The hotel bar area is thronged with the same colourful assortment of tourists as it was this morning, except now they’re all knocking back pints of beer and gaudy cocktails instead of coffee and toast. Upbeat, tropical-sounding music is playing from a complicated stereo system in the corner. We spot Ray behind the bar performing several complicated manoeuvres with a cocktail shaker, then pouring a thick, bright-yellow liquid into two tall glasses, all the while chatting energetically to the other two barmen. As soon as he catches sight of us he gestures to one of his colleagues, and within seconds the two glasses of yellow liquid are placed on a table before us along with enormous plates of chicken, rice and what seem to be monster-sized fried bananas.
‘Mum sends her love,’ I tell Harry, sitting down beside him to tuck in hungrily. ‘I also had to assure her there are no volcanic eruptions, landslides or civil protests currently unfolding in Quito.’ Harry rolls his eyes in empathy at my mum’s typical fussing.
Ray pulls up a chair, too, with his own glass of the vivid yellow drink.
‘Sugar cane syrup,’ he explains happily. ‘They call it canelazo. Mixed with fruit from the jungle and canela – what do you call that? Cinnamon.’ He raises his glass. ‘Now Kirsty is finally awake, I can officially say – welcome to Ecuador!’
We stop stuffing our faces with the delicious fried banana long enough to chink glasses with Ray and take a gulp of the liquid. It’s spicy and sweet and throat-burningly strong.
‘So, any recommendations for a night out?’ Harry asks, already draining his glass. ‘I think it’s time for Kirsty and me to get smashed.’ Ray catches my eye with one eyebrow slightly raised.
‘Er, yes, definitely,’ I say, with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. ‘Getting smashed it is.’
Ray’s gaze flicks between Harry and me, and for a brief second I self-consciously wonder what he is thinking.
‘Well, if you like, once the wife gets home shortly we can take you out to sample Quito’s nightlife? I’m sure these guys can hold the fort here.’ He waves vaguely in the direction of the bar staff. ‘Oh, and Barry always keeps an eye on things when we go out. He practically lives here.’ I notice the chubby man sitting in the far corner of the bar, in the shadows, silently watching us. Bizarrely, I’m reminded of Aragorn sitting in the tavern in Lord of the Rings, watching the hobbits cause chaos around him with a disapproving air. ‘She kicked you out again?’ Ray calls cheerfully to him. Barry responds by raising his glass, unsmiling, then taking a long drink from it.
‘Gabi’s eight months pregnant, so we won’t be joining you in getting smashed, but we can certainly show you some sights,’ Ray continues. ‘We were talking about meeting some friends in town tonight anyway, so how about we all go?’
‘Amazing!’ exclaims Harry, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. ‘How about it, Kirst?’
I nod and smile and thank Ray, but once he turns back to the bar I touch Harry’s arm.
‘Since when have we ever gone out and got smashed?’ I ask him under my breath, trying to sound light-hearted. ‘I mean, since uni, which feels like a hundred years ago. I’m up for going to a bar, but…’
‘Oh, come on!’ Harry interrupts me. ‘Uni wasn’t that long ago. We’re still young – well, reasonably young!’ He laughs and grins and gives my waist a squeeze, and it strikes me that there is something a little bit manic about his smile. Something a little… forced. ‘After all the preparation and such a long journey we’re finally here, and I don’t know about you but I think it’s time for a drink!’
I stare at Harry as he goes over to Ray and indicates for his glass to be filled up again. I haven’t really seen this side of him since uni, when he was always the life and soul of any party… the Harry I moved in with soon became more of a glass-of-wine-and-takeaway-on-a-Friday-night kind of guy. It felt like the natural transition from carefree student to sensible adult, to a life with responsibilities and early starts… now it feels a little like Harry is regressing back to our pre-employment days.
But maybe this is no bad thing. Maybe a wild night out is just what we need to get this trip back on track. If it was ever off track. And wasn’t the whole idea for us to have one last adventure before… things change? We won’t get much time for partying once we have a baby, I remind myself. I’m sure that’s just what Harry means – we must make the most of this trip, and our current freedom, right from the first day. Also, I can’t help feeling a little relieved that at least Harry’s irritability of the last few weeks seems to have abandoned him.
