim. The water’s disgusting.
This place takes canals to a whole new level. They’re in and around all the crumbling houses and buildings. Water, water everywhere.
“Are the apartments built into the water?” Leela asks.
“I think they’re little tiny islands,” Kat says.
“Whatever you do,” I respond, “DO NOT FALL IN.”
“I should have brought my wet suit,” Leela says.
“The one you peed in?” I ask.
“That’s the one,” she says, laughing. “I marked it.”
Instead of buses, there are water buses. Instead of taxis, there are water taxis.
“Do you think there are water Ubers?” Kat asks.
“Ha,” I say.
There are also men in striped shirts and straw hats paddling fancy-looking gondolas and offering tourists rides.
And people everywhere. I have never seen so many tourists. It’s like Venice is a piece of bread crust and we’re all a bunch of pigeons.
All the stores seem to sell sparkly costume masks, pretty Venetian fans, and colorful bowls, wine glasses, and jewelry in something called Murano glass.
“I’m hungry,” I say. “Let’s drop our bags off and find somewhere to eat.” We haven’t eaten since our extended and delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs and fresh fruit and Nutella on ciabatta at Alain’s. It was hard to say good-bye. To the food, the accommodations. And for Kat, to Alain.
“I’m starving,” Leela says, dragging her duffel-suitcase behind her.
“Perfect,” Kat says, adjusting the strap of her Louis Vuitton weekend bag on her shoulder. “Oh, and guys? I wouldn’t mind doing some shopping. You know I only brought clothes for three days.”
Kat decides that she can’t take another hostel and gets us a room at the Westin.
“Are you sure?” I ask when we check in. “It’s super expensive.”
“I’m one hundred percent sure,” she says. “My treat. Please don’t make me sleep in another hostel. I’m all hosteled out.”
Our room has two single beds, and we ask for a rollout. It also has a real shower and air-conditioning.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” says Leela.
“Yes, thank you,” I say. “This is spectacular.” Between staying at Alain’s and Kat paying for this hotel, I might have enough money to make it to August second.
“Ah,” Leela says, turning the AC on high. “That’s the stuff.”
The plan is to stay here for two nights and then go south to Rome for the last few days.
Alain told Kat to take as much time off as she wanted. Of course he did. He’s crazy about her. The heat between them on the boat was out of control. We really did have to get out of there.
We unpack, we change, we pack our day bags, and we go.
Three hours later, we take a gelato break. This time I try raspberry and dark chocolate. Mmm. It’s just as good as I imagined.
I’m flipping through my Travel Europe to see where we should go. “Okay,” I say. “We start with the Piazza San Marco. And then we’ll go to some of the museums.”
I should check on my family first, though. Make sure they’re okay.
I connect to the gelateria’s Wi-Fi and see a picture from my sister. It’s my mother. Her hair is in a ponytail, and she’s smiling at the camera. She’s holding a box of frozen waffles.
Huh?
There’s a frozen food section behind her.
Oh. She’s at a grocery store.
She’s at a grocery store?
My mother is at A GROCERY STORE?
This should fill me with happiness. It really should. And I am happy. I am. My mother is getting better. I’m going to be free. My sister isn’t miserable.
I sink a little into my plastic chair. It makes me happy. But also makes me feel like crap.
“Omigod,” Leela says, staring at her screen. “Matt is still in the South of France. What’s wrong with him? Are our exes going to stay on the boat for the rest of their lives? They’re so annoying.”
Our exes? Our exes? She wouldn’t let me have a relationship with Jackson but now she’s claiming my breakup? It’s too much. It’s all too much. Something inside me snaps.
“Stop. Checking. Matt’s. Posts!” I yell.
“Excuse me?”
“Just stop it! You have to stop!”
She looks like I slapped her.
“You’re the one who’s checked your phone every five minutes this entire trip,” she says.
“I’m checking on my mother. I’m not checking on some guy who cheated on me and obviously doesn’t give a shit about me.”
