Chapter 3
After a quick golf cart ride, courtesy of Luis, I finally reach my hotel room and settle in. The mirror near the bed reflects my exhausted self. My mascara has melted down my face. My dark brown hair, weighed down by the humidity, resembles freakishly long pubes.
I look like a brown-eyed, weeping, two-legged Merkin who completed a grueling 5K run.
Sweat clings to my shirt, drenching both my front and back. My jeans, sticking to my sweaty thighs, seem to have shrunk in the intense heat and humidity.
With a sigh, I grab my phone and connect to the resort’s Wi-Fi. Before I attempt to unwind, I better let my mother know that I’ve arrived safely before she sends out the National Guard. Glancing at my notifications, I shake my head. Four texts are already waiting for me.
Mom
Did you make it to the hotel?
Mom
I watched the news the entire time you were in the air to make sure your plane didn’t crash.
Not sure if that’s sweet—or really, really weird.
Mom
The airline said you landed over two hours ago.
I was kinda busy.
Mom
I’m calling the Consulate.
Ugh. Must stop the crazy lady from creating an international scene.
DO NOT CALL ANYONE! I’m here. Safe and sound. The place is beautiful.
Mom
How do I know someone isn’t pointing a gun at you right now?
Because I’m alone.
Mom
Maybe we should make a safe word, so I’ll know it’s you.
That’s not what a safe word is.
Mom
What else would it be?
I’ll be on a therapist’s couch for years if I allow this conversation to spiral any further.
Gotta run. I’m starving. Gonna grab some lunch. Talk soon!
The one thing that always ends conversations with my mother is food.
I guess that makes ‘lunch’ my safe word.
Mom
Make sure to hydrate too.
Got it.
Mom
Love you, sweetie.
Love you too.
Mom
Did you pack Pepto Bismol?
Ignoring her last question, I fling my phone onto the bed, dismissing my mother’s obsession with my digestive health. My gaze lands on the outer pocket of my suitcase resting on the luggage rack, beckoning me. My hand hovers over the metal zipper pull, the rush of melancholy in my veins.
“Don’t do it,” I say aloud, the words floating in the air.
I dig into my jeans pocket and find a hair tie. I know I should wash the frizz out of my unruly hair, but I’m beat from the long travel day. I’ll use my hair straightener later.
Leaving the suitcase and its contents behind, I secure my hair into a bun and head into the bathroom. It’s enormous, probably the size of my entire college dorm room. The polished white marble floors gleam under the bright lighting. Double sinks, adorned with double mirrors, stand atop black speckled granite countertops. A basket overflowing with a variety of shampoos, soaps, and other complimentary toiletries sits invitingly nearby.
Note to self: Take home all the free swag before leaving.
A frosted glass door separates the toilet and bidet. Looks like my ass crack has fancy options. On the other side, there’s a luxurious two-person jacuzzi tub, accompanied by a spacious walk-in shower with floor-to-ceiling gray slate tile, creating a serene, spa-like ambiance.
The perfect place… for two.
As I stand before the bathroom sink, I meet my image in the mirror. “Stop procrastinating. You’ve got this,” I whisper, urging myself forward. Determined, I step into the shower, the warm water cascading over my weary body, washing away the grime of my travel day.
Refreshed, I wrap myself in one of the two complimentary white terrycloth robes that hang on hooks behind the bathroom door. I pause for a moment and gaze at the matching bathrobe hanging on the door, its presence a reminder of exactly how alone I am.
Settling into the comfort of my robe, I munch on my second snack-sized bag of potato chips and take a sip from a can of Coke Light, courtesy of the in-room minibar. I lean back in the resin chair on the balcony of my second-floor room, overlooking the horizon where the Caribbean Sea meets the sky, its crystal-clear blue waters stretching out endlessly. I came here for many reasons… and right now, this view is my number one.
“It was getting too late to go to lunch,” I lie to myself. “Or the pool.”
Another lie.
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, allowing the salty sea air to fill my senses. This is what I need. Solace—a space to reconnect with my thoughts and my heart.
With myself.
