"How come you didn't apply for citizenship? Do you not see yourself living here?"
I thought she had fallen asleep but she was awake just like I was.
"How'd you know I was awake?" I asked her.
"You're being very quiet. Too quiet to be asleep," she answered. "It just never occurred to me that you've been here this long. I mean—I know you've been here a long time but it never crossed my mind whether or not you wanted to be a US citizen."
"Have you ever wanted something so badly that you wouldn't stop until you got it? And now that you've got it, you're questioning yourself? That's what it is. It's not that I don't like it here. In fact, I love it here and that's what scares me. They're always asking me when I'm coming home for good and I never know how to answer them.
"I've been avoiding applying because that means I want to be here permanently. But for what? My job? It didn't seem like a good enough reason.
"It's only me here. I've got no family here; everyone is back in the UK. But of course, this was all before I met you. It's just a lot to think about so I keep pushing it off. But having to renew my visa reminds of how I should just do it to save myself the trouble.
"Bondy has dual citizenship. He's been with his girlfriend for so long that I'm certain he's going to marry her. Bondy's relationship with his family has always been strained; he has his mum and brother but that's it. He hasn't got much beyond that and doesn't mind visiting them every once in a while. But me...I'm different."
I didn't want to go into the specifics of how I was different. My relationship with Florence was still new and though I was certain she was the one, we've only been dating over a month now which is too soon to know for sure. Anything can happen, even Florence knows that. After all, she was the one who was engaged, thinking she was going to get married, and then they called the engagement off.
I was nervous about where this conversation was going. It's not often that we talk about us and what we want out of this relationship. We were only focused on the small stuff like finding an apartment but never about whether or not we were on the same page about marriage, having kids, and so on.
"What place feels most like home to you?" she finally asked. I could see the whites of her eyes when she looked at me even though the room was dark.
I sighed. "Seattle feels more like home to me. When I go home—I mean my real home—I feel like a stranger and it's only gotten worse with time. It's hard to explain. Have you ever lived somewhere else or have you always been here?"
"I grew up here but I've always dreamt of living somewhere else. I'd love to leave but I can't let go of this place. It's all I've ever known." What she said reminded me of Clara and how she always followed her parents. Maybe it was just me who wanted to get away and start somewhere new. Everyone's different though.
.
.
The days leading up to our flight were a blur and a bit of a mad dash. It wasn't until the night before that I began to panic and question everything. What if she's not there? What if she won't meet me? I was telling Florence that this was all a mistake and that we should cancel the trip and try to recoup the costs. She looked at me, concerned, and asked where this was coming from all of a sudden and then she understood. Her hand went to tuck my hair behind my ear so she could see my face clearly.
"It'll be fine. I'll be with you the entire way and based on what you've told me, there's a high possibility that she's still there. I'm not sure how we'll make her talk but we can figure something out. Matilde might have an idea too," she said softly and I instantly felt better.
It was nice of her to confirm my thoughts and to provide reassurance. I called Matilde just yesterday saying we were on our way and to ask if she's seen any changes around the house lately. She didn't notice anything different. She said hello to Mia the other day when she went for a walk. That detail made me feel a lot better but literally anything can happen between then and now.
Matilde went on to ask if we booked accommodations saying we were welcome to stay at her place, free of charge. The offer was dead sweet of her but I didn't feel comfortable, especially knowing that that was where Clara used to live and now she's right across the street.
"Bondy's on the way. He'll be here in 5," I said, reading his text. It was nice of him to drop us off at the airport. He didn't have to; I was going to call a taxi but he offered saying it was no big deal and that he had an errand that way anyway. I walked into our bedroom to find Florence still frantically packing her carry-on. "D'ya need some help, love? Bondy's on the way."
"Yeah, I'm fine. I forgot to pack a change of clothes...y'know...in case they lose my suitcase." Florence was trying to put things back but it was clear the bag was almost bursting at the seams. She struggled to push her clothes down and pull the zipper so I went to help her. "Thanks," she muttered. I carried her bag and put it by the door.
Florence walked around the flat making sure things were good. All the small appliances we weren't going to use were unplugged and we made sure everything was off, and that the windows and doors were locked. Our neighbor was kind enough to collect our post and we asked if he wanted our unused food that was going to spoil. Our relationship with him hasn't been the best but he's been nice to us ever since we told him we were gonna move, go figure.
