Two Sentences on a Postcard

         It looks like something from a postcard. Well, actually, it is. The exact same scene I have been marveling over for the last thirty minutes is downstairs in the hotel gift shop, plastered on decks of cards and boxes of chocolates. I arrived in tiny Hallstatt, Austria last night by way of spartan train from Salzburg. I have certainly been to Europe before; I have even been to Austria before, but never all by myself. I think my family thought I was crazy when I told them I wanted to travel around Europe on my own. But, being the supportive people they are, I don’t think they ever would have told me no. I’m sure it worried them when I left; I’m sure it will continue to worry them until I get home, but that’s what I expect. They’re my family, after all. In truth, I’m a little worried myself, but I have grown more confident, day by day, about being alone. I have been here three months and have sent my mom and dad postcards from Italy, Germany, Switzerland, France, The Netherlands, Spain, Greece, Turkey, France - every country I have visited so far - as promised. I think I’ll send them the postcard of the spectacular view I have up here in my hotel room before I leave Austria tonight.
         For now, I have the entire day before catching my flight to Shannon. I think I’ll head down the main road to the center of town. I decide at the last minute to throw a sweater in my backpack because you never can tell what the temperature will be in the mountains – even in June. I leave my key with the woman at the front desk - a kindly looking woman in her sixties named Wanda - and ask her the fastest way to the town. She points the way, then thinks better of it and draws me a map, even going so far as to point out the best place to have lunch, saying that of course she is biased because the owner is Astrid, her sister. She tells me to ask for Andreas there because he will be more than happy to show me around town, for free. I thank her and head out the door, considering finding Andreas as soon as I get to the main street, mainly because the word free has always been one of my favorites, especially when I’m on a budget. It doesn’t take much more than five minutes to reach the main part of town. There are cobblestone streets, old pharmacies, and window boxes filled with flowers for as far as I can see. The town is right on the lake, at the edge of the valley, surrounded by mountains. I think it is the most beautiful place I have ever been, partially because it is so quiet and peaceful, not rushed like the big cities.
         I wander around in amazement for a while until I find the restaurant on Wanda’s more-than-accurate map. I walk in and am immediately greeted by a stylish woman in her mid-fifties who must be Wanda’s sister because she has the same smile and the same nose.
         “Guten tag,” I say, almost flinching because I am ashamed my German pronunciation is so poor.
         “Hello,” she responds in perfect English. “I am Astrid. You must have been sent here by my sister at the hotel.”
         “Yes, actually I was,” I reply. “How did you know?”
         “My restaurant is difficult to find – well, as difficult as a place can be to find in Hallstatt. The only tourists who come in are ones sent by Wanda.”
         “Oh. Do a lot of tourists come by, then?”
         She shrugs. “It depends. You’re the first in here this week, although I’m sure there are plenty of others in town. So, what can I do for you?”
         “Well, actually, your sister told me to ask for Andreas here. She said he could show me around town?”
         “Sure. Let me get him and see.” She stops a passing waitress. “Wo ist Andreas?"
         “Ja, hinten,” she replies, pointing toward the back of the restaurant. This simple stuff I understand. But when the waitress continues on rapidly, I get lost. I think she’s telling Astrid something about something being late, so I just stand there feeling incompetent and very American for only knowing one language.
         The waitress walks off, and Astrid shoots me a helpless look. I almost laugh out loud because the expression on her face is so comical, but I compose myself because I’m not sure if she meant to be funny or not. She holds up her index finger – “One minute” – and disappears around back. I look around while I wait for her to return. There are beautiful watercolor landscapes on the walls – landscapes that come to life if you step right outside the door.
         Momentarily, Astrid reappears with a guy about my age who I can only assume to be Andreas. He looks like a former classmate of mine, a hilarious guy named Pete. I realize I have been having reservations about a strange guy taking me around an isolated town – and I guess I am justified in my reservations – but my gut tells me anyone who resembles Pete is perfectly safe.
