Barcelona With Love

Chapter 1: What do you mean, Europe?

Sometimes I’m convinced that if God created the universe, he did it with a sense of humor. Out of all the people who were ever born and raised in history, each one of them was given a major flaw they could never fully understand. It’s why you often see guys with anger issues when they drive on the highway or are stuck in traffic during rush hour. Friends with a big talent for saying the wrong things at the wrong time. And even those who end up in New Jersey when they were aiming for New York—all because of their inability to read the map downloaded on their phone.

Rachel, my girlfriend, expects me to text her when to pick me up for our weekly date night. But my flaw is people-watching at my campus library when I really should be studying for exams.

Uni campuses like mine tend to have finance bros who believe they’re already millionaires after one unpaid internship and a crypto investment. Doctorate candidates who are experts in one field of study but can’t be relied on to save anyone’s life on a plane. Liberal arts majors who have 4.0 GPAs yet have no jobs. Science majors who are geniuses on paper yet are hopeless when it comes to social interactions. Most of us are caffeinated zombies who love memes and hate quizzes. 

But I shouldn’t be criticizing others when I’m not perfect myself. After all, I bought two one-way tickets to Barcelona without telling a soul. One for myself, and one for my girlfriend. Did I earn brownie points for wanting to surprise her with tapas in Spain for our fifth anniversary? Was I being a hopeless romantic or plain stupid? But in retrospect, I also had Barcelona and other European cities on my mind to visit. It sounded like a once in a lifetime adventure. Well, at least to me, considering what I learned about my family—our heritage and genetic makeup to be exact.

Thanks to a combination of historical records and DNA testing, my parents found out they were descendants of Ladino-Jews that lived in Spain centuries ago. Records showed their ancestors migrated to Northern Africa sometime after the Spanish Inquisition. Eventually, they made it to Montreal sometime in the late 19^th century. It’s still wild to me those records actually exist. And in 2020, we managed to get our Spanish citizenship back after three years of proving our birthright.

If it hadn’t been for the pandemic and general laziness, we would’ve done a family trip to see where our ancestors called home. But as time marched on, the subject was never revisited. Maybe I felt desperate to understand a past I never knew, anxious to share that part of me with Rachel. And if I didn’t go now, I feared graduating only to be at a company that hated the definition of “PTO”. Hunched over a table in a library that smelled of tears and piss, studying was impossible.

God knows I have a lot to explain. Every day for a year, I obsessively refreshed my FlightHub account and counted down the hours until our departure. I didn’t have a game plan whatsoever and questioned if I should get a refund. After all, Rachel never liked it when I made impulsive decisions. She thrived more on scheduling events in advance on her calendar. But I had faith I’d make Barcelona sound exciting. Naively, I assumed we had months to figure out details.

Maybe the first question that springs to mind is this: Who do you think you are? 

Believe me, I’m asking myself the same thing. First off, my name is Noah Pérez and I’m currently a third-year architecture student. I come from a normal Sephardic household, grew up in my family’s successful catering business, and developed a love for watching how things are made.

Looking back, maybe that’s why I was so drawn to architecture since my curiosity for skyscrapers and design structure never wavered in my head. I’ve also dated the same person since high school. Rachel is a gorgeous Italian-Jewish woman that has radiant blue eyes, a fashion sense that’d put most Vogue models to shame, and a heart of gold that made her a loving partner. Acts of service was our love language and the question of “Did you eat?” was our equivalent to “I love you”. She was the best. And if I’m being honest, she was the most caring person I’d ever known.

What’s crazy is, Rachel also came from a real estate empire. You can only imagine how my parents reacted when they found out I was dating a Segreto from “Segreto Estates”. It doesn’t matter that we fell in love for every reason except money and pedigree. It also didn’t matter we were growing apart lately and the “fifth anniversary trip” was my hope to rekindle things. Nobody knew the boring discussions we had about school and our resumes. Everyone assumed I’d propose. 

