chapter 8
The morning drags by, Marcus is unwavering in has charm offensive and Carlos equally so in his refusal to give more than one word answers. Twice I offer quietly to Carlos to leave them alone to hash it out once and for all and twice I am refused.
Alternatively I find myself stuck to Carlos’s side at all times, like a conjoined twin. Don’t get me wrong, at first it was enchanting to have such constant affection from him, but when I can’t even go to the toilet without him asking where I’m going, it starts to grate.
I feel suffocated, I need to get out for a while, but there’s no way Carlos is letting me out of his sight, at least as long as Marcus is around.
There is nothing more I can do to re-assure him, we spoke about it, I gave him my word and I have been true to that; playing along with the ‘couple that can’t keep their hands off each other’ scene he invented, keeping my distance and being nothing but ice cold towards Marcus. What more can I possibly do, past having sex with him right here on the floor, for all to see? Or have ‘property of Carlos’ tattooed on my forehead?
I tell Carlos I’m going to the toilet, again, but instead slip silently through the connecting door into our bedroom; picking up the phone in there I carefully dial through to Blair’s room, it rings once, please answer, twice, please be in, three times, oh come on Blair! My plan is to get her to call right back with some sort of emergency that means I must go to her immediately, but something that is too sensitive for Carlos to come as well, maybe a fight with John or something. That way he’ll be forced to stay behind and interact with Marcus. That was the plan anyway, but after ten rings, I have to accept that she is not in.
Placing the receiver back in its cradle I plod back downstairs defeated, into the kind of atmosphere you could slice through with a knife.
Marcus is sat watching TV, while Carlos perches on the breakfast bar, glowering at the back of his head.
“Can we please go out or something, I’m getting sick of sitting around all day” I speak to Carlos.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he says openly, then under his breath “be nice to get away from him for a while”
I nod in agreement, taking his hand and leading him straight to the door before he has a chance to change his mind. The second my fingers make contact with the handle, Marcus speaks.
“What you guys doing?”
“Going out” comes Carlos’s standard short reply.
“Oh nice, I’ll come with you, let me just grab my shoes” Oh for Pete’s sake, is this man completely devoid of sense? He is seriously asking for trouble. If I have to take much more of this I’m going to snap, so I can’t even begin to think how Carlos is feeling right now. About ready to explode I’m betting.
Sneaking a look at his face I can see his jaw clenched and flexing. His arms are crossed, protectively across his chest, his hands balled into fists. Yep he’s seething alright.
Marcus re-appears downstairs, shoes on, looking all smug with himself.
“So, where are we going?” he asks. Carlos just rolls his eyes and stalks out into the sun. All I can do is shrug and follow his lead; with an undeterred Marcus bringing up the rear.
It’s overwhelmingly hot as usual, normally me and Carlos would not even be holding hands in this kind of heat, but because Marcus is present, he has pulled me in close and draped his arm round my shoulders. It would be cruel to remove him, but I’m sweltering under his added body heat; shifting my shoulders I guide his hand down to rest on my hip instead. At least this way I don’t feel half as trapped!
Marcus does not stop talking for even one minute; it makes no difference to him whether anyone is listening, let alone responding, he just keeps on jabbering away about everything and nothing. On very rare occasions he even says something mildly amusing, but god forbid I show even the slightest smile in his direction, so I remain, tight lipped, only having eyes for Carlos.
We continue like this, along the beach and all around the resort; my feet hurt, I can feel my shoulders burning because I forgot to put on sun-cream before we left, (my mum will be most disappointed in me) and more importantly still, this is not fun! This is my holiday that I want to make the most of, not play the middle man in a family feud.
I spot Blair and John at the bar and literally squeal with excitement, I have never been so happy to see them.
“Oh Carlos, look it’s Blair and John, do you mind if I go see them, I’ve barely had any time with Blair these last few days?” I am careful not to invite him along, as that would only leave it open for Marcus to gatecrash too; sorry Carlos, if I want rid of your brother, I’m afraid that means dumping you too!
Carlos looks at me dumbfounded and a little hurt. Leaning close to him I tell him that this needs to be sorted once and for all, either they can both forgive and forget, or Marcus needs to go stay with their parents, because I really can’t spend any more time like this. I can see he wants to argue with me, but he knows better than to do it in such a public place; instead I just shake my head and give him a gentle push, sending him on his way. Marcus following close behind.
