Vodka Espresso

13. abroad

July, 2017

They made it at the last minute on their train and actually spent more time boarding than crossing the Channel. Before either of them knew it, they had to disembark.

"This is brilliant," Ingrid said as they were driving out of the train. "I mean, an hour ago, we were in Britain. How awesome is this?"

Edgar smiled broadly at her unwavering enthusiasm. It surprised him, considering how difficult the last few days had been for her. The darkness that had oppressed her dissipated as soon as he got into her bed, he felt. He remembered how she hadn't wanted to stop their liaison and help him stay faithful. Maybe physical closeness was what she needed, after all. Maybe she required the physical contact to feel the emotional support.

"Have you never been to France?" he asked her.

"Oh, I have. This just always amazes me." She put her sunglasses back on. "I used to get on a train in London and be in Paris two hours later. It's just amazing."

They got through border control and carried on until Dunkirk, where they felt the need for a toilet break. Edgar refuelled afterwards, while Ingrid grabbed coffees and chocolate snacks. Once the tank was full, he parked the car on the edge of the petrol station. He then stepped out to light a cigarette and blew the smoke in the wind.

Ingrid went to settle in the driver's seat.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm taking over. You can nap for a bit."

"Don't take over just yet," he told her. "What if we have dinner on the beach?"

She frowned at him. "I take it you know a place?"

"I do."

A place where he used to take his wife and daughter, when Caitlin was little. His daughter loved it there. Before she left for New York, they drove out to Dunkirk together, the two of them only, just to have dinner at that restaurant. He could never pass through Dunkirk without stopping there.

Although he figured it might be weird to tell Ingrid how he came to know the place, he ended up spilling the beans to her without second thought. She took it surprisingly well.

"It's your happy place, isn't? Before your son came along and your wife changed. Your daughter's happy place, too, so something you could easily bond over."

Her words struck a chord in him he hadn't known existed. "How..." The creases on his forehead deepened as he struggled to voice his thoughts. "How?" he only managed to utter.

"How... what?"

"How could you... grasp the situation so well? When knowing so little of it?"

Ingrid smiled like a schoolteacher at a clueless child. "It's what shrinks make a living out of, isn't it? They know jack squat, but they dig out your darkest fears. It's easier when you're on the outside. You might see things the other guy can't see from within."

He held her hand as he walked her around the car. "My wife could never see these things."

"Well, she counts as within. And besides, she probably knows too much. The less you know, the more objective you can be."

"It's usually the other way around."

"Yes and no," Ingrid said when he got in beside her. "When you know too much, you get hung up on the little details. You begin to overthink. Overanalyse. Short, general sketches like what you've told me are much more revealing." Ingrid shrugged. "That's my opinion, at least. Or maybe I've just got a flair for you," she winked.