chapter 10
I wake the next day to the smell of bacon, the inviting smell forces my eyes to open, only to find Carlos literally wafting a fried breakfast under my nose.
“What’s all this?” I ask groggily, pulling myself up into a sitting position.
“Breakfast in bed” He announces, placing the tray on my lap, “and flowers” he adds, pulling a huge bunch of bright exotic flowers out from behind his back; they are tied together with the same sky blue ribbon he used to secure the box containing my sandals, from the first day we met.
“You never fail to surprise me” I smile, taking it all in, “they are beautiful and the breakfast looks scrumptious! How did you do all this without waking me?” I was tired last night, but I zonked out quite early so I would have thought I would wake before him this morning, or at least wake when he got up.
In answer he simply taps the side of his nose “That’s my secret, if I told you I’d have to kill you” he winks at me. I don’t care how it happened, I just love the fact that it did.
“Love you Mr. Johnson” I say, taking a bite of toast.
“Love you more Ms. Mavers” he responds, jumping back into bed with me and sneaking a piece of crispy bacon off my plate in the process.
When I'm down to my last few mouthfuls he starts kissing my neck, I carry on eating as if I haven't noticed his sudden hunger for me. He moves in small spiralling circles up towards my ear, then takes the lobe between his lips and sucks, his breath tickling as he exhales deeply. I giggle and pull away, leaning over to place the tray on the floor I have an idea.
“Where are you going?” he asks as I cross the room.
“I just thought that maybe we could try something a little different today” I tease, pulling one of my silk scarves out of a draw; as I walk back towards the bed I begin twisting the ends around my hands, then tug it out tight making a slapping sound with the fabric.
A smile creeps across his face, “And just what do you propose we do with that?” he asks intrigued.
“We? No no,I will be tying you up with it.” I explain, taking his hands and placing them either side of one of the corner posts of the bed, before wrapping the scarf around his wrists and tying it together tightly.
“Ms. Mavers, I didn't think you had it in you” he speaks, surprised, but clearly enjoying it. Quite frankly I didn't know I had it in me either, I don't know what it is about Carlos, but he makes me want to be naughty.
Once he's securely tied, at the top and bottom, I take a step back and survey my handiwork. He is trussed up good and proper and entirely at my mercy.
I start at his ankles, slowly running my hands up his legs as I crawl up the bed towards his growing erection, but I just skim past it and up on to his chest.
“I want to touch you” he begs, pulling at his restraints.
“I know” I answer cockily, running my tongue up his neck and along his strong jaw line. He lifts his head instinctively to kiss me, but just before our lips meet, I retreat back down.
Caressing his smooth chest with my hands I lean down and flick my tongue over his nipple, I know how good it feels when he does it to me, but I've never thought of doing it to a man. He breathes in sharply, his erection now pushing up against my belly, he must like it; I play around a little more, sucking and nibbling, his hips are pushing up furiously.
“I need to touch you” he begs again.
“Shh!” I admonish him giving him a light, warning slap to the face, I'm really getting carried away with the power. His eyes widen, gobsmacked, but still grinning in awe.
I sit down, straddling him, so his penis is pressed down onto him and run my finger from the hollow of his neck all the way down to where the tip of it rests on his abdomen; but before I touch it I lift my finger into my mouth and suck it, letting him see my tongue ravish it.
“Uuuhh, yes sweetness” he murmurs, hypnotised.
I return my hand back to where it was and use my lubricated finger to massage the head of his penis. He starts moaning with pleasure, grinding his hips below me, “That feels amazing”
“Do you want more?” I ask.
“Yes I want more” he pleads.
I move back so when I bend forward I can take his big cock into my mouth, twirling my tongue around where my finger was before plunging down and sending him into a frenzy; his wrists and ankles are straining at their ties to get free, a mix of enjoyment and utter frustration tearing him apart.
I move up his body and push him inside of me, slowly moving up and down, pausing at the top, then sinking back down.
When I feel like I've tortured him enough I arch my back and pull at the scarf releasing his ankles then repeat it with his hands. The very second he is free, he springs up, grabbing hold of me and throwing me to one side making me shriek, so now I'm on my back, with him baring down on me.
He takes all his built up frustration and pounds it into me, while his hands grab greedily at every inch of my body and his lips press hard against my own.
By the time we reach climax we are both sweating profusely and gasping for air, our arms and legs sticking out all over the place and our hearts beating so fast it feels as though they might burst out of our chests at any given second.
Normally after sex we both bask in a happy, comfortable exhaustion, but there’s an unusually pensive look on Carlos’s face as if his mind is a million miles away, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing sweetness, I was just thinking about Friday” Friday, the day I’m due to go home, including today, it’s just three full days left; my flight back is at eleven am so with check in times and the four hour journey back to the airport, I will need to leave here at about five am, so it doesn’t really count as another day of holiday.
“What were you thinking about it?”
“That I don't want you to go.” he states sadly, “Is there any way you could stay?”
Of course I want nothing more than to stay here with him, but I have a job and a new house, responsibilities I can't just abandon.
“I don't want to go either, but I can't stay. If I don't go back to work I'll be fired”
“Then get fired” he pleads, clinging onto me with everything he has, “I have enough money to support us”
“That's not the point, I love my job and it's not like I could get another one here without speaking the language” everything about this romance has been too good to be true, so it's easy to get caught up in the fantasy, but I need to remain level headed. He could support me I'm sure, but ultimately, with his family already thinking I'm after his money, it would cause more trouble than it's worth. Plus it would be near impossible for me to get any other job here and even if I did, it wouldn't be as good as the one I currently have. I love my job in advertising and I've worked hard for years to get where I am now, I can't just throw all that away on a whim.
“I know,” he admits defeated, “I just can't stand the idea of losing you”
“You're not losing me, I just have to go back. Why don't you come back with me?” I hadn't thought about bringing him home with me before, I would have to work, but a lot of it I could do from home so he wouldn't be stuck on his own all the time.
“I would love that sweetness, but my parents would go mad. I've already missed so much work in the last three weeks, because of you” he jokes, “and we have a big conference next week that I have to be at”
This is why they are holiday romances, because in reality, when the holiday is over and you have to go back to real life, it's impossible to continue.
“How long would it be till you would be able to come to England?” I give one last attempt to keep our dream alive.
He ponders it for a minute before delivering the disheartening blow, “At least another six weeks, if I worked double time and could get ahead of myself, I could probably take a two week holiday. What about you?” there's hope in his voice, as he wills me to be able to come back sooner.
“I've used all the holiday I have, I only get twenty one days a year and this was it. I don't get any more now until October.” another four months away and even if I could wait that long, the most I could come back for is another three weeks and we both know how that isn't long enough.
I hate talking about it, I guess we've known all along that we have a three week limit, but we've never spoken about it, so there was always hope that something might delay the inevitable.
“That sucks” he complains, “well I guess it's six weeks apart then”
I look at him surprised, I had assumed that as it was so difficult for us to see each other again, that we would just enjoy the time we had left and let the flame sizzle out once I went home. I didn't think he might actually want to try and hold on to what we have.
“Really? You'll come to England?”
“Yes, you can't get away from me that easily Ms. Mavers” he laughs.
For some unknown reason I feel like crying, I'm happy that it's not the end and I'm sad that I still have to cope with six weeks without him, then who knows how long we will be apart after that visit; this whole trip has been a roller coaster of emotions and even as it culminates to an end, I can start to see a whole new one starting up again in the near future.
This is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever had to do; even when he is in the shower for ten minutes I feel the ache in my chest from missing him, so I have no idea how on earth I'm going to survive weeks, no months, away from him. And will the few short days we do finally have together be enough? It would be different if it wasn't Mexico, it's such a long and expensive flight, even if we could find the time, there's no guarantee we will find the money as well. I suppose it won't be so hard for Carlos, but I can't predict how things will go for me. Right now I'm financially stable, but if I have a few slow months at work, potentially it could all come crashing down.
