Chapter 14 #2
I said goodbye and hung up. Mom didn’t realize just how devastated Dad would be. I was the only person in the world that could be there for him, and I wasn’t even supposed to know. I opened my email.
TO: Jacob Blum
FROM: Dee Blum
SUBJECT: Hello!
Hey Dad. I saw a Winter League game last night and thought of you.
It looks like that rookie shortstop we’re going to platoon next season is really something!
After I get back from Costa Rica I’ll probably be in LA for a while so we should definitely go to some games.
Try to snag some dates from Uncle Stephen’s box.
Everything’s good here. My bosses are happy with me and the pay isn’t bad at all.
I miss you, and I sort of miss Mom (Ha. Just send her my love).
I love you, Dee
I hit send with a heavy feeling. I couldn’t stop experiencing my dad’s feelings as if they were my own. Some people’s boundaries were like a drawbridge; they just pulled them right up. But mine were like a river that was always overflowing its banks.
As I headed to the university to meet the Professor, I tried to compartmentalize thoughts about my dad.
My mom excelled at compartmentalizing. Any unwanted thoughts were mercilessly stuffed into a remote corner of her brain, locked in by Xanax and Chardonnay.
I didn’t have either on me, but I did my best. I was less successful pushing away thoughts of Café Alegre.
When I got to campus, I dragged myself up the three stories to the Professor’s office.
His assistant waved me straight in, and I was surprised to find that the room was empty—except for the poster of Che.
I could swear Che was staring at me with disapproval; his left eyebrow arched, his mouth a tight, thin line.
Che wouldn’t have taken Tomás and Mario out of Café Alegre.
He would’ve killed Don Manuel and installed a dictatorship of the proletariat.
The Professor entered his office. He sat gracefully in his chair. “Did you go to Café Alegre? How was it?”
I fidgeted for a moment while I tried to muster the courage to tell him. “Not so good.”
“Disorganized?”
“Not really.”
“Excessive infighting?”
“Sort of.”
“Not in the cooperative spirit?”
How could I tell the truth with Che giving me the evil eye? “They’re frauds!” There, it was out.
“How so?”
I shoved the plastic bag of soil across the Professor’s desk, and my iPad, open to the camera roll.
He looked at the pictures of pesticides for several moments, surprise flitting through his strong features.
He put the iPad down. “Strange.” He wiped his hands across his tired forehead and wrote something down on a legal pad. “Well, let’s move on.”
I stared at him.
“Is there more?” he asked.
I pulled at my thumbs. “They use child labor.”
“How old?”
“The youngest was seven or eight. The oldest was maybe fifteen. He said they got pulled out of school routinely.”
“What a pity.” He pushed errant strands of hair out of his face. “I’ll try to get a Ministry of Labor inspector to go out there.” He jotted something else on his legal pad. “We’ll continue with our work. It was a fluke.”
A fluke? That’s it? Faced with the destruction of a dream, he says, a fluke ? I couldn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” asked the Professor. “Are you sick?” Why did everyone always ask me that?! “Ah,” he said, leaning back into his chair, making the diagnosis. “Look, if you let it, activist work can get you down. But you’re not going to let one disappointment sink you, are you?”
I shook my head no, but without conviction.
“Good,” he continued. “Because if you do, you aren’t the person I think you are.”
But who did he think I was? Someone stronger and wiser than the real me? “It’s not just that,” I said. “When I told Suzanne about Alegre, I was hoping she could pass the info on to Ethical Coffee International. But she said this wasn’t proof and that my Ziploc bag was useless.”
“She’s right about the Ziploc. It’s not sterile.
” He handed the bag back to me. “I would defer to her on this one, she’s extremely experienced and knows the rules better than I do.
It’s a shame, but I think the best thing for us to do is concentrate on elevating farms that are actually walking the walk. ”
“I get that. But Suzanne doesn’t want to take Alegre off the list for the Truth Trip. She says they have a lot of heat right now and will excite donors.”
“Then you need to convince her that other farms are better. I have just the thing.” He stood up and started pacing around the room.
