Wish Upon a Star

At 8:30, the guys still hadn't shown up, and I was about to give up hope and find dinner by myself when yet another bus pulled up. Dale was the first one out, followed closely by the rest. They were all laughing and talking loudly, and I could tell they'd all had at least one glass of wine during the afternoon... probably more like three. So much for the 'evils of wine' touted that morning.

Dale spotted me.

"Sarah, come on!" he drawled. "We're goin' to a party at Giselle's place tonight!"

The girl hanging on Bryan's arm, presumably Giselle, giggled uncontrollably, and Bryan had to hold her up so she wouldn't fall over. I stared at all of them as if I had never seen them before. I certainly hadn't seen Dale drunk before. We weren't teetotalers, but getting plastered had never really been on our agenda.

Dale half-walked, half-swayed over to me.

"Come on," he said, leaning over me and grabbing my arm. "You don't wanna be late, do ya? Giselle said she'll call one of her guy friends for you."

As Dale pulled me to my feet, I jerked my arm away, suddenly livid, and smacked him across the face.

"What the hell do you think I am??" I snarled, looking Dale straight in the eye. "A piece of meat you can just throw to the first guy who comes along? Anddon'ttouch me again."

Dale suddenly sobered, realizing how he had just treated me and how he had been perceived.

"Ohhh, shit, Sarah, I'm sorry," he slurred. "I didn't think—"

"I can damn well tell you didn't think," I interrupted him. "And as for your little 'party,' you just go ahead and go with your little French whatever. You think you're the first American she's ever met? I'll be she speaks English really well, doesn't she? Well, don't worry about me. I'll find dinner on my own, so that way you don't have to find some desperate guy to take care of me."

With that outburst, I grabbed my purse and turned on my heel, leaving Dale stunned. He'd seen me upset, but I had never been so angry with him before. It sent a deep ache straight through my heart to be so mad at him, no matter how justified it was.

"Sarah, wait," he called after me as I stalked to the bus stop. If I remembered correctly, a bus back to the hotel was due again any minute. I prayed it would be early.

"Don't bother!" I shouted over my shoulder. "You don't want to keep Miette waiting, do you?"

Dale had been walking after me, but he stopped as I sent back that last barb. I turned. Dale wiped his hand across his brow, as if trying to rub away the effects of the wine. I could tell he was pretty out of it. As I waited for him to regain control, the bus pulled up and the door opened. Three people came out. Dale still stood there, looking at me dumbly. Slowly but deliberately, I turned back around and walked onto the bus, leaving him standing near the park bench.

I knew the entire scene was a horrible cliché, but I looked back as the bus pulled away. Miette was coming up behind Dale, reaching for his hand. I looked away. I couldn't watch any more. The bus was full, and I had the unfortunate luck to be standing next to a young couple in love, giggling and kissing.

"Get a room," I muttered.

The ride back to the hotel killed another 20 minutes. Once there, I recalled seeing a McDonald's a few blocks away, so I started walking. I crossed a bridge on the way and stopped to look down at whatever river was below. The dark water reflected my mood, but it also reflected the clear sky above. The moon shone down on the water, glistening across the miniscule waves.

I looked up. Sure enough, my star was in its place, just as it had been the night before.

"What do I do?" I whispered to it.

I got no response, but I closed my eyes anyway. Peace began to steal over me, despite my desire to be depressed. Miette was a fantasy – the stereotypical Continental girl – and when it was all over and done with, Dale would apologize and we would move on. It would be all right.

I strolled into Mickey D's with a smile on my face and ordered. Grabbing a seat next to the window, I munched on my burger and fries and stared out at the people passing by. There were plenty of couples, lots of groups, and occasionally a single soul wandering the streets, possibly a wounded person like me or just a working citizen heading home after a long day. I had fun mentally guessing occupations, and by the time I was done eating, I was in a genuinely good mood.

Once I got back into the hotel, I stopped for a moment in the lobby to check out the vending machines and grabbed a few snacks and a bottle of water. I figured I could watch a movie before crashing. I had no doubt the guys wouldn't be back for hours, or, if Francois was any indication of French parties, not at all.

I opened the door to the room, humming a light tune, and froze. Something wasn't right. I knew I had left the lights off, but the bedside lamps were on. I heard a thump in the bathroom.