         “Hello, I’m Andreas,” he says as he reaches me. He holds out his hand and I shake it.
         “I’m Eve,” I respond. “Wanda told me you give tours around town?”
         He smiles. “Not tours, exactly. But I would be happy to show you around if you want. No charge.”
         “Sounds good to me. Are you free this morning?”
         He looks at Astrid. “Am I?”
         Astrid rolls her eyes affectionately.
         “Yes, go. I’ll pack a lunch before you leave.” She heads into the kitchen.
         “Are you Astrid’s son?” I ask.
         He laughs. “No, I just work here.”
         “Oh.”
         “I’m going to go get my bag, alright? I will be right back,” he says.
         “Ok.” I bite my lower lip, feeling kind of strange and out of place as I wait for Astrid or Andreas to return. They both walk back into the room at the same time.
         Andreas slips the big brown paper bag Astrid hands him into his backpack.
         “Ready to go, Eve?” he asks me.
         “Sure.” I turn to Astrid. “Thank you.”
         “Of course. Have fun,” she says, smiling at me. “Be back before the dinner rush!” she shouts after Andreas, who acknowledges her with a chuckle and a wave.
         “I appreciate you doing this,” I tell him as we head off down the road.
         “I like to do it,” he responds.
         It is apparent to me that Andreas is proud of where he comes from and truly does enjoy showing people around his hometown. Before we break for lunch, he shows me around the salt mines which Hallstatt is famous for. We hike up around the Dachstein mountains to find a perfect place to have lunch. As he lays out all the food on a red checked tablecloth, he points out the places in the mountains where there are supposed to be glaciers.
         “It’s beautiful here,” I sigh, sitting down on the ground and kicking off my shoes to give my tired feet a rest.
         “I wouldn’t live anywhere else,” he replies with a contented smile. “Now, lunch.”
         There is a wide variety of fruit, bread, meat and cheese to choose from, and pastries for dessert. I make a sandwich and settle back against a tree.
         “So, why did you come here?” Andreas asks momentarily, popping open a soda and handing it to me.
         “To Hallstatt?” I ask, not quite sure what he means. “I just took the train from Salzburg …”
         “No, no! I meant, why did you come to Europe alone?” he laughs.
         “Oh,” I reply sheepishly, grinning nevertheless. “I don’t know, really. Why do you ask?”
         “Everyone has their own story, especially people who come alone. They are always searching for something.”
         “Really?” I ask, intrigued.
         “Yes. Some people come here searching for their ancestors, their family…some people come here to get away from their family at home.” He chuckles.
         “I’m not here searching for anyone,” I reply, not able to come up with a more adequate response because I am so busy trying to sort out what he has just said.
         “So, you are here to get away from someone?”
         I can feel my eyebrows furrowing. “Well, yes and no…I-I don’t know,” I stammer.
         “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, you know,” Andreas responds. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding.”
         I shake my head. “No, you aren’t. It’s just that…Well, I mean, you’re right, I...guess I am trying to get away from someone, in a way…How did you know that?”
         “I talk to a lot of people who are looking for something, and I don’t know – I suppose this will sound silly to you – but I have come to recognize that look in the eyes.”
         “What look?”
         “Lost.”
         “I look lost to you?”
         “Well, no, not in the literal sense,” Andreas responds, and I can tell that he is just searching for the words to clarify.
         I decide to help him along, because obviously he wants to know why I really came to Europe, and I want to tell him, even though I’m not sure myself. “I came to Europe to find myself, I guess. You see, there’s this – well, my best friend, Chad, he – he’s…” I trail off, embarrassed to be talking about Chad to someone I have just met.
         “You’re in love with him?” Andreas asks, taking a bite out of his apple.
         I chuckle. “You must hear that one all the time, right?”
         He shakes his head. “No. Lucky guess.”
