Gypsy Boots

TUNNED

            "I can't go." Norma's voice, soaked in tears, is whisper soft.

            Stunned, I clutch the phone, "Normie, what is it?" My heart sinks to my toes. "What's wrong?"

            "My parents. They just told me, tonight, at dinner, they're getting a divorce."

            The silence between us grows. Her misery envelops me, and I try to figure out what to say. All my friend's parents have been married forever, never divorced. I hear Norma take a deep breath, "You understand, don't you? I have to stay, help them work this out. I just can't go with you, to Europe. I'm sorry."

"But we leave in four days," I plead, knowing that it's useless, wanting this to be just a bad dream. "Isn't there some way? We've been planning this trip for months."

"I'm sorry," she repeats. The finality in her tone hits me as if a door slammed shut in my face.

"Will you still go?" Norma asks. "Alone?"

Alone? The word reverberates as I grapple with what I'll do. I can't picture myself traveling alone in Europe, so far away without a close friend.  Even though we're not at all alike, we've been pals since we met in high school. Norma is short, with blond wavy hair and a petite build. I'm tall and thin, with long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She is quiet spoken. I tend towards exuberance. She's realistic, considers carefully what needs to be done, like now, faced with her parent's declared divorce. I'm romantic and tend to think that things will work out, as in fairy tales. She would be a perfect travel companion, but she's not going.

"Yes," I finally answer, adding hesitantly, "I think so." Staring through the doorway into the kitchen, where my mother is cleaning up the dinner dishes, I continue, "I have to figure it out. Good luck, you know, with your parents."

"Thanks. I'm so sorry."

"I know. I understand, Normie. I'm sorry, too, about everything." I set down the phone and stiffen my shoulders to face my parents. It was hard enough to convince them about taking this trip with Norma. Now what?

Walking into the kitchen on waves of disappointment, determined to hide any apprehension, I find my mind racing. How do I break this news to my mom and dad? I'm going to Europe alone.

It's the summer of 1958, and World War II ended just thirteen years ago, leaving a devastated Europe. Young American women go there on tours, with guides and hotel reservations. Norma and I were going to figure out our trip in process, to travel without fixed itineraries. We agreed that it would be more fun that way. My passage is booked on a Dutch ship sailing out of Montreal to Rotterdam. The train from Los Angeles to New York City, continuing on to Montreal, leaves in four days. Do I have the courage, determination, or whatever it takes, to cross the country and the Atlantic Ocean by myself, to wander without the support of a close friend? Will Europe be safe? Two college pals went to Europe