Notes from a Spinning Planet—Mexico (5 page)

She turns over and sits up and blinks into the bright light as she puts on her sunglasses. “Oh yeah… I was having the greatest dream.”

I study her happy expression. “About Ian?”

She laughs, then stands and ties on her sarong. “Maybe…maybe not.

“Want me to come with you?” I offer, hoping she doesn't.

She's about to put on her watch but then stops and hands it to me. “No, I don't think so. No reason we should both suffer. How about if you keep my watch and then come get me at four o'clock sharp? We'll tell Juan we need to do something. Then he'll have to stick to his one-hour promise.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I wave as she treks back up the beach toward the stairs.

I get some more sun, then decide to shower off the sticky saltwater residue and check out the pool scene again. To my relief, a lot of the kiddies seem to have evaporated into the hot afternoon air, and I find an empty lounge chair in a quiet corner of the deck. I park my stuff there and slide down into the clear blue pool. At first the water feels cool, although not nearly as cold as the ocean, but I quickly acclimate and discover it's merely tepid. I swim a few lazy laps before I get out and head over to the lounge chair. On my way, I spy a large tan iguana sunning itself on a stone. I can't help but relate. I feel a little bit like a lizard myself. But after all, this is supposed to be a vacation. Poor Sid, up there haggling with Juan about time-shares. I do not envy my aunt right now.

It's hard not to think about Ryan as I stretch out in the sun again. My plan is to act all cool about this unexpected twist to our vacation.
I don't want anyone to know how jazzed I am that he's coming down here. For some reason, his decision to come seems to put a whole new spin on things for me. Or maybe I'm reading something into it that's not there. It's not like we have a real boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, but we have kept in close contact the last six months, and sometimes I feel like I can talk to him more openly than to any of my other friends. Like he really gets me. The truth is, I'm more than just a little bit interested in this guy. I almost get the feeling he's equally interested in me. To be perfectly honest, he's probably one of the main reasons I'm so ready to transfer to the university next semester. Well, along with the chance to be with Sid and Lydia. I cannot wait to see Lydia again!

I imagine Ryan and me walking down the beach together at sunset. I have on my new pink sundress, and he's wearing a white shirt and khakis. In my mind's eye, we're holding hands…and maybe he even bends down to kiss me. First on the forehead…and then—
Splash!
I'm doused with a chilling spray of water, and I open my eyes just in time to see a boy leaping into the pool just a few feet from me. He yells “Geronimo!” as he also cannonballs, sending water everywhere. The two culprits appear to be about twelve or thirteen, and I can tell by their grinning faces that they think their antics are pretty hilarious.

“Did we get you wet?” asks the one with red hair.

I make a face at him, then nod as I dry my sunglasses on my towel. “Yeah, thanks a lot for the shower.”

“Why don't you come in?” calls out the other boy. “We can play Marco Polo.”

I smile at his invitation, then glance at Sid's watch and see it's close to four now. “Thanks for the offer, but I've gotta go.”

“Just because we got you wet?” asks the redhead.

“No, just because it's time for me to go,” I tell him as I stand and put on my sarong.

“You coming back later?” asks the other one.

“Maybe.” Okay, I guess I'm tossing them a bone here. But they both smile and wave, and I figure no harm done. Besides, I feel a little flattered that two middle-school-aged boys are actually flirting with me. Pretty funny really.

I drop off the towel and head up to the restaurant, where I quickly spot Sid and Juan. I go over and inform them that it's almost four and that Sid and I need to be going, that we have plans.

“Just five more minutes,” says Juan. He nods toward the bar. “Go get a drink. Complimentary. Tell them Juan said so.”

Sid sort of shrugs, and I set her watch in front of her, then go over to the bar and order a Sprite. “Juan said it's complimentary,” I tell the man and he nods and smiles.

I sit at the bar, watching my aunt and Juan. I can tell she's uncomfortable and wants to get out of here, but he's not willing to give up just yet. Not only that, but it looks like he's flirting with her too. Or maybe that's just part of his sales technique. Even so, I can tell by her expression she's not thrilled with any of it.