Dropping my purse and junk food on the floor, I left the door cracked in case I needed a quick escape. My heart was pumping rapidly as I tried to work out who could be in my room.

"Hello?" I asked in as firm a voice as I could muster.

No answer except for a retching sound from the bathroom. It almost sounded like someone was throwing up.

"Hello?" I said, louder.

I took a few steps and peered around the bathroom door. Dale was bending over the toilet, heaving his guts. I heaved, too, but only a sigh of relief. I waited for him to finish as my anger started to return.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded as he flushed.

Dale jumped a mile and fell backward onto the floor. He looked so pathetic, my anger melted instantly.

"Sarah...," he said, closing his eyes and leaning back against the bathtub. "Shit, I've been an ass."

I leaned against the doorframe.

"Where's Miette?" I asked, looking at the far door of the bathroom. "And where are the rest of the guys?"

Dale shook his head.

"They went on to Giselle's. After you left... I just... I just couldn't let you be on your own any more. It wasn't fair. So I came back here, thinking you'd be here, and then...," he burped and grabbed his stomach.

"And then you started throwing up," I finished for him. "How much did you have to drink?"

He groaned.

"Three huge glasses of wine. And nothing to eat. And we were running around in this heat."

Dale hugged the toilet again. I turned away, not really knowing if he wanted me to watch. As I looked back into the bedroom, I saw my bottle of water where I had left it on the floor. I could always get another, and Dale obviously needed something to wash out his mouth. I got the bottle and opened it.

By the time I returned, Dale was flushing again and his color was returning. I walked into the bathroom and held out the water. Dale took it and poured some in his mouth, then spit it into the toilet. He did this a few more times while I grabbed a washcloth and dampened it in the sink. I knelt down next to Dale as he finished rinsing his mouth.

"Lean back," I commanded. "I'm going to wash your face."

Dale did as instructed, and I wiped the sweat and flecks of vomit off his face. It was the first time I'd ever really cared for him, and even in this horrible condition, I smiled. Dale opened his eyes and saw me smiling.

"Enjoying my pain?" he asked, a wry smile on his face.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm sorry you're sick. But I'm glad you're here, and I'm glad I can take care of you."

Dale lifted his head from the wall and watched me as I rinsed the washcloth and began to wipe down the toilet and floor.

"I'm sorry you had to take care of me," he said softly. "I was serious before. I've been a huge ass."

I kept working as I replied.

"It's all right. I knew Miette wasn't a serious thing. I was just mad that you'd try to shove me off on some guy you didn't even know. What if he was another Bryan?"

"I wasn't thinking straight," Dale tried to explain, but I waved him off.

"Forget about it," I said. "Seriously. It's not worth re-hashing. I'm just impressed that you're here now. I really thought you were going to Giselle's."

"I had been going, but I knew you were waiting on us, so I talked the others into coming back for you. They had been just going to stand you up."

I smiled as I rinsed the washcloth again and hung it up to dry.

"Speaking of standing up – and I'm glad you remembered me – do you think you can make it into the bedroom?"

Dale struggled to stand, and I reached a hand out to help him up. He staggered to his feet.

"Shit, I'm going to have a hangover in the morning," he said, holding his head. "In fact, I think it's starting already."

"Do you want something to eat?" I asked, leading him to his bed for the night. "And I have some serious ibuprofen in my bag if you want some."

"Would you mind?" he asked, lying down. "This really hurts."

I rushed over to my backpack and dug around for the drugs. I rinsed and refilled the water bottle in the bathroom and returned with both.

"Here," I said, handing him the pills and making sure he got them down.

"Thanks," he smiled wanly. "You're so good, to take care of me after all I've done to you."

"It's what you've doneforme that I remember. The only damage you've done is to yourself," I said softly. "Did you want some food? I picked up some chips in the hotel lobby."

"No," Dale replied, "not now. I think if I ate anything now, there would be another mess to clean up, and that's not your job."

I walked down to the end of the bed and started untying his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Dale asked.

"I'm making you more comfortable," I said, smiling up at him. "You're just a bit away from passing out, and you don't need to be moving around... at least, if I don't want to clean up another mess."

Dale closed his eyes and relaxed.

"Mmm, I think you're right," he said. "I'll pay you back for this, you know."