Bondy texted that he was here so I replied that we were coming down. I grabbed Florence's suitcase so all she had to carry was her purse and carry-on. We locked the door and took the lift down to the lobby. I could see Bondy's car parked out in front. When he saw us, he got out of his car and opened the boot of his car.
"Thanks so much for taking us to the airport," I said, reaching out to hug him.
"It's no problem, really," Bondy said, brushing it off.
He took Florence's suitcase and put it in the boot, and I did the same with mine. I was surprised everything fit because Florence packs like she's spending several months in Portugal. I had to sort through her stuff telling her what wasn't necessary when I saw her bring out the large suitcase. Now all her stuff was in a medium-sized suitcase (I prefer it to be small but we met in the middle). Florence sat in the back telling me to sit up front with Bondy.
"So where are yous flying in?" Bondy asked, pulling onto the road.
"Lisbon," I answered. We were going to skip Porto this time as we've managed to properly explore the place the last time we were there. We've not properly explored Lisbon yet since it's bigger. "We're spending 3 days in Lisbon and the rest will be in Lagos."
My hope was that 9 days in Lagos was enough time to convince Clara to tell the truth. I've not quite planned what I was going to do, especially how I was going to approach her. The thought made me sick and all of a sudden, the car became too stuffy so I opened the window slightly.
"Do you have a plan?" Bondy asked and my heart sank. My hesitation answered his question and he sighed. "I know it's not really my place to give advice but I've been trying to put myself in Clara's shoes and think about how I'd like to be approached. The best scenario I could think of, believe it or not, is to just knock on the door yourself. Sometimes we make things more complicated than it really needs to be."
Bondy had a point, as always. It's best to take the simplest approach, and if that doesn't work, we can do something else. However, her hanging up on me didn't sound promising at all but maybe talking on the phone is different from, say, being there in person. I looked out the window, dreading the moment Clara and I would be face to face. Normal people would be happy to see each other after all this time but this isn't normal at all.
"Yeah, I agree we're making this more complicated than it needs to be," Florence chimed in. I had almost forgotten she was in the back so her loud voice made me jump.
"And if she doesn't answer the door, what happens then?" I asked them both.
"We go to plan B," Florence answered.
"And that is...?" I trailed off.
"You ring the bell like crazy and beg to be let in," Bondy joked and I laughed. They were joking at my expense but if it had to come down to it, I would beg to be let in.
"We'll figure something out, don't worry," Florence replied.
The airport was relatively busy for it being mid-week. Bondy found a place to pull over and put on his hazards. We all got out of the car to unload the boot. Once we got all our stuff, we thanked Bondy for giving us a ride. He said it was no problem and wished for everything to go well during the trip. I grabbed Florence's carry-on and put it on my suitcase so she had less to carry.
"Alright, let's check in," I said. I looked for our airline and checked into our flight, getting rid of our suitcases. All that was left was our carry-ons. I took it upon myself to carry Florence's while we waited to go through security. It wasn't until we were nearing security that I asked Florence to help me take out my passport as I was carrying both our bags. Florence grabbed my passport and out of curiosity, opened it to look at my passport photo.
"Do you ever smile in photos?" she teased.
"You're supposed to have a neutral expression!" I fought back.
"You look so serious."
"I look like a drug lord. You should see Bondy's. He looks like he's looking out the aeroplane window. Why don't we take a look at yours?" I teased. Florence opened her passport and held it up for me to see. She was smiling sweetly in her photo. How deceiving.
"You look like a real estate agent selling me a house," I teased. Florence hit my arm playfully.
"Shut up, drug lord."
We made it past security with an hour and a half to spare. We were early but it was better to be safe than sorry. I've heard about long wait times to get through security and people missing their flights. We found our gate and sat for a bit before Florence said she was hungry and wanted to have a look around. In the meantime, I was left to watch our bags.
I used the time to text my parents I was going on holiday again. I was careful to not name where I was going as they'd be wondering why I'm going to Portugal again so soon. And out of habit, I checked my work email to see if anything important came up. Florence came back with some snacks. She handed me a pastry to eat.
"And where are we gonna fit all this food?" I asked, pointing to her very full bag.
"In your bag," she answered matter-of-factly. Well, she's not wrong.