But when I think of university and where I see myself, I’ve done mostly everything right. I’ve gotten straight As and Bs in school. I’ve only gotten drunk and threw up at four house parties. I even had summer jobs that prevented me from asking my parents for money to get an Xbox. Other than getting married, buying an expensive house I can’t afford, and having kids or ten dogs, I’ve done everything to make everyone happy based on my family’s expectations. But what does “everything” mean to me? I don’t really know yet. That’s when I hear God and his angels laughing.

Sitting in the library with two people from my group project, it doesn’t feel like I’m any closer to finding my everything than I am to flipping over a table. It seems at the end of the day we’ll get the same jobs whether we pass or fail. All of us will graduate and forget about our hopes for the future just to make $50,000 salaries. Buy groceries and make dinner. Rent expensive apartments. Maybe, train for a 5K marathon in our spare time. It’s a vicious cycle. And what if I never leave the matrix? Would I lose my sanity? It was then I did what most university students do at least five times a week: I questioned my degree. It’s an existential crisis that keeps me humble and romanticizes my internal pain. And it was during that breakdown I got a message from Rachel.  

Hey, babe, hope you’re studying hard! Rachel texted in her upbeat corporate tone.

She was a third year in human resources, so it was a language ingrained in her mind. But she was also a secretary at Segreto Estates, and we joked she was turning into a “corporate baddie.”

Please don’t forget to give me your passport info tonight for our Amalfi vacation, okay? My dad bugged me about it this morning. You know him. He likes being organized.

The Segreto family’s vacation by The Amalfi Coast was a sacred tradition. For about three decades they’ve helped generations of Italian locals retire by spending obscene amounts of money in Positano to compete with their other millionaire friends. You know, to see who can do life the best. The same resort. The same food. The same yachts. And based on Rachel’s Instagram photos, the same experience. But it shocked everyone when Mr. Segreto invited me to come this summer.

I’m going to find out when my last exam is this Friday, so can I give it to you then? I replied after a while.Does that sound good? I’ll even talk to Pope Segreto on your behalf.

Stop trying to annoy me, Rachel didn’t like it when I referred to her father like that. But I thought you meant last Friday. So, which one is it? Are you sure we can’t do this tonight?

I don’t think we can, babe. But if it makes you feel better, I do have a surprise.   

If I knew I’d be in this predicament, I would’ve never gotten the Barcelona tickets. God is a comedic genius. And I’m convinced he uses my life as an outlet to foster chaos. I prayed Rachel might’ve seen my gesture as a redeemable quality for being an idiot. She’d love Barcelona, right?

Omg, he’s going to be so mad! Rachel texted me, fifteen minutes later. Why can’t you be on top of things? I knew when my finals would be last month. Can you figure this out before I pick you up? Just ask someone, Noah. Are you with friends from your class now?

Did you not read the part where I said I’ve got a surprise for you?

It’s like you don’t even take the time to hear me sometimes, Rachel wrote back. And I’m tired of reminding you to do things that are important for me. You should know better.

So, I guess you don’t want to know what I’ve got in mind? Even if it’s amazing?

The people sitting with me noticed the look on my face. Since I was a baby, my mother used to say she could read everything about me in my facial expressions. It apparently made me easy to read, which happened to be inconvenient if I denied eating sweats before dinner or failed a math test. Cynically, she gave me the nickname “DiCaprio” whenever she caught me lying. She even signed me up for theater as a child to put my “acting” to good use. And it’s insane that mothers tend to be right. Even though I tried to hide the fact I was getting anxious with Rachel, it showed. 

God, why can’t you stop joking and get serious? Rachel texted. The corporate tone never lasted when we argued. Didn’t you know we leave for Italy every August? Haven’t you noticed me gone half the summer the last four years? Are you saying you don’t care what I do, babe? You’re just the worst sometimes. We’ll talk when I park. Love you to the moon.

“Oh, who was that?” Jake asked when I tossed my phone in my bag.

He was a school friend and the only person I liked in my group project. Ever since our internship last year, Jake and I have been close. But with closeness to another person sometimes means knowing private things about them that would’ve otherwise been a mystery. I knew that he still wore Batman pajamas and once set a toaster on fire. On the other hand, he knew about Rachel.

