Page 9 of Take a Chance on Greece

‘This.’ I spun round and pointed at the tattoo on my back. ‘How could you have not noticed this?’

I felt his gaze on it.

‘Oh that. Interesting holiday souvenir,’ was all he said. He might as well have been passing comment on the weather.

‘Don’t you want to know what it’s about? Why I have the words “Awesome Andreas” on my back?’

He remained frustratingly silent. I couldn’t decide whether he was doing it deliberately to wind me up still further, or whether he was genuinely unmoved by the tattoo’s appearance and implied message. I threw my hands up in the air in frustration and started answering the questions he didn’t seem bothered enough to ask.

‘I don’t know is the answer you’re looking for. I don’t know who Andreas is, and I don’t know what inspired me to get his name on my back. I was drunk. It was stupid.’

Jim shrugged, his eyes flitting back to the TV screen.

‘These things happen.’ He burped. ‘Excuse me.’

I think it was the burp that did it. If that explosion of sweet and sour pork-scented gas hadn’t emerged from his mouth at that precise moment, I think I would have climbed down from my high horse, been grateful for his calm acceptance of my big confession and eventually got over my distress at the work situation. But something about that burp was so casually disdainful, a demonstration that he was so unbothered by issues that were really bothering me, that it tipped me over the edge. Was this what the rest of my life was to be? Tied to this man who was controlling and archaic, and apparently completely indifferent to the fact that I’d gone on holiday and got another man’s name tattooed on my back? This was supposedly the beginning of our lives together, the start of something precious and wonderful. We might not be married, but we were meant to be in the honeymoon stage of our relationship, completely in love and passionately concerned about one another. When I got back from holiday, we shouldn’t have been able to keep our hands off each other. He should have noticed the change in me instantly and cared about the reasons behind it. He should also have cared about my feelings over the salary situation, realised he was in the wrong and not taken advantage of our relationship to treat me badly in the professional setting in the first place. All of the hurt and the disappointment and the outrage were spinning around my mind and I couldn’t grasp how the man I had thought I loved didn’t understand where I was coming from. It was like a complete stranger was sitting on the sofa before me.

Jim took a sip of beer and unmuted the television, and the noise of the gameshow host filled the room once again. Was that it? Discussion held, issue dealt with?

‘No.’ I said the word forcefully, raising my voice over the synthetic music of the TV show.

‘What’s that, sweets?’ Jim’s question was automatic. He wasn’t really interested in the answer and I didn’t read any genuine regard in his affectionate manner.

‘No, this is not how I want my life to be,’ I said.

I thought back to the flashes of feelings I’d had from that last night of the holiday, the sense of sheer happiness and joy. When else had I ever felt like that, so completely right? And didn’t I deserve to feel like that again? All my life I’d been so careful and considered in everything I’d done. Choosing a sensible nine-to-five career in a secure profession, dating a man who appeared to be steady and dependable, even if he had turned out to be an utter shit. Perhaps it was time to be spontaneous, to chase after that feeling of joy, to allow myself to live, really live, rather than just exist. Once again, I found myself thinking about the ‘Awesome Andreas’ of my tattoo. What if he was a real person? A mysterious individual I’d met on that night, who’d set my heart racing and inspired those feelings of happiness, who’d stirred sensible, cautious me into doing something utterly impulsive, getting a tattoo to commemorate our meeting? What if he was still out there, waiting for me?

Without allowing myself to really think about it, I got out my phone, opened up the flight app and found myself booking a one-way ticket back to Kefalonia.

Chapter Five

It was Kat who I chose to ring from the arrivals hall of Kefalonia airport as I paced up and down nervously wondering what on earth I’d done. My exit from Jim’s house had been nothing if not dramatic, even though not a single voice had been raised at any point. He’d sat open-mouthed on the sofa as I delivered my resignation from the company verbally, promising a follow-up email. And then, in case he hadn’t already got the message, I’d informed him that our relationship was well and truly over too. Then I’d picked up my suitcase, which was still packed with my unwashed holiday clothing, grabbed a random handful of books from one of my boxes, ordered an Uber and gone out to sit on the kerb to wait for it to arrive as I couldn’t bear another minute stuck in the house with him. Jim had followed me in a flap, and then stood over me, his tone fluctuating between astonishment at my sudden departure and embarrassment at what the neighbours must be thinking. Sadly, the latter appeared to be more important to him.

I’d sat in a daze and let it all wash over me, almost as if this whole sequence of events was happening to somebody else. I must have been in some kind of fugue state, because I felt numb from the second I left the house, and didn’t really start thinking about my situation properly until I’d touched down in Greece the next day, having spent the night at the airport to await my early morning flight.