My train of thought is interrupted as Ray’s wife, Gabriela, comes home amid a flurry of wavy dark hair, dazzling white smile and enormous pregnancy bump. Ray drops everything he is doing (lazily polishing glasses and eating nachos, I think) to rush round the bar and give her a long smooch, then tell her to put her coat back on as ‘Harry and Kirsty want us to take them out and get smashed’.
Gabriela greets us with warm hugs and cheek-kisses. It’s far more physical contact that I would usually feel comfortable with when first meeting someone, but something about this beautiful, smiling girl makes me want to return her hug with just as much warmth.
I start to understand why twenty-one-year-old Ray arrived here as a backpacker, then within five years found himself the owner of a bar, happily married to Gabriela. Who, it seems, speaks far better English than him.
‘I found him sitting with his backpack and a hangover in some dodgy café in town,’ Gabriela beams at Ray, ‘and decided I didn’t want to let him leave.’
I find myself watching this petite, delicate woman in amazement and wondering whether it can be true that she actually goes inside the prisons in Ecuador. But even as Gabi chats openly to us, I somehow lack the courage to ask.
After a few more canelazos we pile into a taxi and head towards what Ray and Gabriela describe as the ‘Mariscal district’, apparently a must-see part of Quito for any newly arrived traveller.
We pull up amid neon lights, throngs of people and a cacophony of thumping, Spanish-language R&B music. The taxi deposits us in the middle of Plaza Foch, a square surrounded by bars, some small and grungy-looking, others several storeys high with bright flashing signs and palm trees outside. The square is filled with groups of smiling and laughing locals, tourists wearing skimpy clothes and colourful bandanas, embracing couples and cigarette-smoking teenagers who don’t look old enough to be here. Ray half-heartedly argues with the taxi driver over the fare, then we throw ourselves into the crowd.
I take Harry’s hand and follow Ray and Gabriela into the queue forming outside one of the fancier-looking bars, determined to enjoy tonight… even though this isn’t exactly what I’d expected our first night in Quito to pan out like.
What had I expected?
As we wait in line, I allow myself to daydream briefly. Perhaps the two of us would have gone out for a nice meal somewhere, a balcony overlooking the city, and sat tucked away in a corner discussing the places we’re going to visit this week, making a plan over a bottle of wine and some typical Ecuadorian food. I feel my brows start to knit together as I realise I can’t remember the last time we went out for a romantic dinner. There’ll be time for that, we’ve got three months, I tell myself. Just go with the flow tonight. It’s obviously what Harry wants, and there will be time.
A tugging feeling at my sleeve interrupts my train of thought and makes me jump in the air and let go of Harry’s hand with a jolt. A tiny elderly woman is standing below me, coming up no further than my chest, tugging lightly at my sleeve. She’s wearing an apron and has a cardboard box slung around her neck, loaded with cigarettes, chewing gum and chocolate bars.
‘Por favor… Señorita…’ She continues to nudge me and proffer her cardboard box with an imploring expression.
Close up, she looks well over seventy and has no teeth. I immediately start fumbling in my bag for some change, and within a few seconds have bought three chocolate bars and five cigarettes from her. Harry turns around just in time to see her beaming, toothless face looming in on his, obviously excited about the commercial opportunities presented by our group.
‘Kirsty – what are you doing?’ he cries, recoiling in horror from the woman and stumbling unevenly several steps backwards.
Gabriela intervenes and says something quickly to the woman in Spanish, smiling kindly at her but at the same time firmly steering her away by the arm.
Harry is still gaping at me, weaving a little on the spot, his brows furrowed together in almost comic exaggeration. ‘What are you doing giving her your money? You don’t even smoke!’
I look down at the chocolate and cigarettes in my hands, suddenly feeling ridiculous.
‘She could have been dangerous!’ Harry continues, oblivious of the uncomfortable glances from other people in the queue around us.
At this, I can’t help but snort with laughter. ‘Oh, come on, Harry… she was about four feet tall and old enough to be my grandmother! I just felt bad for her, okay? And—’
‘That’s not the point!’ Harry’s voice is getting louder. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Gabriela making panicked throat-cutting gestures to Ray. ‘You know some people here hand out flyers or free gifts in the street, then try to drug you and rob you! Maybe she was trying to catch you unawares, maybe she…’ Harry trails off, puffing, as Ray pats him gently on the shoulder.