I have to chastise myself, there is no point worrying about things you have no control over, I have a minimum of four months to save before I am even allowed to take more holiday from work, plus I can make sure I have money left after decorating the house and it's not like I will have to pay for the hotel next time, I wouldn't have thought. All in all I can safely say that money wise I will be fine for at least the next two possible trips back.
My mind is whirring with possibilities, the hows and whens hastily popping up and wedging themselves into my brain. I think we might just be able to do this, emotionally I'm sure it will almost kill me, but if I can survive that side of things, the rest is just down to organisation.
“OK, lets do it” I agree.
We spend the day locked away together, cherishing the precious few moments we will get together. No one comes round, I'm relieved that his siblings don't launch yet another attack today, it's exhausting dealing with them; plus their relentless abuse towards me would put a real dampener on our cozy time together.
It's a beautiful day in all ways. The sun is shining, and we spend all day talking of our hopes and dreams and our love for each other. I don't remember a time when I was more content than I am right now.
My Adonis has done so much for me, cured my broken heart, filled me with confidence, saved me from my ex-husband, his family and most of all, from myself.
After years with Jake I had become safe and boring and sensible, never taking a risk for fear of retribution. I was so unhappy in my own skin and I didn't even know it, until Carlos came along and released me from all that was binding me to my insecurities.
I have so much more to thank him for than he will ever know.
I can't believe that in three short weeks my life has done a complete turn around, I am returning home a changed woman, with the love of my life in tow.
It's early afternoon when I realise it's been three days since I last spoke to Caz and she must be going mad with curiosity about what happened to make me change my flight the message I left covered the bare essentials, but I didn't go into much detail, and then there's everything else that's happened since that I want to tell her about. I don't want to cut into my time with Carlos though, so I fire off an email to her instead of calling. While I fire up my trusty laptop, Carlos pops out to get a few provisions in as we are running low on food, which is ideal as it means I can go into more detail than I would have if he was sat watching over my shoulder.
My inbox is full to the brim, but nothing is marked as urgent so I decide it can all wait till I get back, instead I get straight down to business emailing Caz.
To: Cassie Black
From: Kaitlin Mavers
Subject: Quick update
Hi Caz,
I realised I left you a bit high and dry with that message the other day. In case you didn't guess, Carlos came and got me at the airport, we've made up and told his family where to go. We have had a few run ins with them since, but I will fill you in on all the details when I get back. I'm so sad about leaving, but I'm also excited about seeing you again and giving you all the gossip!
Things are going amazingly with Carlos, you probably won't be too happy to hear that I have let myself get in too deep, but it looks like he has too, so I'm guessing you can forgive me for that.
Can't wait to see you on Friday, just a reminder, my flight gets in at about 13.00 your time, so I will see you after baggage collection at about half past.
Missing you, speak soon
Kate
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
There that will do, it will take hours to tell her everything and that's assuming I even remember it all. It's so easy to forget all the bad stuff that happened when you spend a day like today, locked away from the outside, just us against the world.
Once the computer is switched off and packed away I find myself with nothing to do; I thought Carlos would be super quick at the shop, but apparently not, it’s a full hour before he’s back, by which time I’ve retired to the side of the house to sun myself by the pool.
I hear him calling out from inside, “Sweetness, where are you?”
“Out here” I shout back.
“Out where?” comes his confused reply, making me giggle. Forcing myself up, I walk back into the house to find him looking behind the couch.
“What are you doing?” I ask, making him jump up.
“Oh there you are!” he sighs.
“Well I wasn’t behind the sofa” I laugh, still not quite sure if he seriously thought I was crouching behind the furniture, for some unknown reason.
“Where have you been? You’ve been gone forever” I ask, sauntering over to him and wrapping my arms around his neck.
“I’ve been sorting something out, I’ve got a surprise for you”
“More surprises? Oh Mr. Johnson, you do spoil me terribly” I chastise him, unable to keep the smile from my face.
He removes my hands, takes a step back and pulls his top off over his head.
“Mmmm I’m liking this surprise already” I giggle childishly.
He turns so that his left side is facing me and lifts his arm, there is a patch of cling film, about two inches square, taped to his ribs, under which is a murky red and black smudge.
“Can you see it?” he asks eagerly waiting for my reaction.
“Err” I’m not sure what I’m looking at as I lean in closer; then it all becomes clear, he has got a tattoo of two eternity symbols, which overlap and interlink with each other. It’s only about and inch and a half wide, but in thick black lines that almost look as though they jump up off his skin at you.
I breathe in quickly, it’s not too bad I guess, it’s not like he had my name inked onto him; but it’s still been done on a whim, so there’s still a good chance he will live to regret his hasty decision.
Well there’s nothing I can do about it either way, except show some appreciation for his wildly romantic gesture.
“Carlos, that’s lovely, did it hurt?” is all the enthusiasm I can muster on such short notice.
“It’s the eternity symbol I had engraved on your necklace, but two together, for me and you” he explains excitedly, my fingers reach up and touch my necklace, I haven’t taken it off since he gave it to me; I was blown away by the significance of the symbol on it.
“I love it” I breathe, finally realising that I really do, it’s got to be the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.
My hand moves tenderly from my necklace to his side, and I stare into his beautiful green eyes; we have forever. He has twice now committed himself to me for eternity, as far as these things go he has repeatedly been the more forthcoming one throughout our relationship; but anything he can do, I can do too.
As early as I can on Wednesday I scuttle out of the house without waking Carlos and make my way to reception. I’m grateful to find Mari on the desk, as I know she will help me with my unusual request.
“Mari, good morning” I begin cheerfully.
“Ah good morning Kaitlin” she beams, ever since my return she has been overwhelmingly happy to see me every time our paths cross.
“I was wondering if you could help me with something?” I ask tentatively.
“Yes, what can I do?” she offers.
“Where is the nearest place I can get a tattoo?” I say quickly, before I chicken out. She looks at me surprised, but tells me all the same, even insisting on calling for a taxi to take me.
As I get into the cab, nerves hit me as my common sense finally kicks in, I don’t know how safe it is to get tattooed in Mexico, my mind is full of images of dark dirty back rooms and dirty needles, have I gone completely crazy?
Carlos got one, so it can’t be that bad, he’s impulsive, but he’s not stupid, but then I don’t know where he got his done either; I’m sure Mari did her best, but would she really know a safe place to get a tattoo?
I’m just beginning to change my mind when we pull up at the curb. Being that Carlos was only gone an hour, he can’t have gone far, so the likelihood is that this is the same place I tell myself.
Turning to the driver I ask if there are any other tattoo parlours locally, he looks at me blankly before saying yes in a questioning tone. I’m convinced he has no idea what I’m saying and it does anything but fill me with confidence. I motion for him to stay while I check it out, stepping out of the cab and heading to the front door. It looks relatively acceptable from the outside, with posters of different designs on the front and a simple sign hanging above the door saying Tattoo.
Inside, it’s air conditioned and smells of antiseptic, again another good sign; the walls are a clean white colour and the floor is covered in impeccably shiny white tiles, so far so good.
At the reception desk I’m met with a heavily inked man, with a long beard and more piercings than I care to count, it’s a little unnerving, but I’m not sure I could expect anything less in these surroundings.
“Do you speak English?” I ask.
“Yes, little” this was not the reply I was hoping for. Taking the picture I scribbled out myself when Carlos was asleep, from my bag, I show it to him and then point to the inside of my wrist.
“Yes” my bearded friend says confidently, leading me through to the back, where an even more colourful man awaits. They speak to each other, disconcertingly in Spanish, before sitting me down on a plastic stool. The second man fumbles about in a draw for a minute before producing a much neater version of my sketch.
“Yes!” I grin, happy that they have something better to work with. My wrist is quickly wiped with what smells like pure alcohol and then without a word, stands up and leaves the room.
