Page 14 of To Feel Like This Again
“Of course not,” I respond, stretching my hand out for the phone.
I take four to six pictures of each pose. “Do you like them?” I ask, watching as she scrolls through the gallery.
“Love them!” she answers excitedly. “Let’s take a selfie.” Motioning me to stand beside her, she switches the camera to front-facing and hits the shutter button.
“Perfect.”
She smiled, I smiled.
We get back into the car and continue uphill, the road getting narrower as we near our destination, with potholes appearing out of nowhere. With no internet service to power Google maps, we use the small, dilapidated, green signs on the side of the road to estimate the distance. As we drive pass a sign that readsReal TingCoffee Tour – 3km, an oncoming truck comes flying down the mountain, forcing me to swerve left, almost running the car over the cliff.
After regaining control of the vehicle, I glance over at her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine… but that was scary,” she let out a long sigh, pressing her hands against her heart.
I offer her my hand and she takes it. Gently squeezing it, I tell her, “It’s okay.”
Even with my eyes fully focused on the road, I know she is looking at me. I canfeelit.
Still holding her hand, our hands drift down to rest on her thigh. We keep them there for a while.It feels natural.
Around twenty minutes later we arrive at the cottage, the starting point for the tour. At the entrance, the height above sea level — 5,358 ft — is barely visible on an old, rickety wooden sign that looks as if it is about to drop down any day now. Perfect altitude for coffee to flourish.
Getting out of the car, we walk inside the cottage as per the instructions of the tour guide, presumably to keep us warm. Three other couples are already inside waiting for the tour to begin.
The first couple we meet, Giorgio and Elisa, are Italian and in their late twenties. Giorgio is a geek (you can tell from what he’s wearing. And if you need more evidence, he’s playing a game on a handheld device. Is that Mario Kart? Who does that on a nice outing with their girl in a foreign country?) Elisa is gorgeous — I always wonder how losers like Giorgio end up with hot chicks like Elisa (plus she seems to be intelligent. I notice that she’s reading theEconomist, the English version at that. What is she doing with this bum?) My assumption, he’s from a wealthy family.
The second couple, Shane and Sophie, are Irish and in their forties. Shane seems extremely introverted, barely making eye contact when we introduce ourselves. Sophie — very attractive and confident, and clearly out of his league — however, exchanges pleasantries. It’s when she began to ask questions and I hear the accent that I know they are Irish. “Where is the best place to get Jerk chicken?” Sophie asks. And Lisa suggests the restaurant we went to last night.Pretty cool.
The third couple, Patrick and Jean, are locals in their seventies. Patrick’s mannerism suggests he had an illustriouscareer in the private sector, the Range Rover he parked outside giving credence to this theory. Jean appears to have been a stay-at-home mom (it’s just a gut feeling).
Perfect. Patrick and Jean are ideal for conversation. Old folks have a knack for asking questions to pry… and this is exactly what I need.
“Is this your first tour?” I ask inquiringly, to rev them up.
“No, we come every year. It’s beautiful up here,” Patrick responds.
Jean chimes in, “We’re buying a cabin about two miles down the road. We’ll post it on Airbnb.”
“That’s great, so we can rent it from you. At a discounted price, of course,” I grin and wink at Jean.
“You got it,” Jean gleams, blowing into her hands to keep warm.
Keeping the conversation going, she adds, “What about you? Is this your first time?”
“Yes, it’s our first time here.”C’mon Jean, ask a more invasive question. I need this.
We chat some more about random stuff, and then Jean hits the Jackpot.
“Are you together?” It’s clear she can’t contain her curiosity for much longer. She knows we aren’t related and has been trying to figure it out.
“Yes, we’ve been dating for seven months now,” I answer, taking Lisa’s hand into mine.
Lisa closes the space between us and leaning into my shoulder, adds “It’s actually eight months babe.” She was definitely having fun. “Maybe you both can give us advice on how to take the next step,” while tiptoeing and kissing me on the cheek.
Now, that’s what I’m talking about! Thanks, Jean. I’m going to rent your Airbnb and write a great review.
Shortly after, the last of the nine groups arrive, giving us the green light to begin our tour of the farm nestled in the bucolic valley.
