Uncertain (11 page)

I immediately became a big fan of Oaxaca. I pictured my grampa walking around this area and imagined what he’d say about it. I thought he’d probably like it, too. The people were incredibly warm and friendly with outsiders. It was easily the most colorful place I’d ever been.

We went to the marketplace that afternoon and bought a few small things. The market was a fantastic spot with a million items you’d never see in the States. The variety was mind blowing and the people were as genuine as you could imagine, just making a living selling things other people need. This was the kind of living that I’d imagined. Maybe one day I’d be able to make furniture and sell it to people who wanted to buy it without a ton of fuss. The market also had stands with fruits of all kinds, and meats—including giant pig heads. I also saw heaps of mole paste, which I’d never heard of before.

Kevin and I talked about where we’d have dinner that night, and I realized that I didn’t have anything to wear. I had actually brought two pairs of cut-off sweatpants to wear as shorts. Not a huge selection. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I packed. I think that I wasn’t actually thinking. So, I’d bought a flowy sundress at the market—pale purple with swooshy dark-purple flowers all over it.

The bad part was, I was mentally preoccupied. I’d always been very good at compartmentalizing. At least, that’s what the therapist had told me. My gramma made me see a therapist for a while after I lost my parents. I figured compartmentalizing was a pretty good skill, although I’m really not sure if the therapist agreed. I stopped going to see her as soon as I possibly could. This time, I was failing at compartmentalizing, and I wasn’t certain how to deal with that.

I actually missed baby Drina and it was an odd feeling for me. I had never missed a baby in my life. I wasn’t even sure what to make of it. I just knew that I longed to feel like myself again, the version of myself before all this weirdness started.

On the way back from the flea market, we saw a restaurant that looked fun. One of the servers walking in for his shift started talking with us. He seemed like the type to always be in party mode. I was hoping that a little bit of a loud atmosphere with good food and music would be a positive distraction since Kevin and I appeared to have lost our groove.

He and I could usually just hang out, but we’d been awkward in the last day or so. I couldn’t blame either of us; the situation was simply that way. I just sensed that he wanted to talk through everything for like an hour and that he was looking at me a little differently. Maybe I was just imagining it.

So, at about 7 that evening, we walked over to the restaurant. “This place, right?” Kevin said as we stopped in front the restaurant we’d seen earlier.

“Yeah,” I said, starting to chicken out. I really wasn’t sure that spending the night in a
fun
place was a good idea after all.

The restaurant was open air with wood everywhere and mismatched tables. They had a stage on the left as we walked in, and a band had just started to set up. All the musicians were dressed in bright, gorgeous colors, and the women had on big poufy skirts. I was about to turn to Kevin and suggest something with a little less flair when the guy from earlier recognized us.

“The best food in Mexico! Like I tol’ you,” he shouted in his thick accent. “Come and sit down.” He beckoned us from the middle of the restaurant.

Kevin groaned.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” I asked him.

“No, this is fine,” he said, pouting.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

I almost turned exactly around to return to looking for a restaurant, but I really didn’t feel like it. So we walked over to the table where the guy was smiling from ear to ear and waving his arms.

“Best table in the house—just for you,” he boomed. “My name is Marco and I’ll take excellent care of both of you this evening.” We sat down and he handed us menus in a grand way, bringing them down from high in the air to hand them to us. “Let’s star’ with some tequila, yes?”

“Sure,” I replied. Kevin didn’t respond. I tried to figure out when he’d gotten so grumpy.

“What’s up with you?” I asked in a hushed voice as the waiter, Marco, spoke with another waiter passing by.

“I dunno. I don’t know what my deal is. I’ll snap out of it.”

“Maybe some tequila?” I joked. I was really trying to snap out of it myself. And it wasn’t as though either of us had to drive anywhere.

“Maybe,” he said, but his voice was flat and unconvinced.

We had two shots each, and I was finally feeling as though I could think less or worry less—or both. I felt less concerned about what Kevin was all balled up about, anyway, and even he seemed a little more cheerful. Marco was really pushing the tequila on us, and Kevin started to slow him down by letting his shots sit on the table, untouched.

“Are you still mad?” I asked Kevin.

“I wasn’t mad before.” He pushed a water droplet around on the table. “I don’t know. This waiter kind of annoys me.”

“Do you want to head back? Maybe just watch some TV?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I’m glad to see you more relaxed. I’m happy. I’m fine. Seriously.”

“Maybe we’ll head out of here in a little while and go for a walk by the water?” I suggested.

“Sounds good,” he said, taking a drink of water from his glass.

Marco set down our food and brought me ‘Mexico’s finest’ margarita, or so he declared. I could tell that Kevin was eyeballing me, but I was feeling really good. Too good to be concerned about his tendency to worry.

A guy at a nearby table started up a conversation with Kevin and introduced himself as Ben before scooting his chair over to our table.

“Yeah, my fiancé is—well, she’s got Montezuma’s revenge. She sent me out to get some dinner on my own because our vacation is nearly over. I’ve been hanging out with her in the room for the last four days.”

“Ugh,” Kevin remarked.

“When are you guys getting married?” I asked.

“Dunno. We just got engaged the day we arrived,” he said, smiling. “She got sick the next day.”

“Oh, that’s horrible,” I told him with a laugh, taking a sip of my margarita.

We had a few drinks with Ben and he moved over to our table to have dinner. He liked baseball and hockey—so does Kevin. Kevin had stopped drinking after the tequila shots a couple hours before, and he was sticking to ginger ale.

