I felt like a shoe.

An old, decrepit shoe.

A rejected, redundant, superfluous shoe that had been tossed out into a cold muddy puddle on the side of a busy road in rush-hour traffic.

A miserable, forlorn heel left to fend for herself in the world were all the other shoes had a plus one and weren’t being mashed into the tarmac by woman drivers in SUVs.

A sad shoe, with scuffmarks down the side, a hole in the toe and a peeling soul.

A shoe that finds herself in the mouth of a pug with bad breath, on the foot of a homeless woman with bunions, on the unfashionable hoof of a sweaty glam rocker with a fungal infection.

Now times all that by one hundred, to the power of eleven, round it off to the next decimal place, throw in two extra zeros for good measure and add it to infinity -- and then maybe, maybe -- you can begin to understand how I felt right now.

Oh, and did I mention that the shoe had also been regurgitated by an anaconda after it accidentally ate the glam rocker?

The boat ride back to the mainland had been a painful affair, literally. No longer in the Damien daze, I had very much noticed the steep incline that we had to climb down to reach the boat. No longer in possession of the hero’s hand, I’d slipped down some steps and grazed my elbow, bruised my bum and had a lovely little bump smack bang between my eyes.

The misery that I felt as I sat on that boat, in between someone’s soon-to-be seafood super and a raver on too much ecstasy, was… was… *

*Mentally checking Thesaurus for a word that makes ‘excruciating’ sound like something used to describe the sensation of a raindrop falling on your head.

By the time I’d disembarked, it was already early evening. Phuket had turned her lights on and the night creatures in short skirts were filling up her streets. I walked up the road in search of a Tuk-Tuk and I couldn’t believe that a few days ago I’d been afraid of taking one on my own. Bad Karaoke rang out and the smells of street food filled the air.

Since I’d been away, my Internet fame had clearly escalated because despite my current state, I wasn’t oblivious to the staring and pointing aimed in my direction. At first it didn't bother me; I could almost ignore the whispering, and could block out the gasping and pointing, but when a woman walked up to me with a concerned look in her eyes and asked me if I needed help, I lost it.

I claimed centre stage in the middle of the street, held my arms open wide and screamed, (My mother would have been so proud)

“Yes, people! It’s me. Get over it, okay!”

They all stared. Some people took a step back, and an alarming number of them took out their phones and started dialling. Oh, shit! Surely they weren’t going to call the cops over a tiny public display of emotion. A Tuk-Tuk came towards me and I jumped in quickly. I had no desire to be arrested twice in one week. That was definitely my limit.

“The White Sands Hotel and Spa, please,” I managed to mumble to the driver as I got in.

The driver glanced back at me. “You look like you need drink,” he said in a thick Thai accent.

“Damn right. I just wish I had one.” And I did. A strong one.

“Here,” the little man reached over the chair and passed me a cigarette and a lighter.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Looks like good time to start.”

And for some reason, that sounded like a very bloody brilliant idea. He was right, it was a good time to start. Yes, smoking cigarettes would surly make me feel better.

So I lit one. It was disgusting. It made me cough, and it gave me a queasy, nauseous, head rushy feeling.

I LOVED IT!

Having a dreadful physical sensation to focus on made the emotional pain seem sooo much smaller. So I demanded that the man stop at the nearest shop so I too could come into possession of my very own box of cigarettes.

And he did. And I smoked all the way back to the hotel, which gave me a blinding headache, a sore throat and a throbbing lung.

It was exactly what I needed. 

We pulled up to the reception area, by now it was early evening, and I paid him and thanked him for introducing me to cigarettes. I climbed out of the Tuk-Tuk and then caught sight of myself in the mirrored door…

Imagine an undiscovered wild woman who’s been living in the jungles of Papua New Guinea her whole life and was raised by apes.

But who the hell cared, right? Certainly not me. By this stage, I was so used to looking like shit that it no longer surprised me.

There was a very large ‘no smoking’ sign on the door, so I was forced to stand outside and finish my cigarette. Only ten minutes as a smoker and I was already starting to feel the discrimination! While I waited, I pulled out my phone and realised that it hadn’t been on in days, so I fired it up and watched a million messages flood my screen. I tossed my cigarette away and started walking and reading.