“You are familiar with Las Nubes?” I shook my head.
“They’re one of the oldest coffee co-ops in Costa Rica, and until lately, the most successful.
But they’re going through a very rough time. ”
“Why?”
“That’s part of what I’d like to find out.
The coffee industry throughout Central America is suffering from a fungus called the Rust, causing widespread disruption.
But due to altitude, Las Nubes has been spared the Rust. Something else is negatively impacting them.
” He put his wild hair back in a ponytail.
“I’m going there tomorrow to investigate. Perhaps you could join me.”
“I’d love to,” I said, with equal parts hope and concern. What was this other factor causing disruption? I had hoped my days of armed guards were behind me.
“You will find them interesting; they operate more like a commune than a cooperative. There is no individual ownership; profits are shared equally. Definitely the real deal, politically speaking. Perhaps you can convince them to be on your Truth Trip. Until now they’ve been resistant to tourists.”
“Why?”
“They feel like it’s selling out.”
“If they’re ideologically opposed, how would I get them to consider it?”
“It’s called persuasion, my dear.” He sat back down at his desk and looked at me. “I have a feeling you can master it.”
* * *
There was someone I knew who was good at persuasion. And he was currently trying to persuade me to take off all my clothes.
“I need you,” he said, his breath hot against my neck.
“We’re at a party, Adrián. I’m not going to have sex with you in public.” To be fair, it was really dark in his friend’s backyard, and other couples were undoubtedly taking some liberties.
“But you want to? If I can find somewhere else?” Finding somewhere else was no small feat, as he lived with his parents and I lived with the Purity Police.
His hand traveled further up my thigh. “I really, really like you, Preciosa .” Dammit, why was he so sexy?
Why was I even contemplating going to third base in public? What was happening to me?!
“I like you, too.”
“This isn’t just a vacation romance for me,” he said. He pulled back to look me in the eyes. Did he mean that? And if I said it too, would I mean it? “I want to be with you.”
I answered with a kiss. I was still uncertain what our shelf life as a couple would be, but I could no longer deny that I was in a romantic entanglement.
A very, very hot romantic entanglement. He led me to a bean bag chair that was covered in dirt.
His very persuasive hand kept going higher up my skirt and I was quickly losing whatever willpower I had left when a voice interrupted.
“Adrián?”
I looked up. A young woman glared at Adrián. He looked like he’d swallowed a lime. He discreetly tried to remove his hand from under my skirt. “Hola, Lucía.”
Lucía promptly burst into tears and fled, followed by two girlfriends who stared daggers at us. As they left, one of the friends cursed Adrián so quickly and colorfully that I couldn’t quite catch it all. Something about dogs, shit, and pig genitalia. Adrián’s face drained of color.
“What was that about?” I asked. “Who is Lucía?”
“An old friend.”
“Mm-hmm.”
He looked at me, debating. “We dated. A while ago. It was a messy breakup.”
“How messy?”
“You know.”
I did not. “How long ago?”
“ Un rato .”
“A while? How long is a while?”
“I can’t remember exactly.” He pushed some hair out of my face.
“Look, I feel bad for her, but that’s in the past. I’m with you.
Let’s live in the present.” He began to kiss me again, pushing me more deeply into the bean bag.
My body shifted and I felt something damp under my butt.
I tentatively touched the wet spot and smelled it. Ugghhhh.
“I just sat in a puddle of someone else’s vomit,” I said. “So presently, I’d like to go home.”
* * *
I took a steaming hot shower. At first, all I could think about was, What diseases could I get from another person’s vomit? Could they spread via skin contact, or did they need oral transmission? What was the incubation period?
Then I started wondering what happened with Lucía—she seemed much more upset than one would expect for something that was “in the past.” Adrián seemed so honest to me—but how well did I know him, really?
We were communicating in my second language, in a culture still foreign to me.
And his politics were confusing—was he conservative, or centrist?
But what did political labels even mean in a totally different geographical context?
And he was quick with endearments, but how deep did those feelings go? How deep did mine go?
