Isla and the Happily Ever After(49)

As we ride the rickety escalators, the mist gets lighter and lighter. And as we reach the top of the hill, it evaporates into a clear sky. Sunshine.

We tilt our heads backwards and marvel at the heavens.

There’s another, smaller hill across the street. “Looks like it’s right up there,” I say.

With a burst of energy, Josh scoops me over his shoulder and runs towards it. I scream with laughter. He shouts with mad glee. I pound on his back with my fists, but he doesn’t set me down until we’re through the gates and on the summit. He throws up his arms in triumph. “I win!” And then he buckles like a weak hinge. “I’m dying.”

I grin. “Serves you right.”

Josh lifts his head. “Oh, yeah?” And then he sees my expression change as I notice what lies behind him. He turns to look. His entire body straightens in astonishment.

We’re not just at the top of the final hill. We’re at the top of Barcelona.



The jumble of the city stretches to every corner of the horizon, sharp rectangles of brown and grey and yellow and red. Towering above it all are the spires and construction cranes of Sagrada Família, but directly below us, there’s a seemingly endless path winding its way down through a landscape of Mediterranean greens.

Parc Güell.

In the far distance, we can see the turrets and sculptures that Gaudí designed for this park – and its accompanying crowds – but, up here, everything is trees and serenity. The air is so fresh and clean that my lungs are surprised. For the first time in months, the world stills. Since before Paris, since before New York…actually, I can’t remember the last time I felt such an overwhelming sense of calm.

“We must’ve come up the back way,” I say.

“We should lose the map more often.”

We wander down the main path in silence, our hands clasped together. I’m in awe. Several minutes pass before we see anyone else. It’s a young vendor with a blanket on the ground, attempting to sell feathery earrings to two Japanese women. Josh nods towards a narrow side-path through the trees. We take it.

I squeeze the water from my hair as we stroll, and he rubs a hand briskly through his scalp. Droplets fly everywhere. “Hey, now,” I say. “Watch where you aim that thing.”

Josh points his head in my direction and rubs harder.

“You are such a boy.”

“You love me.”

I smile. “I do.”

The air smells of mountains and pines. There are so many trees here. Cypress trees and olive trees and palm trees and mystery trees with plump red berries.

Josh holds out a hand to stop me.

And then I hear it. Behind a covering of bushes, a couple is having sex. My mouth opens in delighted shock. Josh laughs silently. We move ahead so as not to disturb them. There’s a good chance that they’re our age. Most European teenagers don’t have cars, and they often live with their parents through the end of college. Parks are somewhat notorious for amorous pursuits.

Josh gestures towards a secluded area, off path. He’s suddenly nervous.

But I was about to point it out, too.

It didn’t take long for the thought of the other couple to transfer onto us. We sneak through the foliage. I lean up on my tiptoes, our lips meet, and our bodies sink to the ground. Our hearts pound like crazy against each other. He unbuttons my coat, and his hands are around my back and under my dress. I wish I wasn’t wearing tights. But as quickly as our making out begins, he pulls away, gasping. “Never mind. Can’t do this. If we go any further, the stopping part will be excruciating. It already is.”

“I’m sorry.” I reach out to touch him, but he rolls away.

“No, it’s fine. Just…give me a minute.”

The other couple appears between the leaves on the nearby path. They sense our presence and giggle, exactly the reason why we’re waiting until our hotel room. I drape my coat over a thick branch to dry. I unzip my boots and strip off my wet tights.

Josh covers his face. “You’re killing me.”

I smile at him as I wring out the bottom of my dress.

He moans. “Unfair. Girls are so mean.”

I laugh. “Give me your hoodie. I’ll hang it up.”

Obediently, he takes it off. His T-shirt rises with it, and my eyes lock on the lowest portion of his abdomen until he readjusts it. My boyfriend doesn’t realize that he’s killing me, too. I hang up his hoodie and lie down beside him. We stare at the sky. His head rests against his backpack, and my head rests against his chest. The wind rustles, swirling the scent of pine around our temporary campsite.

“Your eyes remind me of pine trees,” Josh says.