Fifty First Times

by Molly McAdams

“She’s fine, but just a bit shaken. She’s down in the cabin; you should go see her.”

  I open the hatch and walk down to the cabin, where I find Jewels with her head on the dining table. “Hey Jewels, you okay?”

  She raises her head and a smile spreads across her face. “I’ve got a bad headache, but other than that, I’m fine. Sorry I hit you.”

  “Totally forgiven. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  “Well, thank you for being my hero. Now, tell me about the whales. I heard you swam with them.”

  As I sit down and start to relate the story I can’t help but notice the excitement on her face and slowly realize how little it has to do with the whales. I wonder if my feelings are written that plainly on my face? I’m contemplating that thought as I feel the boat setting a course back west to port.

  Date: August 11

  Materials: Pesos, international pay phone

  Experiment: Comparatively investigating the fundamental disparity of empty nest syndrome in reference to male and female Homo sapiens parental figures.

  Back at the camp, Bobby doesn’t waste any time asking only the most vital questions. “So, are you excited to see your Latin lover tonight?” he asks with his teasing tone seeping into every syllable. “Foreign love affairs are hot, dude.”

  “I don’t know if I would classify what little interaction we have as a love affair. More like a stupid American with a crush.”

  “Admit it, you love her.”

  “What? Like love at first sight? Yeah right. Not possible.” Or at least I didn’t think it was possible.

  “Whatever, bro. I know what I saw and you’ve been struck by Cupid’s Spanish cousin, Cupido!”

  We both bust out laughing. But I can’t help but think that maybe . . . just maybe, Bobby’s right.

  When we arrive at the restaurant for dinner tonight, my stomach is churning, my adrenaline is pumping. In an effort to calm myself, I grab the door and let everyone in ahead of me. As I catch up to the group, I notice an older gentleman standing in her place. My heart sinks. She’s not working today. Damn it.

  When I go to sit down at the table I see Jewels’s purse on the chair next to her, I sit down and try to forget the stupid girl that has me acting like a child. Everyone is still buzzing about the experiment and I’m bombarded with questions about the whales and the rescue.

  “What did their skin feel like?”

  “Were you afraid that they were going to hit you with their tails?”

  “Were you afraid that Jewels was going to die?”

  When the conversation finally starts to fizzle out, Jewels grabs my hand under the table and squeezes it. With the freezing ocean waters still freshly engraved in my mind, having our hands entangled and feeling that warmth is such a stark contrast. A few months ago I would have been elated, this would have been everything I wanted, but since I’ve gotten here, I’ve been intoxicated by this place. I know without a doubt that this isn’t the hand I want to hold. I release her hand and whisper that I need to use the restroom. Walking to the front of the restaurant, I see a pay phone and decide my dad is my best advisor on this situation.

  I grab some loose pesos and dial my parents’ number.

  Click . . . click . . . click . . . ring . . . ring. . .

  “Hello? This is a strange number.”

  “Dad, it’s Luke. I’m calling from a phone booth in Argentina.”

  “Lukey boy how are you, champ? We miss you around here. How are you getting along?”

  Secretly, my dad being ever cheerful always puts me in a good mood. I can hear my mom screaming in the background.

  “Is Luke on the phone? I need to speak to him, Hank. Luke, how are you? Are they feeding you? Are you sleeping okay? Do you need anything? Have you adapted to the culture? Are there gauchos on hors—”

  “Mom, take a breath.”

  After a quick debriefing on my current health, happiness, whereabouts, and several more interruptions from Mom about them feeding me, I finally got to the point of the phone call. “Listen, Dad, the reason I called . . . there’s this girl . . .”

  “Ahhh well, there’s always a girl. What’s her name? Is it Sarah’s friend?”

  “Well, that’s the thing, Dad—”

  Knock . . . knock . . . knock. Someone’s rapping on the glass booth. I turn around and there she is.

  The mystery girl.

  My mystery girl.

  The phone hangs limply in my hand while I stare at the beautiful pair of hazel eyes. My name echoes through the receiver, jolting me back to reality. “Dad, let me call you back. Um . . . someone else needs to use the phone. I guess it’s an emergency or something . . .”