“It’s just my girlfriend,” I replied. “You know, so it’s really just nothing.”

“Ah, so when do you inherit millions?” Jake teased. “I want an invite to that wedding.”

“I love how you bring that up at the worst possible times!” I said, feeling annoyed by his somewhat unfunny jokes. “All you see is the money part. You don’t care about everything else.”

“Hey, and why is that a bad thing? How many office buildings, condos, and skyscrapers did the Segreto family develop in Canada and the US alone? Maybe, close to a hundred thousand?”

Between you and me, the reputation I got amongst my peers for having a wealthy girlfriend in real estate is something I dreaded. Even though I grew up middle-class and was currently drowning in student debt, people wrongly assumed Rachel’s life was my own. I never wanted her to worry about the unwanted jealousy I got in my program, which eventually made me hate group work and class projects with a burning passion. That wasn’t fair to us or our relationship. But it was a misconception that downplayed my accomplishments. I earned a 3.7 GPA, so just imagine.

“That’s not the fucking point, though,” I said to Jake. “I apply to internships and study for exams and work hard to understand the craft of architecture like everybody else. I’m not special.”

“Yeah, but the difference is you have all kinds of connections nobody else has because of who your girlfriend is and her family’s reputation,” Christina said, one of the brightest students in our class and Jake’s new partner. “All you need to do is ask Rachel’s dad to call one of his many CEO friends and you’re basically set. I’d keep that in mind if I were you. Not everyone is lucky.”

If there was something I really hated about living in the shadow of the Segreto family, this was it. After years of studying, internships, caffeine, and late nights at the library much like tonight, I was still labeled as being on the “good side of politics” so to speak. Often, it led people in my class to try befriending me with the cringiest motives. They’d buy me Starbucks. Send me lecture notes. Give me positive feedback on my designs. And even go as far as endorsing me on LinkedIn.

The funny thing about this whole situation was I didn’t even want to be in real estate development. After my last internship at a firm that specialized in Urban Design & Planning, I knew that’s where I’d make a genuine impact in my hometown of Montreal. It was fulfilling to be part of innovative projects, to help build parks in areas that needed them and redefine schools to make kids feel more at home. The world had enough offices and condo buildings in my opinion. It’s exactly what Segreto Estates did in North America and exactly what I didn’t want. None of it had soul. And my dream was to inspire everyday people on the street. I wanted to be a real artist.

“Neither of you guys understand,” I heard myself say out loud, while Jake and Christina looked at me confused. “It’s great to be with Rachel, that’s for sure. But it’s not always what you think. Fuck, I mean, there are negative things too. Don’t you ever feel like… actually, never mind.”

That’s when I raked my hands through my hair and began to walk back and forth. Tears rushed to the border of my eyelids the more I paced. Not only would Jake and Christina judge my emotional state, but I thought so would Rachel when she’d arrive. When I sat back down to rejoin my group, their energy changed. They both looked at me with a lot more sympathy and concern.

“Are you okay?” Christina said to me like a worried parent.

“Yeah, bro, we were only kidding,” Jake said. “Honestly, we thought you were ready to propose. Is that why you’re suddenly acting weird? Talk to us. We’re the only people here tonight.”

Was Christina already a good influence on Jake? This was a serious question I asked myself. After all, he was more of a shit-sandwich kind of guy when it came to approaching people’s feelings and giving advice. Some in our class even perceived him as a douchebag because of this. But with that in mind, I showed them the discount flight sites and travel vlogs open on my laptop.

“Do you ever feel the world is calling your name?” I asked. “I can’t stop thinking of my family’s history in Barcelona centuries ago. I know I’ve told you about this before, Jake. And it’s like they’re living rent free in my head. I want to go to Spain. But maybe, I can also visit other European countries along the way. Have a wild Euro adventure like in the movies. It’d be a dream to see the sites with my own eyes. And to carry it into my work here. Hopefully, Rachel will be open to join me. Her family has other plans, but I also got her a ticket for our fifth anniversary.”

“Is this something you brought up with her?” Christina asked. It was a fair question.

