I waited at the elevator for the door to open, half-expecting Joaquin to be waiting inside. My heart ratcheted up a few beats. I headed into the unknown. I had to play the wife, but why and for whom? Did I really care?
I caught sight of myself in the gold plating, like James had earlier. My face looked thin, distorted. My mouth was a straight line of worry.
The elevator stopped a few floors down, letting on two older couples. I relished the interruption and was glad their bodies blocked the revealing gold plating. I didn't want to look at myself so closely any more.
We reached the lobby in record time, and I plastered a smile on my face. I wanted to appear to be the happy and contented wife. Joaquin's wife. I had been a wife for twelve years, but had no idea how to act like one.
I headed to the meeting place, the couches in the lobby flanking an enormous indoor fountain. I saw him there. Waiting for me. His hand reaching out to me.
I took a breath and headed right for him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
That day at the pyramids, I managed to give Janice the slip. I went into the restrooms at the Teotihuacán Visitor’s Center and never came out.
After about fifteen minutes, I heard her call out my name a few times. I even hid from her when she came looking under the stalls.
I should have been honest with her. It would have been better to tell her I was meeting Joaquin. But I was weak. I couldn’t bear to see the hurt look on her face when I broke my promise. My insides churned at the deceit. Who does that to a good friend? Why couldn’t I have been honest with her? She might have understood why I wanted to spend time with Joaquin and not with her.
Too late for that. If I told her the truth now, I would lose the only friend I had down here in Mexico.
After a few minutes of searching, Professor Burnham convinced her I was probably with the rest of the group or that I would catch up with them. Not as if anyone could miss a group of twenty American college kids wearing Vincent College t-shirts.
Ten minutes later, I came out of the bathroom and waited for Joaquin to find me near the entrance to the Visitor’s Center—our designated meeting spot.
It wasn’t long before he showed up, looking handsome in jean shorts and a striped shirt. I felt a tingle of pleasure that this exceedingly handsome man was here just to see me.
“Let’s take a walk.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me through the crowds of tourists milling around.
“Where?” I had been under the impression we were going to hang out at the Visitors’ Center for the few hours we would have to spend together.
“Let’s hike up one of the pyramids.” He squeezed my hand.
We spent the morning tackling both pyramids. First, the shorter Pyramid of the Sun and then the Pyramid of the Moon at the other end of the Avenue of the Dead. Both were steep with steps that went on forever. The hot sun beat down on us, draining my energy.
The Pyramid of the Moon had been a much harder climb than the last one, and the furthest from the Visitors’ Center. I could understand why, once a tourist made it to the top of the first one, he had no energy to climb the next. Besides the heat, Mexico City and Teotihuacán were at an altitude of well over 5000 feet. My lungs burned at the lack of oxygen.
When we reached the top, Joaquin and I sat down to catch our breath. Perspiration dripped down my back.
A few brave souls were making the ascent, so we would only have a few minutes of privacy. We stood looking down at the Avenue of the Dead, the sun high and hot in the clear sky above. My throat was parched, but the soda vendors were a world away beneath us. My thirst would have to wait.
“Suzie,” Joaquin pulled me down to the stone blocks to sit with him.
The wind picked up, and I shook my hair away from my face, letting the dry air cool my sweaty face. Slipping a stubborn strand of hair behind my ear, I looked at him, waiting.
“Do you love me, querida?”
“Of course,” I answered without needing to think. Joaquin was handsome, intelligent, caring—how could I not love him? I wanted to spend every free minute I had with him. I looked around at the vista before us. There were brilliant colors, wind, sunlight. Sensation overwhelmed me.
“I have been thinking about you going back to America, back to your life there.”
“I don’t want to think about it.”
“That’s exactly it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to think about it, because I don’t want it to happen.”
“I don’t either, but I have to go back. The semester ends, I start my junior year next year. And you? You’ll be finishing up your degree at UNAM.”
“Yes.” He paused. “But have you thought about staying here?”
“Maybe.”
He reached out to touch my face gently. “Then why don’t you?”
I pushed his hand away; I couldn’t think with him touching me like that. “How could I do that, Joaquin? I’d have to renew my student visa, and you know how slow that process is. And there’s no way my parents would keep paying my tuition if stayed down here. It wouldn’t work.”
“It could.”
“How?”
“Marry me.”
“What?” I held my breath. Us? Get married? I was only nineteen. My plan had been to finish college, get a job, find an apartment, lead this glamorous single existence in Chicago. Marry Joaquin? Stay in Mexico? That didn’t quite fit into my plans. “I don’t know—”
“I thought you said you loved me,” he said petulantly. I’d never heard him speak this way. I wanted to please him, make him happy, keep his attention focused on me.
“I do. I do,” I insisted. “But that’s a lot to consider. That would change everything.”
“I don’t want you to leave me and go back to America, querida.”
Several tourists finished climbing the steep steps and were now only a few feet away from our quiet spot. Seeing them, I realized the lateness of the hour, that my group would be expecting me. As much as I wanted to stay and discuss the idea, I had not time to think clearly about it, get some perspective.