         “But I’m not in love with him,” I say, sighing. “I came to Europe to get away from him, true; I came to Europe to find myself, true. But…hm…I don’t know. I don’t know anything else.”
         Andreas tosses his apple core into a brown paper waste sack and turns back to me.
         “So, what does your finding yourself have to do with Chad?”
         I cross my arms across my chest, feeling very vulnerable about the fact that Andreas seems to know more about me than I do.
         He senses this. “I’m sorry,” he says and quickly begins picking up napkins and plastic wrap around him.
         “No, don’t be. I guess I’m just trying to figure this out for myself, too. I almost feel...well, I guess I almost feel selfish, in a way, for coming here to get away from Chad, when I guess it wasn’t really him I was trying to get away from in the first place. It was me –or, I guess I should say it was the part of me that felt so…so right around Chad. It…embarrassed me to think I was falling for him and I had absolutely no indication if he felt the same way I did. So I –I sort of pushed those feelings away. You know, all my life I’ve tried to be an individual and the last thing I want is to become a cliché by falling in love with my best friend.”
         “No, the last thing you want is to be rejected by your best friend,” Andreas responds gently.
         “How…how are you so insightful about all these things?” I ask, incredulous.
         He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m grateful for it. I suppose it is a gift.”
         I smile, and after a moment’s silence, I continue. “Chad called me about three weeks ago, when I had just gotten to Germany. He knew I was going to finish up my trip in Ireland and the United Kingdom, and well…he’s from Wales originally, so he wanted to meet me in Shannon and have some time together, and then finish up by showing me around Wales. At the time, I said no because I thought meeting up with Chad kind of defeated the purpose of going around Europe by myself. But then I thought about it for a few days and I realized I would really like to see him, so I said yes. And now, I’m doubting myself for telling him yes because I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to say to him or how I’m going to act around him when I do see him.” I sigh, throwing my hands up and then letting them rest in my lap.
         “Had you talked to him at all before he called you?”
         “Of course,” I reply. “I’d sent him e-mails and postcards.”
         “So really, you’d been avoiding him?”
         “What do you mean?” I ask, knowing full well what he means.
         “You can hide things in letters that you can’t otherwise; you can say things in letters without being embarrassed – at least, until you come face-to-face with the person.”
         Yes. He is right. “Maybe I’ll know what to do when I see him,” I say, hoping aloud.
         He simply nods, and I help him pack up the rest of our lunch. Then he takes me down to the dock where we rent a boat and meander aimlessly around the lake for a while.
         “So, I want to hear more about this Chad, if you don’t mind me asking,” Andreas says, smiling.
         “No, I’d like to tell you,” I respond, touched that he cares so much about the things that are going on in my silly life. “Let’s see…Well, he was born in a little town near Cardiff. He moved to the States, to Boston, when we were both sophomores in high school. He made friends with everybody. He’s just one of those people, you know. Everyone likes him. He’s almost this stereotypically British gentleman – you know the type I mean?”
         Andreas chuckles.
         “And, I don’t know, we just clicked in school and we’ve been best friends ever since. It’s pretty simple, really.” Andreas shoots me a glance. “Ok, not that simple.” I manage a small laugh.
         It is getting close to dinnertime, so we return the boat to the dock and head back to the town. When we return, Astrid invites me to stay for dinner – on the house. I eat in the kitchen with the rest of the wait staff, one of whom is regaling tales of her recent trip to her dysfunctional family’s yearly reunion in Vienna. Astrid and Andreas stand nearby and translate for me. It really is a funny story, and I am glad to laugh.
         After dinner, Andreas and I exchange e-mail addresses. “I want to know what happens,” he says, his eyes gleaming like a child’s.
         “You really care what happens in my boring old life?” I laugh.
         “Nothing ever happens in Hallstatt,” Andreas responds good-naturedly. “Please. It will make my week.”
         I smile. “I’ll let you know. I promise. Thank you again – for the tour and the discussion.”
         He returns the smile. “Of course.”
