I glance up at the girl who is staring at me with a very serious expression on her face. She’s super pretty, fairly tall and thin, round face, high cheekbones, straight blond hair that I can tell has never seen a lick of dye or a straightening iron. Though she’s got a tan, freckles are scattered across her face and arms.
“I’m guessing you’re my roommate,” I tell her.
“One of them,” she says. “Should I be concerned you know what an ass tastes like?”
Her expression is so serious, I can’t tell if she’s joking or not. Finally, there’s a hint of sparkle in her eyes. Good. I know I’m not for everyone.
“I’m Ruby,” I tell her, extending my hand.
“Elena,” the girl says, stepping over and giving mine a very firm shake.
“Wow, good grip,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “Same to you. Is this your first time in Lisbon?”
A simple question but that’s when it hits me.
That I’m here.
That I did it.
I’m finally free.
I break into the widest grin and let out a loud laugh. “Yes! Yes. Sorry, it’s just this is the first time I’ve been anywhere. I can’t believe I actually did it.”
“You’ve never been to Europe before?” She frowns, as if the idea is preposterous.
I nod. “I know. Typical American, right? Never leaving their soil. But hey, now that I’m here, I have zero intentions of going back. I never did. I’m here to stay.”
Another quizzical look follows. “You’re on a university break or round the world trip?”
I shake my head. “I’m here to live. Period.”
Elena stares at me for a moment, probably figuring out if I’m nuts or not.
“Okay,” she says. “Cool.”
“And you?”
“I’m also here to live,” she says, a small smile on her face. “But just for a couple of weeks. Then I’m heading down to Algarve. My aunt has a house there.”
“Where are you from?”
“Helsinki.” She pauses. “Finland,” she adds, as if I don’t know where Helsinki is. “I’m in between jobs at home and thought I would get some sun while I’m at it. It’s been a cold, wet spring back home.”
She’s not boring me, but I can’t help but yawn, my body shuddering with exhaustion.
“Sorry,” I apologize for yawning. “I feel all out of sorts.”
“You’re going to feel that way for a while. I’d let you go back to sleep but it will only mess you up even more. Did you want to grab a drink or a coffee?”
“How about coffee first, then a drink?” I say. I get along with a lot of people, even though I’ve always kept my social circle small. But even so, I’m grateful that I’ve already made a friend and I only just got here. Seems what everyone was saying about the backpacking lifestyle was true—you’ll never be alone if you don’t want to be.
I slowly swing my legs over the side of the bed. My bad leg feels like lead, as it often does when I’m tired, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this exhausted. Well, not counting the months and months after the injury.
I’m still wearing the clothes I wore on the plane, since I just crawled into bed immediately after checking in, and one sniff of my pits lets me know I stink.
“I’m going to do us both a favor and have a quick shower,” I tell her, carefully getting to my feet.
“Good idea,” she says. “Not that I can smell you from here, but it will wake you up. I’ll be in the lounge.”
Elena grabs her purse and walks off and I pull my backpack out from under the bed and start rifling through it for clothes. Everything seems like a dream at the moment and I have no idea what the weather is even like. I go over to the windows that overlook a narrow street and glance at the people passing on the cobblestones below. It’s May, but it seems like May in Houston, hot and sunny already.
I grab a pair of jean shorts, an artfully distressed Rolling Stones t-shirt, plus tennis shoes, and head to the communal bathrooms. It should be weird sharing a bedroom and bathroom with people, but this just reminds me of college whenever I’d go and stay with Julie at the dorms for a few days. Which reminds me, I should message her on Facebook and let her know I’m all right. She’s gone to New York for an internship and is super busy, so we don’t talk as often as we used to.
After I shower and get changed, I pull my hair back into a wet braid, too lazy to blow-dry it, I swipe on some mascara and red lipstick, and head out into the lounge to meet Elena.
She’s sitting alone on a giant couch across from a TV that’s playing a show about Lisbon sightseeing, flipping through a magazine when she looks up at me.
“Where’s your passport?” she asks.
I blink at her for a moment and then pat my crossbody bag. “In here.”
She shakes her head. “You won’t need it out there. I’d ask the front desk to put it in their safe for you. Lisbon is fairly safe, but tourists do get mugged. One swipe of a knife and they’ll cut your purse clean off of you.”
Probably one of the things I should have prepared for before I came here. Lord knows I’d done nothing but look forward to this trip, and I’d briefly thought about investing in one of those money belts you wear. But planning things isn’t really my strong suit, I prefer to figure things out as they happen and go with the flow.
So we drop off my passport with Sonia, the Croatian girl who works the front desk, and we step outside into the streets of Lisbon.
I have to admit, I don’t remember much on the cab ride in from the airport. My brain was already in a dream, and I was taking in the sights like I was underwater. Now
