Day of the Dead

‘Oh, cool.’ He extended his hand to her. She took it. Sweaty, not surprisingly. ‘My place is just down the street. The Lonely Bull.’ He smiled at her for a moment and seemed to lose focus. ‘Hope you can make it.’

‘I don’t know, man,’ Daniel said. ‘I’ve got some stuff going on. Look, just give me a call tomorrow, okay?’

Ned nodded like a bobblehead doll. ‘Okay. Great. I’ll call you.’

‘The board meeting?’ Michelle asked after he’d left. ‘Are you in business together?’

Daniel snorted. ‘With Ned? No.’

By now their carnitas had arrived, along with another round of margaritas.

I’m getting pretty buzzed, she thought. She no longer cared.

‘The board meeting, it’s just a bunch of us expats who get together on Fridays, at El Tiburón. We hang out, watch the sunset.’ He stared at her. ‘Think you’ll be around?’

‘Maybe,’ she murmured. ‘Tiburón. Like the town in California?’

‘Maybe.’ He grinned. ‘It’s Spanish for “shark.”’

By the time they finished eating, it was almost eleven. Not that late, but after all the drinks and a day in the sun Michelle had to step carefully off the high curbs onto the cobblestones. That was the thing here – the curbs were not a uniform height, you couldn’t just assume you knew how to judge the distances.

‘Whoa!’ Daniel said, catching her elbow, steadying her.

Michelle giggled. ‘Glad I’m not wearing heels.’

Now they had reached her hotel, bypassing the open-air lobby and entering through the arches that bordered on the wide, cobblestone drive.

‘Which way is your room?’

Through the courtyard, to the right, in the tower overlooking the beach. Watch for the slick terracotta tiles, the sand gritting underfoot. Wait for the elevator, and when it doesn’t come, climb the stairs to the fourth floor.

Michelle felt around in her sisal tote bag for her key, found the hard plastic wedge stamped with the room number, the key attached. Her hand closed around it.

She turned, her back to the door.

‘Well,’ she said.

‘Well.’

He leaned down and kissed her. She tasted salt – from the drinks? From the ocean? She leaned into him, let her hand rest above the small of his back. He pressed against her, hard. She wrapped her leg around his, felt his hands on her ass, lifting her up.

‘Wait,’ she said. She showed him the key.

He grinned. ‘I was hoping you’d ask me in.’

The room was stifling. She’d turned the air conditioner off, out of habit. She switched it on, and the unit rattled to life. It smelled musty, like the spoiled damp of an old refrigerator. Still, with the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony left open, you could hear the ocean, catch a whiff of its brine.

Daniel stood and watched her, a dark silhouette.

‘Come here,’ he said.

By the time they’d made it to the bed, the air conditioner had chilled the room enough that Michelle was grateful for the warm breeze that blew in from the balcony.

‘You have a beautiful body,’ Daniel said, running a hand lightly over her belly.

‘So do you.’

The words sounded stupid as soon as she said them. You don’t tell men they’re beautiful.

Daniel didn’t seem to mind. He looked pleased. ‘Gotta keep in shape for the things I enjoy.’

He had a nice body, he really did. Lean but not stringy. Energetic. She hadn’t been with anybody like him in a long time. Certainly not Tom, and she’d stayed faithful to Tom.

Tom with his big belly, his barrel chest. Twelve years older than her and not exactly a stud.

‘Hey,’ Daniel said. ‘Hey, what is it?’

She was crying, goddamn it. She rarely cried. She hated it.

‘Hey.’ He smoothed the hair around her face.

He was looking at her now, and she could tell what he was thinking: Great, I’m in bed with a crazy woman.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. Don’t … It’s stupid.’

‘Listen, I mean, if you’re not into this …’

He tried but could not quite keep the irritation from his voice.

‘I am. I’m sorry. It’s just …’ She tried to smile. ‘I haven’t dated in a while. My husband …’

‘So … you’re married?’ Now the irritation seemed mixed with curiosity.

No disapproval at least. Perhaps a calculation about whether this was worth it.

‘No. Not anymore.’

‘Oh.’ Daniel rolled over onto his side, propped himself up on his elbow. ‘Yeah. It’s tough getting back into things after you split from somebody you’ve been with for a long time.’

‘My husband died, actually.’

She enjoyed it in a way, getting the reaction, seeing the look on his face, the shock, the embarrassment.

‘I’m really sorry,’ he said.

The way he said it, so simply, made her flush with guilt.

‘No, don’t be, I really …’ She wanted to reach out, wanting to touch him, to encourage him, but it felt so awkward, so phony.