Read The Topsail Accord Online
Authors: J T Kalnay
The Topsail Accord (33 page)
“
You go home tomorrow Joe?” Salvaro asks.
You go home tomorrow Joe?” Salvaro asks.
“
Si. Manana,” Joe answers. He has been learning some Spanish.
Si. Manana,” Joe answers. He has been learning some Spanish.
“
And you go the day after?” Salvaro asks me.
And you go the day after?” Salvaro asks me.
“
Yes.”
Yes.”
Has he asked because he is trying to schedule, or is there something else behind his question?
Dinner tonight is Mahi Mahi. Again it is amazingly large and as fresh as fish can be. The flesh is firm and almost sweet. The surfers who have been here for several days are tired. And their experiences are beginning to repeat. They have been to this restaurant before and they are beginning to count the days until they return home. The regularity of the tides, of the length of the days, of the waves. It is seductive and yet repetitive. After three or four days here you have either decided to head home with amazing stories or you have decided to go native and to stay here. I have decided to do both. To go home, but to return next spring, with Joe. I will tell him after dinner. Before I have my way with him.
On the way back along the dark, twisting coastal highway Salvaro swerves to avoid an eighteen wheeler that has come too close to our side of the road. He says nothing but we can all sense that chemical coppery stink of tension and of a close call. I grip Joe’s thigh and he pats my hand.
Salvaro carts us up the hill in the dark and I do not even offer any pretense about going to Joe’s bungalow. No surfer needs to hear another fabricated excuse. Though they all wonder why they see me emerging from my own bungalow in the morning after seeing me enter Joe’s in the night. I feel no need to explain to anyone. I am in Costa Rica with my lover and I make no excuses or explanations for either. I do not explain, I do not complain.
We arrive in his bed and I am kissing him and rubbing myself on him. I start to descend, to take him in my mouth. He stops me.
“
No. I want to be inside you,” he says.
No. I want to be inside you,” he says.
I look in his eyes.
“
You don’t like it when I do that?” I ask. These are the most words we have spoken while having sex since I have met him.
You don’t like it when I do that?” I ask. These are the most words we have spoken while having sex since I have met him.
“
That’s not it,” he answers.
That’s not it,” he answers.
“
Then let me,” I say. I move lower.
Then let me,” I say. I move lower.
“
Wait,” he says.
Wait,” he says.
I continue to move, even while I look up at him. I have him in my hand, his dick is barely an inch from my mouth. I wait for him to arch his hips up, to acquiesce, to do my bidding. He arches and I take him and it is over quickly. He comes hard and convulses and then dissolves into nothingness.
I work my way up beside him, lie beside him.
“
I’ve decided to come back here next spring with you,” I say.
I’ve decided to come back here next spring with you,” I say.
He smiles through the tiredness and the satisfaction.
“
And I’ve decided to do the lighthouse tour with you this fall,” I say.
And I’ve decided to do the lighthouse tour with you this fall,” I say.
His smile spreads. He is happy, and he is in love. Now he has July and October and January and next spring to anticipate.
“
Why?” he asks. He is asking me to say that I love him. But I don’t love him.
Why?” he asks. He is asking me to say that I love him. But I don’t love him.
“
Because I want to,” I answer. It is not the answer he wanted, or expected. He thought that on this, our last night in Costa Rica, after a week of ocean and jungle and sex and vanilla scented breezes that I would tell him that I love him. He was wrong.
Because I want to,” I answer. It is not the answer he wanted, or expected. He thought that on this, our last night in Costa Rica, after a week of ocean and jungle and sex and vanilla scented breezes that I would tell him that I love him. He was wrong.
He rolls towards me.
“
Will you stay with me tonight?” he asks.
Will you stay with me tonight?” he asks.
“
No.”
No.”
“
Will you stay until I can be inside you?” he asks.
Will you stay until I can be inside you?” he asks.