‘Pal… relax. Our table’s ready. Time to get out of here.’
To my immense relief, the bouncer is gesturing for us to go inside. It takes us considerable time to get across the bar as Ray and Gabi seem to know everyone there, so our progress across the room is halted by their stopping at every table for an elaborate routine of cheek-kissing, hand-pumping, back-clapping, hugging and fist-bumping.
‘Harry,’ I hiss to him as we follow on behind. ‘What was all that about?’ I jerk my head back in the direction of the bar entrance.
He frowns down at me, swaying slightly. ‘What was what about?’
I roll my eyes at him. ‘You, getting all freaked out by a ninety-year-old grandmother!’
Harry takes an unsteady step towards me, and puts both hands on my shoulders.
‘Babe, look, I’ve been here before… I know what Latin America is like. You can’t trust anyone. Anyone. Okay?’
I can feel my eyebrows rising further towards my hairline with every word.
‘I’m being serious… you have to trust me and take my lead out here, okay?’
‘Harry, we’re hardly in the Wild West, it’s—’
I don’t get the chance to finish, as Ray has turned back to us and is indicating for us to join them at a table next to the dance floor, already half filled with a group of their friends. I glance back at Harry as he follows Ray off to the bar, and decide to let it go for now. He’s had a few drinks, we’ve only just got here and everything is new and unfamiliar. It’s been a decade since he came here, so maybe culture shock is just hitting him harder than he expected it to. Even so, I can’t help feeling a growing sense of unease, a feeling that tentatively began while we were still at home and only increased with every irritable or distracted comment from Harry in the weeks leading up to our trip. And what if his overreaction now is somehow related to that weird phone call earlier? Shouldn’t Harry be feeling relaxed and excited that our great South American adventure has finally begun?
Give him a chance, I tell myself. Maybe the enormity of what we’ve done has only just hit him… maybe older, wiser Harry is finding it harder to be out of his comfort zone than he thought he would… I decide all I can do about it for now is try to enjoy the night, while still watching Harry closely.
As I sit down at the table beside Gabriela, I realise why the ground is so soft underfoot – it is real sand lining the bar from the door to the dance floor. Mini palm trees sprout from the floor in the seating area, giving an illusion of privacy and luxury at each table. A widescreen TV is pumping out J-Lo music videos on the far wall over a small dance floor where some couples are already twirling each other around in extravagant salsa moves. Everything looks new, shiny and luxurious.
Gabi introduces me to the group already at the table – Luke from Birmingham, resident in Ecuador for twenty years, proprietor of an English-language centre and extremely long red dreadlocks. Then a scruffy-looking blonde couple called Emma and Dave (or was it Gemma and Dan?), who barely look old enough to be out on their own and tell us joyfully they are on their gap year before university. To my surprise, despite the variations in age and lifestyle, everyone is British. They all seem to have been drinking for some time already, judging by the collection of empty glasses strewn across the table, ice melting, bright cocktail umbrellas wilting.
Looking around, most of the bar’s clientele seem to be either obvious foreigners – blonde, sunburnt and inebriated – or very well-dressed, elegant locals. At the table next to ours an impossibly beautiful young woman with waist-length hair is sitting opposite a man of at least twice her age, feeding him mini empanadas from her fork. I only realise I’m staring when I feel someone tap me on the shoulder, and turn round with a jump as Ray hands me the cocktail menu.
I feel a bit sick looking through the elaborately named concoctions, such as the vivid green ‘Drowning Mermaid’ or layered purple and pink ‘Miami Vice’. The prices could rival any London bar, and I can’t help but think of the toothless lady’s sheer joy at the handful of change I gave her outside.
In the end I opt for a glass of wine.
