Chapter Nineteen
It takes all my strength, both emotional and physical, to get out of bed next morning. I’m lucky if I slept ten minutes. I didn’t take myself for gullible, but it turns out I am. I have no idea how I’m going to face Dexter or Roisin today. I haven’t checked myself in the mirror yet, but I must look dreadful. I can hardly see out of my slits for eyes. My T-shirt was soaked from all my tears last night. I didn’t even get changed for bed, just lay on top of the covers and buried my head into my pillow so no one would hear me crying.
Of course I heard the others come back last night. How could I not? As everyone else drifted off, doors closing quietly, crickets chirping in the background, I lay awake thinking about everything, reliving that awful scene with Roisin. The only saving grace is that she doesn’t know I was there. God, I feel sick again. At least once I’d thrown up, I was physically OK, but emotionally I don’t know if I’ll ever be. I can’t unsee it. The seductive tone of her voice, the pout of her full lips, the swell of her chest; the way she’d let herself into his room, tarted up like that for him, makes me want to heave. Something has been going on between them, but the question is, was he seeing her at the same time as me?
I didn’t think Dexter was like that, but the evidence speaks for itself. Is that why he missed dinner last night? He was readying himself for a secret rendezvous with Roisin? Why couldn’t he keep it in his pants? Maybe Roisin is that kind of girl, but I’m not. I’m only intimate with someone if it really means something to me. I thought I meant something to Dexter. I mentally slap myself for being so na?ve.
Yes, I’m gutted at the possibility of something between Dexter and me being a thing of the past now, but I’m more worried over my future here at the sanctuary. How can I sustain that now?
When Federica knocks on my door to tell me it’s time for breakfast, I pull myself together a little and call through the door that I overslept and I’ll meet them there. I need to limit the amount of time for chit-chat with them and I especially need to ration the torturous time I spend in Dexter’s company. At some point I’ll have it out with him, I’m fed up being trodden on, but it won’t be today. I’m still too raw.
At breakfast, the girls have saved me a seat, and I reflect on how grateful I am that they readily accepted me into the fold, and how they look after me. Already I feel a part of the family here, but how long will that last now? At the moment, that saddens me more than anything else. I don’t want to be torn away from these wonderful women, nor the animals I love so much. How could I have been so stupid? Part of the reason I’m upset is because I feel I’ve let myself down. I’ve just got rid of Aidan, and now I’ve fallen straight into this ‘thing’ with Dexter, no-holds barred, and for what? To have him crap on me from a great height, that’s what.
I shove my chorreadas around my plate. Usually, I’d be wolfing these pancakes down, but right now I’d choke if I tried. With some difficulty, I manage a few sips of coffee, all the while hoping it doesn’t come back up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Federica and Mariangeles exchanging concerned surreptitious glances. I’ll have to tell them what has happened, but I can’t get the words out just yet. I have no idea why I bothered coming for breakfast, other than it would look weird if I didn’t. I only hope Sofia doesn’t notice I haven’t eaten much. I don’t want to cause offence, or have her worrying over me.
Roisin hasn’t appeared and neither has Dexter. Probably still wrapped around each other. I push back my chair so fast it screeches.
‘Excuse me,’ I manage before I dart across the canteen and out into the foyer where I spot Roisin just before I bolt into the bathroom, slam the door and retch into the toilet bowl. This is becoming something of a habit.
I’m still trying to compose myself when the door creaks open. It had better not be bloody Roisin. That’s all I need. It would be just like her to come rub salt in my wounds. Then I remember she doesn’t know I saw her.
‘Kat?’ Mariangeles. ‘Kat, are you OK?’
The gentleness of her tone and the concern in her voice make me want to weep.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘Is something wrong or are you just feeling off-colour?’
Deciding it’s better to get this over with, painful though the words will be, I open the door.
Mariangeles’ eyes widen. ‘You don’t look so good. Do you need to sit down?’
I shake my head, although that then makes me feel rather faint. I brace my arms on either side of the sink, then finally turn on a tap, wash my hands and splash water over my face.
The water cools my skin, which was red-hot only a moment before. Eventually, I’m able to talk.
Mariangeles has stood silently waiting for me to speak as I freshened up.
I turn to her. ‘Dexter’s sleeping with Roisin.’
‘What?’ A mix of incredulity and shock crosses her features. ‘No.’ She shakes her head. ‘No way.’
I nod sadly. ‘Yes way.’
She shakes her head again. ‘Dexter barely tolerates Roisin.’
That’s not the way I’ve read it when I’ve seen them together, well, mostly. I think back to how uncomfortable he looked when Roisin was all over him in the canteen. But was that purely because I was there too? And it’s certainly not what I witnessed last night in his room. No one puts on a display like that for someone who ‘barely tolerates’ them. Do I tell Mariangeles the whole truth? What I saw?
I settle for, ‘I have proof.’
She continues to shake her head. ‘No, chica , there must be some mistake. Dexter isn’t like that. He would never… not with her .’