         Astrid walks me up to the hotel, because she says she needs to speak with her sister anyway. I get my room key from Wanda and head up to my room, but not before I get one of those postcards in the gift shop to send to my mom and dad. On second thought, I buy two. I have an idea.
         I sleep soundly and wake up early the next morning feeling rested. I pack up all my things, double check that I haven’t left anything in the room, and head downstairs. I return my key to Wanda and am surprised to find Andreas standing at the front desk.
         He smiles sheepishly. “Astrid wanted me to drive you to the airport. Is that alright?”
         “Of course. That’s very kind of both of you.”
         Wanda makes us eat a healthy breakfast of yogurt, raspberries and bread with cheese before we have to leave. I thank her for her hospitality and hop into Andreas’ car - an economical Ford Fiesta hatchback like so many others I have seen here. It is a bit of a drive to the Salzburg airport – the nearest with connections to Ireland – about an hour and a half away.
         We spend much of the drive in comfortable silence, like the silence old friends share. I am able to write a few things in my journal that I am sure I’ve been meaning to write down for days but just haven’t had the reason to. When we reach the airport, Andreas insists on carrying my backpack – my only piece of luggage – for me until I get checked in and am safely at my gate.
         “You know,” I tell him before he has the chance to say goodbye. “I realized last night that I told you so much about myself, but I selfishly neglected to ask you anything about yourself.”
         He grins. “Come back to Hallstatt. Bring Chad. I will tell you whatever you want to know. Not that there is much to know to begin with.”
         I chuckle along with him, but I am sure there is much to know and much more to learn from Andreas.
         I promise once again to e-mail him when I get home to let him know I’m safe and to let him know how things have turned out.
         We part with ‘See you later’, not ‘Goodbye’, and I step onto the plane, surprised that I’m still feeling calm considering that I’m in the process of making one of the biggest decisions in my life. I’ll probably lose it as soon as we get into the air. I can’t really stay this composed for much longer. I know myself too well.
         After finding my seat and attempting to calm myself down by reading the in-flight magazine, the plane is nearly ready take off. I am rather pleased with the fact that no one is sitting next to me for the next seven hours. Suddenly, a bubbly looking blonde thing comes hurtling down the aisle, giggling all the way. Oh, please don’t sit next to me, I beg silently, knowing that it is rude but really not wanting to have to keep up conversation with the threat of a nervous breakdown looming. But, inevitably, she plops down right next to me with a loud sigh.
         “Wow, I can’t believe I almost missed the flight! I’m so embarrassed!” she says, shooting me a grin.
         I try to nod understandingly and return to the selection of in-flight movies.
         She shoves her black leather purse under the seat in front of her, buckles her seatbelt and smoothes her A-line skirt, grinning and staring straight ahead. Well, that lasts about fifteen seconds. She reaches down to grab her purse, pulls it up into her lap and begins going through it noisily.
         I look at her out of the corner of my eye, try to keep from sighing in exasperation, and turn the page.
         “Gum?” she asks suddenly, holding a package in front of my face.
         I look at her with what must have been a very odd expression and attempt to be polite. “No, thank you.”
         “Cookie?”
         “No thanks.”
         “Mint?”
         Oh, all right, if you’ll leave me alone, I think to myself. I turn to her and plaster a smile across my face. “Sure. Thanks.”
         Apparently she takes this as an invitation to keep talking, and as she hands me a mint, she introduces herself. “I’m Brooke, by the way.”
         “I’m Eve.”
         “Doesn’t taking off just make you so nervous?” Brooke asks.
         I shake my head. “No.”
         “Oh. Well it makes me nervous,” she says, and just at that moment, the plane starts moving.
         “Eek!” Brooke exclaims, shoving a piece of gum in her mouth and clutching her purse to her chest. “It’s just the taking off part,” she continues. “I guess because it stops up my ears and stuff.”
         I realize that she’s babbling because she’s not just nervous, she is seriously scared out of her wits.