My thoughts were too muddy and things were moving too fast. I needed to pump the brakes until I had more clarity. But I didn’t know how to tell him that. Fortunately, I would be at Las Nubes tomorrow, which would buy me some time.
Competing visions of Las Nubes whirled in my head as I gave my body one last scrub.
Las Nubes as a true Cooperative Heaven. Las Nubes as a Café Alegre–type scam.
As the water in my shower turned lukewarm, I became more and more pessimistic.
Las Nubes was going to be a fraud. I would never finish organizing the Truth Trip.
I would go home in defeat and manage Aaron’s legal office for the rest of my life while Nicole became a super-famous hacker.
I toweled off and went straight to my computer. I needed to talk to Matías. I vaguely noted that I was becoming somewhat obsessive about checking my email, but then again, who isn’t? I opened my laptop and there his message was. It was as if he were reading my mind.
TO: Dee Blum
FROM: Matías Khalil
SUBJECT: Human Nature
So Dee, about your disillusionment—I see you, because I’ve been there.
Every activist goes through it, because part of our job is seeing exactly what you don’t want to see.
It’s not easy fighting the good fight. It means you have to get down in the dirt and see the darker sides of humanity.
We don’t get the luxury of clicking past the article or turning off the TV.
We have to actively seek out the bad and then turn it into good.
And I know that’s exactly what you’re going to do.
You’re going to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and emerge even stronger.
You’re a fighter, Dee. Una combatiente. Keep the faith, don’t get discouraged, and continue taking photos! You’ve got this.
So, blue . What the hell is blue? The people in Avatar. A gray alien with a bluish undertone. Maybe you’re a Smurf? Dee, a color is not a hint!
* * *
TO: Matías Khalil
FROM: Dee Blum
SUBJECT: Re: Human Nature
A color is most certainly a hint! Haven’t you seen Clue ? And I can’t decide if you’re a cheerleader or a coach, but either way, you always make my day. How do you know what’s happening in my head? It’s like you know exactly what I need to hear. Thank you. Really.
The good news is tomorrow I’m going to Las Nubes, and Ramírez assures me they’re legit. This time (knock on wood) the photos will be usable, the farm will be a suitable candidate, and your faith will be validated.
As I closed my laptop, my phone buzzed. A text! From Matías!
It’s the listening device.
What?
That’s how I know what you need to hear. I planted a listening device in your brain. You know I’m the AI guy, right?
LOL. But, like... really. It’s kinda weird you’re inside my brain?
Maybe it’s just because we’re so similar? Or... maybe it’s the listening device?
I’m not sure it’s totally ethical to implant a listening device in your coworker’s brain?
You’re not just my coworker, you’re my companera. Despite the fact I have no idea who you are.
You have an entire website of info about me!
But no pics! Haven’t you heard, eyes are the window to the soul?
Fine.
I snapped a pic of just my eyes and sent it to him.
Wow. There’s something so intimate about just seeing the eyes.
°°°
Can you send a pic of your chin? Maybe also your forehead?
No chance.
That’s okay. I’ll reverse search your eyes and find you. Newb mistake, Dee.
How do you know I sent you a pic of MY eyes? Maybe the pic was a red herring.
Dang it! You’ve outsmarted me. But at least you seem to be out of your existential funk?
Maybe? I’m excited about Las Nubes.
I’m excited for you. But if it’s not all you hoped for, please don’t get too down. The world is full of all things, good, bad, but mostly a combo of both.
How do you know when you have too many ups and downs?
Are you talking about mental health?
I think so.
I think it’s part of growing into yourself. Especially for a person like you or me. It’s easy to be an idealist when you’re very young. The more you see of the world, the harder it is. Getting to a Zen space is the ideal—but, well, I’m not 100% there myself.
Do you think we will ever get there?
I hope so. Let’s help each other.
Get some sleep, companera. I want to hear all about Las Nubes tomorrow. I know you’re going to do great.
I turned off my phone and smiled. I didn’t know why, but Matías believed in me. Maybe one day I’d be able to believe in myself?