I stood up and walked over to the glass door. Slim’s truck, covered in mud and loaded with boxes, made its way up the driveway toward the house. A horn honked and David jumped up from the table. Conchita got up seconds later and followed him out the door.
I quickly pulled on my rain boots and went outside to help them unload the truck. Everyone wore rubber boots as you were either walking in the rain or trudging through the wet, muddy grounds of the jungle.
When we were out running errands one day, I had eyed a pair of leopard print rain boots. All I did was comment on them and David bought them for me the next day. He was generous like that. I didn't want for anything; he was very thoughtful, always surprising me with little gifts. He said it was a Costa Rican tradition that the men would bring small trinkets home to their women. Yesterday it was a colorful, beaded bracelet.
One by one, we carried the boxes inside the house, stacking them against the wall in the living room. Four sets of muddy footprints trailed across the floor and as I reached for the mop, Conchita caught me sighing.
“Mañana, mañana. Te ayudaré a limpiar.” She reached out toward me.
I guessed she said something about tomorrow and helping me with something. I pulled out my phone and asked her to tell me again as I tried translating the words. I was close. She said she wanted to help me clean tomorrow.
“Sí, gracias,” I replied, proud to say, ‘yes, thanks’ on my own.
Nodding her head, she smiled at me and I hoped it was the beginning of a new friendship.
Fifteen boxes and ten suitcases later, we said our goodbyes. Slim had offered to give Conchita a ride home. I brought Max back inside, fed him his dinner, and then flopped down on the futon, exhausted from the day’s activities. I must've drifted off because I woke to find David tapping me on the shoulder.
“Hey, you okay? You zonked out on me.”
“I don't know why I’m so tired,” I sat up, yawning and rubbing at my eyes.
“Perhaps the Tranquilo tea worked its magic on you,” he said while drawing the curtains.
“I guess. I feel like I hit a wall. Think I’m going to call it a night.”
“Okay, get some rest. I’ll be in shortly. I’m going to check my email.”
As I padded my way into the bedroom with Max trailing behind me, an uneasy feeling washed over me. Through my fog of fatigue, David’s dating profile popped up into my head. I tried hard to push it away. When I slipped into bed, hugging my pillow, Max jumped up and cuddled beside me.
Tears soon filled my eyes as I lay there, gently stroking his fur. I couldn’t help wonder if Mr. fit & fun was looking for a new travel partner.
22
David
I wonder if Val sensed it wasn't the first time I had met Conchita. I mean, the woman ran straight into my arms while she watched from the doorway. Val's a sharp cookie and nothing gets passed her. I must say it's a good trait to have here in the jungle. One should always be alert for hidden dangers.
Once again, I detected fear in her eyes when she saw me with my machete. Who knows what kinds of scenarios she conjures up in that writer’s mind of hers? I’m concerned, though, that she sometimes confuses fiction with reality.
In all my years down here, there had been only one incident and it was totally avoidable. At least that's what I tell myself; it’s how I cope with it.
I'm not sure if Val would ever be ready for me to share that story. To be honest, I’m not sure I even want to relive that night. For now, it’ll stay buried in my mind. I’ll have to be more observant this time and mustn't let frivolous distractions get in the way.
I log into my email and scroll down the page. Now there’s something I haven't seen in a while. I haven't visited that site in months. I click on the message to read what it says.
CutieC has winked at you. Log in now to view her profile. CutieC could be your perfect match.
I hesitate for a moment with Val in the next room. Gazing over my shoulder, I check to make sure the bedroom door is closed. I decide to log into my account to window shop only. You know the saying, ‘you can look, but you can't touch.’ All men like to look and all women need to get over it.
I stare at the screen and narrow my eyes. I’m mystified. I know that gal, know her face. It can't be her, can it?
CutieC. Such an interesting moniker for a scantily clad, skinny blonde.
I stare at her profile picture as she stares back, studying her two-sizes-too-small, low cut red dress. She’s slightly bent over and blowing a kiss at me.
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest and study the photo for a few more minutes. I wonder if she knows it's me.
I click back to my profile picture. There I am coming out of a swimming pool gripping the handrails. My hair’s slicked back, and I’m wearing dark sunglasses. Granted, the photo is ten years old when I was twenty pounds lighter. Maybe she didn't recognize me. Still, I ponder as I glance through her photo album.
CutieC is the typical Vegas girl. Every photo is ridiculously posed and airbrushed to the hilt. Dancing atop the bar in another skimpy outfit with a cocktail spilling from her hand. Eating sushi with chopsticks in an exaggerated manner while seated at a table with a gaggle of giggling girlfriends. Sitting at a slot machine in a jam-packed casino, sticking her tongue out while pulling the lever.
I stop and linger on the last photo. A sly smile forms