Harry’s back from the bar and is already engaged in an animated conversation with Luke, and I notice with relief he has accepted the bottle of water Ray slid across the table to him, while throwing a wink at me. For a moment, I had started to worry he was taking the idea of getting ‘smashed’ way too literally and that we would end up having to carry him back to Casa Hamaca. But now, talking to Luke, he looks completely animated and engaged with whatever Luke is saying. As I watch, he leans forward in his seat, nodding avidly, his face lighting up in a smile. He’s so engrossed in the conversation, he wouldn’t even notice if…
As if with a mind of their own, my eyes come to rest on Harry’s phone, alone and abandoned in the middle of the table among the empty glasses. My itchy curiosity about his earlier phone call immediately floods back.
Could I?
I look around at our group. Gabriela is just drinking orange juice but seems to be having the best time of us all, laughing at Ray’s every word and snuggling into his shoulder as he whispers something in her ear, his arm draped across the back of her chair. The young couple are engaged in a complicated drink-downing move, arms interlaced as they hold their glasses to each other’s lips. Harry is totally absorbed in his conversation with Luke. No one is paying any attention to me.
I casually rest my arm on the table then slowly slide the phone towards me and up my sleeve, feeling ridiculously like a petty criminal.
‘Just going to the bathroom,’ I mutter to the table in general, and I’m gone.
In the ladies, I lock myself in a cubicle and pull out the phone, hating myself for the excited adrenaline flooding my veins.
I open the call log and scroll guiltily through all the missed calls from my mum, until I find it. The only number in the list that isn’t a recognised contact in Harry’s phone.
+593 2 279331. I recognise the Ecuador country code, and I know that the ‘2’ preceding the number means it is a landline within Quito. One outgoing call, made at five-forty-eight p.m. It had to be the one.
I press the green ‘dial’ icon next to the number, and hold the phone to my ear, heart pounding.
It’s answered on the second ring, and a muffled, sleepy-sounding man’s voice says in Spanish, ‘Hello, Fernandez family?’
I take the phone away from my ear and stare at it in horror, imagining a strange man somewhere else in the city scrambling to answer the phone by the bed. It’s nearly midnight, what was I thinking?
‘Hello?’ I hear the tinny voice ask again, and quickly press the hang-up button.
‘Are you alive in there?’ an angry American accent is calling as someone bangs on my cubicle door. Muttering an apology I fumble my way out of the bathroom in a daze of confusion. Who the hell are the Fernandez family? We don’t know anyone in Quito, except the people we are in this bar with. Harry said all the people he met travelling the first time had long ago dispersed back to their countries, and lost touch. Why would he be calling someone on a landline in Quito and shouting at them?
‘Kirsty! There you are.’ Ray is smiling at me and grabs my arm to pull me down into the seat next to him, then immediately turns back to his energetic conversation with the others. I quickly deposit Harry’s phone back out of my sleeve and on to the table.
The male half of the young couple – Dan or Dave – seems to be telling a long and complicated story about the process of exchanging his British driving licence for an Ecuadorian one. I notice Gabi’s eyes start to glaze over, then her gaze drift away across the bar. I realise now would be a perfect time to ask her about her volunteer work in the prisons. As if reading my mind, she catches my eye and smiles at me.
Do it, I tell myself firmly. What are you waiting for?
‘So then they told me the office was closed, and I had to go back on a Wednesday, but only in the afternoon, and I needed a copy of my birth certificate, but that was in the UK so I had to call Gemma’s mum and ask her to fax it…’ The story continues unrelentingly, and Gabi flashes me an almost imperceptible eye-roll.
Do it now. Just ask her.
‘…and then they insisted I got a special signature from a lawyer, can you believe it? So I phoned round about ten people, and there weren’t any appointments for two weeks…’
But what if she thinks I’m weird for being interested in something like this?
Gabi leans forward and starts playing with the straw in her drink, barely concealing the boredom on her face. I take a deep breath and lean forward.
‘Hey, so… Gabi? Ray mentioned you’re involved in some volunteer work here. With the, um… prisoners.’
