No one greeted her on Tuesday afternoon as she hurried into the humble office that the physical therapist shared with her new physician, Dr. Siemens. An older couple, the woman with her cane, the man with his magazine sat near the door at the other end of the room. They didn’t bother to look up when she sat down in one of the worn teal and pink cushioned chairs that lined the walls.
The faint smell of gasoline lingered on her hands. She spilled it all over herself as she topped off the tank on the rental car and had to return home and change, but there was no time for a shower.
“How late am I?” she thought. “Did I miss my appointment?” She looked down at her watch, but it wasn’t there. She considered picking up a magazine, but her thoughts, like a feather in the wind, blew gently away.
********************************************
The weekend in Mexico last year was thrown together quickly. Nearly every day, Camryn and her sister Cynthia spoke on the phone. As she was driving to work that Monday morning she saw an advertisement on the side of a bus for a low cost weekend in Cancun. Many long lazy weekends and vacations with the kids with Cynthia and her two girls were spent at Bill Johnson’s condo, a lifelong friend of their father’s. Many years ago, when Bill’s wife, Doris slipped away with half of everything while he was busy drinking and carousing, Bill bought the condo and fled to it rather than face the family he shattered in Connecticut. Bill never charged any of them for use of the place. All he asked was that they be very friendly with the staff and tip them generously.
“Hey, doll face, what’s up?” asked Cynthia.
“Let’s go to Mexico at the end of the month. You’ve been working like a dog. And I could certainly use some time away.” Camryn turned off Colorado Boulevard toward the Cherry Creek neighborhood of Denver.
“Ok, let me check on a few things and get back to you. By the way, how did the work on your dissertation go this weekend?”
“It’s hell. I can’t believe how much still needs to be done. My house has never been cleaner.” They laughed. Both Camryn and Cynthia took after their mother in this way.
They said their good-byes as Camryn drove into the parking lot of her office.
As it turned out, Cynthia couldn’t get away. Camryn would be going to Mexico alone for the weekend. Cancun in January alone--she decided she’d bring her lap-top and work on her dissertation.
A subzero cold spell hit the Front Range of Colorado that January. It was six below at the airport when she walked from the short-term parking garage at Denver International Airport to the terminal. She took satisfaction in the thought that that afternoon she’d be walking off a plane in 80 degree weather.
Camryn was in her swim suit and on the beach by two o’clock that afternoon. The wait-staff greeted her warmly as she walked to the beach. They asked about Cynthia and the children. Richard was there, too. He was an American who moved to Cancun several years ago and involved himself in the hotel industry. He waved and approached Camryn as she grabbed a chaise lounge. Richard had been an investment attorney and “gave up the life” as he put it and moved to Mexico.
“Bienvenido, mi amiga, como ‘stas?” asked Richard.
“Gracious. Estoy bien, y tu?” replied Camryn happy to practice her Spanish.
“It’s one beautiful day after another. When are you going to pack up and move down here yourself?” Richard knew of Camryn’s desire to live in Mexico or some tropical Spanish speaking country one day. They sat together and caught up on their lives since last summer when everyone was there together.
Later that afternoon, after her obligatory Mexican siesta, Camryn sat on the balcony which faced the beach and the Gulf of Mexico. The sun was setting and the waves were getting stronger. A group of about twenty shirtless men wearing the same navy shorts ran along the water.
Camryn showered and dressed for dinner and decided to take herself some place nice, one her favorite places. La Dolce Vita was considered one of the best restaurants in Cancun. It overlooked the Lagoon. That Thursday night, she arrived around nine, after dark. From her table, she could see the twinkling of the lights from the boats as they traveled through the Lagoon. She enjoyed being alone with her thoughts. Antoine, the matre‘d, whom she’d known for a few years, was a fair complexioned man with blue eyes. He sat with her for dessert and coffee.
Antoine escorted Camryn out of the restaurant, called her a cab and instructed the driver to take her to her condominium. She didn’t feel like going back there yet, so she asked the driver to take her to the night club district.
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