Second Chance (11 page)

I
picture her grandmother
’s
q
uaint, quiet
cottage,
probably
nestl
ed between pine trees
.
I imagine
it’s clean and quiet
,
with
a
little stone fireplace
that’s lit right now, crackling and
filling the room with a
toasty warm
glow
.
I
try not to let my jealousy show
.
Why can’t I have relatives that live in Europe
?
All my family lives in Wisconsin, Iowa and
North Dakota
.
Probably the three most unexciting places on Earth
.

“
You look exhausted,
”
she says.

I
gla
n
ce over
at the blue couch
.
It’s empty again and looking more abused than ever
.
I wonder
out loud
if the cushions will give me head lice
.
I wonder if head lice burns or itches or both
.
I wonder if it looks like dandruff
.

“
Come on,
”
she says
and grabs
the damp sleeve of my jacket
.

“
Where are we going?
”

“
You’re staying with me
.
I’m not
going to leave you in a bar
all
alone
.
Girls
have to watch
out for each other.”
 
 

I stand up and grab my backpack
.
I don’t know who this girl is or if she’s psychotic or a serial killer
or trying to rob
me of
my last remaining possessions
, b
ut
at this
point
I’m too tired to care
.

***

      
The next morning,
I’m treated to
tea and
homemade cinnamo
n bread
.
Cat
herine
’s
grandmother
is
seventy-five
years
o
ld
,
but has the energy of a teenager
.
Her cur
ly hair is dyed
bright red and she
wears a loose,
black
dress that sways in the air with her movements
.
She
runs a B&B out of her house
and goes by Madame Kuntz to her customers
.
T
here’s a
n older,
quiet
Japanese
couple
dining with us
in the parlor
and both of their
faces
are
glued to travel books and brochures
.

Catherine’s grandmother made it her mission this morning to piece together a make-shift wardrobe for me. She gave me an old, giant duffel bag out of her hall closet and let me choose from a crate full of clothes left by other travelers. I inherit a blue hooded sweatshirt with HAWAII spelled on the front in white letters, socks, a few V-neck T-shirts, and a couple pairs of jeans. I also acquire a pair of silver flip flops that fit my absurdly long feet, and a pair of brown corduroy pants that are too short and rise just above my ankles.  

I take a sip of
black tea and look out
the picture window in
front of the table
.
The Alps stretch out in the distance,
white and brilliant and shining like glittering diamonds against a
clear
blue sky
.
The
snowy
peak of Jungfrau stands
out against the others
and
its giant presence makes all my
problems dissolve
.
H
ow can I dwell on what I lack when
,
looking out at
this skyline, I have everything
?
I’m reminded
that
possessions are meant to be temporary
.
Material things are easily replaced
.
The important things people can never st
eal—love, hope, trust, faith—t
hese things are sewn inside of us, tattooed like ink inside our hearts
.

I look around the room
and think it’s strange that sometimes you have to lose
what you have in order to gain what you need
.
Sometimes you need to be desperate to be re
minded
angels exist
.
And
there’s nothing more
rejuvenating
to the spirit than to fall asleep to the pattering of rain
at night
and wake up to
a cl
ear, blue sky
.
I
t’s the greatest
omen in the world
.

I help myself to another thick, warm piece of buttery cinnamon toast
.
Catherine
tells me she’s heading back to the States tomorrow, but her grandmother has an open room if I need a place to stay
.

“Where’s home?
”
I ask her
.

“
Albuquerque
,” she says
.
I
almost
choke on
a mouthful of bread and take a huge gulp of tea to
flush
it down
.

“
New Mexico
?” I ask
,
when I get my breath back
.
She
grins and
says she’s pretty sure there’s only one Albuquerque
.

“Do you go to school there?” I ask
.
She shakes her head and tells
me she dropped out last year
.
She teaches guitar lessons and is the lead singer in her band, Chuck’s Angel
.
They’re waiting for the
ir
drummer to graduate so they can
set up a
road trip
tour.

“
I live
close to
campus,” she says
.
“M
y roommates
all
go to
UNM.
”

I
smooth out the napkin on my lap
.
“
I hear it’s a good
school
,
”
I say
.
She nods and says
its
okay, if you like the whole college thing
.

“
Have you ever been to a baseball game
?” I blurt out before I can hold
it
back
.
“I mean,
my cousin’s thinking about playing there, so I was wonderin
g if the team’s any good
.
”
  I
sip
my tea as if this is
a
typical conversation to
have
in
Switzerland
over breakfast.

I
expect Catherine
to roll her eyes
.
She looks about as knowledgeable of col
lege baseball as Madame Kuntz, b
ut she surprises me a
nd tells me they have a great team
.

“I’ve been to a few games,” she says
.
“One of my
friends is a jersey chaser, so she’s
dragged
me
to
more than one sporting event.”

“
Do you know any of the players
?” I ask
and try to keep my tone casual
.
She shakes her head and tells me she isn’t into athletes
.
Too cocky
.

“
I know one of their gi
rlfriends, Liz
.
She works at my favorite boutique downtown
.
She’s dating
Todd Richards
and
he
lives
with
some other players,
Miles somebody
,
and
Gra
y.
”
I wonder if she notices me
flinch when she says Gray’s name
.
I
stare across the table at Catherine
.
Out of all the people to run into last night, this musician from Albuquerque
has heard of
the love of my life
?