Of course, as soon as I’d landed, my brain had gone into overdrive with the magnitude of my impetuous decision. How had I, a sensible accountant with a five-year plan, managed to toss away a long-term relationship and everything I’d worked so hard to achieve career-wise in the heat of the moment? When the man at Passport Control had asked me the reason for my trip, I’d stood there in a daze, fighting the urge to tell him the whole story, desperately seeking someone to approve of my impulsive actions, even if they happened to be a complete stranger. Eventually good sense had won over and I’d managed to croak out ‘Holiday’. To tell him that I was here to search for a happiness which might not even exist would have been ridiculous. He’d nodded disinterestedly, before looking over my shoulder at the next person in the queue.

Once I’d collected my luggage, I’d had to lock myself in the toilets, fighting the urge to sob out loud as a panic attack threatened to overwhelm me. All around I could hear the excited voices of tourists looking forward to their much-needed holidays, laughing as they called out to each other between the cubicles, discussing which beaches they should visit, and what would be their first cocktail by the pool. Meanwhile, I had wanted to sink to the ground and curl up in a ball, which I probably would have done if concern about what nastiness might be lurking on the floor hadn’t won out. I had never felt so totally alone and so totally out of my depth. But then again, I had never felt so alive as the fight or flight instinct surged through my veins.

In theory, there was no real reason why I couldn’t have hopped on the first plane back to the UK, swallowed my pride and begged Jim for my old job back. In fact, that would probably have been the sensible thing to have done. But in reality, the thought of the sheer embarrassment I would suffer in that scenario, the utter humiliation of having to pretend that I was in the wrong, stopped me from backtracking. Yes, it had been an incredibly rash decision to come out here, but now that I was here, I needed to make the best of it, to prove to Jim, and perhaps even to myself, that I was worth far more than he had ever given me credit for. And didn’t a part of me feel elated that I was finally doing something entirely for myself, rather than worrying about how my dreams would fit in with other people’s? Why shouldn’t I have this adventure?

The expression on Jim’s face when I’d dropped the shiny new house key out of the taxi window as I’d driven off would keep me going through whatever challenges I might be about to face, I told myself firmly. Just thinking about it made me want to laugh hysterically, even though that particular dramatic gesture was going to make it much harder for Kat to go around and collect the rest of my stuff, which was exactly what I was asking her to do now.

‘Sorry, you’re going to have to explain it to me again,’ she said. ‘I think I might have taken some drugs and this must be a weird trip I’m having.’ I could hear her pacing up and down anxiously.

‘Jim and I are finished. I’ve left my job. I’m back in Kefalonia. I’m going to track down Awesome Andreas.’ I spoke in short sentences to make sure I’d got the message across to Kat, but also to explain my actions to myself all over again. I knew how irrational I must sound. The whole idea was utterly ludicrous. I’d thrown away a perfectly reasonable life to chase after some romantic phantom. I had barely fifty euros in my purse, a bag full of unwashed holiday gear and random books, and absolutely zero knowledge of the Greek language beyond ‘good morning’ and ‘thank you’. I should have been utterly terrified. I should have been queuing up to get on the first flight home. But the adrenaline from the break-up was coursing around my body along with a hefty dose of righteous indignation and I was a woman on a mission. Even the astonishment of my oldest, bravest friend at my out-of-character behaviour was not going to hold me back.

Kat cleared her throat and then started speaking very slowly and gently.

‘Lydia, honey, is there someone nearby who can sit with you until I get out there? Let me check when the next flight is, and I’ll scoop up Amira from work and we’ll come out and be with you as soon as we can. Perhaps I should ring the consulate and see if there is someone there who could help you? I’m not sure you should be by yourself right now. I’m worried about you.’

I laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Kat, I’m perfectly fine.’ I could picture the incredulous expression on her face and hastened to convince her. ‘I promise you, everything is alright. I don’t need supervision and while it’s very kind of you to offer to drop everything to travel out here, I don’t need collecting and taking home. I’m not having some kind of breakdown, I’m not in any danger, I’m just being spontaneous and trying to live my best life.’ That was the phrase people on social media used when they posted about pursuing their dreams and living life to the fullest, wasn’t it? Why shouldn’t I be like them?

‘If you say so.’ Kat didn’t sound convinced. She spoke carefully, obviously considering her every word before she said them out loud. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted you’ve finally ditched Jim. We never knew what you saw in him, and I always had my concerns that he was controlling. After all, he constantly kicked up a fuss about you spending time with us, even when he was off with his mates all the time. And the work thing is indefensible. Classic coercive control, that, keeping a tight grip on your finances and making you dependent on him.’

Nice of my friends to keep their concerns to themselves, I thought, then told myself off. Would I really have listened to them if they had spoken out? After all, I’d been so swept up in the relationship that I’d been dreaming about marriage and babies, although hadn’t holding out the prospect of those dreams been another way in which Jim had manipulated me into doing what he wanted? Perhaps it was better that I’d come to that conclusion myself, even if it meant I’d endured a different kind of heartache.

‘But chucking in everything and flying off to Greece to chase after some mythical man who may or may not exist seems a bit, well, extreme,’ Kat continued. ‘Why can’t you chop up Jim’s clothes, get drunk and eat lots of pizza with your friends like normal people?’

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