The week passed quickly and without much thought of Him. Well, she guessed that all depended on your definition of much. Not much thought of him which was out of the ordinary for her, she reluctantly added.
But nevertheless she did wonder what he was doing, how he was... The contact in the months leading up to Boston had been super frequent and always at his initiation. There were future plans penciled in, at least two future dates in two separate cities, and nearly daily messaging.
A half hour after her hasty retreat from the penthouse suite came a text that simply said "See ya, lover." The contact from him since then had been zero. She allowed herself to wonder why for a few moments while stirring her drink with her finger, but then dug into her carry on and pulled out her book.
"Let's just get on with it," she thought.
"After all, it's only been eight days," she said out loud. "And that's really nothing compared to twenty years." It didn't really matter that she was speaking out loud to herself right now as the sounds of the airport drowned out anything she cared to say anyway.
The American Airlines Admiral's Club lounge was quiet and slow today, and that was a blessing in and of itself. A couple years back she entered an American lounge at 6am on the dot in London Heathrow and it was so crowded she had to wait in line probably ten minutes to get her precious coca cola.
Everyone in front of her was ordering hot tea and it was made to order. She stood patiently and waited and waited on them to each have their different types of tea custom made. To make matters even worse there was a particularly abrasive Brit gentleman who railed on and on behind her complaining about everything... it was simply too early to have to listen to and deal with that.
Finally she reached the front of the line and placed her coke order, and the Brit behind her scoffed and commented, "Bloody Americans don't even know what to do with tea!"
She took a deep breath, turned around slowly, and made sure he met her gaze. She then commented authoritatively "Yes sir we sure do, we simply throw it in the Boston Harbor."
There was a mix of laughter and shrieks of horror as she strode confidently to her table with her coke. The abrasive Brit was red faced and completely defeated. Score one point for America, she thought to herself.
Thinking back on it now made her smile, but today with a calm lounge and her coke zero in her hand she thought she would pass the time rereading Diana Gabaldon instead of putting Brits in their place. Today was set to be a long day but with Jamie Fraser in her lap she could accomplish just about anything.
She flipped to her bookmark and immediately smiled at the thought of her large, red headed, fiery tempered "book husband" as she called him. Real Life Husband (aka The Husband) knew all about this relationship with Jamie Fraser and was good with it. The Husband was not much for insecurity, and truth be told most likely had a man crush on the imaginary Viking as well. Mr. Wrong Last Name would probably try to make her feel vapid and foolish about this affinity for a fictional Viking. No telling what would happen if he saw Mr. Fraser was the screen saver on her phone.
Many times it seemed that he intensely disliked the woman that the girl he knew had become. It was hard for her to reconcile. Truly it was hard for them both.
The Husband may not have understood everything about her but he knew who she was and loved her anyway. Maybe because he didn't know who she used to be, before. And though it was of no consequence and may even sound contrite, she had missed him terribly this week. He had been in Boston and then Montreal. Went moose hunting with some buddies from business school in Vermont, and was headed back home today. He may even get there before her plane took off, but she would soon be in the air on the way to Cancun. They would just miss each other.
She knew what she had in him- their marriage was one of mutual respect, admiration, and devotion to the same ideals. They shared a home, a standard of living idea, children, and a sizable 401k. A credit score that was three points from the max, two dogs, three cats, a pool, and a vacation house. They shared the same views on religion and were close enough on politics. They took trips together and with the kids. They always made time for what was really important and they prioritized each other, their finances and shared goals in the same ways. It seemed that every box was checked.
And yet-
The events of the weekend before still sloshed around like crazy in her head. The tenderness and disconnect, the desire and eventual reality, and especially the interaction with Mr. Cuban Cigars.
Despite the ambiguity before her nothing in her past was worth risking her future. Clarity was certain on that one point.
She hadn't been able to put into words the longing or self-destructive behavior that led to her agreeing to meet up with Mr. Wrong Last Name in the first place, but she had managed some consolation with the thoughts that it just couldn't be helped... even though it was and extremely reckless and stupid move in a life which had for a very long time been super deliberate and calculated.
He had unfriended her years ago on Facebook, so she didn't have that catharsis available to her now, but she had unfollowed him on Instagram and thought that would show him... The sad thing was that if he had noticed the slight at all he hadn't said anything. It seemed everything was completely unresolved yet again. Maybe that weirded out morning would finally be their last.
"And if so," she thought, "I'm OK with it."
All she ever wanted was for him to be OK, to be happy, and to thrive. He had a wife and kids, a great career, and many things going for him. They both did. It was unfair for either one of them to start the fire which would burn down their perspective houses. So if he was incapable of staying away she would be the bigger person.
But that didn't mean it wasn't killing her. She hoped a weekend with girlfriends and Jamie Fraser could readjust all her priorities.
"American flight 1536 please report to gate 21 for preboarding" came over the loud speakers.
She folded up Jamie Fraser and put him back in her bag and hurriedly finished her vodka tonic with lime. It was Mr. Wrong Last Name's signature drink, the irony of which was not lost on her.
Sitting down in first class the attendants started welcoming her and asking again if she wanted a mimosa. She was not a drinker by practice, and history had proven more than once that she was simply no good at it. But she was headed to Mexico and had lots to forget. She ordered one. There would be a driver to meet her in Cancun.