I hate who I’ve become—a whiny, bitter, angry shell of a person.
Lily was right. Here’s where I came to escape. To lay my ghosts to rest. To rediscover who I once was—and who I want to be.
Inhaling another deep breath, I tilt my head and furrow my brows when I catch a whiff of an unpleasant odor. Is something burning? The offensive smell hangs in the air, robbing my space of all its peaceful Zen and oxygen.
“What the…?” I swiftly rise from my chair, the legs scraping against the concrete floor, and follow the pungent stench that’s assaulting my senses. My blood pressure surges as I peer around the tall privacy wall that separates my balcony from my neighbor’s.
Oh, hell no.
The universe is playing a cruel joke on me as my eyes land on the source of my air pollutant. There he sits, lounging on his resin chair, his legs casually stretched out with his feet propped up on the banister. A bottle of beer rests on the tiny table beside him and a lit cigar is in his hand.
“You!” I growl, my voice dripping with contempt.
A smirk dances on his lips as he takes a leisurely puff from his cigar. “If it isn’t Wicked Temptation,” he says smoothly.
“What… what are you doing here?”
“Vacationing,” he replies nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You?”
“You weren’t in the hotel’s transport.” I thought I got rid of this guy once we landed.
“Pre-arranged a private car. Why wait for other people to fill up a passenger van to start your vacation? Saved me forty-five precious minutes.”
I grit my teeth, the tension in my body palpable. “And you end up in the hotel room right next to mine?”
“Lucky you.”
“Lucky isn’t the word that comes to mind.”
He chuckles, the sound grating on my nerves. “So, what can I do for you? Looking to borrow a cup of sugar from your new neighbor?”
My scowl deepens, my eyes narrowing at him. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“No. It was funny.”
“Can you put that cigar out? It’s polluting my air.”
He draws in a long breath, his gaze drifting up to the clear blue sky. “Smells fine to me.”
“It reeks of ashy death,” I tell him, my tone filled with disgust.
He shrugs casually, his indifference infuriating. “That’s probably the mangroves you smell. Or maybe the sargassum. Sometimes nature can really stink.”
“It’s not the mangroves or the seaweed. It’s your damn cigar,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. I should have opened that emergency door on the plane and pushed him out when I had the chance.
“Well, I’m smoking this damn cigar on my damn balcony.”
“There are designated outdoor smoking areas all over the resort. You’re breaking the law.”
He smirks. “I’ll take my chances.”
“You’re a shitty neighbor.”
“And you’re a negative person. You’re in beautiful Mexico. Have a drink, swim in the ocean, relax. Do something from the activities schedule.”
“Activities schedule?”
“Why not? Maybe you wouldn’t be so tightly wound if you took part in some events the resort offers. There’s guacamole making, tequila tasting, even Spanish lessons. Take your nose out of my business… and my balcony… and find someplace else to stick it.”
“Do you think Spanish lessons are going to unstink the airspace between us? Listen to me, muchacho. Here’s some choice Spanish for you… You’re el selfish-o, el stupid-o, and el jerk-o.”
“I’ll Google those translations later,” he says, his cool demeanor unfazed.
“Oh my God. You’re the absolute worst.”
“You mispronounced wonderful.”
“I certainly did not mispronounce…” I begin to argue.
“What’s that?” he interrupts, pointing towards the privacy wall I’ve breached. “Oh, yes—a divider. I know how much you like them. Feel free to stay on your side.”
“This wall doesn’t divide our shared air.”
“Too bad for you.”
“Jackass.”
He shrugs a shoulder, takes a puff of his cigar, and blows out a cloud of smoke.
My eyes widen in disbelief. That arrogant asshole did that on purpose. I stick up my middle finger and snarl, backing away from the useless divider.
This resort is unbelievably massive, filled with hundreds of visitors from different parts of the world. And yet, I end up saddled next to this cigar-smoking idiot. I have no clue what I did in this life to deserve this kind of punishment, but I wish it would stop already.
With a dramatic huff, I turn around and storm back into my hotel room, slamming the sliding glass doors shut behind me.