Chapter Thirty-six
Next morning, Dexter isn’t around. No one knows where he is. I had a fitful night’s sleep, lying awake thinking of Dexter in his bed just across the garden in the men’s accommodation block.
Victor has done us proud on the breakfast front, and he has even made me a packed lunch– bless him– as he doesn’t trust airline food. I hate to tell him I won’t get through customs with it, but neither will I waste it. I’ll eat it in the queue for Security, if I have to.
I have just enough time before my flight to say goodbye properly to all the sloths, particularly Flash, and then thank and hug every one of my sanctuary family. I feel as if someone is carving holes in my heart with a scythe. It was bad enough last night when I said an emotional farewell to Ed, Oscar, Nicolás and Gloriana, but today seems too much to cope with.
Now I’m really glad I chose to take a taxi. I look at my watch. It’s almost time. Where the hell is Dexter? I know he couldn’t face taking me to the airport, but I thought he might at least show up in the foyer like everyone else. I’ll be absolutely gutted if… Here he is. Finally. He heads straight for me.
‘I don’t like goodbyes, so let’s just say “hasta la vista”.’
I smile. ‘You forgot the “baby”.’ I can’t help but channel Arnie in Terminator when anyone says ‘hasta la vista’. It was one of Dad’s favourite films.
He grins, and I’m glad our final exchange has been a humorous one and we’re parting on good terms. Then I realise that this will be the last time I ever see him and my throat constricts.
He hands me a book. Crossword puzzles. ‘For the plane journey. To make it more bearable.’
‘Thanks.’ I know I was his crossword partner, helping him out when he mucked up the spellings, but it seems such a banal gift after everything we’ve shared.
The taxi beeps its horn outside. ‘Right, this is me,’ I say. I’m about to break down; I know I am. I need to get out of here before I start sobbing.
Rather than endure the pain of hugging and kissing everyone again, I wave as Victor helps me out to the cab with my bags.
‘Bye, everyone. I’ll email! Take care. I’ll miss you.’
There are so many shouts of love and support and tears, too– from most of my sanctuary family– that my vision is blurred before I reach the cab.
‘Bye, Victor.’
‘Remember, cook the sustancia de carne fifteen minutes longer than Sofia’s recipe,’ he whispers, and I can’t hold back my smile. God, I’m going to miss them all.
The cab pootles down the road and I wave frantically for about twenty seconds before I turn to face the cab driver, who eyes me curiously.
‘I hate goodbyes,’ I explain.
He nods. ‘Me too. And I see far too many of them.’
‘I can imagine.’
I settle back in my seat, my bag in my lap and the crossword book Dexter gave me still in my hand. Too big to put in my cross-body bag, I curse myself for not putting it in my suitcase.
We’re picking up speed now and the palm trees and water apple trees that have formed my daily landscape are soon whizzing past as we make our way towards the airport.
My phone pings and I dive in my bag, hoping Dexter has had some last-minute epiphany, but it’s a text from Mum.
Safe flight, Kat. Looking forward to seeing you, Mum.
I smile as I think of how different things were a few weeks ago. Rational thought returned to her, eventually, and she apologised for the things she said, particularly about Dad turning in his grave. And she seems to actually be happy I’m coming home, and not just so she can tell me working out here was a half-baked idea at best, an insane one at worst. Plus, she gave me a piece of good news, recently. I’m not sure whether she thought it might make me want to rush home to try to patch things up with him, but Aidan has a new girlfriend. The fact all I feel is relief speaks volumes, and it will make my re-entry to Scotland and my old life marginally more palatable.
I decide I may as well start one of the crosswords since I still have a long way to go to the airport. But when I open the book to the first page I notice some of the letters have already been filled in. 1 Across. Bear named after US president. Easy. Teddy. Frowning, I see only the T is filled in. Why would someone– presumably Dexter– only put in the first letter, or fill it in at all, particularly if he was giving it as a gift?
Another letter has been filled in. Again another first letter. E. I check the clue. Spiny anteater. Echidnea.
Further down, I note another letter on the left. A. 14 Down. Capital of the Netherlands. Well, that’s Amsterdam.
On the right, another letter. 27 Across. M. Clue. Italian dictator. Mussolini.
And one final one, right near the bottom. O. Clue. Type of theatre production. Opera?
But why have these letters, only the first letters of the words, been filled in? I squint, trying to figure it out. TEAMO. Team-o? That doesn’t make sense. I look up, trying to work it out. Then I see a tiny furry bundle by the side of the road and shout, ‘Stop!’
‘ Dios mio ,’ says the cab driver. ‘You almost gave me a heart attack.’
‘There’s a sloth by the kerb. It’s injured. Adult. About three years old.’ I break off, realising that I’m talking to the driver as if he’s one of the sanctuary staff. ‘Give me a minute. I need to call the sanctuary.’
‘OK, but he’s not coming in my cab,’ the driver warns.
‘I know. It’s OK.’ I turn away to make the call. ‘Dexter? Oh, thank God! There’s an injured sloth lying at the kerb on the road about half an hour from the sanctuary.’ I give him my approximate location and tell him I’m with the cab driver. He asks to speak to him and I hand the phone over.
I hear the cab driver say ‘yes’ a lot and then he passes me back to Dexter, who gives me instructions on what to do until he arrives.
Dexter has told the driver to wait, apparently, so once I’ve done what I can to make the sloth comfortable, without handling it too much, my mind turns again to the team-o conundrum. Meanwhile, I keep an eye on the sloth for signs of laboured breathing or further distress.
On the off chance, because it’s driving me mad, I say to the driver, ‘I don’t suppose you know what ‘teamo’ means, or if it means anything in Spanish, do you?’
‘Team-o? No. How do you spell it?’
‘T-E-A-M-O.’
The driver grins. ‘Not “team-o” but “ te amo ”.’
My jaw drops. Oh my God, of course. How could I have been so stupid? That’s why Dexter gave it to me as I was leaving. I didn’t imagine the words he whispered to me last night; I just didn’t confirm that I’d heard them, as I wasn’t sure. He does love me. Te amo . I love you.
I smile so widely the driver grins at me again. ‘Looks like it’s your lucky day,’ he says. ‘Is this him?’
I turn to see Dexter striding towards me from the sanctuary truck. I didn’t even hear it draw up, I was so lost in my own little world– at the realisation Dexter loves me. I needed a sign and now I have two.
As Dexter reaches me, scrutinising me, probably wondering why I’m smiling when I’ve just told him I’ve found an injured sloth, I throw myself, yes, I do, actually throw myself, into his arms and say, ‘I love you, too.’ Four words, not three little words, but since he only used two, I felt justified in adding the extra one.
He sets me down. ‘Good, because I love you,’ he says, overemphasising the words and pointing to himself then forming a heart shape with his fingers and pointing at me.
The cab driver whistles and I flush red, but I don’t care and neither does Dexter, as he kisses me softly at first then more deeply until the driver shouts, ‘ Ay , remember, there’s an injured sloth here.’
‘Good point,’ I say, recovering, and smoothing down my hair as Dexter steps away, still holding my hand, and moves forward to assess the sloth.
As I watch Dexter gently and carefully deal with the sloth, one of a species I love, I know, with one hundred per cent of my being that I have everything I need right here at Costa Punta: the sloths, my sloth family, and of course, Dexter.