Page 61 of Only One Tour Bus

“Well. Rob doesn’t like them. He thinks they’re dangerous because each one will only appeal to a specific, small audience. But you could charge more for them.”

“Eh, Rob’s a wee eejit.”

She snort-laughs adorably. “That he is. So that would be a potential silver lining for me. Or maybe this will force me to find something completely different that I love as much as I love this, that I don’t even know about yet. Hopefully it still involves history and travel and making people happy, though. Anyway, this is all distracting from my original question. What would be next for you?”

I could tell her the easy answer: that I would find another tour leader job. It would be easy because I wouldn’t have to tell her anything else about me personally. But I don’t want to take the easy, and fake, way with Asha.

I can’t lie to the sunshine. It’s literally known for its ability to illuminate the dark.

“I never really thought I would do this forever. I didn’t have a time limit on it, or even knowledge about what I could do next, but it’s never been permanent in my mind. Maybe I’ll start applying for professor jobs again. Or even secondary school history teacher postings. Before I didn’t want to teach there because I didn’t want to deal with children and I would have to get my postgraduate certificate in education, but after doing this job for five years, I’ve gotten more used to dealing with children. And adults who act like children. And going back to school wouldn’t be so bad, either.”

“You’d make a great professor. Very stoic and knowledgeable.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes.”

“But not as personable as you?”

“A professor doesn’t have to be personable; they need to give knowledge. And you have so much knowledge to give. In a clear, intelligent way. Although if you did need to be personable, I’m sure you could rise to the occasion.”

“Hmm.” I’m actually speechless that even a potential firing can’t dampen her sunshine for long.

She lifts her teacup. “Here’s to us finding the silver lining, no matter what happens.”

I lift the delicate porcelain and gently cheers with her. “To that.”

“Did everyone have a good time at Versailles?” Asha asks from the front of the bus, with all the energy of a wrestling announcer trying to get a crowd excited. She smiles genuinely at the bus of tired and hungry people, not bitter that they hold her future in their hands.

Or maybe she’s being nice strategically this time, so they’ll vote for her.

Maybe I should be strategically nice to these people. Or buy them some bottles of cheap wine; they won’t notice the difference and it’ll make them happier, even. But then I have to deal with drunk travelers. And then hungover ones, too.

No. I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing, maybe adding a wee bit of patience. Asha hasn’t changed that much, and if I try to change, it’ll only come off as insincere. And maybe unsettling.

“Don’t worry, we have an hour-long ride back into Paris, but we’re going straight to the restaurant, so we’ll all be refreshed in no time.” Asha sits down, next to me again, and before we’ve even left the city of Versailles I can hear snores from the passengers.

“The puir wee lambs are so tired,” she whispers at me.

“Didn’t we discuss you doing an Irish accent?”

“But I’m so good at it, though.”

I look at her. Even I can’t be mean enough to tell her the truth right now. And I have rarely, or ever, watched my tongue around others.

She yawns.

“Are you still sick? I knew the long day would be too much when you’re recovering. We can drop you off at the hotel if you want to rest. I can handle the group for dinner.” Not happily, but it is my job. “I’ll bring back some food for you.”

“No, I’m fine. You know how tiring these trips are even when we’re at a 100 percent. It’s just a yawn.” She yawns again.

“Two now.”

“Stop counting my yawns. It’s creepy.”

“Stop yawning then!”

She yawns in defiance. “I can’t control it. And the more you talk about it, the more I yawn! So stop talking about it and I’ll stop.”