Sweetie. Where are you? Should we be worried? Val 

Lilly, I can’t get hold of you. Dad

 Sweetie!! Where the hell are you? We’re getting worried. Sue

Lilly, your mother and I are getting very worried.

WTF babe. There is a weird photo of you on the Internet. Are you okay? Val

Lilly, Val has shown me a photo of you and I am very worried. Call me.

Babe, if you don’t call us back TODAY we are all getting on a plane to Thailand.

Lilly, call me back or I’m coming over there. I’m worried.

Ok, that’s it. We’re all at the airport and we are coming over.

Lilly, your brothers and I are at the airport. We hope you are okay. Dad.

I was nearly at my room when I lit up another cigarette. The nicotine had obviously affected my brain somehow because it took several more reads of that last message before I clicked. I opened the door to my room…

It was a circus.

Val and Sue where sitting cutting out pieces of paper with my photo on and the word MISSING in red above it. My father and brothers were standing with the hotel manager and talking, while three police people rushed around dusting for prints.

They all looked up at the same time.

I looked at them. They looked at me.

We looked at each other.

And they all looked very worried.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my doctor brother Adam approaching with his little bottle of white pills, Val and Sue were inching closer too, but my Dad stood dead still.

“Sweetie.” Worried little voices. “Are you okay babe?”

“Hey sis.” Adam was desperately trying to hide his panic and worry under casual lilting inflections. “Did someone hurt you? What’s that on your forehead? May I have a look at it?”

They all inched closer, while the cops and manager left. The scene was totally bizarre and I had been so caught off guard that I hardly knew what to do.

“Sweetie, can you understand what we’re saying?” Val started talking very loudly and very slowly.

“Yes. Lilly, do you know who we are?” My brother was unscrewing the bottle and a small white thing was coming towards me.

“Of course I bloody know who you all are. I’m not a Looney!” I finally said, while exhaling a big puff of smoke.

“Thank God you’re okay. We’ve been worried sick,” my father leapt across the floor and scooped me up in his arms. Then they all flocked.

James: Jesus Sis, we’ve been here for two days, we’ve hung up missing posters on every street corner (Aahh, that explained the stares in the streets). And we’ve had this place dusted for prints, we’ve been so worried. I’m glad you’re okay.

Adam: Can you tell me how you sustained that injury on your head? Did you black out or lose consciousness? Can you feel your extremities? Oh my God, I’ve been so worried about you.

Sue: Sweetie, we thought someone had kidnapped you and then taken a photo of you and put it online. We were waiting for a ransom note. I’ve been so scared.

Val: I’ve been so worried. You look terrible, and smell like fish, and when did you start smoking? Oh my God, we’ve all been so freaked out. Your sister-in-law is threatening to sue the Thai government; we’ve all been going out of our minds. We were just about to call Esmeralda in.

They all hugged me and while I was supposedly distracted, I saw my brother Adam relieve me of my box of cigarettes and throw it in the bin. I was so touched by everyone’s care and concern and I felt terrible for causing such an international emergency. The tears welled up.

“I’m so sorry guys. I didn’t mean for you to all get so worried and fly out here.” My lip quivered as I tried to hold back the tears. A chorus of; Don’t worries’, at least you're okay’s rang out. 

And then I wailed. “I LOVE HIM!"

And the tears and snot bubbles came. “I love him. I love him so much.”

“We know. We know.” Val was trying her best to sooth me.

“When we saw that photo of you online, we realised how bad it was, how much pain you were really in,” Sue took me by the hand and lead me to the bed. “So we tracked him down.”

“Yes, and Sue and I had a very, very long talk to him.”

“We had a very hectic talk with him,” my brother James piped up. “I was very firm. I made my feelings very clear and we all discussed them.”

Then it was my dad’s turn to add to the conversation. “He came over to apologise, and we thrashed the whole thing out for hours. I was furious with him at first, obviously, but we had a long talk and he explained what happened."

Then Adam jumped in. “It can happen to anybody. Hell, I also got cold feet before my wedding. I didn’t run away though, and that was terrible of him and you mustn’t forgive him right away, but it’s also important not to just give up on a good relationship.”

Then Val jumped in. “That’s right. Love doesn’t come around every day and people make mistakes, sweetie. We all make mistakes.”

 “Of course you don’t have to take him back right away,” Sue qualified. “You may need to go to some counselling, but he is very sorry. I can see that.”

