My buzzing cell phone wakes me up. As I open my blurry eyes, I realize that Dean’s persistence in finding a motorcycle rental dealership the night before has worked out for the better. That maniac insisted we rent a car and go looking for one, instead of having a few drinks. As understanding as I am, I agreed. Sadly, a half hour later, I came to regret my decision. There were tons of such dealerships around, but all they rented were scooters or quad bikes. Those definitely did not fit his style. Dean likes to rent machines that are powerful, bikes “with soul” as he likes to call big Honda’s and BMW’s. We finally found his ideal dealership in Hersonissos, another beach resort twenty miles east, but by the time we got there, it was 10:30pm and it was closed.

In high spirits, I get up and peek out the window. The first beams of sunlight are shining down over the sea. I sneak a peek into Dean’s bedroom. He’s lying on his chest, snoring like a train.

I’m sorry, bro. You’re going to have to find someone else to drive you over to Hersonissos today. I’m out of here.

I tiptoe out of our suite. I can’t afford to wake him up, because I know what his reaction is going to be. Dean has a bad temper. He’s been like this ever since I met him eight years ago. Correction: ever since Michael and I had found him on the street, begging for some lunch money. The kid was living a hard life. He was growing up in an orphanage and hated school. When he was released from the home at age sixteen, he resorted to shoplifting, and spent another two years in a juvenile detention center. Making ends meet, for Michael and me, was difficult back then. I sold five houses in almost two years, and he had to work as a burger flipper, because he couldn’t find a job in IT using his college degree. Even so, it was a no brainer. We took him in right away. A year later, I was making good money, and I could afford to send him to a chef college. The macho man didn’t like the idea at first, but we were not going to feed him for the rest of his life. Today, he makes a little more than forty grand a year. I know it isn’t that great, but it’s a lot better than the seven dollars and sixty-five cents he had in his tin can on the morning we found him.

The perfect vacation to me is doing things out of the ordinary, like waking up in a place three hundred miles away from the place you woke up in the night before. It’s all about the fun I can get from mingling with people. In truth, I’m in love with life itself. It’s just too short to be spent on quarrels about accommodations, air conditioning, and other crap that usually are details that Michael handles.

So, this morning, I choose to go on a road trip to the south of Crete. According to a local I talked with last night, it’s a lot more scenic and much less developed than the north. The roads aren’t so good, and some of them aren’t even paved. So, I go back to the dealership and trade the small hatchback in for a black Cherokee. I don’t mind crappy roads, but I do value my spine.

Once I have cleared the freeway, I am in for a pleasant surprise. The route to the south is just fantastic. It is filled with twisty turns and hairpins, but it also contains some breathtaking views of a vast plain. Indeed, I sometimes catch myself believing that I’m onboard a Cessna, during a low flight: houses look tiny in the distance; fields of gold stretch out across the plain; the roads themselves seem more like tiny lines drawn by a skilled painter.

As the minutes pass by, my fascination grows. Whatever online articles I read back in New York about Crete didn’t contain any pictures of this place. Of course, I can understand why they chose to leave it out. No one walks around in skimpy bikinis, taking selfies, drinking cocktails and cheering as if they’re at the Super Bowl. More than that, an unusual sense of curiosity hits me. However, an hour into the trip, this feeling gives way to pure excitement. I drive through numerous villages, before finding myself on the road that leads to the southernmost tip of the island. The light-blue color of the sea that I can see at its highest point sends shivers down my spine.

Here I come, baby. Bring on all the bumpy terrain you can manage. You can’t stop me from getting there.

Amazingly, there is just one patch of bumpy terrain on the coastal road, and it’s too small to bother me. With the SUV turning down the last, right bend, I gaze out at the beach. It must be more than half a mile long. Unlike the beach in the north, it’s pebbled, but I couldn’t care less about that. The best thing about it though, is the number of people. Cars and pickup trucks are parked on either side of the road. Still, the beach is so big that there’s more than enough space for me. Almost in the middle of this grand space is a large rock with a Greek flag planted onto it. There is even a young woman on the top, about to dive into the sea.