Sitting in this clinical environment, I’m suddenly hit with a wave of nausea, I’ve never had a tattoo and I’m not the best person at handling pain. It’s not even as if I’ve really thought this through, I wanted to do something special to show Carlos how much he meant to me; but in my excitement it’s quite possible that I’m overlooking a much less permanent and painful way of doing that.
My heart starts to race as the walking piece of art returns, still without speaking, I guess his English is even more limited than the other one’s, he takes my wrist and presses the transfer on, holding it up to my face and waiting for me to OK it.
Can I really back out now, I’m stuck in a back room with an intimidating man that doesn’t speak my language and my route to the door is blocked by another equally undesirable guy. The answer is no, no I cannot.
I nod and give him a weak smile, setting him off preparing the ink and the tool, which incidentally looks like a small gun, he repeatedly turns it on and off, filling the room with a buzzing noise, similar to a dentists drill, that puts my teeth on edge.
Finally he takes hold of my hand turning it palm up and exposing my inner wrist, pausing with the needle gun one centimetre from my skin he looks up, “Yes?”
Oh God, this is it, I’m really going to do this, it’s going to hurt like crazy, I’m probably going to faint, I take a deep breath and blow out all my fears, “Yes” I reply.
The second the needle makes contact I instantly regret it, it hurts in a way I had never imagined. The only redeeming thing is that he seems to work in five second blasts, so I know if I count slowly to five, by the time I reach it he will have stopped, if only for a second.
Every now and then the pain wins out and I scrunch my eyes closed against it, struggling to get my brain to go back to concentrating on the counting, it’s only five seconds I lie to myself, you can cope with five seconds, and then another and another.
I want to pull my hand away but he has it in a vice like grip, occasionally muttering “still” and increasing the pressure even more! I’m near to braking point when he finally stops, brushing another wipe over the area, a little too firmly for my inflamed skin and releasing my hand. I get a couple of seconds to admire his handiwork before he seamlessly swathes it in cling film and extends his arm towards the front of the building motioning for me to leave.
Now it’s all over I’m in a state of shock, from the pain, from my utter disbelief at what I’ve just done and from the nagging worry that I may now have Hepatitis! This could turn out to be the biggest regret of my life, but looking down at my plastic coated wrist, at least it will be a pretty regret.
I stand up shakily and head out, the original bearded man is waiting for me and passes me a piece of paper with 500peso scrawled on it, clearly his language skills don’t extend to numbers.
In a daze I pull the notes out, half passing them to him and half dropping them on the desk, muttering an apology as I step out into the sunshine. The heat is unbearable, even in the air conditioned shop I was sweating profusely and having repeated hot flushes, so out here is a whole new level of hell. I practically fall back into the cab, scaring the driver half to death as he had fallen asleep against the window while he was waiting.
Once he realises it’s me, he sits smiling looking me up and down until I realise he wants to see what I have just had done, thank god I didn’t get it in a more personal place is all I can think as I show him my wrist.
He’s nodding enthusiastically as I lean my head back on the seat and close my eyes, waiting for my stomach to stop churning; I can safely say I will never be doing this again!
The short drive back goes slowly, with each bump in the road threatening to bring my breakfast up and the air con intermittently making me feeling like a shivering mess; I go from too hot, to too cold about twenty times per minute, with my body fighting off the shock of what it just went through.
When we arrive back at the resort, even though my body temperature has just about stabilised, I loathe the idea of stepping back out into the oven hot air.
I slink out of the cab, giving the driver a pathetic smile before scuttling into the lobby. As I pass through the glass front I catch a glimpse of my reflection, I’m white as a sheet and I can feel the beads of sweat re-forming from my brow to my toes.
Collapsing down into one of the plush leather chairs, my slick skin squeaks and I almost slip right off again. In less than a minute Mari is by my side, “Miss Kaitlin!” she exclaims, taken aback by the drastic change in my appearance in such a short time, “I get you water” she states, rushing away again and returning promptly with a fresh bottle from the fridge.
Taking it from her I smile, offering my usual excuse, “I’m fine, really. But thank you” taking small sips of the chilled water gradually starts to bring the blood back into my face and I see her begin to relax as I stop looking like the walking dead.
“You look better” she says after a few minutes, “I see?” she asks gently touching my hand where the edge of the cling film rests.
“Oh yes, of course” I oblige, turning my forearm to show her. By now it resembles how Carlos’s looked yesterday, with a layer of blood and sweat trapped between my skin and its temporary bandage.
Unless she saw Carlos’s, she will not know the significance of it, but she politely smiles and tells me it’s beautiful in broken English.
I give myself ten minutes in the lobby, by which time, apart from my hair and clothes being a little damp, I’m pretty much back to normal then make my way back to the house; the whole trip only took around forty minutes, so I’ve still been gone less than an hour in total, it’s even possible that Carlos has been sleeping this whole time.
I inch the door open and tiptoe into the lounge as quiet as a mouse, as I’m clicking the front door closed I hear Carlos from the stairs, “Kate! Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!” he cries out, running across to me and throwing his arms round me, “Why are you wet?” his concern changes to confusion as his skin makes contact with my clothes.
I step back, keeping my hand behind my back, “I’ve got a surprise for you” I mimic his announcement. His eyes light up at the mention of it, the last surprise I got him was me trussed up in a lace corset, so no wonder he’s excited.
Revealing my hand, I hold my inner wrist up to him to see, it takes him a nanosecond to comprehend what I’m showing him, before he grasps my hand and pulls it in for a closer look, “I don’t believe it, you’ve just gone and done this? On your own? Where did you go?” He’s full of questions but the beaming grin on his face says he’s blown away by the gesture.
I explain where I went and he confirms it is the same place he used, which by all accounts is a very reputable place; I’m inwardly relieved that I don’t have to worry that I inadvertently contracted some incurable disease in the process. I’m never normally spontaneous, so I had all but convinced myself that in doing something so uncharacteristically risky, Karma would punish me with the worst possible outcome.
Carlos tells me that he had taken the design in himself, so it’s likely that it was his template they used on me too, it’s all linking together in a perfectly romantic way, not dissimilar to our matching double eternity tattoos.
Taking me to the kitchen sink he lovingly removes the cover and bathes my wrist under gently running water, rubbing his thumbs over the surrounding skin to remove the last traces of blood. Once it’s clean you can clearly see the sweeping black lines, encircling each other in one continuous loop.
Bringing my hand out of the water Carlos leads it to his lips, dropping a delicate kiss on the edge of my palm, just below the tattoo; then taking a towel he dabs away any residual moisture, before reaching into a drawer and fetching out a tube of cream. With a feather light touch he smears a layer of cream over my inflamed skin and re-wraps it loosely in a clean sheet of cling film, “Just to keep the sand off the cream” he explains. I love the way he cares for me when I’m hurt, even if it is self inflicted.
Morning turns to afternoon and afternoon fades to evening without us even noticing, we are so wrapped up in our ‘eternal’ love it’s like a dream. We sit away from other people out in public places, giggling in corners, sharing in private jokes only funny to us. We are attached to each other at all times, holding hands when we walk, wrapped in each others arms when we stand, legs entwined when we sit, to the outside world its sickly sweet, but to us it’s essential. Without a constant contact between us, we feel lost, empty, incomplete; nothing is right until we are together, moving as two parts of the same person, like our life is one long, erotically charged Salsa dance, the music to which plays in our hearts.
We are perfect partners, undoubtedly made for each other, it’s as though all of the heartbreak we have both suffered has been designed specifically to unite us together; a complicated patchwork of events, so masterful it could only have been constructed by fate.
After our boat trip we had promised Blair and John we would meet for this evening festivities; the whole resort is a buzz with anticipation, the bar has been decked out to the nines with brightly coloured banners and paper lanterns hanging from every available point. Whatever the Mariachis is, it is truly celebrated here.