“
No. And I’ll be gone with the surfers before the driver comes for you, so we should say ‘good night’ and ‘see you in July’ right now,” I answer.
No. And I’ll be gone with the surfers before the driver comes for you, so we should say ‘good night’ and ‘see you in July’ right now,” I answer.
He takes me in his arms, hugs me, holds me. I wonder if he will let me go.
“
Why didn’t you want me inside you tonight?” he asks.
Why didn’t you want me inside you tonight?” he asks.
So he did notice.
“
Because I wanted to do that for you,” I answer.
Because I wanted to do that for you,” I answer.
“
But you don’t get anything out of that,” he says.
But you don’t get anything out of that,” he says.
“
You’re wrong. I get something out of it. I get to see my lover feel that. I get to feel your intensity in my mouth, in my hand. I get to know that I have given you the release, the completion.”
You’re wrong. I get something out of it. I get to see my lover feel that. I get to feel your intensity in my mouth, in my hand. I get to know that I have given you the release, the completion.”
“
But you don’t come,” he quickly answers.
But you don’t come,” he quickly answers.
“
I came three times today,” I answer. I do not tell him that I also get something else. I get to control him. I get to dictate what he will do and what I will not do. I didn’t know this about sex. And I didn’t know it about me, although I suspected it. I do like control. I like to control him. Knowing that I can control him like this in some way liberates me to let him make me come in the daytime, to let him have his way, to let him be the man on top and inside while I am the woman below, the receiver. Knowing that I can be in charge, at any time, with just my mouth and my hand and that he is powerless to stop me, makes me able to slip away into the nothingness of the day.
I came three times today,” I answer. I do not tell him that I also get something else. I get to control him. I get to dictate what he will do and what I will not do. I didn’t know this about sex. And I didn’t know it about me, although I suspected it. I do like control. I like to control him. Knowing that I can control him like this in some way liberates me to let him make me come in the daytime, to let him have his way, to let him be the man on top and inside while I am the woman below, the receiver. Knowing that I can be in charge, at any time, with just my mouth and my hand and that he is powerless to stop me, makes me able to slip away into the nothingness of the day.
If I had known this twenty years ago would things have been different with Rick? Would I have been different? Or would I have been with someone else? Someone who was able to take charge but also to relinquish control. Someone willing to be dominated in the way that I dominate Joe? Or would my domination have doomed my marriage even sooner?
“
I will see you in July,” I say. I kiss him on the lips, on the cheek, on the forehead. I roll off the bed and dress. He starts to rise, to give me another hug, another kiss. I put my hand on his chest and pin him gently to the bed. I kiss him again on the lips, again on the forehead. He stays in the bed and I leave his bungalow.
I will see you in July,” I say. I kiss him on the lips, on the cheek, on the forehead. I roll off the bed and dress. He starts to rise, to give me another hug, another kiss. I put my hand on his chest and pin him gently to the bed. I kiss him again on the lips, again on the forehead. He stays in the bed and I leave his bungalow.
No drivers or Joes or exes or any other dream lovers come to me in my sleep tonight. I am alone in my bungalow in Costa Rica, with the ocean on one side and the jungle all around. My dismissed lover is asleep four hundred yards away up the hill, and there is a day by myself waiting tomorrow. I have no dreams, just peace.
Joe
“
Ready? Listo?” the driver asks.
Ready? Listo?” the driver asks.
“
Si,” I reply.
Si,” I reply.
His bags are in the van, and it will be just Joe and the driver making the trip to San Jose. Just the driver returning.
The surfers left for the beach an hour before sunrise.
“
I thought it was dangerous to be in the ocean at sunrise?” Joe asks. “Because that’s when the sharks feed,” Joe says.
I thought it was dangerous to be in the ocean at sunrise?” Joe asks. “Because that’s when the sharks feed,” Joe says.
“
Sometimes we see a shark, sometimes a shark bites someone. If you are in the ocean long enough you will see a shark,” the driver says without commitment. He has been instructed by Salvaro about how to discuss sharks with the surfers.