As soon as they are out of earshot I explain to Blair and John what’s been going on. Blair is captivated by how much of a stud Marcus is, instantly crowning him Carlos’s hot older brother. Of course I protest, but I guess if I didn’t know what he was really like, I probably would be with her on this. At thirty three, he is much more my age range and unlike Carlos he seems more mainstream. Carlos has a real Mediterranean look about him, with his long dark hair and olive skin tone, even down to his casual linen based day clothes; whereas Marcus has a uniformed haircut, his skin is a more honey brown shade and you will more often find him in board-shorts and t-shirt than anything else.
If I had met them both at the same time, I have to admit I would probably have lent more towards Marcus; but saying that, I do have god awful taste in men, and I think that revelation just proves it.
Me and Blair quickly descend into banter about the two Johnson brothers, until John finally has enough and calls an end to it, by suggesting we go snorkelling.
This is another first for me, but it is a real holiday activity, which is what I’ve been pining for, so I jump straight on to the band wagon.
“Oh no! I don’t have my bikini on” I suddenly realise.
“That’s ok; we can just pop back with you to pick it up?” John suggests naively, both me and Blair looking at him disapprovingly, shaking our heads.
“I really don’t want to go back there right now, who knows what kind of war has broken out with those two, I’m just keeping my distance” I explain.
“Alright, well why don’t you just wear that” John tries again, motioning at the shorts and t-shirt I’m wearing. Looking down at myself, I suppose he has a good point, it certainly beats going back to the house.
We head down to the ocean, picking up snorkels and flippers on the way past, then sit on the sand to don our gear. Blair immediately strips down to her Bikini, a green and gold, string creation that compliments her tan. Every possible muscle is toned and defined and you would be hard pushed to locate even an inch of fat on her; I’m suddenly relieved I did not put my swim wear on this morning, even a supermodel would come off looking fat next to Blair.
We ease into the crystal waters together, us girls screeching at the temperature, while John dives straight in, maintaining his manly man image.
In comparison, it takes us quite some time, to take the plunge, teetering about on tip toe for the most part, trying to prevent the cold waves reaching any higher on our bodies.
Eventually John calls us over to a spot he has found with all sorts of beautiful fish, forcing us to submerge fully, at first it’s so cold it takes your breath away, but within two strokes you acclimatise; or become so numb that you no longer feel anything, I’m not sure which.
The fish are amazing, I caught glimpses of them when I went kayaking, but they are even more vibrant when you are under the surface with them.
John shows us how we can hold our breath to swim deeper until we are surrounded by colourful fish, flitting around us seemingly unconcerned by our presence. We swim around for ages, exploring the coral reefs and finding ever more impressive aquatic specimens.
Blair is the first to go, “Guys, I’m freezing, I’m going to head back to shore”.
John votes for staying in and I join him, still not tired of swimming just yet; so as Blair swims off, John and I continue searching the sea bed for exotic treasures.
After ten minutes or so of ducking and diving down through the crystal waters, I come across a large Conch shell. The pearly pink shade that seeps out from the inside curve, glints, catching my eye.
I break the surface to take a deep enough breath to allow me to get down to it and plunge back in; my fingers just reaching it before I have to shoot back up to replenish the dissipating air in my lungs.
Clinging onto my prize I swim in to the shore to show it off to Blair, who by now is sunning herself on the sand; as I collapse down next to her I flick my fingers, spraying her with cold droplets. She squeals, jumping up and slapping my arm away.
“Look what I found” I say, offering up my shiny shell.
“Wow” she marvels, turning it over in her hands, then bringing it to her ear, “I can hear the sea”
I turn exaggeratingly towards the sea, just a couple of meters from us, then back at her, “No, you don’t say?” I reply sarcastically, both of us giggling moronically.
By the time John resurfaces I have completely dried out in the sun and hunger is playing on my mind. As John is still wet and Blair could go all day without remembering to eat I offer to go to the buffet and bring us all back a picnic lunch; John says he’ll go to the pool bar in the meantime and get us all some cocktails and just like that, it’s turning into a wonderful day.