A circle of chairs has been placed around the courtyard, with a further two wider ones around them, with only one small gap in the circles that leads into the bar. The seats are filling rapidly, from a heaving crowd that feeds in from the bar, drinks in hand. Carlos spots Blair and John, fighting to keep possession of the seats they saved us in the inner circle.
With one simple hand movement Carlos indicates to piggy back me, above the growing noise of the crowd; I jump on to save getting separated from him and he sets off, climbing over vacant seats towards the centre courtyard, leaving a sea of surprised faces behind as he side steps and jumps over their waving arms and discarded belongings.
Eventually we make it to our friends; I slip off Carlos’s back and take my seat next to Blair, with Carlos sitting down beside me and John next to him, giving us the opportunity to speak with our same sex counterparts while still maintaining contact with each other.
I give Blair a flash of my wrist, turning her into a shrieking mess, with the decibels rising even more when I explain the story behind it. We’re so engrossed in gossiping that we don’t even notice some twelve men enter the courtyard; it’s not until I get an elbow in the ribs from Carlos that we realise the din of the crowd has died down and all eyes are fixed on the entertainment.
All twelve men are dressed in matching costumes comprising of black boots, impossibly tight wool pants, brightly coloured shirts with ruffled fronts and to top it off an unnecessarily large sombrero, all decorated with silver threads woven into each piece of clothing.
They each hold either a trumpet or, a guitar; the guitars vary in shape and size giving a depth to their music. They play lively tunes, singing out their souls in Spanish, I am none the wiser as to what they are saying, but the words have me hypnotised.
As they continue people begin to join in, first with encouraging whoops and cheers at random intervals, until the more confident, or drunk, members who are familiar with the songs actually sing out the words from the sidelines.
The Mariachis begin to serenade each woman one by one, while their backs are turned to us, Blair explains the songs to me; they sing of numerous subjects, but mostly they sing of loving women or being hurt by them.
By halfway round the circle their heart wrenching tunes have reduced many a woman to tears, although each one still smiles and taps her foot, claps, or even dances on to the continuing music; they seem to be elated by the melancholy the music induces in them.
All too soon they are stood in front of me, staring into my eyes as they strum out the first few notes. After the first verse, when I’m blushing wildly at the prospect of having twelve men sing to me, Carlos stands, merging in and becoming part of the band, to the audiences utter delight; one man pops a sombrero on his head, while another hands him a bright orange, short jacket. By half way through the second verse he has joined in, belting out the words to me. Blair leans in close and translates for me:
"I loved her, yet she broke my heart,
I feel sorry for anyone who now,
Asks me for my love, I am truly hurt.
I will never give love another chance."
It’s all wildly romantic, I’m not moved to tears, probably because I am getting all the meanings of the words second hand from Blair instead of directly through the emotionally charged singing of the Mariachis, but still my heart is racing as they move on and Carlos sweeps me up and spins me round, swaying us to the beat.
We dance late into the night, the band makes a timid attempt to leave twice, but their path is blocked by the crowd, cheering for more, so instead they carry on, the music becoming slower and sadder as the night progresses, until finally people are too tired, or saddened to hold them captive any longer.
The bar sends out another wave of drinks once they leave, finishing off the last die hard stragglers still milling about outside.
Blair and John have long since called it a night, arranging to come to Carlos’s tomorrow evening for a farewell dinner for me. Today has been full of love and promises while the night has been full of energy and romance, by the time we stumble in at four am, it’s all I can do to keep my eye’s open, falling into a deep peaceful sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
Thursday has arrived! It’s my last real day in Mexico , the depressing pain in my chest starts from the moment I open my eyes. I don’t want to spend my last hours wallowing in self pity, but the thought of actually leaving here kills me a little inside. Especially now Carlos and I have reached such a crucial point in our relationship; things have taken a dramatic leap forward, we were in love, but now we are officially committed and we have the branding to prove it. Just as we’ve pledged an eternity together, we are being forced apart, star-crossed lovers doomed to end in tragedy!
I’m being ridiculous I know, but something strange happens when you fall in love, suddenly everything in your world starts to revolve around that love and consequently, without it, your entire being threatens to collapse in on itself.
And this is what I face in going home, finding away to keep everything up in the air where it should be, while my centre is an empty void, at least until we are re-united again.
I lay there for what feels like hours just watching my Adonis as he sleeps, little grunting snores comically escaping his lips as his eyes flutter, watching his dreams unfold.
After a while he stirs, stretching awake, “Morning sweetness” he mumbles.
“Hey you” I reply, stroking his hair off his face.
“What do you want to do for your last day?” he asks, still sleepy.
“I don't mind as long as I'm with you. I should probably pack first, but then I'm all yours” I say, getting out of bed and picking up items of stray clothes from around the room.
He lies there watching me move around for a few minutes before offering to help, “It's OK, it's mostly all done, just need to get my bathroom stuff really, I think everything else is in the bag already” I never fully unpack on holiday, it just seems like a waste of time as you know it will just need to be packed again at the end.
I do a quick run through of the important things, my laptop, camera, passport and tickets are all in my hand luggage; there are a few bits of my clothes and some shoes downstairs, but other than that I just need to add my toiletries after I've used them.
“Hey, do you fancy taking a shower with me?” I ask as I'm folding the last top from in the bedroom and placing into my suitcase.
“There's nothing I'd like more” he smiles, dragging himself out of bed.
He's putting on a cheerful face, but he moves slower and his words are not full of their usual boyish excitement. I know how exactly how he's feeling, happy that we're still together now, but depressed that every passing minute brings us closer to being apart.
In the shower we just cling to each other, absorbing every last sensation of being this close, trying to memorise every curve of each others bodies and the placement of every freckle. We make love under the flow of water, holding on tight together, our kisses deep allowing us to convey more than we could ever put into words.
Even when it's over we just stand, locked together, hands and lips desperately skimming over silken skin, needing to caress each part of the other just one more time. It's only when our fingers are wrinkled that we finally relent and step out of our steamy cocoon.
We dress quickly, not wanting to waste a second and once I've chucked my bathroom stuff into my suitcase, Carlos carries it downstairs, placing it next to the front door, while I scurry around grabbing the last few bits of mine from the lounge area and shove them in.
“There, all packed” I sigh, dumping my hand luggage bag next to it.
We both stand in silence, staring at my bags, feeling the full gravity of what they mean, eighteen and a half hours until I walk out of here for good.
“Shall we go out?” Carlos speaks, breaking us from our trance, he's plastered on his fake smile for me and I know he is doing what he can to hold me together.
“Yeah, that would be great” I say back, as happily as I can, although I'm nowhere near as good at hiding my emotions as he is.
The morning sun does however go along way towards improving my mood, even in sad times, its so much easier to become happy again when you're bathed in sun and surrounded by a beautiful paradise; England however does not offer this kind of support.
We meander around for a bit, just walking and talking, as we weave through the resort I become more and more aware of how much I want to stay; it seems so unbelievable that people actually have this life, living in a stunning place with amazing weather, with activities you would never do at home available on the doorstep whenever you want. It's heaven and it makes my life at home seem so mundane, so grey and uneventful. I love my friends and family and I thought I loved my new house, but it has nothing compared to this. This is the life I crave, if my parents and Caz were here with me, my life would be complete.
But that's just a dream that will never materialise, so what's the point in even thinking about it? If, in the future Carlos decides to move to England could he ever be happy, or will he always resent what he's had to give up? And on the other hand, could I ever be truly happy here long term, if I have to leave everyone else I love behind?
I just can't fathom a way this would work, without one of us feeling resentful.
“What are you thinking about?” Carlos's words interrupt my thoughts.
“Oh nothing much” I lie, not wanting to bring him in on my realisation if he hasn't worked it out himself just yet.
