Page 50 of To Hell With It

‘Good.’

‘I’mtrees, trees, trees?—’

‘That’s it.’

‘Trees, trees, trees.’

‘Is Jack’s turbo penis on the raft?’

‘What?’

‘Is it big and throbbing waiting for you?’

‘Shut up.’

‘It worked though. Have you found the café yet?’

‘No.’

‘Go and find it and text me when you get there you flipping nutter.’

* * *

The café was exactly where Una said it would be, the closest one to the departure gates, and the toilets were just across from it. I texted Una to let her know I’d made it and then ordered a cup of tea and a cereal bar – peanut butter and honey – because I wouldn’t have to use any cutlery for that. I chose the table in the corner so that I was far enough away from anyone ordering but close enough to see how busy it might get so I could make my exit if I needed to. I was happy to stand up and wait if I had to.

I reached into the side pocket of my bag and pulled out four wipes – one for the table, which had probably already been cleaned but I couldn’t be sure, one for my chair (have you ever looked at a chair before you’ve sat down on it? Take a look next time), and two for my cup. I wiped the handle first and then used a fresh one for the sides, because not everyone holds the handle of a cup when they pick it up. I finished off by sanitising my hands.

I was just about to pull out my book and start reading to lose myself when the sound of high-pitched laughter rang out from behind me, followed by a group of women who entered the cafe. They all had pink fluffy ears on their heads except for the bride-to-be, who was clad in a white dress that was cut to her thighs and a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs that dangled from one wrist. On her back, I could just about make out the words smudged in bright red lipstick.

Runaway Bride.

And then it happened. A sneeze: a loud, uncovered, splattering sneeze from one of the hens. I watched as she failed to cover her mouth, as she continued to laugh and cackle with the rest of the group, how none of them flinched or seemed bothered by it at all, by the fact that they had just been sneezed over. That it would be clinging to their clothes, their skin, their hair.

The thing about me is I can feel a sneeze land on me even though technically I can’t. I’d seen a video of someone sneezing. I knew the facts. A sneeze shoots out at sixty miles per hour, it can travel up to twenty-six feet. And I was well within that range.

I’d thought about it happening. I’d thought about what I could do, how much I would need to do to make myself feel clean. I had enough antibacterial wipes to wipe my whole body and my head but what good would it really do? Mairéad had said the best way to get over it was to be in it, which meant I had to keep someone else’s snot on me and not wash it off. The thought was beyond unbearable. I fumbled for my antibacterial gel and squeezed it over my hands just to feel sane and then I stood up, put my bag on my shoulders and headed for the toilets.

I used the baby-changing cubicle. It was big and there was plenty of room for my bag and to take off what I needed, which would have been everything by the way, but that would have meant wiping down the baby-changing area to lay my clothes down and I didn’t have time (or the mental strength) for that.

So instead, I worked strategically. I started with my head. My hair was up in a bun so it was easy enough to rub over it, then the back of my neck. I took off my coat and wiped over the shoulders (the table and chair would have protected most of me). I ran the wipe over the arms and sleeves and then pulled out the antibacterial face wipes that I’d ordered online (six packs, because they didn’t sell them at O’Callaghan’s) and cleaned my face.

By the time I had finished, I was ready to get out and back to my seat (a different one, of course). But as I was leaving, I realised I’d put my bag on my shoulders after the sneeze, which meant it had transferred from my shoulders to my bag and then back to my shoulders from my bag (if you’re exhausted think how it is for me).

So I turned around, took it all off, and started it all over again.

ChapterTwenty-Eight

Mairéad had told me not to think about anything else other than what I was doing at the time I was doing it. She said if I thought too far ahead, I’d talk myself out of doing it and she was right.

So I didn’t think about the plane, or landing, or the bus I had to get to the hostel, whether it would be full of twenty-something travellers (which is exactly what I was, I suppose), what my room would be like in the hostel, or how I would cope with sitting on a cramped bus to Te-Puke for five hours.

If the thought did creep into my head, I’d imagine other stuff instead – the warm weather, the clear blue skies, the turquoise ocean, the dolphins (Una told me there’d be plenty), the white sandy beaches, the space, the fresh air. Jack.

I wondered what Jack would think when he saw me; I wasn’t going to tell him I’d travelled across the world just to see him. I planned on telling him that Una had convinced me to go – a long overdue holiday for all the holidays I’d missed out on (it was kind of true, because if it wasn’t for Una I probably wouldn’t have been here). I planned on telling him the full truth about my OCD (well, most of it, anyway) and how it had stopped me from pretty much everything and how meeting him had changed everything.

I’d tell him that I’m not expecting a relationship (I am) and that I just wanted to extend our time together and enjoy it for a little longer. I figured he’d be impressed by that, he’d find it attractive, that I’d grabbed a bag and hopped on a plane to the other side of the world for an adventure – that’s what he’d done after all. There would be plenty of things to see and do, even if he was working. I could keep myself busy with long walks on the beach, and we could spend the evenings together when he got home, enjoying time together, and hanging out with his family. I was looking forward to meeting them all. I was looking forward to finding out more about Jack.

When the gates opened, I didn’t waste any time. I was happy to wait in the lounge and read for an hour rather than hang around outside the toilets in fear of another sneeze. Even though one could come at any time.

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