The staff are as accommodating as always, providing me with a huge wicker basket on request and even running round filling it with an array of sandwiches they knock up and bowls of fresh fruit and cream cakes; really anything they can fit in. By the time they return it to me they look exhausted, so I refuse their offer to carry it out to where we are sitting and instead struggle out the doors lugging the now insanely heavy basket with me.
I wait till I’m out of view of the bar before dropping it to the floor, man its heavy, my arms are aching. I start to rub the muscles to ease the pain when Marcus appears.
“Howdy, do ya need some help?” he asks, charming as ever.
“No, I’m fine”
“Ah come on, how far do you have to go? It looks real heavy” he smiles, reminding me of Carlos, I can’t help blushing under his gaze.
“It’s not all that bad, and plus I don’t think Carlos would like it.” I hold firm.
“Don’t worry about that, me and Carlos are fine now, we sorted it all out, it’s all water under the bridge now” he assures me.
“You’ve had a fight lasting seven years and in what, like three hours it’s all fixed, no worries?” I don’t believe him for a second.
“Yeah” he replies cockily. “Look that’s families, right? We never spoke about it before, it dragged on for a while and when we did finally speak, it turned out it wasn’t as bad as we thought.”
He seems sincere and there isn’t really a reason why he would lie about it, maybe it is just that simple.
“So” he says picking up the hamper, pretending it’s a strain as he does, “where do you want me to put it?”
I can’t help but smile, maybe he’s not the baddie Carlos made him out to be, it was seven years ago after all, perhaps he grew up in that time?
“Just over on the beach” I motion towards the sea.
“Well lead the way Miss Mavers” his endearment makes my skin tingle, but I’m pretty sure it’s just because Carlos calls me that. We make idle chit chat as we make our way through sunbathers and families, Marcus has the gift of the gab, joking, laughing, charming the pants off you, without so much as a blink of an eye.
By the time we reach Blair and John I’m all but giggling like a school girl; Blair’s questioning look makes me turn crimson with shame. I know what she’s thinking, two minutes away from Carlos and I’m all doe-eyed about Marcus, but it’s not like that. She doesn’t know they have made up now, or how impossible it is, not to be entranced by his persona.
I’m glad when he makes his excuses not to join us for a picnic and politely leaves, so he does have some tact, apparently.
Blair is immediately on my case, “That was some turn around, three hours ago you hated the guy and now your almost falling over yourself around him. What’s going on?” she has a point there.
“I had to hate him, because Carlos did, but he says they talked it through, so now I don’t have to be mean to him. And it turns out that he is actually a very intellectual, intriguing person”
“I bet” she replies raising one eyebrow.
“It’s not like that!” even as I protest, I see there is no point. She is only teasing me, but, whether she knows it or not, there is a slight element of truth to her words.
We all tuck into the picnic, staring out across the calm ocean as we chew. I downed the cocktail John got me almost as soon as I got back, so went and got another round in; John followed suit, downing his original Daiquiri and giving himself brain-freeze in the process.
“Looks like this has the makings of another drunk-fest” he says, once the pain subsides enough for him to open his eyes again.
I look at Blair, “I’m game if you are?” she says, popping a grape into her mouth.
And so it begins. We start off playing rudimental drinking games, like throw the stick at the paper cup, if you miss you drink, but if you hit it the other two drink. John is decidedly more skilled at this than Blair and I and we are soon tipsy and ganging up on him, insisting he do forfeits for rule breaks that we make up on the spot.
“He blinked when he threw that last one!” I shout out, pointing my finger an inch away from his eyes.
“You did, I saw it” slurs Blair in agreement.
“So what if I did, since when is blinking not allowed? Blair you can barely keep your eyes open!” he says trying to deflect.
“Stop trying to get out of it and drink!” Rolling his eyes at us, both smirking back at him, he dutifully takes his penalty.
It’s 18.00 before I notice the day has past and I’m a little worse for wear. “I should make a move” I tell a small butterfly, resting on my leg.
“D’ya wan me to walk you back, you’re quite drunk” John just about manages a sentence.
“No, no, I’ll be fine, you look after Blair” who is now passed out and covered in sand.
