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Summary
If Rebecca could travel back in time, she would. She’d take herself back to to that day in Amsterdam, the day he fished her out of the freezing murky water of the canal and tell her past self not to stay. She’d implore her to take the loan of the peach and pink sundress, however out of season, put her sodden clothes in a plastic bag and call the hotel and get them to call a taxi to pick her up from the nearest street. She wouldn’t stay and let herself fall for him. She wouldn’t let the spell of the coziness, of the dim lighting, of gezellig, work on her. She wouldn’t open herself up to it, to him, to being a family. She wouldn’t let herself get swept away by it all.
No, she would tell her past self to get away as fast as she could. She would tell past-Rebecca to run until she could feel the beat of her heart in her ears and the burn of lactic acid course through her thighs.