The Winter Project

25. Cleo

Cleo felt truly awful and sorry for what she had done to Isabel. She knew she had probably created irreparable damage and was afraid to even broach the subject. She stayed in bed all day in the hotel room, hiding under the sheets and cursing herself for being such a terrible friend. When Isabel returned in the evening, Cleo stayed under the covers for several more hours before summoning the courage to face her.

"Izzy, I'm sorry for upsetting you yesterday," she finally said, emerging from under the sheets to see her friend sat on her own bed, aimlessly flicking through her phone. Cleo was cringing as she said it; she hated to admit that she was wrong and some part of her was still resisting, trying to tell herself that Isabel was the one in the wrong to justify acting the way that she had.

"It's okay," Isabel said with a weak smile. She was clearly tired and Cleo imagined the amount of anxiety she must have gone through after being so hurt. "I really don't mind. I think we should leave Budapest now, though."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Cleo said, relieved that the conversation was changing topic. "Where should we even go next? Do we keep going east? South?"

"We've been on the road for nearly two months," Isabel shrugged. Her back was turned to Cleo and she was distracted by whatever she was looking at on her phone. "I don't think I'll have enough money to carry on for much longer. Maybe we should loop back around and start heading home?"

Of course, Cleo thought. Isabel was doing what she always did, taking the passive aggressive route. Cutting their trip short over one small fight and letting her anxiety take over.

"I have plenty of money, I can pay for both of us," Cleo almost pleaded. She no longer wanted to go home. Work didn't interest her anymore. Nothing really interested her anymore. At least on the road she thought she might find something to entertain her or keep her from the reality of her true existence.

"I know, but I don't want to rely on you," Isabel replied. "And even if we go back now, it'll take us a few weeks to get back at the pace we've been doing. We'll still be stopping in places along the way. We could even keep going and end up in Spain or Portugal instead of going home straight away."

Cleo knew that Isabel was lying. They would make it to France and Isabel would insist on going back home, and Cleo wasn't ready for that. She knew that to keep Isabel interested she would have to suggest something much bigger than that.

"I think we should face your biggest fear of all."

"Ditch the van and get on a plane home?" Isabel joked. "Very funny."

"Not that," Cleo said, walking over to Isabel and sitting beside her. "Italy."

Isabel turned and looked at Cleo as if she had just called her the worst insult imaginable.

"Why would I want to go to Italy?" Isabel spat. Cleo could tell that she had instantly offended her, for Isabel never got angry unless she had been really agitated by something.

"To face your fears!" Cleo burst alive with energy as she tried to sell the idea. "You never wanted to travel because of what happened to your parents, so let's go there! Let's face the fear! Then we can drive straight home from there, and you'll have accomplished everything!"

"Cleo, I can say with conviction that I have never desired to 'accomplish' visiting a city where my parents were shot to death right in front of me."

Cleo looked at Isabel and knew that she was furious with her, but it was too late now for her to change her mind. If Isabel wanted to go home, then she would need to go with Cleo regardless. Cleo was the confident driver after all. She wanted to stop herself and think about how much this could affect her friend's fragile mental health, but ultimately she wanted to stay on the trip. How could she go back home now and start looking for a job again? She had only quit a few months ago, and it had felt indefinite. She thought that they would be on the road for years; having fun, drinking beers until the early morning and exploring the world. She thought they would have ended up driving to Asia or the Nordic countries. Yet Isabel was happy with a couple of miserable months driving around Europe? How was that freeing for either of them?

"I think it would be therapeutic for you," Cleo shrugged. Isabel's facial expression confirmed that she clearly disagreed.

"There's a lot of countries in this world, Cleo," she responded. "The only one I have no interest in ever going to is Italy. So can we just drop it?"

Cleo was taken aback that Isabel had been so forthcoming. She was normally submissive and agreeable, but clearly this one had struck a nerve. In Cleo's mind that only cemented her theory that Isabel needed to go; that she had this built up anger and trauma from her parent's death that needed to be confronted head on. Cleo knew what Isabel needed more than Isabel did, for she had always steered Isabel in the right direction and helped her to grow.

In a last ditch effort to turn things around, Cleo suggested that they talk it through over a drink, but found herself alone in the hotel bar surrounded by nothing but empty glasses.