"Thisispayback, silly," I said, removing both his shoes and setting them by his backpack. "It's my way of thanking you for saving me from Bryan."

"But I didn't...," Dale answered.

I think he wanted to say more, but he fell asleep before he got the chance. I stood at the foot of the bed for a minute, watching his chest rise and fall, then turned and got ready for bed myself. Within an hour, we were both asleep.

*****

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE SPLIT

A loud bang and the sounds of multiple voices brought me from a sound sleep. I checked the clock. 4:45. The guys were back. I listed for a moment and discerned three distinct though drunken voices through the wall. At least they were all intact. I looked over at Dale. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I hoped his hangover was wearing off. I had heard that wine hangovers were particularly nasty.

The guys crashed around for a while, and then all was silent. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

I was just about there when I thought I heard a noise in the bathroom. My ears strained to make sense of the sound when the bathroom door handle rattled softly.

'Oh,' I thought to myself. 'Jared's bag is in here; he's come for his toothbrush or something.'

I closed my eyes as the door opened, pretending to be asleep. I saw no sense in letting Jared know I was awake. Quiet footsteps entered the room, but they didn't walk over to Jared's bag. They approached me instead. Heavy breathing reached my ears, and I panicked. One thought pounded into my head and heart simultaneously: Bryan... Bryan... Bryan.

I sensed him standing over me, and I thought that if I kept pretending I was asleep, he would go away. Seconds ticked past, each one seeming like minutes. Finally, I had to know, and I peeked through one eye. It was. Bryan. Leering like a monster, lording over me.

A small whimper escaped my lips as Bryan made his move. In one swift motion, he was on top of me, one hand covering my mouth and the other groping at my shirt. I let out a muffled scream and tried to fight back, but Bryan was both bigger and stronger than I was, even drunk, and my struggles only served to enflame him. His eyes roved over my body as he roughly jerked my shirt out from under the comforter and bared my chest. He growled with pleasure.

I bit down the hand covering my mouth, and Bryan responded instantly, reaching back and slapping me across the face with a force I had never felt in my life. I screamed involuntarily.

"Shut up, bitch," Bryan hissed, trying to grab the waistband of my pants.

I thrashed in the bed, trying to block his arms, but he simply held me down, tugging at my pants mercilessly. Just as he bared my pussy, and just before I went completely numb, Bryan flew backward as if jerked by some invisible string. I used the opportunity to pull my pants up and crawl off the bed. Instinctively, I looked for Dale. His bed was empty.

A moment later I heard a dull crack.

"You fucking son of a bitch," Dale snarled, drawing back his fist from where he had punched Bryan across the face. "You've touched her for the last time."

Bryan had stumbled backward with the first hit, and Dale didn't miss a beat. He took a step forward and punched him again, this time in the stomach. Bryan doubled in pain.

"I told her I'd kill you if you touched her again, and I've half a mind to do it," Dale continued, drawing back for another blow.

Bryan held up one hand, the other still holding his stomach. Dale was too far gone to quit. He threw another fist toward Bryan's head, and Bryan collapsed on the floor.

"Dale," I whispered as he glowered over Bryan.

He didn't respond to me, instead kicking Bryan in the ribs.

"Is this how you treat women?" Dale practically shouted. "I'll be damned if you do it on my watch."

"Dale," I said, more strongly.

This time, he blinked and looked up at me where I stood next to his bed.

"Don't kill him," I said. "Just get him out of here."

Bryan looked up at me, and then over at Dale. He moved slowly toward the bathroom door, but Dale blocked it.

"No," he said firmly. "He has to stay in here until someone else gets here. Can you hand me the phone, please, Sarah?"

I stretched the phone's tiny cord as far as it would reach. It was just long enough to reach Dale, but I couldn't put the phone down.

"That'll work," he said.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the business card his father had given him the afternoon before and tossed it toward me. I grabbed it and shot a glance at Bryan, who was now sitting against the wall holding his head and stomach. Dale was keeping a close eye on him, muscles tensed.

"See the number on the back?" Dale asked me.

I flipped the card over.

"Yes," I said.

"Read me that number."

"OK," I answered, reading off the digits. I noticed the number was only a four-digit number, but I didn't ask any questions, either. Dale wasn't in the mood for a nosy girl.

