Vodka Espresso

16. forgiveness

July, 2017

Edgar was initially not worried to find himself alone in the hotel room when he woke up in the morning. His concerns arose when he began to notice that Ingrid's stuff was missing. Her toiletries, her clothes, her bags, her shoes... all of it, gone. He panicked. His heart bounced fast and loud in his chest and his knees grew too weak to move.

Edgar sat on the edge of the bed, coming up in an instant with worst-case scenarios, one after the other. He visualised her pale, algae-covered body floating in a canal or lying on an examination table in a morgue, cut open for her autopsy. His own thoughts made him sick. Before he went and threw up, however, he picked up the phone and dialled reception, asking for Sven.

"Sven here, how can I help?"

"Hi, Sven, it's... Edgar. I was travelling with Ingrid. I just woke up and she seems to... Well, she's gone."

"Yes, she left this morning."

His body relaxed with relief, but another puzzle popped up. "Left? When? Where?"

"As far as I understood, she booked an early flight to London. I ordered her a taxi to the airport."

Edgar breathed in and out slowly. "I see. Thank you, Sven. I'll be going soon as well, just packing my things. I'll be down in a bit for breakfast, if you could get the bill ready."

"Certainly. Thanks for staying with us."

Edgar packed his suitcase in a robotic trance, had his breakfast, paid the bill and came to his senses only when he got in behind the wheel. He stared from afar at his phone, which he'd dumped on the empty passenger seat. With a quick movement, he picked it up and unlocked it. There was no news. No explanations.

He pulled up his conversation with Ingrid. His fingers hovered above the keyboard. In that moment, he regretted not having a Facebook account where he could stalk her. She must have been fine, though, if she just went back to London. She'd ordered an airport-bound taxi, but really, it could have dropped her off anywhere. Sven would have known, though, wouldn't he?

Sighing, Edgar typed a quick message and threw the phone away, telling himself to just focus on the journey back to England. If she gave two shits about him, she could have at least dropped him a line. Not worth wasting his time over it, he thought to himself.

He sought solace in driving, which was what he'd wanted all along – Ingrid was just a very welcome bonus, to be fair. Driving was the real comfort. It would never betray or abandon him. Edgar started his car, turned up the music and drove off.

*

Ingrid remained frozen in her recollections, even as she stepped out of the dress and popped open another bottle of prosecco. She couldn't do this. She couldn't be a bridesmaid. Not in that dress. Rose had to know, she would understand. The dress was for Sienna and Ingrid vowed to herself that Sienna was going to wear it. She asked Rose to show her to the restroom once her mind was all made up.

"Listen, Rosie," Ingrid began when they were alone on the corridor just outside the ladies' room. "I can't be your bridesmaid. Not in that fucking dress. Keep it for Sienna."

Rose's soft smile faltered in a subtle expression of sadness. "We all know she's not coming, Ingrid. And I understand if you don't want to be a bridesmaid, I'm not going make you."

"No, that's not it." Ingrid cleared her throat and lowered her voice. "I've been a bridesmaid before and it didn't end well. It was, um..." She gulped. "It was a traumatising experience for me."

She looked her friend dead in the eye and although Rose couldn't guess what had happened, she saw it must have been something serious.

"And Sienna's coming to your wedding," Ingrid added, "if it's the last thing do."