I frown. ‘Why are you so sure? I know what I saw.’
Mariangeles’ brows knit. ‘You saw them together?’
I heave a sigh. ‘Not exactly.’
‘What did you see?’ Mariangeles presses.
‘Enough to know they’re sleeping together.’ I expel all the air out of me in one huge whoosh. ‘Enough to know there’s no coming back from it, for me and Dexter.’
‘No, Kat, you’re wrong.’
But I’ve stopped listening. I’m not wrong. My eyes didn’t deceive me. That image will be imprinted on my memory possibly for the rest of my life, certainly for the rest of my time in Costa Rica, however long that may be.
As Mariangeles reassures me, I shift to autopilot. I’m still on autopilot when she guides me out of the door five minutes later, and I wait like a naughty schoolchild outside the headmaster’s office, this time Carlos’, whilst Mariangeles speaks in hushed whispers to him. I groan, praying she doesn’t mention Dexter. When she comes out of his office, I glare at her.
‘Don’t worry, I told him I needed you today, but not why. That way we can steer clear of everyone for a bit. A bit of good, hard labour will help. We’re going to chop down some wood–’ my eyes go wide with alarm at this ‘–for the play area for the youth sloths. There are a few more of them now, so we need a couple more stimulation areas.’ She grins. ‘They’re not good at waiting their turn for a branch to swing from.’
I exhale heavily. Thankful though I am for Mariangeles’ diversion, it’s only delaying the inevitable confrontation with Dexter. And the smug look I’ll receive from Roisin when she has confirmation she has split Dexter and me up before our relationship could really take off. Although not before it could get to the next level. I mentally kick myself for sleeping with him so soon. But if felt so right. I worry at a ragged fingernail, my once well-cared-for nails reduced to shreds. I’m surprised they’re not bleeding from the savage way I’ve treated them the past few hours.
There’s a reason men usually do this work, I think as I stretch my back and set down the axe I’ve been wielding for the past thirty minutes, but which feels far longer. My feminism has gone out the window. What I wouldn’t give for a deep-tissue massage right now. I’d always thought I was in fairly good shape, relatively fit, but now I feel about a hundred and two. Plus, I’m soaked in sweat. Nice. Whilst I enjoy the weather being lovely here, I could do without the humidity being as high. I’ll pay for this workout tomorrow, if I can get comfortable in bed at all tonight. Bed. Best not to think of that right now. The only good thing is that it’s satisfying work, and Mariangeles assuaged my concerns about cutting down trees by advising me we have a permit to do so, and we only cut in certain areas and we always replant, but we do need some materials and this is where we take them from.
She also told me to steer clear of the manchineel trees. I thought they looked pretty and even that they carried fruit, like some kind of Latin American apple, but it turns out they’re one of the most toxic trees in the world. Just as well Mariangeles was here to keep me right. The last thing I need is my life worsening in any way right now, or ending from me touching the tree’s milky white sap. I file away the info for later, mindful never to eat anything from the trees without first asking what it is.
The sun is merciless on our backs, however, and for every five swings of the axe, I feel as if I’m having to take one swig of water. That doesn’t stop me needing to wipe the sweat from my brow every few minutes, and it also runs in rivulets between my breasts and down my back. This is stay in the shade or by a pool weather, not chop logs to build a play area for sloths temperatures.
I’m sticky and uncomfortable, yet there’s something therapeutic about the rhythmic thwack, thwack of the axe hitting the tree, despite my inner conservationist wanting to apologise for chopping it down.
When we make our way back towards the main building for lunch, Federica and Ella are hefting boxes out of one of the trucks.
‘Here, give me one of those,’ I say to Ella, whose ponytail bounces as she tries to readjust a box which is slipping from her grasp.
‘Where did you two get to?’ Federica asks. ‘What’s going on?’
Mariangeles shoots me a look, and I nod for her to relay the details of this unhappy chapter in my life.
Once Mariangeles has apprised them of the situation and after much swearing by all three in Spanish, Federica lowers the box she’s carrying to the ground and comes towards me, closing her arms around me in a mummy-like hug that the Egyptians would be proud of. Her long chestnut hair swings over my shoulder, partially obscuring my face, and it’s all I can do not to break down as I hide behind it.
When we break apart, Ella is hanging back, her brow creased in confusion. ‘I don’t understand. That’s not who I thought Dexter was. Plus, he’s never really seemed that friendly with Roisin. I always had the impression that of us all, he liked her the least.’
I nod. ‘Maybe so, but she’s tall, leggy, bewitching obviously and clearly experimental in bed.’
As I say that last part, I remember I didn’t get around to telling Mariangeles the whole story. At her quizzical look, I sigh. ‘Never mind.’
I should have skipped lunch. As everyone else digs in to Sofia’s latest ecstasy on a plate, I twirl pieces of mine on the fork and barely manage one or two bites. I honestly don’t even know what it is, and for once, I don’t have the urge to ask.