“No, well, she likes going to The Amalfi Coast with her family in the summer. They own property there, so it’s convenient. That’s why I’m scared. What if she doesn’t like the whole idea?”

“Then go alone,” Christina said, matter-of-factly. “If you really, really think you need this experience of self-discovery, then you have to do what you have to do. Get it out of your system.”

Did Christina suggest what I think she did? Was I dared to solo travel like an unhinged Anthony Bourdain type character? That scared me a lot more than confronting Rachel. I wasn’t that edgy or daring of a person. I was a good student with a bright future. Or was it all in my head?

“I agree because things won’t be the same once we graduate and start working forty hours a week. Sometimes more, depending on the companies that hire us and our daily cost of living,” Jake said, gloomily. It was as though post-grad realities were never too far away from his mind.

“So, what if Rachel hates the idea and gives me a hundred reasons—”

“Why on earth would she?” Christina interrupted. “If she loves you like I think she does, she’ll go with you to France, England, Spain, or wherever you want to go in Europe. That’s how great relationships work, you know? You can go to Mars after exams, and she’ll follow you there.”

“In that case, Rachel might demand we visit the whole galaxy!” I joked.

“It’s how she was raised, though,” Christina replied. “But love is universal and often intangible. That’s what makes it so beautiful. And so difficult to manage. It’s struggle. It’s pain and compromise. And if Rachel is in love with you, she’ll be the first one to join you on this once in a lifetime travel adventure you seem to crave. You just said it: she may plan the whole itinerary.”

Even with Christina’s naïve optimism, I wasn’t sure how Rachel would react to the idea of Barcelona or Spain. Besides, she loves her Italian summer trips. It’s where she connects with her cousins and good family friends. She’s even invited her tight circle of former popular girls from high school in previous years. The Amalfi Coast and that resort in Positano meant the world to her. Knowing she’d be at the library any minute, I felt nervous about my “anniversary surprise”.

Nowadays, our date nights were the only moments in our relationship when we didn’t fight. Quality time was another popular love language for us, so we made the effort to keep things light.  

“Maybe you have a point,” I said to Christina. “Love can make you do things you wouldn’t normally do. Who knows, I’m sure we can go to Rome after Barcelona? I could do more research.”

“That’s the spirit, man!” Jake added. “It’s true. You never know sometimes. Maybe, she’ll get her dad to take his business to Spain? I can’t even begin to imagine the potential down there.”

For ten minutes, we laughed and debated how that could benefit Segreto Estates. After all, companies need to maintain their growth. We got sucked into the fantasy of having our projects last forever like the Gothic Cathedral. But in the middle of that discussion, we heard a loud voice.

“Hello?” Rachel said, waving her phone with frustration in her eyes.

I got my phone from my bag and saw a hundred missed calls and texts.

“Sorry, babe!” I tried to apologize. “We’ve been swamped with deadlines.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Rachel said, not even acknowledging Jake and Christina. “We have dinner reservations we’re going to miss if we don’t hurry up. You studied enough. Let’s go.”

 

                                                       ******

After we exited the library, Rachel clicked open her new Audi Q3 that was parked near the building. In the car, she questioned my commitment to our date nights and ranted on about how we’d miss our reservation because of me ignoring her. But to be honest, it wasn’t the first time I’ve made us late either. Even as I pleaded my case, there was no use in rebottling since I was in the wrong. Scrolling online, I tuned her out. It captured the last year of our relationship.

But on drives like tonight, I wished to go back to when I asked Rachel to prom. Not only was it a simpler time, yet it was before we got to where we are now. It was before university, conflicting schedules, and different social circles made us drift apart. Rachel enjoyed bougie clubs and I liked rundown bars with character. She thrived on gossip while I despised it. I liked watching documentaries and she liked reality tv shows. Maybe these are frivolous things. But at the end of day, everything added up. I remember the first day of high school when I discovered her locker was only ten feet away from mine. And I also remember being more courageous, full of a vigor and energy that pushed me to ask her out. We used to be special together. Once in a generation.