Gabi’s face lights up immediately. ‘Yes! Oh, don’t get me started on this, I’ll bore your ears off about it. Worse than…’ She grins and flicks a glance at Dan (or Dave), still holding forth about his driving licence. We both giggle. ‘But,’ she suddenly frowns, ‘I hope Ray hasn’t been going on about these things to you… he sometimes gets a bit overenthusiastic about what I do.’ She stops to nudge her husband. ‘Hey, amor, I hope you haven’t been boring our new guests with talk about prisons… they are here on holiday, and probably don’t want to hear about—’
‘Actually, I’m really interested,’ I interrupt to reassure her, and try to quickly pull her attention back to me before Harry overhears. Glancing over at him I see he is still deep in conversation with Luke, but I lower my voice anyway. ‘You see, I once did some work in a solicitor’s office and there was this guy… actually, never mind that. But let’s just say it’s kind of an area of personal interest for me. And… actually, I was already looking at doing some volunteer work while we’re out here in South America. So…’ I trail off, feeling suddenly very exposed.
Gabi, to my great relief, is smiling broadly.
‘Well, I volunteer for a charity that offers support to prisoners here in Ecuador. Mainly women, the more vulnerable ones, and foreigners. We visit them and try to help where we can – little things like posting letters for them to their families, bringing them snacks, or simply listening to them when they have no one to talk to.’
My eyes must be open like saucers. ‘There are foreign prisoners here in Ecuador?’
‘Oh yes, lots,’ Gabi says, and something about her kind smile makes me feel like the most naïve person in the world. ‘Almost all for drug trafficking,’ she answers my unspoken question. ‘Some friends of mine started a small charity, years ago, to help them. I’ve been involved since…’ She trails off and frowns. ‘Since even before I met Ray.’
‘Gabi is an amazing woman,’ Ray interrupts, slurring and squeezing his arm around her shoulders.
‘If you’re interested, I could introduce you to them – they’re a lovely older couple, and they basically run this charity from their home. I know they’re always keen for another pair of hands, especially with everything that’s going on at the moment.’
I’m already nodding enthusiastically.
‘I can’t help out that much at the moment,’ Gabi continues, smiling down at her bump. ‘I’m not going to be actually visiting the prisons myself for a while. But I’m sure they’d be happy to talk to you about their work, or even let you go on a visit yourself, if you were interested…’
‘I’d really love to—’ I start to answer back, just as I see Harry coming round to our side of the table, his whole face lit up in a warm smile as he looks at me. He comes up behind my chair and wraps his arms around my shoulders, leaning in to whisper in my ear, ‘Sorry I went a bit crazy outside, babe.’ He rests a soft kiss on my cheek. ‘I was just worried something could happen to you.’
I let him kiss me and squeeze his hand back, despite the undercurrent of unease running through me and the man’s voice still ringing in my ears, saying ‘Hello, Fernandez family?’ When we’re alone, and sober, I will ask him about it, I promise myself.
‘Kirsty was just asking about my work with prisoners,’ Gabi says, before I can stop her. ‘I was telling her that if she wanted we could—’
‘Oh God, woman, you’re obsessed!’ Harry is rolling his eyes and chuckling. ‘Stop talking about depressing stuff like that!’ He straightens up and reaches for his beer.
‘Actually, how long are you guys going to stick around?’ Gabi asks. ‘Because the same couple I told you about, they have a really big apartment and are trying to rent out a part of it. It’s joined on to their house but completely self-contained. Would be perfect for you if you’re thinking of staying here a while.’
I reply ‘Oh, thanks, but we don’t know how long we’ll be around’ at exactly the same time Harry says ‘Great! How much is the rent?’
There’s an awkward silence, and I turn to stare at Harry, raising my eyebrows at him in question. The plan had been to stay in Quito for a week or so, maybe use it as a base to explore the rest of the country… but rent somewhere?
‘It might be worth it, babe,’ he murmurs to me, sitting back down beside me again. ‘Cheaper than staying in hotels, and if they’re willing to let it to us for a short time…’
I don’t get the chance to consider this further, as a loud shriek from the other side of the bar makes us all jump and turn to stare.
‘Hey, YOU LOT!’
It’s Gemma, waving her empty glass and indicating the bar. ‘Come on, what you all drinking? It’s time to get another round in!’
***
By the time we stumble back into our colourful little ‘habitation’ – as Ray would say – it’s nearly morning.
Harry falls asleep immediately, spread out fully clothed on top of the giant patchwork bed, his snores reaching to where I’ve positioned myself on the balcony to watch the sun rise. The drinks have worn off and I’m restlessly awake. I realise it must be late morning in the UK. That, combined with my marathon snooze from earlier – or should I say, from yesterday – makes any thought of sleep impossible now.