“I've got an idea about what we can do this morning” he says, back to his usual excited self.
“Yeah? What's that?” I ask, his mood starting to rub off on me and lift my spirits.
“Come on” he says dragging me off towards the beach, I love that nothing is simple with him, it's always a mystery.
We get to the beach and he speaks to one of the staff, he's not stood by any sign indicating what he is there to help you with, so I'm still none the wiser. Scanning the area, the only thing even vaguely close by are the Kayaks, I hope to God that's not what he has in mind, I never told him about my experience with them when I first arrived and to save on my embarrassment, I never planned to either.
The man he spoke to disappears off round the corner, leaving Carlos looking pleased with himself.
“What are you plotting?” I ask suspiciously.
“Never you mind, it will all become clear in about ten minutes” he replies cryptically, I know better than to think I'm going to get an ounce of information from him now, so instead I just wait in anticipation.
It's exactly ten minutes later when the man reappears round the corner, in his hands he has two ropes which lead off behind him. It takes a few more steps before I see what is attached to them; two horses obediently follow him.
“We're going horse riding?” I squeal jumping up and down.
“Horse riding on the beach” Carlos corrects me. It's something I've always wanted to do, the type of thing you see in romantic movies, but never actually do in real life! I'm ecstatic and to top it off, they are magnificent beasts; both white, with a grey dappling across their backs, with long perfectly manicured manes and tails.
I'm still jumping up and down when they are bought to us, Carlos puts his hand on my arm to calm me, “Careful, you'll spook them if you keep doing that” he warns.
I change tact, moving slowly towards the smaller of the two and extending my hand carefully until it touches her soft nose, she rears her head back at first, but after a few attempts she allows me to stroke her.
“Do we need to get helmets or something?” I ask Carlos.
“Nah, just jump on” he replies confidently, I forget this is Mexico, they are so laid back they are practically horizontal.
“Do you need a leg up?” Carlos asks, I eye the horse, it may be smaller than the other, but it's back is still in line with my head.
“Yes I think I do” I manage to get one foot into a stirrup, then Carlos grasps my other knee and hauls it up until it rests on the saddle. Even with his help it's still a struggle to get it over, but I just about manage to get on.
It's been years since I've ridden and now I'm up so high I'm a little frightened, the horse seems to know this too, shifting it's weight back and forth beneath me, as if trying to unbalance me.
Carlos, unsurprisingly, mounts his steed with ease, “Right are you ready to go?”
“As ready as I'll ever be” I say with shaky confidence.
“Just give her a little kick with your heels” he says, demonstrating on his and setting off towards the shore. I copy him, but my horse has none of it, instead choosing to hold it's ground. Before I know it the man who lead them out gives her a sharp slap on the behind, which sets her off in pursuit of Carlos, slightly too fast for my liking. Luckily, once we catch up, she slows to fall into pace with her friend, it looks like she will be taking me for a ride, rather than the other way around.
We weren't given names for them, so I call mine Dobin, in the hope that naming her might might help us to bond and give me back some of the control.
On the soft dry sand leading down the beach both horses struggle a bit with their footing, Dobin's hooves seem to slip a little on every other step, but once we make it to the firmer wet sand in the shallows she finds her feet and plods on happily.
The sea is on my left, while Carlos is on my right, he steers his horse towards me and Dobin, forcing us deeper into the waves, until the water is about half a foot deep, causing every step to splash the water up onto my legs.
It's actually a lovely feeling, having a cool spray of water on you, when every thing else is so hot.
I just start to feel comfortable enough to lean forward and give Dobin a pat on the neck, when Carlos suggests trotting.
“I've only just got this one to agree to move, let alone trott” I remind him.
“You just need to kick harder, don't worry you won't hurt her, she'll probably just follow mine anyway” he has a point there and it would be nice to get some speed up and really experience the movie cliché in it's full glory.
Carlos takes the lead, his horse obeys his command in a second and takes off through the edge of the water.
Dobin however is reluctant to follow yet again, “Come on Dobin, you can do it” I give her some encouragement before jabbing my heel in harder, eventually she agrees and gets a move on, but Carlos's head start means he is still some way ahead of us.
I up the anti, giving her another kick before pushing up on my feet so I'm half standing. She accepts my challenge and ups our speed, not only reaching, but overtaking Carlos in no time. As soon as he see's us thunder past he is right on our tail, but now we have made it to the front, both me and Dobin are desperate to win our undue race.
There is a flag on the far side of the beach, which signals the end of the swimming area and that becomes the finish line. I can hear Carlos just slightly behind me, but I daren't look, for fear of falling off. I am enjoying the ride, but I am all too aware that I'm way out of my comfort zone.
We fly past the flag, creating a photo finish, although I will always maintain I won. I pull back on the reins gently bringing Dobin back to walking pace, Carlos falling in line with us.
“That was great” he pants, grinning.
“Even though you lost?” I tease him.
“I think it was too close to call, a draw. But as it's your last day I'll let you say you won” he is such a sore loser!
“Oh I won, me and Dobin are an unbeatable team”
“Oh really? Well care to race back for the decider?” Carlos wagers, ever the competitive type. Normally I would agree, but one look at Dobin, sweating and wheezing, tells me, she is not used to exerting herself, so I politely decline.
“I think we will retire unbeaten actually, we have nothing to prove” Carlos just laughs, obviously thinking we are just chicken, but not about to be so rude as to say such a thing.
We lead the horses back into the sea to cool off, this time going deep enough for the waves to lap at our feet, which they seem to appreciate. Holding on to the saddle I lean over and scoop handfuls of water up and pour them over Dobin's back, I'm just on the third one when Carlos frees his foot from his stirrup and kicks a wave of water right over me. It's freezing, but refreshing and it certainly cooled the horse down in the process, so I'm actually quite relieved, but it's the principle of the matter.
“Oh so that's how it is?” I ask, kicking water back at him before he has a chance of coming back with a smart-alec response.
I quickly steer Dobin back to the shallows while he wipes the salty water out of his eyes.
“Come on slow coach” I shout back to him, just to really wind him up.
I wait for him to join us, before we head back to where we started.
“Just you wait, I'm going to get you back for that” he threatens, jokingly.
“Get me back? You started it, if anything I still owe you one!” I retort.
“How do you figure that out?” he has me, I don't owe him one at all, but I can't admit I just made it up for something to say back to him.
“I just do” I settle with facetiously.
“Alright, I'll take my punishment like a gentleman” he laughs.
We return the horses just after 12.30, and head for lunch. We decide to be a little social and take lunch in one of the restaurants, but seeing as the only people I know here are Blair and John and the only people Carlos knows are staff and family, it's still unlikely we will be disturbed.
We are proven right when we spend two hours on the veranda of the restaurant, in full view of all passing guests and yet speak to no-one but each-other the whole time; and frankly I wouldn't want it any other way.
We talk of the future, where we want to be in years to come, how big a family we want, what pets we'd like. We agree we both want three children, one boy and two girls, I'm more of a dog person, where-as Carlos likes cats more, so we compromise on one of each. I want to work, but when I have kids, I want to be there with them, so would give up work. Carlos suggests that we save enough money to both be able to stay at home with them as one big close family, which I agree sounds like a dream. When you think of these things you always assume one or the other, if not both of you will have to keep working, but I guess with Carlos it's entirely possible that we won't, we can just have our cake and eat it too!
In one way it might seem wrong to be talking about things like this so soon, even if we are doing it more in a way of how we see our future rather than actually planning our future together, but as the discussion goes on it just feels so right. It may be those rose tinted glasses fogging my vision, but we seem to be on the same page about everything, it's like pieces of a jigsaw just falling seamlessly into place.
After lunch we move back to the beach, the wind has got up, so we huddle together under a palm tree and watch the waves roll in.
“Hey guys” Blair and John appear, popping our private little bubble. They don't hang about, instead just agreeing to be at ours by seven tonight, before making their excuses to leave us to our romance.