Kevin gave me the double tap on the knee—a sign that he was ready to go. He went to the bathroom prior to our leaving. I stood up to walk over to the door, and Marco and Ben were both standing with me when an older man came over to us. I’d seen him talking to a few other people in the restaurant, but I wasn’t paying much attention. He wore a straw-looking Indiana Jones-type hat and a floral shirt. He looked right at me.

“This is my daughter. Have you seen her?” he asked me, holding a picture of a teenage girl up to my face. She didn’t look familiar.

“No, I’m sorry.” I was mildly drunk and really tried to sound sober at such a serious request.

“Please look closer, miss.”

I took the photo from him and studied it for a few seconds. The girl was a blond teenager wearing a black tank top and turquoise shorts. Shoulder length hair. Another girl had been next to her with black hair but that girl was cut out of the photo.  I was certain I hadn’t seen her.

Marco spoke first. “Sir, she said she hasn’t seen her. None of us have. Please be on your way. There’s no need to get unpleasant.”

“You haven’t seen unpleasant until you’ve lost your child, you idiot. I was just trying to be sure this girl hasn’t seen her. She looks a little like one of her friends, so I thought…I thought I’d just double check.”

“OK, so we’ve seen the picture, and none of us have seen her. Have you seen her, Marco?” Ben said.

“No, sir, I haven’t,” Marco said, folding his arms. He moved to stand beside me.

“OK, please leave her alone,” Ben said, gently taking the photo from me and thrusting it back at the father.

The man shook his head and walked away.

Kevin appeared from behind us. Marco and Ben were flanking me on each side. “What was that about?”

“Guy was being a jerk. Harassing your girl.”

“He really wasn’t. It was no big deal,” I said with a hand wave. I found their overreaction kind of odd, but I decided that I didn’t care. I also decided that I was more than a little drunk.

“Well, thanks for sticking up for her,” Kevin said with concern on his face.

“You guys want to check out another place? There’s a great place around the corner. I’m off, actually. Ben, are you up for it? Have a drink or two?” Marco urged.

“I’m game if these guys are,” Ben said with a smile.

“I dunno,” Kevin said, scratching over his ear. “We were thinking of calling it a night.”

Marco put his arm around me. “Come on. This girl is just getting started. You gonna put her to bed early?”

“No, but—“

“Maybe just one drink and then go?” Ben said to Kevin.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” he said, obviously not wanting to be the wet blanket.

Marco dramatically offered his arm to me and led the way. “So, how long have the two of you been together?” he asked as we walked. I could hear different bands playing as we went down the street. I was also concentrating on walking straight. “Oh, we’re not together. Like that.”

He let loose a loud laugh, raising his head up. “That makes me happy, beautiful lady. Verrry happy. Are you saying I have a chance?”

“Not saying
that
…”

“But I can try, yes?”

I laughed. I instantly felt annoyed with myself. Why was I even bothering with this guy?

I looked back at Kevin. He was trudging behind us with his hands jammed in his pockets. He had a scowl on his face. Ben was yapping to Kevin without missing a beat, and Kevin was very clearly not enjoying the conversation. The last thing I wanted to do was to go back to the hotel with Kevin the crab. I decided to let Marco flirt.

We arrived at the bar, just a few blocks away, and Marco pulled out a chair for me and immediately sat down next to me, putting his arm on the back of my chair. Kevin plopped down across from us, clearly annoyed. Marco ignored him and ordered me another margarita.

The bar looked like someone’s basement. This was my kind of bar. It, too, was full of wood on the walls, but the floors were mismatched tile and the walls were filled with randomness collected over the years. Paintings, photos, wheels, a bicycle—it was all stuck to the wall. People also signed the walls. The bar was made up of old license plates from all over the country and covered with thick polyurethane.

Marco kept whispering to me unnecessarily. He was really starting to bug me. His whisper was way too hot and humid, and he was inside my comfort zone—which at that moment, was not as wide as it usually was. The last time he whispered about whether or not I wanted another drink, I had to rub my ear like crazy to scratch. Plus, he was wearing way too much cologne, and I really didn’t like that.

At this point, though, I was too far gone to mind enough to move from my chair. Kevin would walk me to the bathroom periodically and then sit back down across from me. We were two drinks past my request of one drink.

Marco whispered to me that he was going to get me an ‘extra special’ drink, and when he leaned in to whisper this me, his lips turned toward me and he gently kissed me on the corner of my mouth. I felt his beard stubble, but I didn’t realize that I should return the kiss until much too late. I didn’t even know if I wanted to. At that moment, I doubt my reaction time was anywhere near what it normally was.

“So what are you guys doing in Oaxaca?” Ben asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Saving the day,” I said, laughing.

Ben laughed. “Yeah?”

Kevin shot me a look and shook his head in a small way. He then glanced over at Ben. “Just traveling. Checking out the world.”

“As friends? That’s awesome.” Ben said.

Kevin nodded slowly, drinking soda from his glass. I clamped my eyes shut and opened them again to focus on the TVs that were hanging from the ceiling at the bar. Marco stood up and used the opportunity to straddle my seat and kiss me right on the mouth. His beard stubble dragged across my face and his hand gripped the back of my head.

I heard a chair skid across the floor, and next thing I knew, Kevin was standing over me looking furious.

“Yeah, this isn’t happening. Not a chance,” Kevin said, jerking Marco off me.

“What the hell? What do you care?” Marco said, laughing. “I thought you were just friends!”

Ben chimed in, touching Marco on the shoulder. “C’mon, Marco.”

“OK, OK. Sorry,” Marco said, raising his hands up.

Kevin leaned over and whispered to me. “You can be pissed at me if you want, but we’re leaving. Right now.” He grasped my upper arm and pulled me up.

“Thanks for the laughs, guys. See ya,” Kevin announced, tossing money on the table and striding out with his hand between my shoulders, leading me away.