I stand and watch the city by night, stunned by the beauty of the twinkling lights on the high mountains around and above me, and by the silence. All I can hear is a stray dog barking in the distance or the occasional car pass by. If this were central London there would be ceaseless noise and activity in the street outside, even at this hour.
Standing alone in a place so unfamiliar, the enormity of what we’ve done really hits me. I won’t see England again for three months. I have no idea what the next few days, let alone weeks or months, will hold for us. The feeling of uncertainty, of adventure, of the future stretching out before me like an expanse of untrodden snow, is strangely liberating. But even so, beneath that, a feeling of unease niggles at me. Who had Harry been talking to, and could it be linked to his distracted behaviour leading up to our departure?
The sun rises so suddenly it’s as if someone simply switched a light on over the city. There are a few moments of eerie grey light, then bright sunshine. With it comes an immediate stream of cars and people and noise, appearing so out of the blue it’s as if they had been hiding behind the buildings waiting to pop out. I’d read that, due to its location right at the centre of the earth, the sun rises and sets in Quito at roughly the same time the whole year round, with none of the long, lingering sunsets or gradual dawns of a place further from the equator. I’d never imagined what it would be like to experience that in person, though.
I realise I’m hungry, but can’t decide whether it is for breakfast, lunch or dinner.
Right on queue there’s a knock on the door.
It’s Ray, bearing two steaming mugs of coffee and his usual broad smile, although slightly subdued today. ‘How are your heads this morning, guys?’ he asks, handing us each a mug.
The smell of coffee seems to revive Harry enough for him to haul himself up on to his elbows and sip from the mug as if it contained the elixir of life.
‘I feel fine, actually,’ I say quietly, realising at the same time, ‘but I don’t remember much after about eleven p.m.’
‘Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything serious to embarrass yourself,’ Ray winks at me.
‘Well, actually you did keep on asking to touch Gabriela’s belly…’ Harry pipes up, obviously finding it tremendously amusing, ‘…and going on about the miracle of life or something, every time you felt the baby kicking.’
Oh no. I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and will already be getting a reputation as the next Single White Female.
Ray sees the humiliation on my face and says gently: ‘It didn’t bother her. She enjoyed talking to you about babies. Don’t stress.’
I smile at him gratefully.
‘But you!’ Ray turns his attention to Harry. ‘Well done, pal – I can’t believe on your first day here you managed to land—’
I watch Ray’s facial expression change from the usual smile to dawning horror, and whip round just in time to catch Harry sitting bolt upright, making panicked, wide-eyed waving gestures at him.
‘Managed to land what?’ I ask, feeling like I used to as a small child when my parents would talk in broken French to avoid my finding out what my Christmas present was. Except something tells me the secret being kept here is far less innocent than a Polly Pocket playhome or Thundercats action figure.
The changing expressions on Ray’s face would be comical, in any other circumstances. Confusion rapidly giving way to horror as all the colour drains from his cheeks and leaves him looking like he wants to cut out his own tongue. ‘Land… er… land in Quito at such high altitude and go out drinking with us, but still wake up fresh as a lemon!’ Relief floods his face as he internally congratulates himself on covering up whatever it was he said to put his foot in it.
Except he hasn’t. I don’t believe a word of it. And Harry certainly doesn’t look fresh as a ‘lemon’ today, or any other fruit, plant or animal that may be the local term.
‘How do you do it, pal?’ Ray continues, oblivious. ‘Transatlantic flight… all those cocktails…’
‘Thank you, Ray.’ Harry’s tone is suddenly cool as he cuts in. ‘I think I’ll take a shower now. So… we’ll come downstairs for breakfast in a bit?’
Ray recognises he has been dismissed and backs out of the room, holding his hands up.
‘Thank you for the coffee,’ I manage before he disappears.
There is an uncomfortable silence. ‘What was all that about?’ I ask.