“Stop bossing me around!” she says. “Don’t tell me what to do!”
“You need me to tell you what to do,” I yell back. “Or you’d be lost and drowning in your own mess!”
She looks away, her face flushed.
“Whoa, Syd,” says Kat, looking uncomfortable. “Calm down.”
“I don’t want to calm down! Leela, you’ve been miserable this whole trip. And I’m trying to cheer you up, but nothing works. And I really, really need a break. I’m always doing crap for everyone else and I’m tired. And you made me give up Jackson because you want me to be miserable with you, and that pisses me off!”
The words feel good as they leave my mouth. I don’t want to calm down! I’m pissed off! At Leela. At my mother. At my sister. At everyone.
Leela and Kat are in too much shock to respond.
“I need to take a walk,” I say. “I’ll meet you guys later.” I take my mini-backpack and storm off, down one of the tiny streets. My heart thumps as I walk faster and faster.
How is it that I give up everything to take care of my mother for seven years and she gets worse and worse? And then I’m gone for four weeks and she’s getting better? What the fuck? Is my mother better off without me? Did I make her worse? Is it my fault?
I turn on another street heading toward the Piazza San Marco.
Do I need to feel needed? Am I a horrible person?
In front of me is a bell tower. There are so many people. And pigeons. Actual pigeons. Is every pigeon in the world here? Is every person in the world here? Why am I even here? Maybe I’ve had enough traveling. Maybe I’ve had enough of Leela. Now that she and Kat are besties, they don’t even need me. I could just go home. To my own room with my stupid glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars. Where I have more than one pair of jeans. And none of them have jam stains. And I have tap water. And 4G. And why the hell did I decide to buy snow globes? So many snow globes. So fucking heavy. So fucking dumb.
So many fucking tourists.
“Selfie stick?” a man asks. “Cheap price!”
“No,” I bark. I need to get out of here. I turn a corner and get out of the square. Then I turn another corner and walk some more. Down a path and over a bridge, and then over another bridge.
Fifteen minutes later, the sun is beating on my back and I stop.
I don’t know where I am.
I reach into my bag and look for my Travel Europe. It’s not there. I left it on the table in the gelato place.
Merda.
I think of my friends’ faces and feel bad I left them there. They must be worried.
Okay. I just need to find Wi-Fi, then I can check my app. Then I’ll text and find them. I walk around a bit trying to get online.
There’s no free Wi-Fi.
Also I have about 3 percent battery. I didn’t have enough time to charge it at the hotel.
My heart starts to thump. I turn around. Okay. I’ll just go to the piazza. I’ll find them there. I turn around again and walk the way I think I came.
No piazza.
Crap. I try to get Wi-Fi again but everything needs a password.
I scroll back to my messages. I look back at the picture of my mom.
She’s smiling. My eyes tear up. I’m proud of her. I really am.
I scroll back to Jackson’s last text.
I miss him. I wish he were here.
My phone dies.
Fuck.
My heart starts beating faster and faster. I am lost. I am sweating. I have nothing. Is this it? Am I finally going to have a full-on panic attack? Yes, that’s exactly how this will play out. I will have a panic attack in the middle of some random street in Venice and I will pass out and fall into the water. I’ll drown. Yup, I’ll drown. They’ll never find me because the water is so dirty. Everyone will think I took off. Abandoned them. That I couldn’t stand taking care of my mother. Or that I couldn’t stand her getting better without me. Either way, they’ll think I’m a terrible person. They’ll be pissed at first, but then they’ll be fine. Kat and Leela will become besties. My sister will cure my mom. Jackson will fall in love with a nice Canadian girl. Everyone will be happy and move on.
Meanwhile, I’ll be decomposing in a canal. The fish will feast on my toes.
I feel light-headed. It’s just like when I was at Anne Frank’s house, or in the Tube station, or at the Arc de Triomphe. Any second now I’m going to faint and then it will be all over.
