I had to ask for help everywhere, every day, of strangers as they passed by, snagging them as they went and hoping they’d forgive my intrusion. Or—worse—interrupting conversations with terrible German or halting Italian, praying for an English speaker to tell me which seat was mine? Which way to the ticket office? Which way to the cabstand or train station or hotel front desk? Which way to Charlotte? I wanted to scream and fall at her feet and touch her cheek, her hand…just for a moment, to remind me what it was all for.