Harry runs his hands through his hair and hauls himself to his feet. Distractedly, I notice the dark circles under his eyes and the lines that form when he frowns. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you yet. I wanted to see what happened. But…’
An irrational blast of panic jolts through me, and for a split second I imagine what it would be like if Harry broke up with me now. Left me all alone here in Ecuador. I’d have to book an early flight home and get Mum to pick me up from Heathrow. I wouldn’t even have a house to go back to, as I wouldn’t be able to pay the mortgage on my own, so it would get repossessed immediately and I’d be back in Mum’s spare room, living out of a suitcase, turning up back at work three months early… my life would be OVER.
Wait – what the HELL are you thinking? I ask myself. Of course he’s not going to break up with me. We’re Harry and Kirsty, we’ve been together five years. We have a mortgage. We have a three-month sabbatical. We decided to do this together.
Oblivious to my irrational moment of panic, Harry continues: ‘So you know Luke from last night – the Brummy guy – dreadlocks? He offered me some work at his language school.’
I stare at him, feeling wrong-footed yet again.
‘Some… work? But… you’ve already got a job. You asked for time off from it, to come here. I don’t understand.’
My hangover unexpectedly makes its presence known with a lurch of nausea and wave of dizziness. I sit down abruptly on the end of the bed, rubbing my eyes. ‘What do you want a job here in Ecuador for? We’re supposed to be travelling.’
‘Yes, of course, but… Luke’s offer last night made me think. This seems like a cool place, and what harm can there be in sticking around here for a bit? You know, get to know Quito, find a proper place to stay. We could even rent that apartment from Gabi’s friends like she said last night? So we’re not just living in hotels…’
But that’s the whole point of going travelling, I think. You move around and stay in hotels and see different places.
‘… and it’s not like a permanent fixed contract or anything. They just really need someone to help out with the beginners’ English classes. It’s just for a few weeks or so, a month at most… because a teacher had to go back to the USA suddenly last week for a family issue. They’re offering good money, as they really need someone to stand in.’
I stare at my boyfriend across our hotel room, and for the second time in the last month wonder how we could spend every day together yet sometimes operate on such completely planes of existence.
‘But… you’ve got savings. We talked about this, worked it all out. We’ve got enough to last us the three months, if we’re careful, then you have a well-paid job waiting for you when we get back in June. I don’t understand why you would need to think about earning money out here?’
Harry is looking down at his empty coffee mug, swilling the dregs around in the bottom, seemingly unable to meet my eyes.
‘Don’t you like Ecuador?’ he eventually mutters.
‘Harry, we’ve been here twenty-four hours! Yes, of course I like it, but…’ My voice trails off as I think of my travel folder, full of ideas and potential, already unpacked and resting on top of my backpack just waiting to be opened and explored.
‘Well, there you go then.’ He’s smiling at me and getting out of bed and walking towards the bathroom as if that’s the subject settled. ‘People always say you experience a country and its culture much more vividly from the inside… when you actually live there for a while. And we’re not committing to anything, right? I’ll teach a few hours a week and we’ll still have plenty of time together… we could go to the beach? The jungle?’ His voice takes on a pleading tone.
‘I want to go to the Galápagos Islands, and Angel Falls,’ I mutter.
‘And you will, Kirst… we’ll go everywhere you want. Let’s just take a little bit of time here first, okay? Settle down a bit, get used to things, save some more money… Luke asked me to go and see the school on Friday. If it doesn’t work out then we’ll move on. I promise.’ He’s standing in front of me now, peering earnestly into my eyes and stroking the side of my face with his thumb.
Settle down a bit. We’ve been ‘settling down’ – without really actually settling down – for the last five years. With the idea of this trip, Harry woke up the adventurous spirit in me. I had just started to get into the mind-set of a wandering backpacker, albeit temporarily… and now he’s talking about settling down.
‘Just for a few weeks… it won’t be that much longer than we’d planned on spending in Quito anyway, I promise,’ Harry continues. Looking back at his earnest face and pleading blue eyes, I realise this seems to be something really important to him. Perhaps, in the way I’ve been seeking volunteer opportunities, using his teaching skills in an exotic setting is something Harry needs in order to really make the most of this experience.
And if he does this, it would give me time to get involved with the prison volunteering, I realise. Perhaps staying in Quito a little longer than planned wouldn’t be such a bad idea…
‘One month,’ I hear myself saying. ‘One month tops, okay? I don’t want to spend any longer than that in one place, otherwise we won’t have time to fit in all the other things we’ve already agreed to do. We had planned to visit two other countries as well. And I am not missing out on those places.’