Sometimes we see a shark, sometimes a shark bites someone. If you are in the ocean long enough you will see a shark,” the driver says without commitment. He has been instructed by Salvaro about how to discuss sharks with the surfers.
“
But isn’t it most dangerous at sunrise and sunset?” Joe persists.
But isn’t it most dangerous at sunrise and sunset?” Joe persists.
“
Do you miss her already?” the driver asks.
Do you miss her already?” the driver asks.
Joe is unprepared for the rapid change in subject. Wonders whether he should discuss Shannon with this driver. But the driver has been in the ocean with them several days, helping to push the surfboards out through the surf, helping the beginners surf in the white water. He has shared at least a part of the week with them, and there is a connection.
“
Si,” Joe answers.
Si,” Joe answers.
“
She is very beautiful. Mas bonita,” the driver says.
She is very beautiful. Mas bonita,” the driver says.
“
Si,” Joe answers. He recalls that the surf instructor in North Carolina said the same thing. Apparently Costa Rican men find Shannon attractive.
Si,” Joe answers. He recalls that the surf instructor in North Carolina said the same thing. Apparently Costa Rican men find Shannon attractive.
“
Is she your girlfriend in America?” the driver asks.
Is she your girlfriend in America?” the driver asks.
“
Sometimes,” Joe answers.
Sometimes,” Joe answers.
The driver gets the slightly confused look on his face that appears when a gringo has turned a phrase that he is unsure how to parse. Joe recognizes the look.
“
She lives in Ohio, one part of America, and I live in North Carolina, another part of America. It takes an entire day to drive from one place to another. When she is in North Carolina she is my girlfriend.”
She lives in Ohio, one part of America, and I live in North Carolina, another part of America. It takes an entire day to drive from one place to another. When she is in North Carolina she is my girlfriend.”
“
And when she is in Costa Rica she is your girlfriend too,” the driver adds.
And when she is in Costa Rica she is your girlfriend too,” the driver adds.
“
Si,” Joe answers.
Si,” Joe answers.
The rest of the drive passes in silence as the driver concentrates on the hundred turns on the alternately good and then potted and rutted road that leads to the airport.
“
Pura Vida,” the driver says as he shakes hands with Joe.
Pura Vida,” the driver says as he shakes hands with Joe.
“
Gracias,” Joe answers.
Gracias,” Joe answers.
Shannon
The water is warm again this morning. Salvaro says it is warm almost every day. That there are only a few days when a current comes in closer and makes the water cooler. But never cold. The water is never cold. The air is never cold. It is either warm or hot, never cold.
She has caught several waves this morning on the smaller board that Salvaro has brought for her.
“
You are ready to turn,” he says. “Try to go along the wave, along the shore, not straight at the shore,” he teaches.
You are ready to turn,” he says. “Try to go along the wave, along the shore, not straight at the shore,” he teaches.
She heeds, and turns, and rides along the wave rather than rushing down the face and getting ahead of the wave and then having to catch it again while it is breaking.
The ride along the face is slower, longer, more in control, less of a headlong rush and more of a building smoothness. She tries to turn back over the wave like she has seen the young boys do, to avoid the blender, but she has not yet mastered the trick.
She paddles back out.
“
Good,” Salvaro says. He smiles. His student has learned. She gets it. She doesn’t fight the ocean, or fight him. She gives herself to the ocean. He thinks about the doctors and lawyers and businessmen who come to his surf camp and who fight the ocean. The waves evict these rigid men and women quickly and sometimes hold them under. But not Shannon. She yields, and in yielding gains some measure of control over the uncontrollable Pacific.
Good,” Salvaro says. He smiles. His student has learned. She gets it. She doesn’t fight the ocean, or fight him. She gives herself to the ocean. He thinks about the doctors and lawyers and businessmen who come to his surf camp and who fight the ocean. The waves evict these rigid men and women quickly and sometimes hold them under. But not Shannon. She yields, and in yielding gains some measure of control over the uncontrollable Pacific.