“I need to get back to the bus.” I looked at my watch. “It’s twelve-thirty now, and we’ve got a long walk.”
“Wait, you still haven’t answered me. Will you marry me?”
His warm hands entwined with mine, his clear hazel eyes searched mine for an answer.
Me, get married? I didn’t want to contemplate leaving Mexico and leaving Joaquin behind, but what exactly did I want from this relationship? How would this work out? I had wished many times over the past few months I could stay behind in Mexico, so didn’t that mean I also believed Joaquin was the man I had been looking for? The one I would want to marry? And if that were true, what would be the point in waiting for three or four years, navigating the difficulties of a long-distance relationship? We loved each other, he wanted me to marry him, why not? What other answer could there be to his question?
The tour bus, my class, Professor Burnham, even Janice I pushed to the very back of my mind. They could wait a few more minutes, but my answer could not.
“Okay, let’s get married.”
“Te quiero, Suzie.” He smiled and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.
“Te quiero.”
It felt good being next to him there on the pyramid. He and I sat together, nothing in our way, all of Mexico laid out before us.
On the walk back to the parking lot, we hardly spoke, just enjoying the moment of being newly engaged. I had no ring, and neither of us had any idea of how or when any wedding would take place. We knew that we loved each other and from that moment on nothing would separate us.
*
When I got back to my dorm, I itched to tell Mercedes my news. That would shut her up once and for all.
But the minute I walked into my room, I knew something was wrong. What happened to the portable TV on the bureau? Where was the whirlwind of clothes Mercedes usually left behind before she went out on a Satu
rday night? Her bed had been stripped of its sheets, the books had vanished from her desk, and even her alarm clock was gone.
I set my backpack down on my neatly made bed. Where would she have gone?
Cristina, one of my suite-mates, popped her head in, commenting off-handedly, “Mercedes se fue.” Then, shrugging her shoulders at me, she disappeared back into the shared living room to turn on her favorite telenovela.
Mercedes left? Left for where?
Before I could ask Cristina what else she knew about my missing roommate, the loudspeaker squawked, “Telefónica para Señorita Eisenhart. Telefónica para Señorita Eisenhart.”
That was me!
It could be a call from Joaquin.
Putting on my shoes, I ran past Cristina who was immersed in the tortuous life of a beautiful washerwoman in love with a man twice her age and a hundred times richer. She didn’t even turn her head when I opened the door and walked out to the stairs on the outside of the dorm building.
Our suite occupied the third floor, which gave us a fantastic view of the mountains, but when it came to answering phones, it was a pain in the neck. My feet scrambled down the steps, the ironwork railing rattling loudly with each footstep. Dashing through the courtyard, I dodged several students and scattered a flock of pigeons clustered on the lush, green lawn.
Slowing down near the guard shack, I tried to catch my breath as I eased open the glass doors. “Soy Señorita Eisenhart. Teléfono para mí?”
The guard, his stiff-brimmed hat too large for his head, nodded briskly and pointed at the phone labeled #2 on the counter.
“Hello?” I anticipated the rich tones of Joaquin’s voice.
“Suzie? Is that you?”
“Mom?”
“We haven’t heard from you in such a long time. We were worried. How are you doing?”
My father probably would have started this conversation differently. He would have opened with a bad joke and then asked if I had gotten Montezuma’s Revenge yet. My mom? Well, she was definitely the practical half of the mom/dad team. She paid the bills, organized the house, kept track of everyone’s calendar, knew every important phone number by heart.
“I’ve been busy. In fact, we got back from a field trip a little while ago, and I’m exhausted.”
“Oh, did you have a good time?”
“Yes,” I answered tersely. “Look, Mom, I’m tired. Could I call you tomorrow sometime?”
She paused on the other end of the line. “Sure, honey.” My mother’s voice sounded quieter than usual, maybe even a little defeated. “That would be fine. I understand you’re busy. We’re so used to having you nearby; we miss you so much.”
“It’s not as if I were home all the time when I was at Vincent.”
“But you did come home every once in awhile.”
“To do my laundry.”
“You drove four hours just to do laundry? I hope that’s not the only reason you came home.”
“Of course not, Mom, you know I miss you guys. But there’s so much going on here.”
Being an only child, my parents had no younger sibling left behind to soften the blow of my going to college. My father often told me how empty the house felt when I had gone away to school. I imagined it had felt even emptier since I left for Mexico last August.
“I know, honey. It’s just your father—well, it’s hard for him, you know. His baby’s gone, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. Could you try to call back in a couple of hours? He’ll be back from the gym.”
“Why don’t I call tomorrow night? When I’m not so tired. I promise.” I made a mental note not to forget. Sundays were uneventful on campus, so I was certain it wouldn’t be a problem.
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” Okay, this was getting a little ridiculous now. What were they going to do when I graduated from college and moved out for good? I mean, I loved my parents and all, but this was good practice for them, me living here.
Then I realized, I was staying here. I would be marrying Joaquin, and I wouldn’t be going back.
