Page 48 of The Best Wild Idea
But I don’t do a lot of things that I should do.
And I’m not really one to let wet towels rot on the bed.
“You’re in Interlaken, Switzerland, for the first time in your life — possibly theonlytime in your life — and you’re going to order room service for the second night in a row?” I ask, pushing a smile onto my face, hoping to soften the nudge. I’m opening a door that I might regret. But I also know that if we’re going to stop this whole surly cat-and-mouse game we’ve been playing since I picked her up at her townhouse back in Boston, it might very well have to happen by walking through whatever deep shit I’m stepping into right now. “At the very least, go out to dinner at the restaurant alone. Without me if you don’t want to be in my company. That’s fine. But don’t stay holed up in your room eating a hunk of rabbit food again. Have just a little more respect for Grant than that.”
Her eyes narrow to burn little holes into mine.
“What the fuck?” she spits out. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I shouldn’t have added that last bit about Grant, but instead of taking it back, I dig my heels in.
“He didn’t send us around the world to sit in a bedroom eating dinner off a TV tray, Jules, and you know it.”
“Be that as it may, I’m fine ordering in,” she says gruffly, but she doesn’t move from her spot on the carpet. Nor does she make any movement toward the room phone to order food. Instead, she blinks at me once. Then twice. Then practically taps her foot at me to say something back.
Here we go.
“You may be totally fine about it. But not everything is about beingfine. It’s about taking advantage of where your feet are planted. Today. Right now,” I tell her calmly. Then I slip off my jacket and lay it across the back of a nearby chair. “And you just so happen to be planted in some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. Grant would have a heart attack if he knew you came all this way to go lock yourself in a padded room.”
“What do you mean? It’s not padded.”
“Well it may as well be, considering the inhabitant’s state of mind right now.”
She laughs, though the normally melodic sound of it is laced with something more ugly. For the second time, I regret pushing us into this conversation.
“Well, Si, lucky for you and me, neither of us have to worry about giving Grant a heart attack over my dinner choices now, do we? Although you would know that more than anyone.”
She places her hands on her hips and glares at me. I respond by kicking off my shoes.
“What does that even mean?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she shifts her weight and re-crosses her arms without moving her eyes off me. I tilt my chin down and eye her, prodding her silently. Another standoff I’m not going to let her win.
“What?” she asks, angrily.
I cross my arms, matching her stance.
“You tell me, Jules. I came back here feeling like I was living on cloud nine. You did, too, if you’ve forgotten. Now you seem to have lost all interest in having an easy night that matches the excitement of our dive today. You tell mewhat.”
“Have you ever considered the part you played . . .” she starts, but then she drops her hands and shrugs. “Whatever. I don’t know if I even want to go there right now. Or ever.”
I sit down on the chair closest to her, hoping the subtly submissive gesture cools some of the lava bubbling up between us.
The silence is deafening. Instead of backing off like I should, I poke the bear.
“The part I played inwhat, Jules? You’ve been pissed off at me since you got Grant’s first letter back home in Boston. Monica told me you wanted to fly around the world with afake death certificate of mine, just to get Grant’s letters without having to be anywhere near me. I know you haven’t really enjoyed my company since I lost my dad, butthis? Frankly, I’m a little shocked by the level of hatred here. It seems pretty intense for a few stupid mistakes I made back in our mid-twenties. I get that this sucks. Hell, everything about this situation is about as bad as it gets, but can’t we just put a cap on all that andtryto enjoy ourselves?”
“You aren’t having any trouble enjoying any of this,” she says, waving her arms around the room. “Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”
“If sharing this suite was a bad idea I can just go tell the front desk to move my luggage to the other room on my way down to enjoy that dinner reservation by myself. We’re leaving in the morning anyway, so I can—”
“No, this isn’t about that,” she interrupts, looking even more frustrated.
I puff out a sigh and lean back, feeling like she’s got me tied in a knot I can’t get out of.
“Then what? Get it out in the open. It’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?” I eye her, wishing she realized that none of this is easy for me either.
She’s seething now, rising up on her toes, opening her mouth to reply, as if she can hardly contain what she’s about to say. Then she takes a deep breath and rocks back on her heels, leaning in toward me before speaking again. This time her voice is low and eerily controlled.
