Sucked into Employment

I was getting homesick.

Not for the States – sorry, Mom – but for the house. For the feel of the brick red tiles under my feet, the smell of lavender and sea salt and eucalyptus in my laundry, the cozy solitude of the little red attic room. As it so often does, my heart longed for Camarat.

My body was too tired to care. I ached; the muscles in my back screamed in agony and the acid-soaked blisters and cuts on my fingers kept me up at night. (The mosquitoes didn’t help either.) Working on the boat was difficult and tiresome, and I wanted the beautiful embrace of “home” in the south of France. I had it all planned out: I’d wait on the stonewall outside and watch people come and go; in my solitude I’d do laundry and sort my own crazy life out; when there were people at the house, I’d walk down to L’Esquinade and spend the day baking in the sun and drinking rosé. I wouldn’t impose and I’d have the views, the peace, the beach. My muscles would rejuvenate, my wounds would heal.

I should have realized this afternoon it wasn’t going to happen as planned.

It was five o’clock and I was still polishing the copious amounts of bronze surfaces present on the boat. My boss startled me. “It’s past five; we need to wrap up.”

I stifled a laugh. ‘We?’ After giving me my instructions in the morning, I hadn’t seen the man all day. I like to think he was busy working, but the rest of the crew keep assuring me he was just smoking cigarettes by the container a few blocks away.

“Um, well,” I responded, unsure of what to say but eager for my wages and thrilled to have some time to recoup. “So, we’re through, huh?”

He nodded. “Yep, thanks, good job.”

“Do you want my number in case more day work comes up?”

“Oh, well,” he gave me a puzzled look and immediately I thought he just said I did a good job just to make me feel better about being clueless. “Tony didn’t tell you? There’s work all lined up for you for next week, and possibly this weekend.”

So much for my days of solitude and beach lounging. But, as a soon-to-be student living off of U.S. dollars in an expensive euro city, I couldn’t say no. I was just sad it would cut into time with Ludovic, who I am so excited to see.

He laughed. “Yea, these boats, they suck you in. It’s the money, eh?”

I soaked in his question. Sailboats surrounded us; the sun still hung in the sky, dancing off the waves and painting everything gold. “And the views.”

In my heart, I knew the views from Camarat will always be better.

So tomorrow I wrap up life at the Hotel Giscle… for a night, or two.