We spend the rest of the day inseparable, as usual, but our embraces are tinged with even more longing than normal. I feel a certain desperation to envelop him, as if I need to absorb a part of him into me, so that when I leave I can take it with me.
Carlos manages to put into words the feelings I am having, “You know, when you leave, you will be taking my heart with you sweetness, because without you, I don't think it could go on beating”. It's exactly right, when I go a part of my heart will be left behind too, loving him just as much as it does now, but in the process, it will be breaking in two.
Whenever you start a relationship, there is a tiny part of you that keeps in mind that your heart may get broken, but it's easily forgotten about in the throws of passion, but when you know exactly what date and time your heart will break, it's impossible to put it out of your mind. I imagine it's like knowing the day you will die; you can live your life to the full, appreciate every last second of it, but that day will always be looming over you, darkening everything you do.
We head back to the house around five, going via the shop to pick up some supplies, as he rarely cooks, I've found that there is almost never anything more than basic bread and cheese stocked in Carlos's kitchen.
We decide on a simple dish of chicken with tomatoes and salad, easy to knock up and little to clear up after.
We shower together again, it's surprising how dirty you get just hanging out around the resort. My hair and skin are covered in a layer of salt water, making them both dry and oily at the same time and there is sand stuck everywhere. When we've showered I change into a pair of Carlos's shorts and an old T-shirt to save unpacking anything, plus I love being cocooned in things that smell of him.
I can wear my dirty clothes from today to catch the plane in the morning, as it's not like I'll have anyone to impress, I shake them out and hang them off the back of the chairs on the balcony in a vague attempt to air them a bit.
Once we are done we head downstairs and under my instruction we begin prepping dinner, it's really just a case of searing the chicken then shoving it all in a pan in the oven for an hour, but from watching Carlos, you'd think it was rocket science. That's definitely something I will have to fix about him at a later date, I laugh to myself. All in all he is pretty well trained, very polite and impeccably chivalrous, but I still believe a man should know how to cook more than scrambled egg on burnt toast!
Blair and John arrive right on time, seven on the dot, “Something smells good” John compliments us as he walks in.
“It's almost ready, we were thinking of eating in here if that's OK with you two, it's still a bit warm outside to be eating a hot meal” I suggest. They both agree that's fine, Blair moves to the kitchen to find a bottle opener for the wine they bought, “I love what you've done with this place” she says, perusing the cupboards, I'm betting that was the immediate reaction Carlos was hoping for when he first bought me here. Blair is ideal in every social situation, knowing exactly what to say, without any prompting and saying it in an entirely genuine manner.
When the wine is open we all sit round on the sofas, surprisingly it's John who breaches the elephant in the room “So, you're off home in the morning, are you guys going to keep in touch?” he asks innocently, Blair quickly kicks him in the ankle, obviously more aware of the sensitivity of the subject.
“It's OK” I wave off the awkwardness, “Yes we're keeping in touch, hopefully Carlos will be able to come to England in the next few weeks” I down play the reality, because if I told them how it actually made me feel, I'd probably burst into tears.
“That's great” Blair chips in, “will you be in your new home by then?” she asks, subtly changing the subject.
“I hope so, my friend Caz has been handling it and she seems to think it will be a done deal within a couple of weeks” my words are hollow, I speak because it's expected of me, but inside all I can think of now is having to leave. I take Carlos's hand and squeeze it in my own, somewhere deep down in the area he sends things in denial, he must be feeling the same.
When he squeezes back a lump forms in my throat, hold it together Kaitlin, you've done enough crying in public throughout this holiday and tonight is meant to be a nice night, not another one filled with you sobbing.
To take my mind off it and to remove the pressure of having everyone’s eyes boring into me, I stand and walk to the kitchen, opening the oven door to make it look like I'm just checking on dinner.
“Do you need a hand?” Blair calls after me.
“No, it's OK” I call back, just loud enough for her to hear, but not so clearly that the grief is apparent in my voice.
As it happens, it looks pretty much done, in fact the garlic bread we shoved in last minute is almost starting to turn to the dark side, so I have a good excuse to keep out of the way for a minute.
I take everything out and start to dish up, every time I spoon out a portion I catch a glimpse of my tattoo, it's beginning to heal up now so I haven't had it covered today, but I'm still applying cream twice a day. It makes me smile, no matter what happens I have this, an eternal reminder of our love and a promise that we will, somewhere, somehow end up together.
“Right, come and get it” I call out once everything is plated up and I have composed myself.
“This looks great Kate, thank you” Blair says, taking the plate I pass to her and moving back to the sofa. Carlos does not own a dining room table as he always eats at the breakfast bar, but it's a little cramped for four people and as you all line up on one side of it, it makes it hard to chat, so we decide that sitting on the sofas with our plates on our laps is the better option.
We all sit around, taking it in turns to eat and talk, Carlos has on his entertaining face, but his smile never seems to reach his eyes. There's something I can't quite put my finger on, but I'm sensing a growing tension under the surface. It must just be time slipping by, it's had the same affect on me these last few days, once I become aware of the minutes passing by I can't help but loathe the fact that every one of them is bringing my departure that little bit closer.
I give his arm a little squeeze and when he turns to me I throw him a sympathetic, 'I know how you feel' look, he holds my gaze blankly for a second then turns back to our guests, dismissing me entirely. Not this again, I thought he had learned from the last time that taking it out on me when he's upset only makes the situation worse!
I don't know how to respond to this, should I take him into another room and have a stern word with him, I don't want my last night to be tainted with one of his foul moods after all. But who's to say that would even help? Last time I had to threaten to move out before I finally broke him, so talking about it is liable to just make it worse.
I think all I can do is ignore it and focus on Blair and John and keep my fingers crossed that he snaps out of it by the time I leave. I had imagined a tearful, heartbreaking goodbye, not an emotionless, see you later then. Mind you his mood swings are so sudden, that who knows, he may change again in the next five minutes. Yes, I will just leave it for now and deal with it later if I absolutely have to.
Blair and John are merrily chatting away and have already opened the second bottle of wine by the time we are half way through our dinner, I pull myself out of my own head and join back in as cheerily as I can manage. Carlos continues to smile and nod along, but offers nothing but silence to the conversation.
Mid sentence Blair shoots me a look, I've seen it before on Caz when she's been around Jake in one of his moods, so I know exactly what she's asking, but as usual I have no insight into what goes on in the minds of my men, so all I can do is give a tiny shrug; she accepts it with an understanding smile and seamlessly continues with her story.
When everyone's plates are clear I start collecting them, “Whats for afters?” Blair asks eagerly as she passes her empty plate to me.
“Afters?” I ask shocked, “Where do you put it all?” her slight frame gives no indication of the amount of food she can pack away, “I think there's some ice-cream in the freezer” I say bringing a smile to her face. I glance at Carlos, the suggestion of ice-cream immediately bought to mind, for me, the night we spent binging on mint-choc-chip and amaretto biscuits, but either he is still in no mood to reminisce, or he didn't even hear the conversation, because he looks completely oblivious to everything right now. Again I don't rise to it, instead choosing to dump the plates in the sink for him to deal with later and fish out the desert.
I'm just passing bowls around when someone knocks on the door, it can only be his family again, I hope to God it's his parents, but a foreboding feeling tells me it's more likely to be his siblings coming for their pound of flesh!
Carlos goes to the door, I'm half tempted to tell him not to answer it, but there's another knock when he's halfway to the door, so I just leave him to it, with any luck with the mood he's in, he will frighten them off pretty quickly.
When he opens the door I'm sat with my back to it, opposite Blair, I see her face fall in shock, I know that last time she came into contact with Julia she ended up being pushed off a boat, but she was fine, so it seems like a bit of an overreaction; I follow her gaze, turning towards the door, only to find it's not any member of Carlos's family standing there, but instead five men dressed in police uniforms.