         “It really isn’t that bad,” I tell her, feeling bad all of a sudden for being rude to this girl who only wanted someone to talk to. “So, why are you going to Shannon?”
         Brooke’s whole face lights up and I realize I have asked the right question to calm her nerves.
         “My boyfriend lives there!” she replies gleefully. “I only get to see him a few times every year. His name is Danny. I’m really excited.”
         “So do you live in Salzburg now?”
         “No, but my aunt does. Well, she isn’t really my aunt, you know, she’s just my mom’s best friend. I was visiting her, and now I’m going to see Danny.”
         “That sounds like fun,” I comment. “And hey, guess what?”
         “What?” she replies.
         “We’re in the air now. Look.” I point to my window.
         She peers over me. “Wow,” she murmurs. “I totally forgot we were even taking off! You’re the best, Eve. I’m just going to have to take you everywhere now.” She giggles, and I cannot help but smile. I guess Brooke’s perkiness is contagious. “So, what about you?”
         “I’m meeting my best friend in Shannon,” I respond.
         “Oh, how fun! What’s her name?”
         “His name,” I correct her automatically. “Chad. He’s from Wales and will show me around after we’ve been to Ireland and Scotland.”
         “And England. Oh, Eve, you just have to go to London!”
         “And England,” I add, laughing. “I can’t believe I forgot.”
         “How long are you spending with him?”
         I shrugged. “Oh, I guess it’s about a month now until I go home. I live in Boston.”
         “No way! Eve, I live in Cambridge!” Brooke exclaims. “We’re almost next door neighbors.”
         Brooke is right. Cambridge is hardly half an hour from my house.
         We spend the next hour or so discussing the schools we attended, our neighborhoods, and even discover we have a few mutual friends. The Disney people are right. It really is a small world.
         I find that after talking to Brooke for a while I’m feeling much better and I can hardly remember why I was so uptight and scared earlier. Then, unwittingly, she reminds me
         “So, tell me more about this Chad guy. He sounds like quite the gentleman, showing you around and all that.”
         “More about Chad, huh?” I ask. “Chad is…hm…Well, he’s…Oh, I guess…”
         I am interrupted by Brooke giggling. “I’m sorry, Eve!” she says, covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s just that…you’re blushing! Oh, you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
         I sigh. “Is it that obvious?”
         “Well, yes,” she replies simply, shrugging. “I’m sorry, but it is. You have to tell him, you know.”
         “Yeah, I know.”
         “Don’t act so sad about it. I think it’s just about the cutest thing I’ve ever heard! So, tell me everything about him. How’d you meet him?”
         I manage a grin and start from the very beginning.
         A bit later, Brooke has dozed off, but I’m wide awake, scribbling away on a piece of notebook paper. It takes a while, but eventually I am satisfied with it and I transfer it onto the second postcard I picked up at the hotel. I slide it into the front pocket of my backpack and smile.
         By the time Brooke wakes up, it’s almost time to land. She insists that we exchange phone numbers so I can call her when I get home.
         “I just have to know all the happy details!” she says, finishing writing her phone number in perfect penmanship on a scrap of paper I have found. “And Danny is coming to visit me at Christmas. We can double date!”
         Her optimism makes me feel more confident. I’m grateful for her presence. I finish writing my number in her address book and hand it back to her.
         She tells me a little about her plans with Danny as the plane lands, slows, and pulls into the gate. Suddenly I can feel myself starting to get nervous. Chad is always punctual, so I know that I will see him the very second I step off the plane. Oh…wow.
         “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’ll become another couple of clichés…best friends in love and all that.” She giggles. “Smile! Smile when you see him. See, like this.” She demonstrates a huge, cheesy grin from ear to ear.
         I laugh, even though my whole body is shaking.
         “You’ll be fine, you know.”
         “I know. Thanks.”