  “Luke, be safe, okay, bud?” I hear as I hang up the phone.

  I can’t believe she’s here now. I was just about to spend several pesos’ worth of time in a deep gossip session about her with my dad. It’s like she knew.

  She looks radiant. Even better than I remembered. Her black hair flows down her tanned cheeks tonight instead of being piled on top of her head like last night

  “I’m Luke—I mean, Hola, me llamo Luke.”

  She giggles and responds, “Hola, my name is Sibylla.”

  See-BEE-lah, SeeBEElah, Sibylla. I love that name. “Um, I didn’t see you at the restaurant . . . were you off today?”

  “¿Que?”

  I really wish they gave real-world Spanish experience in the classroom. How am I supposed to be prepared for this?

  I point to the restaurant behind us. “Shit . . . el restaurant no working?”

  My gaze finally drifts downward to the object resting in her palm, when her eyes lower and she thrusts her hand in my direction. “Ah no trabajo hoy. Pero yo tengo un regalo para ti.”

  With a confused look on my face, I grab a necklace from her outstretched hand.

  “Aquí es un cazador de sueños que hice para los noches a fuera, no bad dreams,” she says.

  She made me a necklace? The only gifts I’ve ever gotten from a girl were at my birthday parties and that doesn’t count because everyone knows you can’t come to a party without a gift. And chances are their moms picked it out. I slide the necklace around my neck and she helps me tighten the leather fasteners on either side. I’m totally aware of her being so close and I can feel my goose bumps raising as her fingertips course my neck. I spin around and we’re face to face. I get lost in the hazel pools of her eyes. How does that saying go? Eyes are the window to the soul? If that’s true, I want to be lost with her forever.

  “¡Gracias por todo!” I say in my best Argentinean accent.

  Without giving it a second thought, I close my eyes and our lips meet for the first time. I can feel the blood rush to my lips and that familiar heat creeping up my body. My hands reach for her cheek and I feel her silky skin. I realize she’s smiling and so am I. Her mouth is so delicate, but she’s just grazing my lips and I want more. I reach my hand into her hair and behind her head and pull her in close. We open our mouths and our tongues dance the tango the way only true Argentineans know how. They circle and tease each other until we intertwine and lock into another sweet embrace, swirling and dancing perfectly in time. I know that I want more and I close the gap between us, wanting only to be together completely, I’m lost in the moment, when I hear . . .

  “LUKE? LUKE! DUDE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

  Shit. Bobby.

  How long have I been gone?

  I kiss her again, open my eyes, and shout over my shoulder, “Hey man, I’m right by the pay phones on the side of the building I was just talking to my mom and dad.” I still have my arms around Sibylla and when I turn back around she’s still smiling.

  “I need to go back inside.”

  She responds by kissing me tenderly on the lips again and squeezing me so tight.

  Before she lets go she whispers in my ear, “Esta ha sido la mejor noche de mi vida, mi amor.”

  I’m dumbfounded. All I can utter in response is “Why me?”

&
nbsp; And with that, she hands me a piece of paper and turns around before running off.

  Bobby finds me standing there with a face that screams dazed and confused. “Bro, you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “Or fallen in love with that mystery girl.”

  Now it’s Bobby’s turn to look bewildered “What? She met you here? How did she know where you would be? Is she stalking you? That’s hot.”

  “What? No! She works here, remember? She wasn’t working tonight and she obviously knows that we have a reservation at six-thirty every night. She holds all the reservations. She wanted to see me and she gave me this.” I show him the dream catcher she made me.

  “You don’t strike me as a necklace guy,” he says with a grin.

  “When in Rome . . . or Argentina. Whatever.” As we head back inside, I stuff the paper she gave me into my pocket. I keep thinking to myself, This isn’t me. I’m usually so logical and calculated, but being here, having this experience has changed something in me. I’m open to what life has to offer I’m going with the flow for the first time ever and it feels amazing.

  Date: August 11

  Materials: Stationery, flashlight

  Experiment: An internal cognitive examination of a neurobiology cocktail of testosterone, estrogen, dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin, and vasopressin and how they coalesce to formulate love potion number 9.