At least Dexter has the decency to avoid me. He must feel a little bit awkward coming into a room with two women he has slept with on consecutive nights. I wonder if it would matter to Roisin if she knew for certain I’d slept with Dexter. Probably not. I’ve met her type before, and they’re all about winning. Well, she can take home the prize. I’m a fair person, but I don’t like to share. Not boyfriends anyway. And whilst I know it’s ridiculous to think of Dexter as my boyfriend, since we’ve only known each other just over a week, the fact that we slept together was that pivotal moment when a casual thing moves into something more meaningful. It was real for me; I thought it was for Dexter, too. Unfortunately, he seems to like it real with more than one person at a time. I groan again. Roisin. It had to be her.
I’m taking a sip of my agua dulce when Dexter strolls into the room, looking, goddamn it, even sexier than ever. His stubble is thicker and the creases around his eyes are a little more pronounced, but the confident way he strides into the room has my breath catching in my throat, despite myself.
I stare down at my drink, fiddling with my napkin. It takes all my composure not to burst into tears.
‘Hey,’ he says, stopping by my chair. ‘I missed you last night.’
What the actual…? Did I hear him right? Is he seriously doing this?
I raise my eyes to meet his and he recoils, taking a step back.
Hushed voices reach my ears– Mariangeles and Federica whispering. I stifle a half-smile. They’ll be worried things are about to kick off, but they needn’t worry. I won’t give him the satisfaction, certainly not with an audience. That conversation is for another time.
His handsome face crumples. ‘Is everything OK?’
I do everything in my power to keep my tone even, but my ‘Fabulous,’ comes out as a snarl.
Ella gets to her feet. ‘Sorry, Dexter. Luciana needs Kat to relieve her from the nursery so she can have lunch.’
I glance gratefully at Ella. ‘Oh, gosh, is that the time? Thanks for the reminder.’ Turning to Dexter, I say, ‘Excuse me,’ and bolt for the door before I knee him in the balls.
As I tell Luciana she can go for lunch, I sit on the sofa and watch two sloths climb on the rocking chairs– their favourite game. Even their comical antics can’t cheer me up today, though. How dare he? How dare he pretend he missed me when he had that tart in his bed. I will never trust my instincts about anyone ever again.
I’m still seething five minutes later when Mariangeles enters the nursery. She sits down beside me and gives me a hug. ‘What are you going to do?’
It takes real effort to unclench my teeth. ‘Well, I was hoping it would dawn on him that something was amiss, but obviously I’ve given him too much credit.’
Mariangeles gives a sad smile. ‘I just can’t believe it.’ Her eyes flash. ‘I’ve always thought of Dexter as one of the good guys.’
‘Yeah, I thought so too.’
My phone pings a text message. Becca. As I go to read it, Mariangeles says, ‘I’ll see you later.’
Hi, Kat. How’s tricks with the delectable Dexter? xx
Oh, Becca. Your timing couldn’t be worse. My fingers hover over the keys, but I can’t do it. I need some time before I admit that I’ve failed once again. That I’ve got it wrong once again.
I’ve fed the pups, tidied the nursery and counted the number of leaves in each packet about a hundred times before the workday is finally over. I do compose a rather noncommittal reply to Becca eventually. I can’t face the truth just yet. As I walk back to the women’s accommodation block, lost in my thoughts, a familiar voice makes me stop.
‘There you are. Have you been hiding from me? I thought I’d never get you on your own.’ Dexter smiles at me as I turn towards him. His smile soon falls away as I dredge up every ounce of vitriol within me, everything I’ve been keeping inside all day and say, ‘Are you for real? You missed me last night? Hardly! Was your Irish counterpart not enough for you?’
Dexter frowns. ‘What? Of course I missed you last night.’ He hesitates. ‘Irish counterpart? What are you talking about?’
His hesitation is all the proof I need. ‘Let’s just say I don’t believe you missed me at all, given you were otherwise occupied last night.’
Dexter’s frown deepens. ‘I was otherwise occupied, you’re right.’
‘Hah! You’re not even denying it. Well, do you know what? She’s welcome to you. You disgust me.’ I storm off, trying to put some distance between us.
‘Wait! Kat!’ He puts his hand on my arm. ‘I don’t know what you think happened, but I think we’re at cross purposes here.’
I shrug off his arm. ‘I don’t think so. I saw it all too clearly. Unfortunately.’
Dexter follows me until he’s level with me again. God, I wish he didn’t have such a long stride. I can’t outrun him.
A vein pulses in his neck. ‘What did you see?’ His voice has risen ever so slightly. Someone doesn’t like being caught out.
I stop and square my shoulders at him. ‘Do you really want me to say it? Are you honestly that cruel?’
He looks… mystified. ‘Cruel? Kat, spit it out. What did you see?’
I study him, unable to believe he’s making me do this. ‘Dexter, the reason I don’t believe you missed me last night is because I saw Roisin spreadeagled on your bed, waiting for you, wearing nothing but a skimpy bodysuit. Happy now?’ Then I turn and flee for the women’s block before he sees the tears streaming down my face, and before I break down in front of him.