The flight was brief and nice. First Class makes everything seem shorter. The new amenity bags American had out were rockin'- Cole Haan leather with lots of goodies. The Husband would love the iPod case, and she couldn't wait for her transatlantic flight later in the fall that would come with pajamas! She rifled through all the goodies and settled on the earphones.
With her soundtrack on and mind distracted, there were plenty of things to look forward to. And even more to be thankful for. She exited the plane and headed towards baggage claim. The heat hit her like a ton of bricks- Cancun was a definite adjustment from her East Coast home! The driver should have already secured her luggage, so all she had to do was make it through customs and look for his sign.
She followed the crowd and wound around to customs. The lines weren't long (which was a major blessing!) and she saw the gathering of drivers up ahead. There were several men holding signs, none of which were hers. "No worries," she thought. Her driver was here somewhere. Her company had it all set up.
Looking through them all she still couldn't find her driver. People were hurriedly exiting and pulling bags all around her, so it was definitely possible she just missed him. She looked again, glancing at all of the signs. None stood out save one- the one that had His last name on it, with a Mrs. in front of it.
"No way," she muttered and kept looking.
Nothing. "Well maybe he was still in baggage claim?" she thought. She saw a bench and made her way towards it. It was there she saw some luggage that looked just like hers. Bright blue Samsonite hardback spinners. She slowed her approach and continued to look around, maybe her driver had grabbed her bags and set them there?
Sure enough she checked the tags on the bags and they were hers. As she contemplated where her driver could be someone spoke to her.
"Mrs. Wrong Last Name, is that you?"
She spun and said "No, no that's not me."
He shrugged his shoulders and another driver came up right behind him.
"Hello Mrs., I am your driver. Are you ready to go?"
She looked at his sign and saw her name. Her real name.
"Yes, God yes," she said. The other driver kept looking at her. Or was she imagining it? Three mimosas and altitude made her unsure. And of all places to run into an uncommon German last name, that particular uncommon German last name... Mexico.
Why did he think she was Mrs. Wrong Last Name??
She quickly walked away with her real driver. He was named Alejandro, and he was young and very charming. As he whizzed her past several sites he told her the history of each one. He was from a small village inland and was a proud Maya. She loved coming here especially when she ran into indigenous folks and not transplants. Their stories resonated with her so much more than that you read.
"My Abuela was one of sixteen kids," he started.
"I feel sorry for su madre," she responded.
They both chuckled about it. "Habla Espanol, Señora?"
"No, not really" she responded. "Some. I grew up in Texas, so I know all the bad words. And I can order food. And I have gotten around Tulum and Playa fine a few times. Barcelona, though that's probably not completely applicable, is it? Suffice it to say that I know how to get by with 'no se' if it gets dicey. So I think I'm pretty good, right?"
"Yes, yes you will be fine," he laughed. "And your accent is pretty good."
"Your English is impeccable, Alejandro. And speaking of accents, yours is barely discernible," she said.
"Barely?" he asked and chuckled. "But it's there?" He asked for clarification.
"Yes, and if I'm right it sounds Southern," she commented.
"I went to college at William and Mary," he said. She was impressed. There seemed to be a lot more to this driver than she first thought.
He didn't seem anxious to elaborate, so he switched the subject to where the best place was to change money and cautioned her not to leave the resort without a sponsored tour or him.
"People aren't all trustworthy here," he said.
He got quiet and she sensed something bad had happened to him. She wanted to get the subject back on happy things. "Tell me more about your Abuela," she said.
"Ah, yes! My Abuela... She was the next to youngest, and had several older brothers that really looked out for her. It wasn't easy on my Abuelo to court her and take her away. He really had to fight for her, and in the end his persistence paid off. He was a proud man, and although they didn't have much they had pasión."
She listened and smiled along. Sounded like an awesome couple.
"The cartels started to get worse and worse, and eventually they began to fear for their small family's safety. Abuela begged him not to leave for work, as she feared he wouldn't come home to her safely."
"How awful," she commented. "When was this?" she asked.
"The 80s," he responded. "And one day, he just didn't come home. Abuela raised my Papa, their only child, and found a way to live her life without him. It wasn't easy for her, and she never remarried."
She sat in silence contemplating what this lady must have gone through on her own in a third world country while watching the glitz and glamour of the Hard Rock whiz past her chauffeured car's window. There was such a dichotomy here between what was safe and not. Poverty and opulence. Smoke and mirrors. Mirages everywhere.
Not that she could judge- Mexico sounded kind of like her life.
Alejandro pulled up to her resort and carried in her things. He told her he would handle check in and taking her bags to her room if she wanted to wait pool side. He didn't have to offer twice.
About 15 minutes later, a shadow appeared above her hat and shades. It was a smiling Alejandro with a welcome umbrella drink. "Thank you for your friendship Mrs. Lady, and I will see you again in three days to take you back to the airport. If you need anything at all here's my card. I can be here in a jiffy."
She smiled warmly at this young man in front of her and took his card (and the drink!) She stood up and despite herself hugged him.
"I'm a hugger," she confessed.
He laughed, "Me too, Mrs. Lady, me too."
"It's been a rough couple of weeks," she apologized.
"The Mexican air will take care of all that," he offered. "You have a wonderful time in paradise Señora and just let all the bad melt away." He stood there longer than she thought was normal- just smiling at her broadly- but who's to say what Maya custom is. He was a charming kid and she guessed they shared a moment.
He said Mexico could fix a lot of things with her soul. She really hoped so.