Rachel was intimidating in those days. After all, she hung out with the popular crowds and most guys outside of that clique were either too scared to approach her or assumed she was dating someone on the football team. But our senior year, Rachel and I were the main leads in the school play Romeo & Juliet. Thankfully, high school athletes tend to hate the arts and I was a classic nerd.

Was it a cheesy idea by our school’s drama teacher to also have the play set in the 21^st century and to include other scenes and characters to make the production more “relevant” to the rest of our class? Maybe. I’m not denying it for her or your benefit. But it also gave me a lot of alone time with Rachel. And that’s when I learned how big of a heart she possessed and how much she cared for the ones she loved. One day, she told me I was a cute Romeo. The rest was history.

God, it’s almost satirical how people evolve and change over the years. If I could go back to the long hours rehearsing our lines, the wine and liquor we stole from her house to “loosen up”, and the first time we kissed at our school’s empty stage one morning at 8:00 am, I’d do it in a second. Crazy as it sounds, I don’t remember the last time we connected on that intimate level. Even though our love story once rivaled a high school rom com, that “story” and those same people are forever lost in the past. And something tells me the universe planned it this way for a reason.

When we got to Rachel’s favorite restaurant in Montreal’s Saint-Leonard neighborhood, I didn’t want to accept our relationship was crumbling. One red flag was the amount of routine we had. From the times we’d meet after school, the people we’d go out with on a Saturday night, the days we’d see her parents, the days we’d see mine, and everything else in between. Half the time, I tried to adjust my life around Rachel. But the issue was one date night once a week wasn’t enough to maintain the spark in our relationship. Not anymore. Something needed to change, or a breakup was inevitable. I didn’t want to be stuck in an endless cycle of disagreements forever. And if Rachel loved me, Christina was right. Maybe, Barcelona had potential to revitalize our connection.

“Noah!” Rachel shouted to get my attention. “Are you going to order something?”

Suddenly, I noticed the waiter standing in front of me with a pen and little notepad. He flashed a brief grin at me. But you could tell he was losing patience. It appeared that I zoned out.

“Oh, give me whatever she’s having—”

“No, Antonio, please get him a margherita pizza,” Rachel said, giving him a warm look that made him reciprocate the same energy. “I doubt he’ll like my salad. Thanks so much again!”

Back when we started dating, I didn’t mind the fact Rachel corrected my orders, gave me instructions on how to dress, and things of that nature. Maybe, I was a little bit of a pushover in retrospect. But at the end of the day, I knew she meant well. It all started in the weeks leading up to prom, where Rachel would give me extensive notes on what type of suit to buy from the colors, the fabric, and the place it was made. Over the years, I learned that she was a perfectionist and a wannabe fashion blogger. Her image meant everything. Most of the time, it was cute. But now and then, I wasn’t sure if Rachel wanted me to be the best version of myself for her benefit or mine. It felt like she was trying to shape me into the man her family and immediate circle would approve.

“So, want to drive by your house later?” Rachel asked. “That way, we can get your passport info and get organized. Remember the pics I sent you of our villa last year? Well, we just got it renovated. I can’t wait for you to see Italy, babe. You’re in architecture, so I know you’ll love it.”

The old Noah would’ve complied without hesitation. But that’s when a calmness passed through me like a presence that demanded to be recognized. Suddenly, I couldn’t hear the lively chatter in the restaurant and felt my heart speak to me at that moment. I haven’t experienced this before or since. But I found it unsettling. Was there a ghost trying to warn me about Italy? Was it an unspoken type of language only my heart can understand and poorly translate? Maybe, that’s why there’s a lot of interpretation when it comes to making choices—there isn’t a section on Google Translate that makes the process of understanding your gut easier. If I had to take a guess at the expense of God’s entertainment, I was being guided towards taking a leap into the unknown.    