“Extremely sorry,” my dad chirped in again. “We chatted for hours, and believe me, I didn’t let him off the hook easily.”

James then smacked his fist into his hand. “That’s for sure, we really gave him the gears. But he is sorry. Very.”

“Wait!” I screamed. I had to stop them; they were going around in circles and I was starting to feel like a little gold fish in a bowl. “What are you talking about?”

 “About loving Michael,” Sue offered gently.

“But I don’t love Michael.”

“ And it’s understandable to think you feel that way now..."

I cut her off immediately. “I don’t ‘think’ I feel anything. I don’t love Michael. At all. I love Damien.”

There was an eerie silence in the room, and then I heard it.

“Who’s Damien?” The voice came from the doorway behind me.

The voice made my skin crawl and made me feel violently ill and homicidal all at the same time.

I clenched my fists, and if I were the kind of person who could crack her jaw, I probably would have.

You know how in those Spaghetti Westerns, when the two cowboys have their big standoff in the main road of the town and all the folk come out to watch, and that eerie Western music fills the air and they stand with their backs to one another? That’s what was happening now.

I stood up slowly, with my back to Michael. In my head they were playing that music and I was fingering the trigger of my imaginary gun, ready to cock it, aim and fire.

I closed my eyes and saw Damien’s face. And then I turned very, very slowly and faced him.

He looked exactly the same.

Blonde.

Buff.

Beefy.

Blue eyes.

Big, straight white smile.

Colgate Commercial.

Polo Commercial.

Good, Clean, Fun Commercial.

Picket Fence Commercial.

Boring Bastard Commercial.

“Who’s Damien?” His voice had a biting quality to it that I didn't like.

“He’s a guy I met,” I spat the words out with flaming indignation.

“You met a guy on our honeymoon?”

 “Well, you were nowhere to be found!”

Michael pulled out his phone with such smugness that it made me sick, he pressed a few things and then held it up to me. “Is this Damien?”

I looked at the picture on Facebook. It was of Damien and me -- Jess had obviously taken it and tagged me in it.

“Why are you stalking me on Facebook?” I asked Michael, and grabbed his phone, but only because I wanted to look at the picture of Damien closely. His shirt was off, I was in my bikini and we had our arms around each other, laughing.

I heard another voice from behind me. “When you went missing, the first thing we did was check to see if we could see where you were on Facebook. We saw you’d friended this character and then last night, we saw this picture of you. He didn’t look very savoury, so obviously we were all pretty worried.”

I couldn’t believe what was going on.

Was Michael really here to try to get me back?

And did my friends and family really want me to get back with him?

Had the world gone fucking mad since I’d left?

“Look…” Michael started approaching me with a patronising tone. “I get it. What I did was really, really wrong and I don’t blame you for losing it..."

“Losing it?!” I cut him off abruptly. “Do you think I’ve lost it? Do you all think I’ve lost it?” I turned and looked at everyone, and they didn’t need to say a word because I could see the answer on their faces.

But I hadn’t lost it.

I’d actually found it.

I was more myself right now than I’d ever been in my entire life.

In the last few days I’d seen a different side of myself.

And Burning Moon had changed me irrevocably.

A calmness washed over me, not that weird psychotic calmness that I’d experienced at the wedding. But a confident, silent calm. In fact, I felt pretty damn cool, calm and collected right now. If this had been a movie, it would be in French and I would be one of those chic, powerful French women who sat at cafe’s drinking strong coffee, reading Vogue and smoking their cigarettes.

What the hell…

I wandered over to the dustbin, pulled the box of cigarettes out and lit one. I inhaled like a pro and exhaled with an air of I’m too cool for school-ness.

“Right,” I said, slowly walking over to the window and opening it. I casually leaned against the wall as I flicked my ash out.

Everyone stared at me. I was probably just confirming their suspicions, what with the wild woman look and new-found smoking habit. My brother was probably making a cocktail of tranquilisers right now behind his back and was about to jump out and stab me with it.

“Michael,” I turned my attention to him. “You left me at our wedding. Our wedding. In front of 500 people.”

He took a step forward, “I know and I’m sorry, I freaked out. I panicked. I made a big mistake, and I’m sorry..."

I cut him off with a wave of my arm. “No, no, please don’t get me wrong. I’m not angry with you. At all. In fact, I want to thank you for doing it.”

You could hear the sound of jaws dropping to the floor.