How could I explain to my parents how I met this guy, fell in love, and got engaged without them ever meeting him? My mother would think I dropped off the turnip wagon. My dad? Well, he would probably worry like crazy, but tell more of his silly jokes so I wouldn’t know how he really felt.
“Sunday night, then.” My mother answered, not sounding completely convinced I would remember. “You know we love you, honey.”
“Yes, Mom. I know.”
I hung up the phone and left the guard shack. When would I be able to tell my mom and dad? How would I bring up the topic? Maybe it would be best to say nothing. Then, I wouldn’t have to face disapproval from Mom and worries from Dad. His only daughter getting married at nineteen? Not quite what he envisioned.
Lost in thought, I felt a touch on my shoulder and almost jumped out of my skin.
“Hey, Suze! I called your name, like, ten times. Where are you? On Mars?”
It was Janice, a mask of red splotching her cheeks and nose—she had forgotten to put on sunscreen before our excursion to the pyramids. She never tanned; only stayed sickly white in the winter or burned as red as a lobster in summer. The harsh sun of Mexico had done quite a job on her.
“What?” My mind snapped back to the people and noises around me, my parents momentarily forgotten. “Oh, sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Where the heck did you disappear to today? I didn’t even see you get on the bus.”
“I couldn’t find you either.” Oh, what a good liar I’d become. “I went in the bathroom and when I came out everyone had gone. I ended up walking the place by myself.”
“Oh, no! Was there more than one bathroom? I called and called for you—and I never saw you anywhere.”
“I don’t know. I was lucky I made it on the bus at the last minute. I had to sit up front with the professor.”
Janice’s thin mouth curved into a frown. “Why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get some fried bananas? I’m bummed we didn’t get to spend the day together.”
“All right, but I’m buying.” It was the least I could do for her after lying to her.
“There’s no way I’m gonna turn that down.” We left the dormitories and headed toward the cafeteria across the center plaza.
“And tomorrow, let’s go to the movies—just you and me,” I added. I needed to start acting like a friend again.
“Okay!” Janice gave me a hug.
We entered the cafeteria, the lights blindingly bright after our walk in the semi-dusk. Getting in line, Janice had to ask me one last question. Just as I was feeling more like myself than I had in weeks and starting to relax and forget all the people who depended on me to be good old, well-behaved Suzie.
“I ran into Cristina when I was looking for you earlier. She said Mercedes moved out, dropped out of school. What the heck is going on?”
Dropped out of school?
What had happened since I left her this morning? We certainly weren’t the best of friends, but Mercedes and I could be civil to one another.
“What?”
“Yeah, guess she was real upset or something. She didn’t want any help packing up, didn’t talk to anyone. Weird.”
Weird was right. But at least she wouldn’t be interfering anymore with Joaquin and me. I was relieved to have her gone. No matter what the circumstances were.
Good riddance, Mercedes, wherever you are.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I stood by the indoor fountain, waiting for Joaquin to arrive. My red heels were pinching my feet. Too many salsa dances, I supposed.
"Querida." Joaquin came up behind me. He snaked his arm around my waist, taking possession of me.
"Don't call me that," I said. "Never again." The warmth of his hand burned right through the thin material of my dress, but I let him keep it there. I had to play my part. I wouldn’t let him renege on our deal. I would do what he asked.
"All right," he said coolly.
Through the huge glass doors at the back of the lobby, I could see quite a crowd around the pool. My ears pricked up at the familiar rhythm of the mariachi band. I wished I could be outside again next to James, Janice, and George with the moonlight in my hair and the tropical breezes at my back.
"Here we are." Joaquin led me through the tall double doors of a ballroom right off the lobby. In the ballroom a more exclusive party had gathered. Tables covered in pristine white tablecloths dotted the room. Wait staff in formal wear carried trays of caviar and shrimp.
"What's going on? This isn't the party." He had misled me. I thought we would be sipping cocktails and making small talk out on the patio in a more casual setting.
Joaquin signaled to a slim man in a very expensive suit who stood near a small crowd of people. "Enrique!" He had a huge grin on his face.
Enrique, a slight man sporting a thin moustache, returned the smile and nodded at Joaquin. Then, his gaze riveted onto me. The neat moustache over his upper lip curled up on one side, as if his interest had been piqued by my appearance.
Enrique left a group of people and headed straight for the two of us.
A nervous flutter tickled my stomach. More was going on here than a simple party. My play-acting had a larger purpose than Joaquin had led me to believe.
"Cómo estás, Joaquin?" Enrique enthusiastically greeted, clapping Joaquin hard on the back. "Y quién es la bonita señorita?"
Joaquin spoke in English, "This is my wife, Suzette." His hand around my waist burned.
"Tu esposa?" Enrique choked out the word.
Joaquin ignored his look of surprise. "This is Enrique Guzmán, our marketing director." He nodded at me, encouraging me to interact.
I stretched out my hand, "How good to meet you, Señor Guzmán."
Enrique grasped my hand limply. He didn’t seem to know what to do with me. He continued to stare at me as if he had never seen an American woman before.
Our little group must have attracted some attention because more people approached us, listening in to Enrique's questions.
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