I breathe. I breathe again. Faster. It’s coming. The end.
No. No, no, no.
I am lost. I am overwhelmed. But I am not being chased by a lion.
I keep breathing. I lean against a nearby building, close my eyes and focus on my breaths. In and out. In and out. Slowly. Slower still. You’re going to be fine, I tell myself. Everything is going to be okay.
You are strong. You can do this. You’ve done this before. You can do it again.
I take another deep breath.
My head stops spinning.
I catch my breath.
I’m fine.
I’m fine.
I didn’t faint. I’m not going to faint. I’m going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay. I will not fall into the canal.
I am not going to let the panic spiral. I am not going to let the fear win.
I am strong and I am brave.
I open my eyes. I push myself up. In front of me is a snow-globe display. Also a sign that says “Libreria.” A bookstore.
I step inside and the cold air calms me down even more. I ask them if they have an iPhone charger I can use, and they say yes. I ask them if they have any English books, and they say yes, and point to the back. I ask them if they have free Wi-Fi and they nod and say sì, certo.
While my phone boots up, I buy a snow globe of a boat in the canal, a novel set in Venice called In the Company of the Courtesan, and a map.
I can do this. I can get home. I am a freakin’ world traveler.
When my phone is on, I quickly send my friends a message.
Me: I’m OK. Sorry for freaking out. I’ll meet you back at the hotel in an hour!
Then I look at Jackson’s last message. Before I chicken out, I write:
Hi. I miss you.
I leave the store without waiting for responses.
I follow the map and start walking back to the hotel. Along the way, I stop at a bench and sit. I open my book. I read. I breathe. I relax.
I show up at the hotel around eight thirty, just as the sun is setting. I knock.
Kat throws the door open. Her hair is in a towel. “Syd! You’re okay!”
“I am,” I say. It’s nice and cool in here.
“We kept calling you but couldn’t get through,” she says.
“I can’t get calls,” I say. “Did you get my text?”
“Yeah. But that was a long time ago.”
“Leela? I’m sorry for flipping out.”
Leela stands and gives me a hug. “I think I deserved it.”
“You did?”
“I force you to come on this trip and then when you meet someone I try to convince you he’s a jerk.”
“Maybe he is a jerk,” I say.
“Maybe,” she says, sitting down on the bed. “But I was an ass. I didn’t want to share you with Kat or with Jackson. I just wanted things to be like they used to be, you know? Me and you. I didn’t mean to mess up you and Jackson. I mean, I did, but I didn’t.” She sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“I texted him,” I admit, sitting down beside her.
“What did you say?”
“I said . . . hi. I miss you.” My face flushes. “Lame?”
“Did he respond?”
“I don’t know! I’ve been offline.”
“Well, get online!” Leela orders.
I do and wait to see if I have any messages. One pops up.
Jackson: Hi. I miss you too. I know you can’t be here but I wish you were.
There’s a picture of a beach.
“He’s in Corfu,” Kat says, looking over my shoulder. “I know that beach. He’s definitely not with Matt in Cannes anymore. And he still wants you to meet him.”
“But I can’t go to Greece. We’re already in Italy, and we’re flying out of Rome.”
“We could go to Greece,” Leela says. She hesitates. “Or you could go to Greece.”
“Me?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “You. On your own.”
My heart beats faster. “Huh?”
“Kat was telling me about Sorrento—”
“I was there when I was fifteen,” Kat says.
“And it sounds kind of amazing and I was thinking that I could go with her there if you want to go meet Jackson in Greece. It’s just six days.”
“But . . .” I’m not sure what to say. “You two are going to travel? Just the two of you?”
Instead of feeling jealous, I feel a spark of hope. Of possibility.
Leela puts her hand on mine. “Go see Jackson. I’ll meet you in Rome.”
“But how will I get back to Rome?”
“You’ll figure it out,” Leela says.
I hesitate. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she says. “Absolutely. Now come on. The pizza isn’t going to eat itself.”