As I stumble away my mind drifts to Carlos, I hope he is back to his old self, moody Carlos sucks! Stupid Marcus, ruining everything, why’d he have to turn up anyway? He’s been gone for years but yet he chooses now to turn up again? Surely his parents spoke to him about me being here, it seems to be the talk of the resort after all. It just seems like such bad timing, but then maybe they thought if I had tied him down to his first relationship in years, then maybe I could fix this too?
It was a bit of a long shot, but apparently it worked, so who am I to argue.
I still can’t quite believe it was resolved so easily though. Carlos was venomous when he spoke about him, it just doesn’t add up that he would then forgive him without giving it a second thought.
Seriously, how have I jumped from my own broken family, straight into another one? Out of the frying pan and into the fire, is it all worth it for a holiday romance?
Is this even just a holiday romance? God I’m too drunk for such deep conversations, even if they are only with myself!
Pushing open the front door I stagger into the house, “I’m home” I sing out, expecting Carlos to reply. Instead I get Marcus, cool, collected, hot Marcus.
“Hey!” he pops his head up from under a counter in the kitchen, “I was just looking for something to make for dinner, you hungry?”
“Famished!” I reply enthusiastically, dropping down onto the couch with gusto.
“Err, Kate, are you drunk?”
“Just a little, anyway I thought I should celebrate two brothers back together” I make it seem blasé.
“Very true. I’m about to have a glass of wine, would you like to join me?”
“I probably shouldn’t” I say, waving my hand about.
“Oh come on. One glass won’t hurt” by now he is standing in front of me, offering the already poured glass, “and besides, if you’re celebrating me and Carlos, don’t you think you should have at least one drink with us?”
“I guess that makes sense, just one though” that uneasy feeling is beginning to creep up through me. What is it about him? One minute he is addictively mesmerising and the next he’s making my skin crawl, right now all I want to do is get as far away from him as possible. “Where is Carlos?” I ask.
“He had some work to do, but he said it won’t take long, so he’ll be back soon.”
Thank god for that, I no longer care what mood he returns in, just as long as he’s here.
Marcus takes a seat, uncomfortably close to me and starts droning on about a piece of art he’s having commissioned, the sun set over the New York skyline, the view from his bedroom. “It’s just magical, I try and make sure I’m home most evenings just to sit and stare at this wonder God has created, I just loose myself in its beauty” yet another side of Marcus, the deep, art appreciating, God fearing side. I can’t keep up with his personality changes and this one is certainly not my favourite. Where he seems to want to be mystical and interesting, he is coming across as sleazy and gross.
“Would you like to see them?” oh shit, he has been talking this whole time, while I’ve been caught up in discomfort, I have no idea what it is he’s talking about.
“Err, sure” there is no way of me finding out what he’s on about without giving away the fact that I wasn’t listening, so all I can do now is go with the flow.
He jumps up and runs upstairs, returning shortly with a scrap book.
Sitting down next to me, even closer than before, he places the book on my lap. I gulp down the last of my wine and lean forward to place the glass on the table; Marcus winds his fingers around the stem, grazing my own and takes it from me, “take a look,” he says nodding towards the book, “I’ll refresh your glass”
As he moves to the kitchen, I carefully flick open the cover, it’s full of sketches, mostly charcoal but some painted ones; there are a range of subjects, birds, people, sunsets of course and they are surprisingly quite good.
“did you do all these?” I ask as he hands me back my wine glass, now full to the brim. I take a courteous sip, although my vision is starting to blur and I’m losing my grasp on hand eye co-ordination; if I don’t want to vomit all over his art, I should really stop drinking now.
“Yeah, they’re nothing really, I just try and capture the magnificence of the world around me. I don’t do it justice though” he’s fishing for a compliment, but in all fairness he deserves it, he has a definite skill with drawing.
“They are really good” I say thumbing through them.
As I go to turn a page, he places his hand over mine to stop me, “This one I especially love” he says about a pencil sketch of an old man playing checkers with a young girl. “it’s the stark comparison of old versus young, experience and naivety, that grabbed me, I must have spent hours trying to get it right, while they just kept on playing.” He smiles at the memory and finally releases my hand. I take another closer look at this sketch, so to seem as though I’m taking in its full splendour, before turning it over, it’s good, but I’m not all that interested. It’s like people showing you their holiday snaps, a couple are funny, or stunningly beautiful, but the rest are just boring.