  While everyone was preparing for the bonfire later tonight, I was in my tent with the note that has consumed my mind every second since it was placed in my hand.

  Dear American Boy,

  My sister is studying English in university and I begged her to help me write this letter to you. She finally gave in when I told her that if she didn’t I would tell our mom that her boyfriend sometimes sleeps over and leaves in the morning.

  The last two days have been a roller coaster of emotions for me. When we first met, I knew that you were special, and that really scared and confused me. I didn’t know what I was feeling for a complete stranger that doesn’t even speak my language. I’ve always wondered how people knew that they had found the one. There are so many people in the world, and everyone has a different story, a different upbringing, and different goals, how would it be possible to find someone to love?

  My mother told me once that the man of your dreams will take your breath away. When I look at you all my doubts melt away, I don’t need to know your story, I don’t care what’s happened, all I care about is spending time with you so we can write our own story. I know this sounds absolutely crazy because you are here for such a short time, but I wanted to be honest with my feelings. I know it’s hard to communicate at times but I needed you to know. If you feel even a bit of what I’m feeling, meet me at the beach tonight at midnight by the big stone, then I’ll know for sure if you feel the same!

  Con Amor,

  Sibylla

  I reread the letter half a dozen more times taking it all in. Killing time for the next three hours is going to be a testament to the old saying, “Patience is a virtue.”

  It’s only nine-thirty. I have to find something to do to distract me from counting down the minutes. I also have to figure out an escape plan because after ten we aren’t allowed to leave camp, or for that matter, leave our tents except to pee. Gathering round the bonfire with all my other classmates seems to be my best hope of a distraction. I find Bobby and Sarah cuddling up together and I sit down, while Jimmy does his best to remember the chords to “Build Me Up Buttercup” because it’s the only song that we all collectively know the words to. Our Argentine guide asked us to regale him with an American song.

  Bobby leans over and says “Why do songs always seem so much longer when you’re doing karaoke?”

  “I don’t know, man. Maybe it’s because the spotlight and attention is solely on you, and when you’re singing along to the radio, you’re in your own world,” I say with a laugh. With that I realize that the spotlight is on me, and this new person I’m becoming doesn’t mind as much as the old me.

  While we are all talking and making s’mores I can’t help but wish Sybilla was here to share this with me, I know that’s crazy because we just met but suddenly I just don’t care what everyone else would think or what society or my parents would think. I want what makes me happy and that’s her. I must have looked really vexed because Jewels came over and put her arm around my back.

  “You okay, sailor?”

  “Yeah, I’m doing fine, I guess I’m just kind of taking in this whole experience, you know? We’re really lucky to be having it,” I lie, but only to save her feelings. I know she likes me. I suppose it’s not really a lie, more of a withholding.

  “I totally understand. If you really sit back and think about it, I don’t know anyone that’s as lucky as us.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “You know, I’m glad that we both got to do this. We don’t really spend a lot of time at school together and it’s been really nice getting to know you.”

  “Yeah, me too. I like hanging out with you,” I say, not realizing where this was going.

  “Listen, Luke, I’ve been wanting to do this for a while . . .” She turns her head and leans in to kiss me, and I instantly lean away.

  “Hold still. Why are you teasing me?” she says playfully.

  I put my hands on her shoulders. “Listen, Jewels, I really like you too as a friend, and before we came here I would have done anything to be in this situation. But I met someone and I’ve really fallen for them.” Did I really just say that out loud? Have I really fallen for this mystery girl I hardly know?

  “Ohhh, I had no idea, who is it?”

  “The hostess at the restaurant, her name’s Sybilla?”

  “Does she even speak English?” Her eyebrows come together in a mix of anger and confusion.

  “No, not really, but I don’t know, somehow it works.”

  She gets up to leave, and I can see her eyes glassing over. “Well, I’m happy you’re happy.” She fakes a smile and sulks off with her friends.

  I never wanted to hurt her feelings but I don’t want have any desire for anyone else, not in that way anyway. I sit back down next to Bobby and Sarah by the campfire and try not to think about how I hurt Jewels’s feelings.