I notice another man in a suit, obviously a time-share salesman too, just a few feet from where I'm sitting. He's talking to an aggravated-looking couple, who appear to be about my parents’ age. The woman is wearing a straw hat with orange flowers, along with a
frustrated expression. Her husband looks hot and tired, and the top of his bald head looks like its had too much sun. I feel sorry for them, and I can tell they're trying to extract themselves from the salesman, but not unlike the boy who sold me the blankets earlier today, this sales guy is persistent. When the woman starts to stand up to leave, he even grabs her arm and pulls her back down. This makes her husband angry. He very explicitly and not too politely tells the sales guy to knock it off.

“We want our free gift now,” he says angrily. “We've sat here with you for nearly four hours, and
we do not want to buy a time-share here. Comprende?
For Pete's sake, we didn't even have hot water in our room this morning.” Then he swears.

The salesman starts to explain the hot-water problem, but now the woman cuts him off. “We're leaving right now—with or without the free gift.” She looks down at her husband's glowing head. “Richard, are you coming?”

He slowly stands, placing both hands on the table as he looks at the salesman. “Not without our free gift,” he says. “I was promised a coupon for dinner tonight, and I intend to get it before I go.”

The salesman looks angry too. But without speaking, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, hastily writes something on it, and thrusts it at the man. Then he turns on his heel and stomps off.

“Well!” says the woman in an irritated tone. “See, Richard, I told you this was a mistake. I don't know why you always insist on getting something for nothing!”

He sort of growls at her as he pockets his precious coupon. “At least well get a free meal out of it, Marsha!”

“Free indeed.” She rolls her eyes at him, then walks off.

I imagine Sid being stuck with Juan for three more hours, and I feel I must make a better attempt to rescue her. I concoct a story in my head as I finish my soda. It's not completely untrue. Sid did tell me she wanted to look into parasailing while we're here, and I think that's just what we should do this afternoon.

So I walk over and interrupt Juan once more. “Sid,” I say in an urgent tone, “if you still want to go parasailing, we really need to leave right now.”

She blinks, then nods. “Yes, that's right.” She stands and smiles and shakes Juan's hand. “Well, as I said, I'm staying here at the condo, and I'd like to think this whole thing over. My friend bought a time-share here, and who knows?”

He smiles. “I hate to let you get away.”

“You promised it would take only an hour,” she reminds him. “And I listened to your presentation, which was really well done. But I do need to go now.”

I can tell he's disappointed, but he's handling it a little better than the other salesman. And it probably helps that, unlike the other couple, Sid is being very congenial too.

He pulls out a coupon. She thanks him, and he says he hopes to see her again.

She smiles warmly. “And thank you for your time,” she says. “It's been a pleasure.” Then I pull her away.

“It's been a pleasure?” I repeat. “Isn't that putting it on a little thick?”

She laughs. “Well, his job can't be easy. And he really was nice about it. Why shouldn't I be nice in return?”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Then I tell her about the other couple.

“Four hours?” she repeats. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

“What about parasailing?” I ask.

She thinks about it. “Maybe not today. I think I'd be happy just relaxing around the pool for an hour or so—sort of recovering from yesterday's long day and getting ready for unexpected guests tomorrow.”

I grin. “I'm with you there. I feel like just vegging today.”

“And we can use our free coupon for dinner,” she says. “In fact, I'll call right now and see if I can make a reservation.”

While Sid calls from her cell phone, I get us some fresh towels and a couple of lounge chairs that seem in a good position for the late afternoon sun. The preteen boys must've found someone else to harass. For now, the pool is quiet.

“It's all set,” she says as she joins me, “for six thirty.”

So we just kick back for a while, and I return to daydreaming about Ryan. Judging by the contented expression on Sid's face, I suspect she might be doing the same thing about Ian.

We drive back into San Lucas at a little past six. The sun is just going down, and the sky is a soft, rosy shade of pink. We have our windows down, and the air feels wonderful, a combination of warm and cool—refreshing and invigorating.

It's a pleasant surprise to see the restaurant has valet parking. Sid seems relieved to hand over the keys. Then we go inside, although it's
another one ofthose open sort of restaurants. After a short wait, we're seated at a table that looks out onto the wharf.

“Very nice,” says Sid with satisfaction.