“Fucking amazing,” I say to myself, pulling my shirt up and over my head. I toss it onto the backseat, and grab my backpack. Lunging from the driver’s seat, I rush off towards the beach. The blazing heat on my skin compels me to go faster. Less than ten yards away from the water, I kick off my flip-flops and let my sack slip through my grasp. I lift my arms forward, keeping my hands flat, and jump in. My large body makes quite a splash as it hits the water. In a split second however, I discover my decision has taken a wrong turn. Liquid cold surrounds my entire body, rendering it impossible for me to stay submerged. I thrust my head up, goose bumps rising all over my body. I push my hair back from my face, and look around me. I’m just twenty feet away from the rock. Two men are looking up at a friend of theirs, speaking Greek. Just after he hops off of the edge, his buddies start swimming forward. Still, there’s something else up there, something that doesn’t allow me to shift my gaze away: two women standing next to one another; a tall blonde and a shorter brunette. The blonde in question is talking to the brunette, while the brunette leans over the rock’s cliff. She steps back and tries to turn around, but, before she can do so, her friend pushes her off. I burst out laughing as a loud scream fills the air. The girl drops into the sea feet first, splashing water onto one of the strangers. It doesn’t take long for the blonde to join her.

Nevertheless, once the two of them emerge, waves of cold sweat shoot through me like electric currents. They are no strangers to me. The brunette is Natalie Webster, and the blonde is Laura Harrison, the woman I once thought was the one. It’s been more than two years since things ended between us, but I still carry the scars of that breakup. The reason is simple. It wasn’t exactly a breakup. I wish it was; no; I was left at the altar.

Every painful memory of the worst day of my life pours into my mind. I was surrounded by more than three hundred people, with a bouquet of lilies in my grasp, checking my watch every two minutes or so. It was an hour after the wedding was scheduled to begin; Natalie brought me an envelope containing a letter from my bride-to-be.

Fifteen words. Yes, that’s how many words she had used to end a two-year relationship, and shatter the dream of a common life with her. To make matters worse, they were beyond cold. They seemed to have been written by someone who hardly ever knew me. But, no matter what that letter contained, it wouldn’t change the ugly reality that had been forced upon me.

My initial shock turns into utter disgust; just looking at her makes my stomach churn. I turn left and start making my way out of the water. I don’t want to know why she happens to be in the same place as me. I don’t want to hear her voice again or any excuses she might have. My only desire is to get as far away from her as I possibly can.

“Ray!” Laura’s shout rises above the noise. “Oh, my God! Ray? Is that you?”

I pay no attention to her, and continue to head to the spot where I had left my backpack. I hear a quick splash behind me, but not even that is enough to make me halt.

“Ray?” Her feminine voice is much closer this time. I feel her wet hand on my wrist. “My God, I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t either,” I mutter, looking down at her over my shoulder. “But, you know what they say: small world,” I add, twisting my wrist out of her grip.

“You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” she inquires, her tone losing its nerve.

“Well, you humiliated me in front of my friends and my colleagues, so yeah, I guess I am mad at you,” I affirm, trotting off away from her.

“Ray, I’m sorry!” All of a sudden, her voice is thick with emotion as my ears pick up her quick footsteps. “I just did what I thought was right at the time.”

“Right?!” I exclaim, flipping around to face her. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? You didn’t just break my heart, Laura. You cost me my self-respect. It gets better. Whenever I ran into one of our guests, they asked me if I’d heard from you.”

“I wasn’t ready,” Laura shrugs her shoulders, her voice coming out listlessly. “That’s the truth.”

“You should have thought of that before you said ‘yes’ to my proposal,” I groan, tearing my gaze away from her.

“Well, if it makes any difference, I never stopped loving you,” she maintains, softening her tone. “And I think it’s a sign that you and I ran into each other so far away from home.”

“I don’t care what you think,” I utter, glaring down at her. “You and I had a great thing going and you wrecked it. I just can’t trust you again; don’t you get it?”

“Is that your final word?” Laura asks, her voice beginning to tremble, tears welling up in her brown eyes.

“Goodbye, Laura,” I whisper, leaving her behind. I’m so upset that I don’t even use a towel to wipe the water off of my body. I may be outside, but I feel like the air around me has become too thick for me to breath. I pick up my backpack, wishing I had never decided to drive down here. The woman that had ruined my life has managed to ruin a perfectly good day of my vacation as well.