Disclaimer:<\/b> Lies, lies, and nothing but lies. Also, at the time of writing, science fiction, as the story takes place in April 2014.<\/p>\n
Author’s Notes:<\/b> Many thanks to Aranel Took for lightning-quick beta. And to Zauza for saudade<\/i> and Lisbon. Written for a prompt by karlurghban over on Tumblr.<\/p>\n
Par 1 of the “European Vacations” series.<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u008dris had managed to drag Chris to Europe again. This time to Lisbon, Portugal. The trip was nicer than expected, mostly because they had managed to evade the paparazzi so far. Well, it was off-off-season, and \u00c3\u008dris had managed to organize a private town house for them to stay at. A mansion that belonged to the sister-in-law of a photographer\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s assistant\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s girlfriend or something.<\/p>\n
Europeans are a bit like the Mafia,<\/i> Chris thought. A secret organization with connections everywhere. But really good wine.<\/i><\/p>\n
He raised his glass of red and stared over the railing of the roof terrace toward the river. The sun was setting and the stars were coming out. Stars; the last group mailing instigated by Zoe had mentioned a cast meet-up in October. Some kind of reunion thing to celebrate the third and final movie they were all contracted for (so far). But Zach had already made noises how he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d be too busy, and couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t they just do a weekend in New York prior to filming. Sometimes, Chris loathed New York.<\/p>\n
But now he was in Lisbon. And Lisbon was awesome. Although it was only the middle of April, the evening was already quite warm and brimming with the scents of spring. Music drifted across the street from what \u00c3\u008dris had told him was a very famous dancing school. Belly dancing. Of course \u00c3\u008dris was friends with the owner of the place. Ana Isabel was an elegant woman with feline grace and a surname he couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t pronounce. The other night they had been invited over to watch a class and drink sangria <\/i>afterwards. The girls (and one cross-dressing young man) were beautiful and positively buxom and how they had twirled and twisted their curves had seriously messed with his mind. And when he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d attempted to praise their shapes and moves in politically correct terms, they had only laughed at him, told him to shut up and drink his sangria<\/i>.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I love it here,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Chris declared, trying not to gush. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s so … authentic<\/i>.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u008dris and Ana just looked at each other. He knew that look by now. It said \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Americans . . .\u00e2\u20ac\u009d with every ellipsis point ringing out in amusement.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I am glad you enjoy our beautiful city,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Ana said. Her breathy, rolling accent reminded him of the wide silver swathe of the river beyond the rooftops of the houses. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153\u00c3\u008dris says you been working too hard. Like all Americans.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She smiled. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You live to work. We …\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She gestured at \u00c3\u008dris and herself. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Europeans, we work to live. We do it better.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
Of course.<\/i> Good-naturedly he rolled his eyes and attempted to shrug the comment off.<\/p>\n
The problem was only that he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t quite sure if she didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t have a point there. Lately he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d been feeling kind of … off.<\/i> Not as enthusiastic as he should be about his projects. Disappointed in himself for failing to fully fall in love with \u00c3\u008dris. Miffed that she didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t seem to care. She was happy to drag him around Europe when he let her, and she thoroughly enjoyed him in her life (and his body in her bed) when he showed up. But she also never called when he didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t. Like certain other people in his life. Not even for prank calls. But of course that was normal. The reason, season, whatever rule of friendship, and the different priorities of life in New York with all those plays and opportunities and new lovers and\u00e2\u20ac\u201d<\/p>\n
Morosely Chris sipped his wine while the women talked about fusion fashion and some kind of artsy, holistic event that would mix modelling with tribal dances and promote a healthy body image in one fell swoop. Maybe he should have joined Sofia\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s husband and his mates for a night out clubbing. But he hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t felt the drive earlier and opted for a quiet evening with wine and snacks on the secluded roof terrace.<\/p>\n
For god\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s sake, what\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wrong with me?<\/i> Since when do I turn down a party in such a vibrant location<\/i>? Sullen, he frowned at the bowl with pickled lupine seeds on the table. Maybe Katie\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s right and this is a mid-life crisis. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m over thirty. I guess I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m entitled.<\/i><\/p>\n
Only he didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s what it was. He had no fucking idea what<\/i> it was. A strange kind of ache deep inside. Some odd sort of longing. Maybe he should consider therapy. Or something. He stared at the river again. He could smell the sea in the cool night air. Somehow the knowledge of the sea out there, just out of sight, triggered a memory. A quote of some sort.<\/p>\n
Thousands of rivers flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. If we could turn stone into gold, we would still not be satisfied<\/i>.<\/p>\n
What a stupid saying, <\/i>he thought. Sounds like Zach. All Zen and supercilious.<\/i><\/p>\n
<\/i><\/p>\n
He poured himself more wine, took a deep gulp, and tilted his head back. The sky was really dark now. Although they were in the middle of the city, he could see many stars. That feeling again. A kind of pang, a tightening of the gut. He sighed deeply.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153We call that \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcsaudade\u00e2\u20ac\u2122<\/i>,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Ana said, interrupting his musings.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He straightened up and forced himself to turn politely to the dancer.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Your sigh. So deep. So tragic.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Her dark-brown eyes twinkled with humor. He experienced a sudden, violent aversion to that eye color. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You look at the stars and you sigh. It is \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcsaudade\u00e2\u20ac\u2122. The longing for something or someone who is absent. A time or a place. A lover lost.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I read once that it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the love that remains,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d \u00c3\u008dris put in. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153This mixture of happy and sad feelings when you miss someone who\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s gone or out of reach. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s supposed to be one of those words that don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t have an exact translation in other languages. Although Icelandic saknadr<\/i> comes close. And of course there\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s your name.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153My name?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He knew he was frowning again. Normally he enjoyed that \u00c3\u008dris was so well-versed in various European languages, cultures, and history. (For years he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d been telling interviewers that those were the qualities he was looking for in a partner. Intelligence. Humor. That sort of thing.) However, right now that was only annoying.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153To pine<\/i>.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She had the nerve to giggle.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153But I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m not pining for anyone,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Or anything,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he added hastily. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re right here, after all. That was just a sigh. Because … wine<\/i>. And stars. Relaxation. You keep saying I work too much.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Whatever you say, my dear.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She smiled at him in that knowing way women had, and for a moment he wondered if she wanted to add something. But then she turned back to her conversation with Ana about tribal fusion and what not.<\/p>\n
Sulking into his wine, Chris continued to contemplate the river and the stars, and tried very hard not to think of Zach. (Why was he even thinking of Zach?) How Zach would get a kick out of untranslatable Portuguese words. How he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d take a blurry picture of the wine and the candle and the lupine seeds, slap some horrific Instagram filter on it, add an all lower case hipster sigline and share it with the whole wide world.<\/p>\n
Good thing he<\/i> avoided social media like the plague. Or he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d do something incredibly stupid. Like Tweet how much he saudaded<\/i> Zach\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s stupid sneakers.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Disclaimer: Lies, lies, and nothing but lies. Also, at the time of writing, science fiction, as the story takes place in April 2014. Author’s Notes: Many thanks to Aranel Took for lightning-quick beta. And to Zauza for saudade and Lisbon. … Continue reading