Chance?

The ticket in my hand read “13:00 – Valencia a Granada”. I awoke early in the day eager to get to Granada, see a new city and meet up with Jeremy and Bridget. Amanda passed me in the hall and said that she would go to the bus station with me. If there were seats still available on my bus, she would go to Granada.

“Fat chance”, I thought. But at least she was willing to give it a shot. I wanted her to come.

Why not? She had several days before needing to be back in England for her sister’s wedding ceremony. It was either stay in Valencia and wait until her flight back or go with me. The decision was easy, the way I saw it. But in what I have found to be typical among the fairer sex, she was quite guarded – unwilling to open up, to allow herself to rely on others, to want, to desire.

I wanted her to not be afraid.

Now, my thinking was quite logical with regard to what local bus we needed to take us to the city bus station. But logic, as we all know, often fails. We boarded the bus that had taken me from the station to the hostel. Obviously, the same bus would take us from the hostel to the station, right? I could not have been more wrong. That damn thing traveled all over Valencia and only at the end of the route did it stop at our destination. The clock read “14:00”. Nice – 30 Euros down the drain.

No worries – it’s only money and at least now Amanda would have no excuse to not go with me. I bought a ticket for the night bus in an effort to save money that would otherwise be spent on a hostel. Fully expecting the girl by my side to follow suit – she folded. Backed down. My spirits dropped.

We each grabbed a baguette and plopped down at a table. Not trying to reveal the fact that I really wanted her to go with me, but also not trying to appear like I didn’t care – I made a case for her to come. A few minutes passed and her eyes looked as if she were wavering. Eventually, she got up and walked to the ticket window. Now we were on this journey together, if only for a few brief days.

We burned several hours wandering around the city. We ate at “The American Restaurant”. I found that funny. During dinner, a local came by offering roses for purchase. I asked how much they were.

“3 Euros”.

So I gave the man a 5 Euro bill – Amanda needed a rose, for sure. Instead of handing me 2 Euros back (again, logic fails), the man handed me 2 roses. A laugh came over me while Amanda took the roses. Whatever – 2 roses are obviously better than 1, right?

Somehow we found ourselves on the roof of a ritzy hotel just around the corner from the bus station. The view of the city stretched on for miles. Music was playing softly and white linen-clothed tables were set up. Not wanting to watch the roses wilt while on the bus, the girl picked the petals and dropped them over the side of the building. Our bus was leaving soon, so we walked inside and hopped in the elevator.

“Not yet”, I thought.

The closing elevator doors were stopped by my hand. What am I doing? Her small hand settled in mine and I pulled her back out onto the roof – saying that I had forgot something. I am no dancer – but I wanted deeply to dance with her. Out on the roof; on top of this city that brought us together; under the sky that watched us grow closer than 2 people have any right to in such a short time.

I found myself holding this girl in my arms and dancing with her.

At that point I was sure of one thing – I was meant to miss my bus earlier that day. Amanda would never have been able to get a seat with me. But God had this whole thing figured out, apparently.

No, this was something much more than chance. This was planned.