One Small Chance: a novella (a Love Story from Portugal) by Lucinda Whitney

Author:Lucinda Whitney [Whitney, Lucinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Lange House Press
Published: 2016-08-24T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

Simon glanced at their joined hands before turning to Isabel. Whatever she had in mind, he’d do it. If it took a long time, even better.

“No, I haven’t been by the river yet,” he said.

He’d taken some bike rides in the areas around the rented apartment and the academy, but other than a few gardens in between, he hadn’t had the time to go exploring much. This chance to see Lisbon through Isabel’s eyes was what he’d been hoping for.

Isabel tugged him toward the tram stop and checked the route on the posted schedule. “We’ll have to switch cars halfway through the ride.” Again, her expression brightened. “We’ll take the elétrico and stop downtown.”

They climbed aboard when the yellow tram came to a stop and once inside Isabel dropped the euro coins to pay for the fare before he realized what she’d done.

She found a seat by the window and Simon sat beside her. “The ride back is on me.” He reached for her hand again, and this time she didn’t hesitate.

“So this is what you call the electric?” The tram they rode in was a modern one made to resemble the style of the older ones he’d seen in postcards and brochures of the city.

She gestured toward the outside of the car. “On account of the electric wires above.”

It was an unhurried ride, clanging along the metal tracks and stopping every so often to board other passengers also enjoying the autumn afternoon. They got off and switched to another line and a different tram car, this time a genuine antique one carefully restored with gleaming brass fixtures and polished wood. Along the way, Isabel pointed out the neighborhoods, or bairros, the downtown shops, and the monuments he hadn’t had the time to explore yet.

But for everything the city had to offer, it was her Simon wanted to see. Isabel had her hair down today. She always wore it coiled at the nape of her neck during the week and Simon liked the way it looked, just barely past her shoulders. The red sweater brightened her expression and even her chocolate eyes seemed lighter and less stressed. This was the Isabel he’d been wanting to spend time with, relaxed and unworried, sitting beside him like a friend, and maybe even something more.

As the tram passed from a narrow street onto an open square, Isabel stood and pulled him along. “Come on. This is our stop.”

Before them, the square extended twice as long and wide as a football field, paved in a crisscross of white stones with a statue of a military man on a horse in its center. At the far end, an open dock flanked by stone pillars opened to the river, and to the right, the river Tagus gave way to the Atlantic Ocean, the bridge serving as a gate to the expanse beyond.

After crossing the square, they sat on the stone benches by the dock.

“You know, with all the similarities between Lisbon and London, the two cities are so different,” he said.

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