“You did me a favour, actually. In the last few days I’ve learnt so much about what I really want. I’d thought I wanted you, because you ticked all my boxes and fitted into all my plans, but… I don’t want you anymore, Michael.” I took another drag and let the smoke billow out of my mouth. It made beautiful shapes as it curled and twisted in the breeze.

You could have heard an ant drop. You could almost feel the shock waves rippling through the room.

“So you want some tattooed junkie?” Michael’s eyes flared with aggression now, and James instinctively took a step forward. Bless his over-protective heart. Bless all of their over-protective hearts.

But I didn’t need them right now. I was more than capable of handling this by myself; I was smoking a cigarette, after all.

“Michael,” my voice was so calm, “what I want is for you to leave.”

Michael stared at me in disbelief, he couldn’t have looked more stupefied it I was naked and mud wrestling another woman on the floor.

“One day you’ll make some woman very happy, but I’m not that woman.”

Michael opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

He blinked his wide eyes.

He shuffled from foot to foot.

I could see him trying to process the info; and when he finally realised what was going on, I saw his wounded ego fluffing it’s feathers and puffing up.

He struck an aggressive male pose. “You’re making a huge mistake. Huge! Huge!” This was his big clever retort. “You’ll regret this, Lilly. Trust me.” He turned and started walking out, but swung around as he reached the door. “But… but when it doesn’t work out with that weirdo, and he knocks up some hooker and comes home with a disease, don’t come crawling back to me. Okay? Don’t you dare come crawling back to me and begging and crying because it didn’t out with the junkie.” He glared at me with such hatred.

 “Junkie? Knock up a hooker?” I smiled at Michael’s ignorance, and then I laughed.

This, of course, pushed him over the edge and he said very some ugly things about me being mad and crazy and telling my brother they should lock me away and he’s glad he didn’t marry me because clearly I was unstable etc. You know, the usual wounded male ego type responses.

He slammed the door behind him so hard that I thought the glass would fall out of the windows. My laughter tapered off and I flicked my cigarette outside. The others all looked at me, and as much as I wanted to explain it all to them; where I had been, the amazing Damien, what he was really like, how he’d changed me, the party, the new Lilly, I was too tired and I knew they weren’t going to get it, or understand it all right away.

“I’m really sorry for causing all this chaos. I didn’t mean to worry you guys and have you come here, but…” I turned to Val and Sue first, “I love you guys. You’re my best friends. But right now, I need to be alone. I need some space to figure a few things out in my head. I promise I’ll explain everything when we get back home, but right now, I need to be alone. Please try and understand.”

I wasn’t sure if they understood, but they both agreed to leave, but only if I promised to tell them on the plane home the next day. And so I promised them twelve long hours of uninterrupted girl talk, which seemed to make them happy.

I turned to my family now. “And I love the way you all love me so much and are always there to protect me, but… I think from now on, you won’t need to come to my rescue as much.” I wasn’t sure if they all understood either, but they respected my wishes too and left. But not without allowing Adam to examine my head wound first. He concluded that it wasn’t life threatening and it wouldn’t leave a scar. My dad hugged me and told me that he was just happy I was all right.

And then I was alone.

I was totally alone for the first time in my life.

***

It was my last night in Thailand, so I walked down to the beach, sat on the sand and looked at the moon. It was a very mixed bag of emotions. The moon would always look different to me now and would always remind me of our night together. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, to have a nightly reminder of him, but then again, I also didn’t want to forget him, ever. I wondered if he was also looking at the moon right now? And in the future, no matter where he was in the world, the same moon would always link us.

I looked at the calm, pale sea; it too was reflecting the moon’s light. And even though this was one of the most beautiful places on earth, it did nothing to alleviate the complete heartbreak that was twisting my gut into knots. I took a deep breath. It was almost painful to breathe.

A tiny white crab ran past me on the sand, it stopped and looked at me for a moment before scuttling off and disappearing into its hole. I wondered what was waiting for it in its hole; was there a Mrs Crab and perhaps some bouncing baby crabs?

Or maybe it was also a sad, lonely crab.

I smiled at myself, even though my heart was broken, I’d also never felt so strong in my entire life, I’d basically told Michael to fuck off -- with a cigarette in my hand. I kind of wish someone had secretly filmed that scene, because if I tried to replay it in my mind I couldn’t help but be amused. Where that inner, cool, calm collected power had come from was beyond me.

