Acapulco Nights (17 page)

“James?” His name on my lips was like water on a parched tongue, soothing and cool. “It’s me,” I whispered, moving forward into the darkness.

A ray of moonlight seeped through a crack in the heavy curtains at the window, illuminating the TV screen on a stand in the corner.

“You lied to me,” he said. His voice came from somewhere near the couch.

“I know.” Shame burned inside me.

“For six years you lied to me.” He sounded disgusted with me. “What kind of person does that? What kind of person lies to her fiancé? I trusted you. I believed in you.” His voice cracked.

Those words hit me like burning embers, each one stinging more than the last.

“I can explain—”

“Get out.”

My blood ran cold at those two words.

“What?”

“Get. Out.”

“James—” I pleaded.

“Get the fuck out of my room.”

I had never heard James speak that way. Not to me. Not to anyone. Hot tears stung my eyes. I wanted to cry. I wanted to show him that I hurt, too. Instead, I stumbled toward the door, my hand searching in the blackness for the knob.

The door opened, and a blinding stab of light from the hallway hit my eyes. I stepped into the hall, not knowing where to go. The door clicked shut behind me, and I made my way to the bank of elevators.

I needed to get away. To be alone. To think things through. His harsh words stung me. The tears fell out of my eyes in a hot rush. I couldn’t stop them.

I pushed the button for the lobby and waited for the elevator to take me down.

*

I wiped the tears from my face, and looked at my watch. I had to pull myself together.

It was past one-thirty in the morning.

I exited out into the desolate lobby. A young man dressed in a suit and tie stood behind the concierge desk, and a sleepy-looking guard leaned up against the wall near the entrance. The guard, with his cap pulled low over his eyes, barely even gave me a glance.

I still wore my evening dress, but it had wrinkled, and I felt a mess. I took off my high heels to soothe my aching feet, but also to make it easier for me to move undetected. The loud tick-tacking of heels on the lobby’s marble floor would undoubtedly draw attention to me when I most wanted to fade into nothing.

Shoes dangling from one hand, I made my way outside to the patio around the pool. A few couples remained from the fiesta, dancing slowly in the darkness. All but one of the tiki torches had burned out. Waiters cleared away empty platters, wine glasses, tumblers, and used napkins, which were scattered around on the small outdoor tables. The bar had closed. A
guitarrón
player remained on stage, strumming softly, while the rest of the mariachi band packed up their instruments.

A warm, moist breeze greeted me when I came out onto the patio. I stood for a moment, letting the gentle wind caress my body, the skirt of my dress fluttering around my legs. At that moment, the impact of what I’d lost, what I’d done came rushing at me. I lost the one man I needed most. The one man who always had loved me and cared for me.

I imagined lying in our bed at home, the comforter pulled up over my legs and a mug of coffee in my hand. James sat next to me in his button-up pajamas, the kind my father wore, with little pinstripes and a collar and buttons all up the front. I used to tease him about those pajamas. How old he looked. As if here were someone’s grandpa. We would laugh, and he would kiss me, feeding me bits of muffin in the early morning light.

Oh, what had I done?

I had been so stupid to think this would all go away so easily. How naïve I’d been to believe I could fly down to Acapulco and walk away with a divorce just by snapping my fingers.

I walked past the last few couples who danced on the patio. Pushing through the hotel gate, I made my way onto the beach. The sand was cool to the touch. Even with the warm breeze blowing, I shivered at the feel of the sand on my bare feet.

I had no destination in mind, only a need to keep moving. A need to keep walking down the length of the sliver of sand that hugged the curve of Acapulco Bay. A need to find a quiet and solitary place where I could get free of my thoughts and stare up at the moon.

*

There, on the sand, sat a familiar figure. The dark tumble of hair and a certain proud jut to the chin told me I’d found Mercedes. Even over the loud crash of waves against the sand, I could hear her weeping.

At first, I thought to pass her by. I had been part of her public humiliation after all. She probably wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. But her tears stopped me. I knew at least a little bit of what she must be feeling. If I couldn’t help her, at least I could be sympathetic. We’d both been played for fools.

“Mercedes?”

She wiped her nose and eyes, keeping her head turned away from me. “Leave me alone. I want to be alone.”

“I thought maybe I could help.”

She snapped her head around and glared at me. “Help me? The wife of Joaquin Hernandez wants to help me? How sweet. How kind. Yes, help the pathetic little Mercedes. The little
idiota
who thought she fell in love.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot.” I sat down beside her on the sand, tucking my long skirt underneath my bare legs. “And for what it’s worth, I came down to Acapulco to get a divorce. He never loved me, either.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. You know all those years ago? He used me to get away from you.” I hugged my knees to my chest. “How perfect was that? An American student going back to the U.S. in a few months? If I hadn’t left on my own, I’m sure he would have found some excuse to leave me. I’m guessing he was trying to get away from his responsibilities. The girl in the picture in his office? Ariana? Were you pregnant when you dropped out of school?”

She sighed and pulled her hair away from her face. “Yes. Four months along. I didn’t know what else to do. If my friends found out, or my parents—he promised he’d take care of me. But it had all been lies.”

“Oh, Mercedes, you must have been so scared. I wish things could have been different between you and me. I might have been able to help.”

“Did he ever say anything about me? About our baby?”

“No! If I had known—” I picked up a handful of the cool sand and let it run through my fingers. “Well, that’s all in the past now, and I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you, and instead—”

“We both were young, no?” She looked at me through a strand of hair blowing in the sea breeze.