Dale dialed, and the phone rang several times before a groggy male voice answered. I recognized Dale's father's voice.

"This is Dale. Come now," he said.

"I'll be there in two minutes," the voice answered, and the line clicked dead.

Dale hung up the phone. There was a long pause.

"How can he be here in two minutes?" I asked Dale.

Dale glanced at me.

"He's in this hotel. Once I told him what was going on, he agreed to keep quiet as long as I told him where we were staying and promised to call him if anything else happened.

"He's going to escort you home," Dale kicked at Bryan, "and if you try anything funny, like going to the police, he'll tell what really happened."

A soft knock on the door intruded upon my thoughts. I answered it, and Dale's dad strode in, his hair a mess but dressed in a shirt and slacks.

"Something happened?" he asked Dale.

Dale nodded, motioning to Bryan, who was still drunk and defeated on the floor.

"Get him the fuck out of here," Dale ordered. "I don't want to see him again."

"What about the others?" his dad asked. "Do you want them gone, too?"

Dale hesitated, looking at me. I held out my hands as a sign of deference to his opinion. He shook his head.

"No," he said. "They want to go to Amsterdam; we'll just split up."

Dale's dad nodded.

"Good idea," he said. "We're bringing one home because he got sick; the others are still on the trip. No extra questions."

"No questions," Dale repeated.

Dale's father turned to me. I quailed under his firm gaze.

"What about your parents?" he asked. "It wouldn't be very responsible of me not to tell them what's been going on. After all, your dad only agreed to this trip if you were with other girls, and now here you are with four guys, one of whom has hurt you."

"Please don't tell them," I pleaded. "I know it probably wasn't smart of me to come, but I wanted to so badly. I've learned, and I'll tell them whatever they want to know when I get home, and if they have any questions, they can call you, but please, please, let me stay. Don't tell them."

I knew I was rambling, but I couldn't help it. Here was my chance to travel alone with Dale, and I didn't want it to end. I also didn't want to face my father if he found out what had been happening to his older daughter.

Dale's dad looked down at Bryan, then at Dale, then at me. He was thinking hard, making one of those adult decisions that can't be fathomed at age 18. Finally, he sighed.

"I'm this far into it," he said. "I might as well go all the way. Dale, you swear to me you'll take care of her for the rest of this trip?"

"On my life," Dale answered solemnly. "I've done a horrible job this far, but I'll protect her to the ends of the earth if I need to."

Dale's dad smiled tiredly.

"Right," he said. "Bryan, up. Let's go pack your bag. We leave at 10 a.m."

Bryan rose painfully and tottered into the other room. Dale went with him as they explained the situation to the others. Fifteen minutes later, Dale was back.

"It's all set," he said, collapsing on my bed where I was curled up on my pillow. "Bryan will go with my dad. He won't talk, under pain of the truth being known. Brad and Jared are also sufficiently scared, and they understand. They're heading for Amsterdam this morning and will spend the rest of their trip however they see fit. We're to head for Rome, like we planned, and do the same."

Dale rubbed his face, and then looked up at me. I crawled down the bed and sat behind him, wrapping him in a bear hug. He held my hands in front.

"Thank you," I whispered into his back. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here."

"I still should have protected you better. I should have made sure that door was blocked."

"Silly," I said, slapping him gently in the chest. "You passed out, remember? I tucked you in and you were out like a light. There's no way you could have known what Bryan would do."

Dale shook his head.

"I still should have done better. You deserve better."

"You aren't allowed to blame myself unless I'm allowed to blame myself," I responded matter-of-factly. "I could have checked that door just as easily as you could."

Just then, the door in question opened, and Dale's dad walked in, followed by Bryan.

"We're off," he said to Dale. "I'll phone your mother from the airport and let her know that Bryan is sick and coming home with me."

Dale stood, slipping out of my grasp as his father held out his hand for a shake. But instead of shaking his hand, he wrapped his father in a large hug. The older man hugged back, slapping his son on the shoulder.

"You've done well, son," he said. "You've done well. Keep it up."

As the men released each other, Dale's dad turned to me.

"Young lady," he said sternly, "you learn from this, understand? The world isn't made for women to travel with four men."

I nodded, chastened, but took the hand that was offered to me and shook it firmly.