         She gets off the plane just before me, and I see her running gleefully towards Danny. They look so happy. I look around, scanning the faces in the crowd as I search for Chad. I don’t see him, and I start to panic. Suddenly, the crowd parts a little bit, and there he is, right in front of me. The same Chad as always – the dark hair, the twinkling blue eyes. There he is. I start to panic even more. Geez.
         “Eve!” he exclaims, and in one movement, I step towards him, drop my backpack to the ground, and fall into his arms. “Eve, it’s so good to see you.”
         “I missed you so much!” I exclaim.
         He holds me at arms’ length and smiles at me. “You have no idea how happy I am to have you here.”
         He takes my backpack and we head towards customs. “The hotel’s only about twenty minutes away,” he says. “It’s really nice. I’m going to be getting you up early in the morning, so if you want to go to bed right away, I’ll understand. We’re going to have long enough to catch up come tomorrow, won’t we?”
         I smile. “Of course. Why are we getting up early?”
         “It’s a surprise.”
         “Tell me!”
         “No, I can’t. Do you know the meaning of the word surprise, Eve?” he kids.
         Surprise, huh? Surprise…I have no idea what he has in store, but I imagine it will be something wonderful. It always is with Chad. We pass through customs in record time and before I know it, I am settling in in a homey room in a bed and breakfast on the outskirts of town. My head hits the pillow. I don’t remember anything after that. I’m exhausted.
         “Eve! Eve, time to wake up!” I open my eyes slowly and peer at the clock on the bedside table. Six-fifteen am. Chad wasn’t kidding when he said we were waking up early.
         I literally fall out of bed and stumble towards the door. I open it and look blearily at Chad on the other side.
         “We’ll leave whenever you’re ready, alright? There’s breakfast in the car.”
         “Meet you in the parking lot at seven,” I respond, my voice hoarse from hours of disuse.
         “I didn’t wake you up too early, did I?” he asks.
         I shake my head. “Not at all. I’m excited to see what this surprise is.”
         He grins. “See you in forty-five minutes.”
         I get ready in record time and surprise Chad, who is sitting downstairs in the lobby reading the paper, by being ten minutes early. I follow him out to the rental car where, as promised, there is breakfast in the passenger’s seat.
         He won’t tell me where we are going, but after driving for about an hour, I think I might know. I begin to see signs for the Burren, the place where the legendary Cliffs of Moher are located. Several years ago, Chad and I saw a movie that was set around the cliffs, and I have been wanting to go ever since. I can’t believe he remembered! I look at him out of the corner of my eye and know that is where we're going.
         Soon enough we pull into the parking lot – it is a shame things like this have become overrun with tourists – but in the early morning, it is not nearly as crowded as it undoubtedly gets. We only pass three other people on our way out. I am so excited that I don’t notice we have reached the end of the cliffs until I’m literally a few yards from the edge of a several-story drop. It is incredible.
         “I feel like I’m standing at the end of the earth,” I whisper.
         In a way, we are. All I can see on either side of me through the mist is cliffs, dropping straight into the blue waters of the Atlantic, which stretches for miles ahead.
         I turn to Chad, who is standing right next to me. “The movie,” I say quietly, still in awe of our surroundings. “You remembered.”
         “Of course I did,” he replies in an equally hushed tone. “Of course I…” he trails off, looking at me, and I realize this is it.
         I break my gaze with him long enough to slip one arm out of my backpack strap so I can get to the front compartment. There it is, in plain sight. I pull it out and hand it to him before I have the chance to change my mind. It is the postcard. There are only two sentences on it, but they are everything.
         I watch him as he reads it. He doesn’t look up for what seems like forever. He must be reading it again.
         “Oh, Evie…Evie,” he murmurs, looking at the ground.
         I close my eyes and let out a sigh. I have never heard that tone in his voice before. It cannot be a good sign. I am afraid to open my eyes.
         “Eve, look at me. Please…Evie.”
         I open my eyes reluctantly and find that he is looking right at me…he is looking right at me…
         …and he is smiling…