  On the way back to the tent I relay my plan to Bobby.

  “You’re going to meet her at the beach, man? What if you misunderstood her message or your feelings?”

  “I know what it said, I’m doing this. I just need you to cover for me if Mr. Tio comes around and randomly checks the tents while I’m gone. If he does just tell him I went to the bathroom and I haven’t been feeling that well or something, I don’t know.”

  “Okay, okay, man. I just hope it’s worth the risk. If he catches you you’re gonna get sent home, he’s been threatening from the start.”

  “It’s totally worth it.” I’m trying to convince myself as well that this isn’t totally stupid. As I lay my head down on my bedroll, I set the alarm on my watch for eleven fifty-five and close my eyes and try to quiet my mind. But it’s racing a thousand miles an hour.

  When I hear the first beep of my alarm, I pop up, wipe the sleep from my eyes, and don my jacket. I unzip my tent as quietly as possible and I crawl out on my hands and knees, soldier style. I catch the aroma of the fading fire mixed with the brisk, clean night air. When I get past the campsite, I jump to my feet and head east to the beach and the sea. I couldn’t have asked for a better night to escape. The stars are shining in the sky and the moon is full.

  I leave the flashlight stashed in my pocket and venture onward to the moon-soaked beach. I take off my shoes and let the cold sand slip between my toes and savor the coolness. I finally spot the huge rock on the beach.

  And there she is.

  She’s wearing a long red dress with a black chunky sweater to keep off the winter chill. I can see her smiling from where I stand, and all I want to do is close the distance between us and kiss her again.
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br />   “Hola.” Might as well practice my Spanish, right?

  “Hello,” she says with a giggle.

  I drop my backpack and pull her in close and kiss her with more passion than before. She mirrors my actions and grabs the back of my head, pulling me close. She puts her hands through my hair, which sends a tingle up my spine. I break away for a second, breathless, and mutter what I’d been trying to make sense of the past few hours.

  “Creo que te amo.”

  “Creo lo mismo.” And she kissed me again and I know she feels the same. I lead her back over to the rock and trip and stumble on the backpack. We both laugh at my complete lack of elegance. Laughing is universal. I hadn’t thought of that before now. I take out the sleeping bag and unzip it so we have a place to lie down. I stand back up and guide her down to the blanket. I’m holding the back of her head and she stops kissing me to look into my eyes and smile. There are no words exchanged, but I know exactly what she meant. This is perfect. This is happiness.

  I see her biting her bottom lip and it takes no time at all for my body to respond. I kiss her again as I remove my jacket and sweater, hardly feeling the cold. She reaches over to her bag and takes out a huge blanket that she throws over top of us. She tosses off her sweater and I’m kissing her neck, while she is taking off my thermal shirt. She lifts her dress over her head and pulls her head out from the blankets.

  “¿Mucho calor, no?”

  “¡Sí, mucho!” My basic Spanish is coming in handy, as I fill my lungs with the cool beach air. I glance over and see her whole body framed by moonlight. I want to remember this. As she’s taking off my pants, I mutter the other half of what I’d been practicing in the tent.

  “Soy virgin pero te ame desde el momento en que puse mis ojos,” I say, truly embarrassed for the first time. Although “I’m a virgin” is much easier to admit under the cloak of a foreign language. I don’t think I could have said it in English.

  “No te preocupes, mi amor, ese es perfecto.” And with that she pulls me on top of her. “Just follow me. Like dancing,” she says with her ever-present smile.

  We’re back in the love cocoon created by her giant blanket and two warm bodies. She’s on top of me, kissing me down my neck, down the middle of my chest. I can feel her warm breath on my skin, and it makes me squirm; the anticipation is killing me. She’s moving her body against mine and I’m following her lead and it’s impossible to get any closer. We are one person, one being. I’m lost in her body. I’m lost in her hair as it falls down around me. The scent of lavender. I know that we’re both liable to lose control at any moment, and then right before, I’m struck with the idea that this is ecstasy. How could anything be better?