Page 6 of The Wrong Suitcase

‘Don’t say that,’ Anastasia instructs. ‘It’ll come.’ She looks at me. ‘It’ll come!’ she insists.

‘Right,’ I say. ‘Yeah. It might even be there right now. I should get back.’ My hand is on the doorknob when I pause. ‘But okay,’ I say, unable to resist. ‘Just in case? Show me the shoes.’

‘But what will you wear them with?’ Anastasia asks as Kat dangles a pair of strappy silver things at me.

Kat clarifies, ‘I have these, and some pink ones. But I think the pink is better for my dress.’

‘Do you have a spare dress too?’

Kat looks at me. She doesn’t have to say it out loud: it’s clear she does have a spare dress, but that it won’t be big enough for me. She’s tiny. The only thing small about me is my feet, and my waist. My boobs are practically the size of her head, and two of her could fit into the widest part of my hips.

‘Right,’ I acknowledge. ‘Well. Let’s just hope my case comes then. I could always wear those with nothing but a shirt I might have to steal from this fella. Add some earrings from the gift shop. It could work.’

‘Your case will come,’ repeats Anastasia. ‘Lady luck is always on your side.’

‘I just wanted this weekend to be perfect, you know?’

‘Of course I know.’ Anastasia grins. ‘You’ve been like this since we first met. Remember when you were turning twenty-one right before we left Toronto to go back home, but you wouldn’t let any of us organise a party becauseyouhad to be the one to oversee everything? As if we couldn’t make it perfect on your behalf?’

‘It’s not that I don’t trust anyone else,’ I pout, and already I can tell even Kat knows what I’m saying isn’t true. ‘Okay, fine, let me rephrase that.’ I think on my feet. ‘I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust myself, that’s all. The person who knows how to please me best is me.’

Kat steps into the chiffon midi dress that was hanging outside the wardrobe, silently requesting for Anastasia to zip it up. Anastasia obliges, kissing her on the bare skin at the nape of neck once she’s done so. She didn’t even think about it – it’s such an innocuous, reflexive gesture. They’re happy together, Anastasia and Kat. They’ve got that intimacy that all happy couples do, where they’re an extension of each other. They’re in love. Even getting dressed is more romantic when you’re in love.

‘One day, you’re going to realise that not everything can be planned, you know.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I counter. ‘Of course it can. Might I remind you of how well we ate when we visited Sarah in Rome that first time because I’d taken the time to research the best pizza place, and the best gelato place, and the best coffee place?’

‘God, that coffee was good,’ Anastasia agreed.

‘A person doesn’t juststumbleinto good things. A person must create good things, for themselves.’

‘What podcast did you hear that one on, then?’ Kat giggles, lacing up her sandals.

‘Kat! You are supposed to be on my side! Don’t let Anastasia bulldoze me and my highly organised team-leader-like ways! Or else who will tell you which nearby village has the besttorta della nonnain the morning?’

The two look at each other.

‘Fair point,’ says Kat, smiling. ‘Anastasia, be nice to Izzy.’

Anastasia rolls her eyes. ‘Fine,’ she says, crouching down to pull a white paper bag out of the minibar, as well as a lemon San Pellegrino and paper cups. ‘Peace offering?’

She tears open the bag to reveal a stash of mini pizzettas.

‘We should eat something before the vows,’ she adds. ‘Who knows how long it will be otherwise.’

I dive for one that has goat’s cheese on top, and she cracks open the can.

‘Offer accepted,’ I say, my mouth full. ‘But pour that out quickly – I really should get back.’

I go in for another snack.

6

Birchy

I can’t believe it. There’s no answer at Room 12. Again! I’m being given the run around here, but I can’t figure out who by.

‘Hello?Hello!’

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