They are talking quietly to Carlos, but he motions for them to come in, returning to the group he explains, “The police have had a report of drugs on the property so they are going to have to do a search.”
My jaw drops to the ground as they begin routing through drawers and requesting we all stand so they can search under the sofa cushions. “Drugs?” I look at Carlos confused, but he just shrugs, not meeting my gaze, this has Marcus's scheming written all over it, he's clearly just trying to ruin our last night together by any means possible.
One of the men is in the kitchen struggling to pull the cupboards open, like I had done when I first arrived. Carlos says something in Spanish to him, moving to his side to demonstrate how to open them; the police officer smiles, but quickly replaces the expression with a straight face, but you can tell he is impressed by the technology.
A couple of them move upstairs, while the remaining two continue to search around us.
“Who is this?” one of them asks, pointing to my bags, by the door.
“Oh, they're mine” I say moving forward, he holds up his hand to tell me not to come closer and so I stop and watch him unzip my suitcase and begin to rifle through it. It's annoying to watch, knowing that I'm just going to have to re-pack once he's done as he is chucking it piece by piece out onto the floor.
I'm just turning away from him when he calls one of the others over to him, causing me to whip back round, what does he think he has found? I packed it myself this morning, so I know there is nothing illegal in there, especially not any drugs, there's not even any painkillers in there as I've used all the ones the doctor gave me for my injuries.
All eyes in the room are focused on them as cop number two bends down and retrieves a small white package from inside my suitcase. The rest happens in slow motion, the one from the kitchen moves in behind me, taking hold of my arms and pulling them behind my back, everyone is shouting and bustling around us as he secures my wrists in handcuffs. The two men who went upstairs come running back down at the sound of the commotion, I'm vaguely aware of one of the police men saying something to me, but in my disbelief I don't hear a word of it.
I shake my head and keep saying no, this can't be happening, but I'm being frog marched towards the door all the same. Blair is calling out rapidly in Spanish to them, I don't know what she's saying, but there's panic in her voice.
“It's alright Kate, we'll get this sorted out” she says to me, but all I can do is stare at her numbly, the blood draining from my face. She turns her attention back to the policemen stating her arguments against them taking me again, while John tries to block our path, causing the others to man handle him out the way. It's utter chaos, everyone is shouting and pushing, causing mayhem and no doubt making things even worse. I'm being bundled out the front door when I finally hear Carlos, I hadn't noticed him throughout all this until now and when I turn towards his voice, I see him still stood in the kitchen, frozen to the spot, “It's mine” he yells, then repeats it twice in Spanish. Everyone comes to a standstill for a moment, before one of the cops goes to him and puts him too in handcuffs. As he is bought towards me his eyes burn in the way they did after Jake attacked me, only this time they are trained solely on me.
“I put it there, this whole thing has been a set up, so I can get you to take it into England without knowing” he states cruelly, “Just go back home and forget about me, I'm sorry alright, I didn't mean for you to get caught out, I thought you'd get through no problem, I mean look at you.” he sneers the last part, his words apologising but his tone is harsh and unfeeling.
I don't have time to react before he's hauled away, but what can I possibly say to that anyway?
I'm still being led away for some reason, surely they've got the culprit so I should be let go? “Blair?” I call out to her for help.
“They are taking you to the station for questioning” she explains quickly, “They have to be sure what Carlos is saying is true. Don't worry, we will get a taxi down to the station and meet you there alright?”
“OK” I call back as they pull me away.
Sat in the back of the police car I've never been so scared, or confused in all my life. This can't be happening, it just can't be, but Carlos's words were clear. He set me up, this whole thing was a lie; Can I really be one of those women you hear about who get duped into believing some young, hot man has fallen in love with them in the space of a short holiday, only to find out they just wanted a visa, or someone to smuggle drugs for them.
Oh my God, it all makes perfect sense, I am one of those women! It dawns on me like a slap in the face, how could I have been so stupid? Here is Carlos who from the beginning I knew was too sexy and young to ever be interested in me, but yet he seemingly falls in love with me in three short weeks, promising me the world, of course it's all too good to be true, how could I not have seen it!? Not to mention that I was the perfect candidate, on my own, just split up with my husband, vulnerable, no self esteem, I bet it was as easy as taking candy from a baby, getting me to fall for his plan.
I feel like such a fool, all we had planned, all I had dreamed of for our future, was all just part of the rouse. The tears start to well in my eyes and as I lift my arm to brush them away my tattoo catches my gaze, that's about right, not only am I the worlds biggest idiot, but now I'm branded one too. A stupid, gullible, idiot, for eternity.
It's all so unbelievable, in hindsight it makes perfect sense, but if this hadn't of happened now, I wouldn't of had a clue. It literally never crossed my mind to think something like this was happening to me, I guess you always assume it's the poorer people looking for money, or a way out of the country, their the ones you look out for; not rich, dual nationality resort owners sons, but then I guess he had a different agenda. But why would he even need to deal drugs when he has money? Maybe just the thrill, or maybe he's in some sort of trouble and this was the only way out?
No that can't be true, with all the talk of him never settling down, this is probably why. All those poor girls before me, he saw for a few weeks then sent them packing with false hope in their hearts and a bag of cocaine in their luggage!
And his siblings, I'd bet that they are in on it too, kick up a fuss, make it look like he is turning his back on them in favour of his girl of the month, really hammer home this undying love routine. I bet they've all been having a right laugh behind my back, 'stupid English woman, as if Carlos would ever be interested in her'.
I feel sick with all the emotions running through me, scared, angry, ashamed, embarrassed, empty, depressed, thankful that it happened now rather than in the airport where it would have been too late for him to do the right thing and come clean.
I guess for him it's out of sight, out of mind, he never expected it to happen in front of him and maybe seeing it actually prompted him to feel guilty and own up, but if it had happened at the airport he just had to have his phone off and he'd be none the wiser. He's a coward and a bastard, I despise him, but only because I loved him so much. The hurt I'm feeling outweighs any other emotion, his betrayal is too much to bare; he knew everything I had gone through recently, but he went ahead with it anyway. Any half decent human being would have backed out and let me be, but then I guess any half decent human being wouldn't be doing this to innocent women to begin with.
Betrayal, it reminds me of the Mariachi songs and more specifically the one Carlos chose to stand up and sing to me, was it some kind of cryptic hint, a hidden warning of what was to come?
"I loved her, yet she broke my heart,
I feel sorry for anyone who now,
Asks me for my love, I am truly hurt.
I will never give love another chance."
I hadn't thought about the words before, I was too busy enjoying the romance of being serenaded to pay attention, which says it all really; this whole holiday I have only seen and heard what I wanted to, the signs have all been there, clear as day, but I was blind to them, bloody rose tinted glasses!
My mind is still searching for answers and remembering blatant signs I was too stupid to see when we arrive at the police station. Opening the door they all but drag me out by my arm and into the white building.
It's cold inside, both in temperature and atmosphere, no one talks to me, instead just pointing at where I should stand and freeing my hands only to point at a piece of paper they want me to sign.
“I don't know what this says” I say to the man behind the desk, who simply rattles something off in Spanish and taps the box again.
“Please, can I have an interpreter, I don't understand.” I know what they want me to do, but I'm reluctant to sign anything without knowing what it is, for all I know it's a confession they've drafted up.
The man behind the desk raises his voice, glaring at me and shoves a pen into my hand, slamming it down roughly onto the piece of paper. I don't know why I can't just have an interpreter, there has got to be someone here that speaks English, most of the population know it at least to a certain degree; they could pretty much bring someone in off the street and they could give me a vague idea of what it says.
I can see I'm not going to get any help here and the longer I prolong it, the angrier he is getting, so I just sign the damn sheet and hope for the best.