‘Amazing, babe!’ Harry enthuses. ‘I knew you’d understand. Spending some more time here will really help us get a true feel for the place, experience the country from the inside, do you know what I mean?’ He leans down and kisses me, acutely reminding me of the conversation only weeks ago in which he’d convinced me so utterly to embark on this venture with him – blindly, trustingly. Except, this time, it’s going to be slightly different…
I stare levelly back at Harry, and take a deep breath. ‘Yes, I know exactly what you mean,’ I reply, not completely recognising the new, firm tone in my voice. ‘And that’s why, if we’re going to stay in Quito for a few weeks, I’ve decided I’m going to do some volunteer work. Visiting prisoners.’
I watch the smile slowly fade from Harry’s face.
Bet you weren’t expecting THAT.
‘But… are you serious? Isn’t that a bit… dangerous?’ He’s frowning at me with a truly confused expression.
‘No, it’s quite safe,’ I tell him, wishing I felt as certain as I sound. ‘Gabriela told me all about it last night. They go in with proper authorisation from the prison authorities, it’s all official. And it’s something I want to do.’
The confusion on Harry’s face deepens. ‘Babe… are you sure? This just doesn’t seem like… like you. I mean, no offence, but at home you don’t even like going downstairs to lock up and turn the lights off on your own. Now you’re talking about going inside a prison? A place full of dangerous people?’ He forces a chuckle, but I keep my expression serious.
‘Maybe it is like me,’ I say, feeling increasingly filled with a new form of determination. ‘Actually, I was already researching various types of volunteering out here to possibly get involved in. If not here, then Peru or Venezuela… there’s loads out there. And this, now, seems like the perfect opportunity.’
‘Volunteering is one thing, babe, I’m all up for that, but… prisons?’ Harry is still staring at me as if I’ve just popped up in the middle of the room inside a time machine.
‘It’s my condition,’ I say firmly, turning away from him and walking over to the balcony to indicate the conversation is closed. ‘If you want to stay in Quito a few more weeks and work at this language school, fine – but I’m going to help Gabi with her prisoners.’
Harry is silent for so long, I start to wonder if he’s heard me. I stare out at the vast expanse of mountains and unexplored city stretching out below us, hardly daring to breathe. Eventually I turn to look back at him, and see he hasn’t moved from the spot, and is staring at me with the same baffled expression as before, rubbing his hand over his hair in a familiar sign of stress.
‘I don’t understand why you’re suddenly so determined to do this,’ he finally says, grumpily.
‘You don’t have to understand,’ I say calmly, stepping past him towards the bathroom. ‘But you do have to support me. Now, I’m going to have a shower.’
As the bathroom door closes on Harry’s still-bewildered expression and the hot water streams down around me, I feel a churn of different emotions. A sense of triumph at having put my foot down and imposed some conditions of my own on this whole venture. Mixed with a healthy dose of nervousness at the thought of actually going through with the idea of visiting the prisons – now I’ve said it to Harry, I will simply have to do it.
Too scared to go downstairs and lock up for the night – pah! I’ll show him…
But underneath all this I also feel a deeper unease, a sense of misgiving about Harry and me that I have not ever fully admitted to myself before. If we’ve only been here a day and are already talking at cross purposes over our plans for this trip… what do the next three months hold for us? Surely it shouldn’t be necessary to negotiate, to lay down conditions to your own boyfriend about a mutual adventure?
Going abroad won’t solve anything, you know. My father’s voice bursts unbidden into my mind.
Determinedly I block him out again. Dad knows virtually nothing about my life, so how could he comment on my relationship with Harry?
If he was even talking about my relationship with Harry?
It’s not that by agreeing to go travelling with Harry I wanted to solve anything… but somehow I had felt that if we left our old life behind for a while we would draw closer together again, realign on the same wavelength.
I close my eyes and let the water stream over my face, holding on to the sense of strength, of conviction, that filled me just now when I told Harry I was going to volunteer with the prisoners. A feeling, I realise in an instant, that I’m not going to let anyone take away from me.