“Yes, we were.”

“Do you want to see a picture of Ariana and me?” She brushed the sand off of her hands.

“I’d love to.”

Mercedes opened her handbag, pulled out a red leather wallet, and flipped it open. “This was taken last year at Christmas.” She handed me a picture.

Ariana wore a beautiful red velvet dress, her black hair radiated like a cloud around her heart-shaped face. Mercedes stood behind her, hands on her daughter’s shoulders.

“She’s very pretty.”

“Thank you.”

Now that I knew Ariana was Mercedes’s daughter, the similarities were so obvious. “I think she looks a lot like you.”

“Except for the eyes. She has her father’s eyes.”

“Yes.” I brushed my thumb across the picture. “But she’s
your
daughter.”

Mercedes nodded and took the picture from me, carefully tucking it back in her wallet. “So, he’s not leaving Mexico?”

“Not with me. I don’t know. Maybe he has plans.”

“His mother lives here, you know. She knew about the baby. She wanted him to do the right thing.”

“And then I came into the picture. No wonder she didn’t like me.”

Mercedes smiled. “She doesn’t like much of anyone. She’s a tough woman to love, but she adores Ariana. She’s been a wonderful grandmother to her.”

“Maybe that’s all she needs.”

“Yes, maybe.” She put her wallet back in her purse. “So, you’re going to divorce Joaquin. Then, what?”

“I’m engaged to someone else.”

“
Americano
?”

I nodded my head.

“That’s good. I’m glad you have found someone.”

“Thanks. He’s a good man.” I thought about the night he had changed my tire, down on the greasy floor of the parking garage in his nice suit. “He’d do anything for me.”

“Well, that is the kind of man you should marry.”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

Mercedes glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late. I really should go. This night didn’t turn out quite the way I was expecting.” She gave me a glimmer of a smile.

“It was good to talk to you, Mercedes. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Ah, I’ll be okay.” She picked up a pebble and threw it into the waves. “How do they say it? ‘There’s more than one fish in the sea’?”

“Exactly.”

We both got up off the sand. She waved at me and headed back toward the hotel.

I wasn’t ready to go back yet. I needed some time alone to think, but I was glad that I had made amends with Mercedes. We may never have been destined to be friends, but at least now we understood each other.

Joaquin had hurt both of us. In that way, we were allies.

*

I sat on the sand for hours. This late at night no one was out on the beach—just me, my thoughts, and the silver moon, slowly moving across the sky.

I knew what I had to do. There was maybe a chance for me and James, but I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself. Moping would solve nothing.

I looked at my watch. Three-thirty in the morning. Before I tackled any of this, I needed to get some sleep somewhere. Sleeping on the beach probably would not be the safest bet, and, besides, I was cold. Even seventy-degree weather can start to feel chilly if you’re wearing a spaghetti strap dress with a steady ocean breeze at your back.

I made my way back to the hotel, which seemed to be miles and miles from where I stood—its distinctive electric-orange lights like a group of fireflies at this distance. At some point, I lost one of my shoes. I was too tired to go back for it, so I left the orphan shoe behind in the sand, as if I were Cortez marking Spain’s territory with a flag. The spot where I decided to fix my broken life.

Trudging through the sand, my legs grew weary. The lights were as far away as before. I wondered absently if there might actually be a treadmill under all this sand. Clearly, I was sleep-deprived.

But I walked on.

The hotel lights got closer, my body grew more tired. By the time I reached the pool patio, I was ready to collapse. I staked out an empty lounge chair, covered myself with a couple of the thin, hotel towels, and promptly fell asleep.

*

“
Señorita
?”

Someone shook me – rather roughly, I thought. I groaned and rolled to one side.

“
Señorita, no puede dormir aquí. No puede, usted
!”

My tired eyes cracked open. The early morning light burned them.

An anxious maid leaned over me, her plump little body quivering in confusion.

Oh, God. It was morning, and I had fallen asleep outside by the pool.

I sat up, clutching one of the towels to my chest.

Last night the lounge chair had been the perfect solution. I had been so, so tired, and there had been a very comfortable looking chair waiting for me to lie on it.

But this morning, I realized the error. Early morning buffet breakfast by the pool.

It was still early, thank goodness. But a few crack-of-dawn type people were queueing up across the patio from me, waiting for pancakes,
huevos rancheros
, and tropical fruit salad. While waiting, they found my predicament quite entertaining.

I finger-combed what must be my atrocious coiffure and got up from the lounge chair with as much grace as possible. I tried to wipe the wrinkles out of my skirt. And my shoes! Whoops. I’d forgotten. I only had one shoe.

I reached for my handbag, pulled out my room key card, and waved it in front of the maid’s face. I didn’t want her to think I was some drunk who had wandered in from the beach last night. I was a paying guest.

With as much dignity as I could muster, I sauntered past the pool and the growing line of earlier diners and entered the lobby.

I headed to the elevators without thinking. I didn’t care that I looked a mess, that my teeth needed to be brushed, or that I had sand in places I didn’t want to think about. My first thought was to find James. I wanted to let him know why I did what I did and that I would fix it. I would get the papers signed for the divorce before I left Mexico. I needed to tell him I had never loved anyone but him.

On the elevator ride up I thought about James in the room last night. How final and sad he’d sounded. I had to show him our relationship could be fixed. I had made a mistake. A terrible mistake.