Paula Brukmüller - Flowers from Greece - The Autobiography of the Journalist Who Turned a Personal Tragedy into an Inspiring World Tour

- It was just a little funny. – He smiled. – But I’m glad you’re fine. The way you fell you could have hurt itself.

- I’m glad I jumped. I’m a little embarrassed, but I’ve gotten over a lot of fear and I’m proud of myself – I explained with the best English I could find amid the adrenaline rush.

- You’re right. Now turn that ass over here and let me see – he said, leading my arm – Fuck! It’s very red – he laughed.

- I think I’m going to sleep on my stomach for a few days – I concluded.

The group made jokes about the jump and my red thighs for the rest of the day. I had no choice but to joke and laugh at myself.

Before returning from the tour, we stopped at another mountain in the middle of the sea for lunch. Fred brought everyone sandwiches and we climbed several steps until we found a small green-walled church high up. There were some tables under the trees, some benches, and a swing hanging between the logs.

The view of the sea was breathtaking, and as we ate bread stuffed with cheese, ham, and cucumber, Fred suggested a game for the group.

Each should say their name, where they were from, the nationality of the person they had last slept with, the last time they had sex, and the nationality of the person they would have sex next. Except that his Australian accent was so difficult, I got some things wrong even when I asked him to explain it again.

- To recap, name, your flag, last shag, last shag flag, and next shag flag.

By Laurent and Jean’s answer, I would probably know that I got it wrong, but by the order, I answered before them.

- Paula, Brazil, this morning, France and Turkey.

- Laurent, France, this morning, Brazil and… Sweden – Laurent replied confusing me.

Later, when we were alone, I asked.

- Why is your next flag Sweden? I thought you were going back to France.

- You were supposed to say the next flag you want to fuck – he clarified.

- Son of a bitch, are you telling me that you’re gonna fuck a Swedish woman on my face? – I asked smiling.

- Well, you had just said you were gonna fuck a Turk – he defended.

- I said that because I got the game wrong. If I had got it right, I’d say my next flag would be France tonight, – I said mischievously, kissing his neck.

- That’s what I expected, but I didn’t know you got it wrong – he said, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing me.

I could not be happier. I could sleep and wake up looking into the blue eyes of that little Frenchman, 10 years younger than me, for the rest of my days.

After shower and dinner, Laurent and I sat at the reception bar counter in a completely parallel universe. We stared at each other deeply as our hands caressed each other’s hair, legs, arms, and fingers. There were a million things I’d like to say to him, but my English level wouldn’t allow it and I just let my body speak. He had the same communication difficulties as me, so I tried to listen to his body.

- You two are breaking my heart. – Nick the bartender told us, serving two turquoise cocktails. – Free drinks for you to toast the last night together.

We thanked him and continued our glance exchange. I was so connected to him that I didn’t realize that beside me began a heated argument between Louis and their work coordinator. Laurent nodded for me to pay attention to the conversation.

- Let’s get this sorted out like men! – Louis shouted.

- Get out of here, you piece of shit. Don’t you realize that nobody wants you around? Paula is happy with your friend. Accept that you are a loser and go to sleep – The Albanian fired.

At that moment, Nick looked at me with an astonished expression. As if to say how unnecessary it was to put me in the middle of their discussion.

- Shut up. Fuck Paula and Laurent, I don’t care about them. You don’t know anything – Luis snapped, moving away from the counter as Laurent tried to lead me to the porch.

- Get outta here, Luis, before I break your teeth, – the boss shouted, pointing to the door.

- I’m going because I don’t want to hit a drunk like you – Luis finished, heading for the exit.

Like Laurent, I had no idea how that fight began. Laurent just told me that the work coordinator had been annoyed by Luis for several days.

- Also, Isadora gave Jean and me a break today, but Luis should have gone to work but missed it to do the kayaking tour. That means the supervisor worked alone, which must have pissed him off even more – he explained to me.

We set that inconvenience aside and sat on the straw couch against the wall. The same couch I let Luis kiss me on my first night at the bar.

- So, we’ll say goodbye tomorrow and you still haven’t told me what drove you on this trip around the world – Laurent questioned me.

- It’s not a very happy story. Are you sure you wanna hear it? – I asked as I crossed my legs over his thighs.

- If it will make you sad, then no – he said gently.

So I started telling everything in a whole new way.

We had just arrived at the clinic. We were taking a few days of vacation in Rio to visit my father-in-law, who was almost 81 years old. The change was set. In 10 days we would be leaving on an adventure to Belém do Pará and Felipe was very excited about the trip in the new car.

I had just talked to my doctor over the phone. The transvaginal ultrasound I performed that morning said I had 14 eggs ready to be fertilized.

- A great chance of twin pregnancy – Dr. Francisco celebrated – Take the hormone I prescribed you tonight and have sex for the next three days – he said before hanging up the phone.

It was hot in Rio and we decided to go to the pharmacy to buy the hormone later. Lying on the couch in the Santa Tereza mansion, and while we waited for Felipe’s aunt to prepare lunch, we were talking about how strange it was to know that I would probably get pregnant in the next few days.

I went into the kitchen for a soda, and on my return, I heard Felipe muttering on the phone. That was very strange since he never spoke quietly. Even when his phone rang on Sunday mornings, with me sleeping beside him, Felipe spoke loudly.

When I stopped in front of the door, he quickly hung up and stared at me.

- Who was it? – I asked.

- No one – he looked back at his cell phone making sure the phone was off – Someone called the wrong number.

I handed him the soda can and sat at the coffee table right in front of him.

- We both know that you’re lying. I have all the time in the world to wait for the truth.

I spent days blaming myself for insisting. I remade that scene in my mind a thousand different ways. I was angry that Felipe answered the phone during our vacation. I was angry even more when he told me the truth, even in the face of my obstinacy.

I felt the ground disappear. I no longer had a home, a job, a husband, or a baby. I was completely lost and realized that after almost 15 years of marriage, I knew absolutely nothing about who I was or what I would like to do after all that.

- I’m so sorry you went through this – Laurent said, holding my hand.

- You know – I sighed deeply – I’ve been very sorry before, but today I don’t regret it anymore. If it hadn’t been so painful, if it hadn’t happened that way, I wouldn’t have traveled. I wouldn’t be here in Greece and I wouldn’t have met you. If I could, I’d send flowers from Greece to thank Felipe.

The alarm went off at 6 AM, but I had been awake for a long time, feeling Laurent’s warm, deep breath blowing at the back of my neck. His sleeping hand on my hip felt like a chain, binding me to bed forever. I wish I didn’t have to leave. I wish this time would never come. I felt an urge to cry but held back the tears.