“Did you know Barcelona was painted by an architect named Antoni Gaudi?” I heard myself say out loud, while confusion was all over Rachel’s face. “I read online he designed his church the Sagrada Familia to be this kind of love letter to the Bible and everything that matters—” 

“Stop, how is this relevant to getting your passport?” Rachel cut me off. “I know it’s hard for you never getting invited to Amalfi, but you know how my family is. I’m the youngest daughter and my parents are in denial about me growing up. But they invited you this year because I made it clear you’re my future. I just hope you think the same. Can we focus on the task at hand, babe?”

“What do you mean?” I said, internally freaking out. “I don’t like it when we talk about this kind of stuff. I can’t even tell you what I’m doing after I go home. But you know our future?”

“Don’t you see me in it with you?” Rachel’s voice trembled. “Organization was never really your forte, but I never doubted whatever future you pictured for yourself included me too.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just graduation feels like a million years from now.”

“Couples at our stage plan for it, babe,” Rachel said. “And the fact I need to chase you for any kind of action says a lot. It’s conversations like this that make me think my parents are right.”

“About what? That I’m lazy and you should go out with a doctor or lawyer?”

“You don’t let me help you enough,” Rachel said after a pause. “All I want is for us to be the power couple we were in high school. But lately, I feel that… you stopped being my Romeo.”  

“Well, what if I can be that again?” I replied, optimistic Rachel would now appreciate what I had in store. “Do you ever feel overwhelmed with the same boring routine? The final exams. The same friends. The same work and everyday headaches. Don’t you want to do something different?”

“That’s what vacations in Italy are for, babe,” Rachel said, looking at me like I was high. “Why are you trying to create a problem out of nothing? Did you wake up and decide it’d be funny to get on my nerves? Seriously, we need to have this discussion. Please don’t run away from it.”

“I don’t have to try if I want to piss you off, so I’m going to say no.”

Before Rachel erupted, Antonio returned with our dinner. Even though the aroma of pizza defused things, our tension grew as we enjoyed our meals. The silence was louder than the noise in that busy restaurant. But since I had a ten second window until she began talking again, this was my big chance—Rachel needed to know about my big surprise. She had to know about Barcelona.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start anything. But I don’t want us to go to Italy.”

Rachel looked up from her plate. Her face turned red and that’s when I got scared.

“Remember when I told you about my family’s history in Spain?” I continued. “I’ve been dying to go since I was fifteen. But I also want to see other parts of Europe. Everything is close—”

“What do you mean, Europe?” Rachel shrieked.

It was like she was hit with a plot twist she didn’t expect. And if I was just a stranger at the table next to us, I would’ve thought that someone died or I got backstage passes for Taylor Swift. 

“I have tickets for Barcelona,” I finished. “And I think it’ll be fun to go together.”

“But since when?” Rachel said. “That was your surprise? And why are you bringing this up to me so randomly? Don’t you think I would’ve liked a say in this decision? I don’t understand.”

“Please, can you stop acting like you’re my mom? It’s honestly going to be fine.”

 “If I don’t, who will?” Rachel said. “Maybe next year, okay? This is too short notice.” 

“Sorry, but I got us tickets for our fifth anniversary. Barcelona looks incredible. And your parents can miss you for one vacation, right? We can always meet up with them later. I want to do this with you. In fact… I can’t imagine seeing where my family originates from with anyone else.”

Rachel got so quiet that it was uncomfortable. It was the kind of silent treatment you dreaded, like waiting months to hear back from a job you applied for only to get a toneless rejection letter. Or worse, the anticipation you feel when you’re waiting for your teacher to give you the results of your exam. I noticed Rachel struggling to find the right way to express herself from the look in her eyes. Little did I know, hard truths were about to come to light. And it felt long overdue.

“I don’t understand what’s going on?” Rachel said on the verge of tears. “After dating me for almost five years and knowing about my family vacation plans, you still dropped this on me?”

“How was I supposed to know I’d ever be invited to Amalfi?” I tried to reason.

She rolled her eyes and glared at me like she wanted to hit me with a metal bat. But despite that, I was still optimistic I’d sell her on Barcelona. A few travel vlogs and pics would do the trick.

“I want to give us a chance to have our own vacation and traditions. I want to connect with my family’s past. And I can’t wait until next year. It’ll be the bounding experience of a lifetime.”