The waiter hands us our menus and tells us the specials of the night, which I translate as best I can for Sid. Then I look down at the menu and am shocked to see the prices. I'm already used to the way prices given in pesos look outrageously expensive, but I know I can simply take off the last zero and come fairly close to the equivalent in U.S. dollars. Like, a meal that is listed for a hundred fifty pesos is really about fifteen dollars. But the prices on these meals seem way out there. I see one entrée with lobster that's seven hundred and fifty pesos, which is seventy-five American dollars. I'm sure my dad would be having conniptions by now.

“Did you see the prices?” I ask in a quiet tone.

She nods. “Yeah, its a little spendy. But remember that one hundred dollars of the bill is covered, Maddie. So go ahead and knock yourself out.”

I finally decide to try the steak and scampi for three hundred eighty pesos. It doesn't come with a salad, but Sid reassures me that adding a salad for a hundred eighty pesos is no big deal. By the time I order my food and beverage, I calculate that my meal alone will cost about six hundred pesos—the most expensive meal I've ever had. Still, I remind myself that most of our meal is paid for.

“We might as well enjoy,” says Sid as she sips her iced tea.

“Yeah, in a way you paid for this already.”

She laughs. “Juan was lucky I was in a good mood today. Otherwise, I would've been long gone a lot sooner.”

“A good mood because of Ian?” I ask.

She smiles. “Why not?”

A movement at a table catches my attention. “Hey, don't look now,” I say to her, “but there's that couple I told you about. The ones who got so fed up with the four-hour sales pitch.”

“Four hours! Now, that's one expensive meal,” says Sid.

She can't see the couple without turning around, but I watch with interest. They're sitting between us and the bar, and it looks like they're just finishing up their meals, but they still don't look too happy. The man's head is bright red now, and the woman is scowling. I notice a couple of waiters nearby. They seem to be pointing to the couple and whispering. If their body language is any indication, they are not being complimentary. Then one waiter hands the other one a glass with an amber liquid and ice in it, and then—I kid you not— drops something into the drink. The second waiter seems to smirk just slightly as he gives the drink a stir with a stick. Then he goes directly to the couple's table and sets it down before the man. The man looks slightly surprised, but the waiter says something to him, and the man actually smiles and holds up the drink as if to toast him.

Okay, maybe they're making amends, but I still wonder what the first waiter dropped into his drink. I think the worst, but perhaps it's just some sort of Mexican specialty. I've heard you can find a worm in the bottom of a tequila bottle, which grosses me out. And since the drink appeared to be alcohol, which I'm not much of an expert on, I really wouldn't know anyway.

Our waiter brings us our salads, and I must admit they look rather spectacular with all sorts of greenery and fresh fruits cut into
interesting shapes. I'm thinking they
should
look pretty special for eighteen dollars. I never had a salad that cost this much in my life.

Sid and I are just finishing our salads when I notice the other couple leaving. But the man, who seemed completely sober just moments ago, is definitely staggering now. In fact, it looks like he's wasted. And his wife looks pretty perplexed as well as totally irritated. Even so, she puts one arm around him as she helps navigate him through the maze of tables and out of the restaurant.

“That's weird,” I tell Sid.

“What's that?”

“That couple.”

“The four-hour couple?”

“Yeah. The man looked totally drunk.”

She shakes her head. “That's too bad.”

“But just a few minutes ago, he seemed fine.” Then, in a lowered voice, I tell her about what I saw the two waiters doing.

“Do you think they slipped him a Mickey?” asks Sid with concerned eyes.

“I don't know. But it sure seems suspicious.” Then I see the two waiters together, chuckling as they look toward the exit. I tell Sid about it.

“I hope the man is okay,” says Sid.

“Do you think we should go check?” I ask. “Maybe I should tell the couple what I saw.”

Sid considers this. “No. I don't want you to get involved, especially if something fishy is going on.” But then she stands. “Let me pretend to use the rest room, and I'll see if I can find them. You stay here.”

Okay, now I'm feeling just slightly freaked. What kind of restaurant is this? Still, I keep my face calm as our waiter reappears to collect our salad plates. And in my best Spanish, I tell him the salad was excellent. He smiles and nods and asks if we'd like more tortilla chips. I tell him, “Si, gracias.” Then I also tell him, unnecessarily I'm sure, that my aunt is using
“el bano. “
Oh, well.