“Done deal,” I said.
I went back to the cafe and joined Beatrice for coffee. The coffee was rich and black and almost took my breath away. Same as Beatrice’s eyes.
“When does your father come in?”
“Usually midday. And then he goes back. He used to stay on the boat all day. But now he fishes very early, comes back, goes out again late. He does not go too far. He does not have to. He seems to know where the fish are. This is one of the places he sells the fish to, this cafe. Perhaps the fish we ate is one he caught.”
“Doesn’t it bother you to eat a fish you know personally?”
“Not at all.”
“That seems inconsiderate.”
“Fuck the fish,” she said.
She saw me glancing at her little finger, the one with the tip missing.
“You wonder what happened?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“Fishing line. A shark was caught. He jerked, the line tangled. It took off the tip of my finger.”
“I didn’t mean to stare.”
“It is all right.”
We wandered around Playa del Carmen, looking at the tourist shops. Actually, after one shop I was pretty much worn out. The rest were the same ol’ same ol’, but I put up with it because Beatrice seemed to think she was showing me a good time.
She suggested a ferry over to Cozumel, but I wanted to be available when her father showed and I didn’t want to give those cops the chance to see me again. I told her so.
“Of course,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
All I could think about was Leonard back at their home, wounded, with nothing but bread and cheese to eat. I ought to get back there, and maybe it would be best to get him closer to town right away, one of the hotels. I might even be able to find a doctor, provided Charlie could rouse enough money.
I said, “Since you need us out tomorrow, we could walk around and see if I can find a hotel for me and Leonard. We actually had a room rented, but we didn’t show last night. We might can get a room there again.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Very well.”
We ended up at a different, cheaper, but nicer hotel. It was white stucco with a large palm near the front and a sign that translated something like the House of Siesta. Out front was a medium-sized yellow dog that looked croaked. It lay in the hot sun like a flapjack on a griddle. When we stepped over the dog, it wagged its tail, just to let us know it didn’t need burying.
Inside, Beatrice spoke Spanish to the man behind the desk. He had rooms.
“Shall I set you up?” she said.
I had been watching a couple of very large cockroaches practice sumo style shoving in the corner of the room. Kind of made me feel homesick, actually.
“Yes. Make it two nights. I want to give Leonard a little time to rest, time for the money to get here.”
She talked to the desk clerk. I gave him my charge card. Signed some papers. When he gave me back my card, Beatrice said, “Tonight, you two stay with us. I arranged for you a night after that. That is enough, is it not?”
I was surprised after what she had told me about wanting Leonard and me out, but I said, “Should be. If not, I can extend it. It doesn’t look as if people are knocking the doors off this place to get in.”
“It’s nicer than our home,” Beatrice said.
I felt bad, but didn’t know what to say, so let it go.
As we left the hotel, I said, “Why are you letting us stay tonight? I had the feeling you needed us out.”
“You are why. I thought maybe we do tonight what we did last night. As for why I want you out, well, I have personal reasons. They are not your fault.”
“I can live with that,” I said.
We wandered around for a while, but her father didn’t show at the dock. We finally went back to the cafe and bought some coffee and sat at a table and talked.
“Have you ever wanted something so bad, and you had it in your hand, and you let it slip away,” Beatrice said. “Just one decision, and everything changed.”
“Beatrice, it’s the story of my life.”
“I had my chance in the States. But I came back here to be a Mexican woman in the tradition of my mother. Why? I know better. Why did I do that?”
“Perhaps you were worried about your father?”
“I like to think so. I told you that last night. But it is more. It is like I am imprinted, and I keep doing the same thing. I cannot go backward now, not easily. I have squandered so much, so much time. I would like the big score, you know?”
“I know. I’ve tried that myself. It can happen, the big score. Win the lottery. Gamble and hit the jackpot. But most likely you don’t win the lottery, you don’t hit the jackpot. Slow and steady wins the race.”
“I am nearly thirty-five, and I have not begun my race. I ran it for a while, but in the wrong direction. Correct that. I ran in the right direction, but like an idiot I turned and came back the way I had run. Now I am at the starting line again. And I am tired, Hap.”
“I’m not trying to get into your life. I don’t know your life that well, Beatrice. But why not go back to the States? You’ve got the education. There are opportunities there. You said your father doesn’t expect you to be here. He’d understand. He’d want the best for you.”
“Too hard,” she said. “I would have to get more education to actually get a good job in archaeology. That takes money. I do not have money.”
“Work and earn money. Then take the courses you need.”
“Work at what?”
“You have enough education to get a job. At a small museum maybe.”
“It takes too long. I need the money right now, so I can take the classes. So I can have freedom. I am sick of having nothing, Hap. Physically sick.”
“Maybe we want too damn much,” I said.
“That could be,” Beatrice said. “But you know what? I want it just the same.”
14
Late that afternoon the old man’s boat came in. We were at the dock waiting. When the boat arrived and was tied at the dock, the kid, Jose, jumped off, Spanish tumbling out his mouth so fast you could almost see the words.
“It is Father,” Beatrice said. “He has been hurt.”
We both rushed to the boat, climbed on board.
Ferdinand was lying on the bed in the boat cabin. His leg was bound up in white cloth and there was a lot of blood.
He and Beatrice spoke to one another in Spanish. When they finished, she sat beside him on the bed. I leaned against the door frame. The old man smiled at me.
“Senor. How are you today?”
“I’m good. But you’re not. What happened?”
“Stupid accident. I do this all my life, and now I do this stupid thing. I hooked a small shark. I brought it in, and in the process of hitting it in the head, it came off the hook and wiggled on the deck and bit my lower leg. It is not bad. It was a very little shark.”
“He cannot walk,” Beatrice said. “I consider that bad.”
“No, senor. It is not bad.”
“Bad enough. I hope you doctored it as well as you doctored my friend.”