On the beach the surfers rinse. There is only Shannon and two others today. Others will arrive tomorrow when Shannon leaves. Salvaro offers her fresh watermelon, fresh mango.
“
You did good today,” he says. “Maybe you will come back and learn some more?” he asks.
You did good today,” he says. “Maybe you will come back and learn some more?” he asks.
“
I will come back next April,” she answers.
I will come back next April,” she answers.
“
With Joe?” he asks.
With Joe?” he asks.
“
I will be here, Joe will be here, but I will come by myself and leave by myself,” she answers.
I will be here, Joe will be here, but I will come by myself and leave by myself,” she answers.
“
You are a couple?” he asks.
You are a couple?” he asks.
“
Sometimes,” she answers.
Sometimes,” she answers.
Salvaro has seen much in his years running the surf camp and in his years travelling the country and the world as a surfer. Has seen every type of relationship between men and women and men and men and women and women and every possible combination. He understands her half-answer. Prods no further.
“
Is that house over there for sale?” Shannon asks.
Is that house over there for sale?” Shannon asks.
“
Si. But it is not a good deal. It has been for sale for a long time. The owner thinks he will take advantage of an American.”
Si. But it is not a good deal. It has been for sale for a long time. The owner thinks he will take advantage of an American.”
“
Oh,” Shannon says.
Oh,” Shannon says.
“
I know some houses that are in a more quiet place, that are on the ocean, that are also for sale. Their owners are friends of mine, they would not take advantage of my friends,” Salvaro says.
I know some houses that are in a more quiet place, that are on the ocean, that are also for sale. Their owners are friends of mine, they would not take advantage of my friends,” Salvaro says.
“
You know everyone don’t you?” Shannon asks.
You know everyone don’t you?” Shannon asks.
“
No. But I know who I know, and I know who I can trust and I know who I cannot trust. I feel like you are someone I could trust,” Salvaro says.
No. But I know who I know, and I know who I can trust and I know who I cannot trust. I feel like you are someone I could trust,” Salvaro says.
Shannon looks into his eyes, tries to decide if he is coming on to her. Decides he is not. Decides he is a friendly man who cares about his guests and who has had some small satisfaction watching Shannon connect with the Pacific and with his home.
“
I was born and raised here,” he says. “My grandparents came here on a boat, along the coast. There was no road. They fished and grew vegetables and hunted and found fruits in the jungle. The road is new. From my lifetime, not theirs.”
I was born and raised here,” he says. “My grandparents came here on a boat, along the coast. There was no road. They fished and grew vegetables and hunted and found fruits in the jungle. The road is new. From my lifetime, not theirs.”
“
Are they still with us?” Shannon asks.
Are they still with us?” Shannon asks.
“
My mother is, she lives near these houses I will show you, if you would like to see a house.”
My mother is, she lives near these houses I will show you, if you would like to see a house.”
“
Yes I would like to look at a house today, before I go. And then when I am in America I will think about the house. Is there a lawyer you trust? And a contractor? In case I like this house?”
Yes I would like to look at a house today, before I go. And then when I am in America I will think about the house. Is there a lawyer you trust? And a contractor? In case I like this house?”
“
Si. And I have friends in America that you should talk to first. Friends who have bought here. You should talk to them first.”
Si. And I have friends in America that you should talk to first. Friends who have bought here. You should talk to them first.”
There is something in his statement. A warning, but not an overt warning. It is subtle, like everything about Salvaro is subtle. How he moves on his surfboard, how he reads and feels the waves, how he introduces topics and how he answers questions. All his words are directed towards having the listener come to their own conclusion. Except his orders in the water. ‘Paddle, paddle, paddle, UP!’ Or ‘get off the board’, or his other orders. The contrast between his command voice and his Zen voice, the separation between the tones, gives greater import to both.
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