Goodbye England
To have loved and lost...
An essay on the importance of letting the heart speak in matters of love.
(All names here are changed to protect identities.)
A June 2008 copy of The National Geographic I found in a friend’s room in Manchester, during the fall of 2009, changed my life. On its cover was the iconic Stonehenge, one of Britain’s most cherished historical monuments and one of the Ancient Wonders of the World. I was on a student visa and realized that I may never have the chance to go back to the UK again, so I decided, rather grandiosely, that I’ll celebrate my birthday standing in front of those historical pillars. And chalk one of my items crossed on my bucket list.
I did some digging and found a tour group operating out of Leeds that did a weekend trip to the town of Bath, and, to Stonehenge the next day. And as luck would have it, it was on my birthday. I whipped out my debit card and booked myself a spot.
On my birthday, I was dressed warmly in my simple brown jacket and carried a backpack and a small tote bag. I stood at the assembly point on Bishopgate Street, a stone’s throw away from the Leeds Railway Station. A large bus pulled up and down came Levin, our tour guide and trip organizer. About 40 other students from the University of Leeds and other nearby colleges joined us on the trip. Our driver was Ernie, an elderly gentleman who’d lived in West Yorkshire for most of his life. As Ernie warmed up the bus, Levin went around checking passes and ID. When it was my turn he saw my passport, realized it was my birthday, and upgraded me from a dorm room to a shared room with a German Erasmus student named Marcus. After he left, a pretty British girl with brown hair and a green hoodie came over and sat next to me.
She introduced herself as Jill and she’d just overheard Levin, so she wished me a happy birthday. We started talking and she told me about the degree she was pursuing and how she moved up to Leeds from a small city in England’s south. After that, Marcus came up to me, introduced himself and we talked about how he was here to study at the Business School. But my mind was preoccupied, somewhere else. I desperately wanted to shoo Marcus away and talk to Jill, who was now with Akiko, the Japanese friend she’d come with. I’d felt the butterflies in my stomach only twice before this and I knew what the feeling was.
Soon enough Marcus left to go back to his girlfriend who was sitting in the back of the bus. And somehow, the universe heard my silently uttered wish and manifested it: Jill sat next to me for the remainder of the bus ride to the city of Bath and I had a big, dumb smile plastered on my face.
We reached Bath around mid-morning and it was a beautiful, cloudy day. Typical English weather. Levin gave us the lay of the land, a tourist map of Bath, and told us we had the rest of the afternoon to go exploring before convening at a restaurant for a group dinner. Mother Nature, ever watchful for her son, sent a mighty breeze that destroyed Jill’s umbrella. It was a riot—Jill was sandwiched between the umbrellas Akiko and I held, while Marcus and his girlfriend were behind us telling us where we should be going next. And up ahead were the Roman baths. We showed our tickets and went in.
After touring the Roman baths, we adjourned to the pump room to have a quick bite to eat and to taste a complimentary cup of the water from the baths. I remember it was sort of salty and had over 40 minerals!
Jill, Akiko, and I wandered around town, dragging our feet and talking about our travels. It suddenly started drizzling and a few minutes later it started pouring. We still had over two hours before we had to rendezvous with the group at the restaurant, so we ducked into a cafe and sipped on hot cocoa and espresso. As we spoke, my cheeks were blushing red and it wasn’t from the coffee. I was definitely starting to get a crush. Akiko, in all her wingman capacity, sensed this and kept her attention focused on the rain and her beverage, letting us talk.
Levin had made reservations for the group at Sally Lunn’s—one of Bath’s oldest houses turned into a fine-dining restaurant serving up fine English fare. As dessert was served, everyone suddenly turned around in their chairs to face our table. Marcus and Jill gave me cheeky smiles. Somebody awkwardly started singing the first lines of “Happy Birthday” which became more confident as others started chiming in. A waitress brought out a thick slice of chocolate cake with a lit candle in it and placed it on my table just as everyone finished singing my first name (which they miraculously nailed the pronunciation of).
It was the best birthday I’d ever celebrated and it still remains so. We all went to our respective dorm rooms and I fell asleep listening to Marcus snoring in his bunk bed. The next day we went to Stonehenge! Jill and I took pictures of us hugging rocks located a stone’s throw away (pun intended).
The trip ended with a visit to the historic village of Bibury in the Cotswolds. When we came back to Leeds, I wanted to trade numbers with Jill, with the hope of summoning the courage to ask her out on a date. But that’s when my brain pulled off the greatest sabotage of all time: it convinced me that it was a bad idea.
“Listen—mom and dad took out loans to get you here to study. You should focus on that and can’t afford to be distracted by matters of love. Besides, this is probably a silly crush; you know, the hormones talking. You’re here on a student visa; you have to go back home soon.”
And the worst one of all that I’ll never forgive myself for:
“And besides, she’s way outta your league. You don’t stand a chance. Don’t embarrass yourself and her by asking. She’s going to say no.”
And so that was that. I lost a chance at pursuing something meaningful because my brain spoke over my heart. She could have said no. She might have said yes. It might have been something. It could have been nothing.
But a friend of mine says it good to hear
That you believe in love even if set in fear
Well, I'll hold you there brother and set you straight
I only believe true love is frail and willing to break
Every year, on my birthday, I briefly think about the time I went to Stonehenge and hugged rocks with Jill. I imagine she’s still in England somewhere, happily married, watching the snow fall with her family, never to know how she made a young lad’s heart flutter. The first few years after, the memory brought sadness; now, it brings a smile.
—Nikhil.
P.S. It’s not my birthday today, but thank you to anyone who does wish me in the comments.
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My brain immediately spun a story where someone forwards this story to Jill, who is miraculously available and living in North York, Ontario.
Thank you for sharing this EP track of your life! I kept thinking it would be a happily-ever-after Hallmark ending...just goes to show the heart is usually right but rarely followed...