Before coming on this so-called honeymoon, I was the girl who’d never eaten at a restaurant by herself, had always had a boyfriend, was always surrounded by friends and family, had never really done anything on her own, was afraid of change and paralysed by the unpredictable things that didn’t fit into her plan. And sex, I was afraid of that too. But I would be returning home totally different. I’d left the old Lilly behind at Burning Moon, but I’d also left a little part of my heart there too. Sigh. Maybe you can’t have it all?

I wanted Damien.

I wanted him so badly, but I also knew that I didn’t need him.

I would be able to live without him; I wouldn’t die in his absence. It would be hard and painful and there would be a lot of tears, tissues and ice cream, but I would eventually get over him.

But I would never forget what he’d given me.

I was awakened. Changed. New.

I felt the warm tears start running down my face again. The breeze was picking up and the temperature was starting to drop. I looked around once more and I admit, a part of me was hoping for the big Hollywood ending. I was hoping that the guy would come out of nowhere on the horse, ride up in the limo with opera music blaring forth, run through the airport chasing the girl and shouting. I half hoped that I would turn around and see Damien somewhere, illuminated by the million and one candles he’d brought and lit for me.

But I knew he wasn’t going to be there.

And I didn’t want him to be.

I loved him, truly and unselfishly, and I didn’t want him to give up his dreams for me. He was the ultimate free spirit that couldn't be tamed, and that’s what made him special and unique and so, so loveable.

As much as I felt different, I was also still not the girl who could disappear for a year and leave everything behind.

No amount of Burning Moons could change that, and on the other hand, the same applied for Damien.

It was like he said; the timing was just off. Maybe in a year from now… who knew? But right now, there was no magical alignment.

I got up off the sand and took one last look at the moon before turning my back on it and walking to my room. I was looking forward to a bath and some sleep, and by this time tomorrow, I would be back home. And I was okay with that.

I'd made my choice and, as hard as it had been, I was okay with it.

I was in love.

And I was leaving a little piece of myself behind.

But I was also returning with something.

And it was thanks to Damien.

The dark stranger who had changed me.

Who had loved me, even if it was for only one night.

We would always have that night. And would always remember it, as long as the moon continued to hang in the night sky.

***

I woke up early the next morning. The sun wasn’t yet up, and everything was still. Not a bird, not a sound, not a person. It was as if I’d woken up while the world was still sleeping. I was wearing my now infamous pyjamas and walked over to the coffee station. The kettle whispered and bubbled to life and I poured a long, strong cup. When the sleepiness receded just enough for me to feel human, I realised that the eight hours had done nothing to fill the gaping hole, or quell the clawing emotions. When they say that time heals all wounds, they don’t mean overnight.

 Damien had been the last thing on my mind when I went to sleep and the first thing there when I woke up. It was probably going to be like that for a very long time.

I held my coffee in one hand and opened the door to the patio with the other. The salty air hit me in the face and made me shiver. The sea lay like a blanket before me, not a ripple, not a wave. I could still make out the faint silver outline of the waning moon. I couldn’t see the sun yet, but the mottled pink and orange sky told me that it would be coming soon.

I was about to sit down on one of the chairs when I saw him.

Dressed from head to toe in black and curled up on one of the pool chairs, fast asleep. His dirty sneakers lay on the floor next to his big ugly backpack.  

He looked so beautiful.

I took a step closer and the decking creaked. Damien opened an eye and looked up at me.

“Nice pyjamas,” he said with a tiny smile.

My little heart galloped. 

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“No, actually. I would never have predicted this..." I gestured to him on the deck chair. “Why are you sleeping outside, anyway?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

He held out his hand and I took it.

I put my coffee down and climbed onto the chair next to him.

It was a tight squeeze, and he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer. 

 So close I could feel his breath on the back of my neck.

We held onto each other as tightly as we possibly could.

“So what now?” I asked in a whisper.

“Fuck, Lilly, I have no idea. All I know for sure is I want to be with you, that’s it.”

 “But what about travelling and friends and..."

 “I choose you, Lilly.” He kissed the back of my neck. “I choose you.”

 Nothing else needed to be said.

We held onto each other and everything about it felt right.

I closed my eyes and drifted off.

But I knew that when I opened them, he would still be there.