“That makes sense. Lord knows there’s always far too much going on in my head. Must be satisfying to get it all out and on paper. Have you been able to write anything at all since he passed?” he asks, no judgment, just curiosity and it puts me at ease.
“Not really. A couple of bits but not what I want to.” It’s frustrating. I have all of these thoughts and emotions racing through my mind, but I can’t pin them down with words.
“That’s still pretty cool though. Can you read me one?” He plays with the silver ring on his little finger as he waits for me to reply. I find my eyes drawn to his hands.
“Uhh… I don’t know. I said I wrote poems, not good ones. It’s more of an outlet for my emotions.” Feeling my cheeks heat, I lift my cup to mask my face and take another sip of my drink.
“Who am I to judge what’s good or not? I suck at writing. But no pressure, it’s cool if you don’t want to share. I didn’t mean to push you.” Sending me a reassuring smile, he looks out the window at the dark blue sea as the ferry begins to pull away from the port.
Biting my lip, I look down at my notebook. They’re by no means masterpieces, but they mean something to me. The power that comes from words has always appealed to me. Words can make you laugh, make you cry, make you fall in love. They can hurt you, heal you, save you. I love the idea that my words could affect someone else. Make them realise that they’re not alone and someone else has gone through the same. Words give hope.
“Ok, but don’t laugh, alright? I know I’m not the next William Wordsworth.” I let out a little self-depreciating laugh.
He holds up his hand and gives me a Scout salute again and grins, I roll my eyes at him and flick the page back to my last half completed poem.
“Waves are crashing all around,
Breaking on the shore.
Feels like I’m being pulled under,
Can’t fight the current anymore.
My raft is gone, it kept me afloat,
And I’ve forgotten how to swim,
So here I am, surrounded by waves,
Trying not to give in.
The sun keeps rising, the world keeps turning,
And I watch as people move on,
Sat alone, looking around,
Wondering if how I feel is wrong.”
Closing the notebook, I look up at him. Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “Like I said, they’re just words, but they help me.”
“No, it was great. Powerful. You’re really talented.” Sincerity paints his tone and I roll my eyes, struggling to accept the compliment.
“Hardly, but thank you. So what about you, Tyler from Tyler Tours? What made you decide to go touring around the world?”
“Let’s see. I turned thirty in January and felt like my life was flying by and I hadn’t really done anything that I wanted to achieve, you know? Like, when I was a kid, staring out the window in school and wishing I was grown up, I had all these ideas about what my life would be. I’d be a fighter jet pilot, travelling from country to country. I’d visit the Great Barrier Reef and win big in Monte Carlo. I dreamt up all these things and I realised that I haven’t really done anything. I’ve coasted through life, but not really lived. And I really want to live.” Looking into his eyes, I’m momentarily lost in the deep blue pools. Like the sea, they appear bottomless and wild.
“I get that.” And I really do. I’ve spent so long afraid of everything; I’ve rarely taken a chance.
“So here I am, using my savings, travelling the world with a pretty lady. Could be worse, right?” He winks at me and I blush. Is he flirting with me? Or just trying to divert the attention away from himself?
“After a couple of days with me, we’ll see if you’re still singing the same tune.” I laugh, drinking from my mug and looking around the deck. There are a couple of shops, a mini arcade, and more cafes than necessary. Looking back at Tyler, I ask, “So what other ideas did you have? Do you have some sort of bucket list?”
“Not really. I don’t know. There’s silly things like I’ve always wanted to sing at a karaoke bar, gamble in Monaco, go skydiving.”
“They’re not silly. Are you a good singer then?”
Laughing, he shakes his head. “No, definitely not. I just like the idea of letting loose and having no fear, you know?”
I nod, because I do. I really do. I would so love to be fearless. But I’ve built walls around me so high, I’m not even sure how to begin breaking them down now.
“Why don’t we make a bucket list for the trip? Some things both of us would love to do,” I suggest, I want to try and live a little. This is the perfect opportunity.
“I like that idea. We can go to a casino in Monaco and sing karaoke at a bar… what else?”
“I’ve always wanted a tattoo…” His eyes light up as soon as the words leave my mouth and to be honest I’m a little startled that I said them out loud.
“Yes! Let’s do it.” He grins over at me. “I’ll get one too.”
“Do you not have any?” I ask, my eyes trailing down his body as if they will jump out and show themselves to me. Not that I would complain if they did.
“Not yet, but let’s change that.” He gives me a cheeky grin and I laugh.
“Ok. Tattoos, karaoke, and gambling. We can add more as we go along if we think of anything. Let’s do this!” I say, feeling excited about what is to come. He holds out his hand and I shake it. It feels like this trip is going to be just what I needed.
“Shall we go explore a bit?” Tyler asks, finishing the last of his coffee and motioning behind him. I nod and finish my drink.
“Sounds good, lead the way, Captain.”
Chapter Eleven
Once we dock in France, our adventure truly begins. Driving through Calais, radio turned up, windows down, I genuinely feel free. My chest feels lighter, my smile is wider, and I am having fun. This is just what I needed.
Putting my sunglasses on, I look out of the window and take in the beautiful scenery. What a gorgeous day! Passing me his phone, Tyler says, “Pull up my music and let’s get the tunes playing.”
I scroll through his music and settle on a country album that I love. Country music is so uplifting and easy to listen to.
“You a country music fan too?” I ask, approving. I start making a road trip playlist, adding all of my favourite songs and a few I haven’t heard before.
“Hell yeah. Country boy for life. Who’s your favourite artist?” he asks, tapping the steering wheel in time to the Luke Combs song that I’ve put on. With his aviator sunglasses and messy hair, he looks really good behind the wheel. Focus Isabelle!
“Probably Brad Paisley. He was the first country artist I properly listened to, and I fell in love with his words.” Memories of dancing along to his albums in my childhood bedroom flood my mind and I smile.
“Good choice!” Tyler nods in agreement. “Plenty of Brad on there, some other good ones too.”
We bought some snacks on the ferry, some bottles of water and a few sandwiches. Tyler’s hoping to make it halfway to Provence today with minimal stopping, and that’s fine by me. I’m eager to get started on our adventure.