“And what happens if I say no?” Rachel asked. “It’s sweet of you to do this. But I’m sorry, the timing of this gesture is just way off. My dad has stressed me out all day because of you. What am I supposed to tell him now? That you decided to surprise me by trying to ruin our family trip?”

“Have you seen photos of Barcelona? Or Paris? Did you ever see Greece and teleport to another dimension? I’m also down to see Rome at one point. It’s the city of love as they say, you know? We’d still be in Italy and meet up with your family later. I don’t get why you must only go to Positano, Amalfi, or wherever. Let’s build our own traditions. It could be yearly if it goes well.”

“Okay, now you’re all over the place!” Rachel said. “Is this one of your practical jokes?”

“No, but… maybe we need this. I feel like we’ve grown apart the last year,” I heard myself say out loud. “And I get it. We have different lives and responsibilities. I also get that you have a lot of friends and family and that it’s hard to make time for us. But I see Barcelona as a chance to reset. We’re going to be together five years this August. Five. And it really should be celebrated.” 

“Enough!” Rachel said, making eye contact with our waiter to ask for the check. “You did everything backwards. And if we’ve dated for almost five years, you should know I’m family oriented. You really think I’d ditch them for some half-baked Euro trip with you? Are you crazy?”

Antonio came before I could respond. But Rachel’s frustration was evident if you saw her face. It made things awkward while I took the terminal from Antonio and paid for our dinner. After, Rachel got up and left the restaurant so quickly that I had to jog after her towards the car. Both of us were in our own heads when she began driving me home. Every red light seemed to last much longer than before tonight. I remember thinking of what to say next to lighten the mood.

“Maybe we need to take a break this summer,” Rachel murmured almost under her breath.

“I don’t understand?” I replied. “If you’re talking about a vacation, I’m already with you.”

“I’m not in the mood to fight anymore,” Rachel said. “But you’re right: we’re too invested in our own worlds. It’s true, we’re starting to hold each other back. And I don’t want us to resent each other. Maybe, if we have time apart, explore other things, and then come back refreshed, we could begin again. And see how we feel after we’re back. You can go to Spain. But not with me.”

“No, wait… are you being serious?” I said, feeling tears at the border of my eyelids.

“Don’t be a baby,” Rachel said after a pause. “You wanted Barcelona and now you got it.”

“But this was supposed to be our anniversary trip,” I pleaded. “Why don’t you want to go?”

“Family is my everything,” Rachel said, abruptly parking in front of a metro station. “And I’m not going to choose you over them. I never thought in my life that you would put that on me. I hope you find what you’re looking for. And I also hope you reconnect with your own family, find yourself, or whatever. So, yes. Let’s pause for right now. Please text me when you get home.”

“I still don’t get why a break is necessary?” I replied. “Can we discuss it again tomorrow?”

“Babe, if you won’t let me in… then it’s clear there’s a lot you need to figure out,” Rachel softly replied. “You could’ve gotten a refund on the Barcelona tickets when you got invited to Positano. But you didn’t and this just adds to a long list of problems we’ve been having. It’s too much and it shouldn’t feel that way. We’re graduating soon and I don’t want us to have bad blood.”

“How long is this going to last?” I asked, before getting out of the car. “A day or two?”

“Let’s sleep on it and chat tomorrow, okay?” Rachel said. “But I think it’ll be good for us.”

Rachel dropped me off at a grim looking blue line metro station in Côte-des-Neiges. It was one of the loneliest, most desolate areas that you’ll ever come across. Yes, it’s well-documented Montreal is famous for preserving its “natural charm” by maintaining the unique architectural build of certain houses, apartments, and even whole neighborhoods. But if you live in Montreal like I do, there are also lots of forgotten, rundown boroughs that should’ve been given new life decades ago. Around the time I transferred from the blue line onto the orange to go home, I felt my heart speak to me again. Rachel and I weren’t what we were, but maybe I needed to become a different version of myself to love her better? Strangely, it appeared things were going to plan. I was brave enough to share what was on my mind. Maybe now, I was steps closer to finding my “everything.”