WE DROVE THROUGH EDESSA AN HOUR AGO, stoping quickly to eat; the bus was headed straight to Macedonia. There was a spring digging into my back and the moving bus made my head knock against the window if I slept.
I liked the other bus more – at least you could sleep on it. This bus was the sort that would have chicken’s squawking and children screaming. I poured my handbag out onto the seat and squeezed it inside out; it was one of those reversible bags.
I sifted through the items on the seat, pulling out a passport and a sandwich I racked when we were in Edessa – I had ten Euros left and I wasn’t wasting them on a sandwich. I stuffed the other items back into the bag and placed it next to me on the seat.
I opened up the sandwich container and took a bite. It was entirely dry lettuce with one slice of ham; I choked and spluttered as the lettuce clung to the back of my throat. I hadn’t eaten in two days, verging on three so I forced myself to swallow. I took another bite and put it away, it had to last.
I picked up my passport and checked that it was the right one. Callia Makris, age: 25, Gerolimenas, Greece. Wrong one. I pulled my purse out of my bag; the new passport was tucked beneath the fabric. Adina Hallias, age: 24, Kavala, Greece. I tucked my real passport beneath the folds where the other one had sat and stuffed the passport and purse back into my bag beside me. I looked out of the window – the scenery consisted mainly of farm land and trees.
I leant back on the seat, curving my spine around the spring and pulled the bag onto my legs and kept a tight grasp on it. I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep to the sound of things clattering and old women speaking in dialect.
THE WIND WAS COMING STRAIGHT OFF the water creating a soft gust of air that made my hair float. I fixed up the shawl around my arms and leant on the banister. The restaurant was built right on the water and had a beautiful view of the Mediterranean.
He stood in the corner of the railing, hands in the pockets of his suit. I took a good look at him, well groomed; he looks like cash, handsome. I caught his eye and turned calmly back towards the ocean, enticing him to walk over. It worked. I saw him walk towards me out of the corner of my eye. I waited until he was close enough and slowly turned my head towards him, I smiled sweetly.
“Hi,” I said, slowing down my words and articulating – I’ve made the mistake of talking too fast before.
“Hey,” he said, looking up at me slowly.
“I’m Alicia,” I stated, elegantly turning my head on its side slightly. He grinned.
“Marko,” he replied. He flashed white teeth. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I don’t drink,” I smiled again. He looked disappointed. “But I do eat,” He smiled triumphantly.
“Lead the way,” I pushed away from the banister and moved towards the doors of the restaurant.
IT WAS A SIX HOUR BUS RIDE TO THE BORDER of Macedonia, where my passport was quickly glimpsed at and recorded. The bus drove through Macedonia and I transferred busses on the border of Albania. The bus travelled along the coast for a while until we reached Montenegro. Over two days of travelling.
We stopped in the town of Budva, along the East coast of Montenegro. The ocean was stunning here. I checked my watch, 5:30 PM. The bus drove off and the passengers slowly dispersed. I stood with my bag, staring out at the ocean.
The town was to my right and I started to walk along the road, headed for the centre of the town. The heart of the town consisted of narrow streets covered in cobblestones and I came upon a building that had a small English motel sign hanging from the wall outside. I walked towards it, pulling my suitcase behind me. I was greeted by a middle-aged lady who spoke a little English.