Next I'm taken into an interview room, the walls are a muddy brown colour and there are no windows or two way mirrors like you see in the movies, just stone walls on each side. A metal table sits in the middle of the room with one chair on one side and two chairs on the other. That is it, no recording device, no other furniture, just a cold dank room. I'm plonked down in the single chair, then my guard retreats from the room, closing the door behind him. I wonder if Blair and John are here yet, and what they are doing to save me from this hell. I'd like to think that with Blair's savvy she will have haggled me out within the hour, but somehow I don't think even she has that kind of power here.
There is no way of telling the time as I don't have a watch on and there is no clock hanging from the empty walls, but it feels like about an hour before anyone comes back into the room, meaning it must be around 10pm by now.
A man and a woman enter, both suited and booted, with serious expressions. They both hold mugs of steaming coffee, what I wouldn't give for a cup of even the cheapest coffee right now.
As they sit down in front of me I hold me hands on my lap, tracing my finger round the hard scab of my tattoo.
“I am your interpreter and this is Detective Maurise” she states formally.
Maurise talks for a while in a gravelly voice, which makes me think he is a heavy smoker when he's not grilling suspects for information, then when he stops, the woman cuts in again, “We will need your finger prints to rule you out as a suspect, as you know Mr. Johnson has already confessed, but there were finger prints on the pack of cocaine, so we must be sure”.
“OK” I reply. They both stand and leave the room again, with no explanation, leaving me alone with nothing but my paranoid thoughts.
When they eventually return they bring with them an ink pad and a sheet of paper with ten boxes for each finger print.
Maurise takes my hand and proceeds to press each finger into the ink with unnecessary force, when he is satisfied, they again leave the room, taking the equipment with them. I know I'm still a potential suspect, but do they have to be so cold towards me?
They return shortly this time and my interpreter explains they have a few questions for me while my prints are being processed.
They cover everything, how do I know Carlos, what was our relationship, what did we do today, when did I pack my bag, was it ever left unattended. The questions go on and on, the interview dragging out as every question and answer has to be repeated twice through the interpreter. Hours pass and I'm left on my own again numerous times while they go, I can only assume, to collaborate information and compare what I am saying to what Carlos answers, until they can be convinced I am telling the truth.
Each time they return they give nothing away, instead remaining tight lipped and stoney faced. I got barely any sleep last night, assuming I would get a few hours tonight, then be able to sleep the whole journey back, so as they start to ask the same questions over and over, my irritation rises.
“I've already told you that, we went horse riding, then we went to lunch, then we sat on the beach, then we shopped, then we went home” I snap for the third time.
“You said you saw your friends when you were on the beach” the interpreter repeats the detectives pointless statement.
“Yes that is correct, you can ask them if you don't believe me” I say frustrated at having to repeat every last detail. I'm exhausted, the stress and lack of sleep are making me nausea’s and fractious and confused, I've had enough, I just want to go home now, literally home, back to rainy, boring, safe England, where there's no knight in shining armour, who turns out to be a drug peddling user.
But I get no such luck, instead it goes on and on in circles, 'but you said this before' and 'didn't you say it was actually like that' and the whole time in my head I'm screaming 'what does it matter anyway? You have a confession, you must know by now that my finger prints are not on the drugs, so just let it go!'
They're trying to catch me out, to put words in my mouth, to make me as guilty as Carlos, but I'm not and there's no way in hell I'm going to fall into that trap; even if they make me miss my flight and deprive me of sleep for the next week with these infernal questions I am not going to change my story.
They leave the room for the tenth time, but this time when they return they are all smiles and lighthearted, “You are free to go” my interpreter explains.
“Just like that?” I question her skeptically.
“Yes, your finger prints were not on the drugs, you maintain your innocence and Mr Johnson maintains his guilt and your stories match up, so he will be charged and you are free to go. We will wish to have details of how we can contact you at home however.”
I draw a blank, I've been sat here for so many hours I had started to believe they would never actually let me go and now they are, I don't know what to do, should I get up and just walk out? No, even to my sleep addled brain that seems like some sort of trap. I decide to just stay put and wait for further instructions. After staring at me for a minute my interpreter comes over and crouches next to me, “Kaitlin?” she speaks gently to me.
“Yes” I reply clearly.
“You can go now, do you understand that?” she sounds condescending as if she is speaking to a child, not a full grown woman, who an hour ago was being accused of drug trafficking.
“Just get up and walk out? Just like that?” I question, a bit sarcastically.
“Yes, come on” she takes hold of my arm softly and slowly pulls me to my feet. I must be looking at her in disbelief, because she gives me a warm smile and a nod to confirm it is in fact all over now.
I am guided through stark, cold corridors, past various other interrogation rooms, my mind wondering if Carlos is behind each door that we pass. My heart and soul are torn in two, half of them despise him and hope he rots in jail, while the other half can't let go of all the love I've had for him so easily, and so it is left worried and reluctant to leave him in a place like this.
With the two equally as strong halves waging war inside my head, it leaves little left for functioning consciously with the outside world; consequently as I'm handed over to Blair and John in the reception area I am in a daze. I keep looking over my shoulder, I don't even know what I'm expecting, or even hoping to see. Is it Detective gruffle-voice Maurise saying they need to ask me more questions? Or perhaps Carlos with some sort of explanation, it was all a big mix up, none of this was true! But as it turns out I get neither, just an empty space following in my wake as I'm led outside.
John and Blair have kept uncharacteristically quiet, Blair has her arm wrapped tightly round my shoulders and I see them exchange worried looks, but I'm too out of it to try and re-assure them that I'm fine this time.
It's not until they flag down a taxi that I see John load bags into the boot, my bags, he must have got them together before they came to the station, he's so thoughtful, I know if I was in his position I would have been too panicked to think of doing that.
“My flight” are the first feeble words to fall from my lips.
“Yes we are going to the airport now, we should get there with plenty of time” Blair explains in the same condescending voice the interpreter used, but from Blair I don't mind, because I know she cares about me.
I'm bundled into the back seat with Blair while John sits up front, it's all I can do to curl up with my head on her shoulder before I'm out like a light.
When we arrive they wake me gently, I've had almost a solid five hours sleep. The police station where they took me, had been a forty minute drive in the opposite direction of the airport. By the time we got out it was nearly five am, so I'm only left with an hour and a bit before my flight. Blair And John valiantly offer to stay with me for this time, but I refuse, they have been up all night and they still have another four hour drive back to the resort, I've ruined enough of their holiday and I'm not about to take up a second more of it.
With tearful hugs we say our goodbyes, there are no words or grand gestures that will get across what they have come to mean to me, or how much I still and probably always will, owe them for all they have done and continue to do for me.
I dig into my pocket and pull out my pink heart trinket, showing it to Blair and then holding it to my chest, “You will always be the reason for the love in my life” I say giving her one last squeeze before turning and walking away, disappearing into the crowds.
I spend my last hour going over and over every last detail of my holiday, how Carlos and I met, how he pursued me and eventually won me over, how he made me trust him and ultimately how he made me fall in love with him and all for what? Drugs? Money?
Was it really worth it? Now he's locked up in jail and I'm returning home a broken mess, with emotional scars that run deeper that the physical ones I've gained.
What was it that he said? 'Just go home and forget about him' it's easier said than done, but it's probably the best piece of advise he's ever given me. I will never forget how cold he was as they dragged him away, his normally sparkling green eyes dull an empty of any feeling and his words came so easy and ended it all so finally. This was all just a game to him, a game that even though I was unaware I was playing, I still managed to win, but it's nothing more than a hollow, unsatisfying victory over the man I loved.
When I finally board the flight I don't look back, this time I'm not secretly hoping for the situation to change, this time I want out; away from all the drama, away from devils in Adonis disguises. I want to go home.
As I step onto the plane I'm flooded with relief, it's all over, I'm free in every sense of the word, all I have left of this holiday is memories, memories that will stay with me for eternity.