Turning my attention to the last one I gasp; it’s a charcoal sketch of me! I’m sitting on the beach, looking out to sea, my hair blowing in the wind, a look on my face as though I’m deep in thought. He has captured me perfectly, even down to the slowly fading cut on my head.
“It’s amazing, although I wish you hadn’t put in the scar” I say, running my fingers over the charcoal rendition of it.
“That’s the most important part, it makes you wounded, vulnerable, yet searching for a resolve” he makes me sound far more mystical than I am, I don’t even remember sitting like this, let alone what was going through my mind at the time.
“When did you do this?”
“Yesterday, after I delivered your picnic, I caught a glimpse of you like this and I just couldn’t resist. There’s more to you than meets the eye Miss Mavers.” There he goes again, making Carlos’s words toxic as he breathes them onto the side of my face. His arm rests on the back of the sofa, behind me, while his face is millimetres away from touching mine. His fingers rest on his scrap book, but the palm of his hand sits, not so innocently on my thigh.
I want to stand, to distance myself from him, but I’m trapped. I watch him slowly close the book, his hand moving to my far leg and pulling it round so I’m facing him.
“What are you…”
“Ssshhh” he croons, placing his index finger to my lips. This is wrong, this is all kinds of wrong. I need to get out, but I can barely string together a sentence, let alone find the strength to co-ordinate my limbs, I knew I shouldn’t have drunk that wine. I feel sick and out of control, I’m mentally pleading for Carlos to come back and save me; Marcus has started stroking my hair, “You know when I first saw you, I knew I had to sketch you. Those dark soulful eyes told me a million things about you before you even opened your mouth.” He runs his thumb across my bottom lip and places his other hand at the base of my neck.
“Marcus, ple..”
“I need to touch you, you are my muse Kaitlin” he cuts me off, holding my face in place as I try to look away, “I know you want this” he whispers as his lips find mine, pressing onto them aggressively. I struggle, desperately trying to find the power to fight him off, but it’s futile; even when sober he would have more than enough force to subdue me, let alone now, when my muscles have turned to a useless jelly consistency and my head is spinning so savagely I barely know which way is up.
He perseveres, though I give him nothing; my lips are pursed shut, my hands are pushing against his chest with all my inebriated might and I’m doing my best to scream with my mouth closed. But still his wet lips are pushed against mine, his body is crushing down on me, holding me still, while his hands take full advantage everywhere else.
He stops as suddenly as he started, slowly removing himself from me, I stare at him, shocked at how at ease he seems, when I realise that he’s not looking back at me, but towards the door. Following his gaze I see Carlos stood in the doorway, every muscle tensed, teeth grinding, his eyes burning into me.
“Oh Carlos” I say reaching out to him, relieved that he’s come to my rescue, but instead of racing over and embracing me, kicking Marcus out simultaneously, he turns on his heel and storms away, slamming the door behind him.
“Dude, come on” Marcus shouts after him.
I can’t believe it, what just happened? Marcus got me drunk and practically tried to rape me, conveniently at a time when Carlos was sure to discover him and now he’s making out like it was mutual, what kind of sick game is he playing?
“What the f*ck Marcus?” I still don’t think I have the physical strength for this fight, but I am capable of a vicious verbal attack.
“What? Someone had to show him what a money grabbing whore you are” he replies flatly.
“Money grabbing whore? F*ck you! I didn’t even know his family owned this place to begin with, I thought he just worked here” I scream back incensed by his accusation.
“That didn’t stop you flying about on our jet and moving yourself in here, did it” he hiss’s back at me.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, none of that was my idea, my husband..”
“Your husband? So you’re married as well? Ha! I did Carlos a favour showing him who you really are” by now he is inches from my face, spitting the words at me.
“Just f*ck off, he knows about Jake. You however don’t have a clue, you disgust me!” I’m shaking with rage, in less than twenty four hours, he’s destroyed everything. I can’t find the words to convey just how f*cked up he is.
I run for the door, yanking it open, tears streaming down my face.
“Where are you going?” he shouts.
“To find Carlos” I scream back, banging the door closed after me.
I search everywhere, the beach, the bar, all the winding paths around different apartment blocks, but I can’t find him anywhere.
It’s getting dark, the sun has slipped down beyond the horizon, covering everything with a dusky tone that mirrors my grey mood. I have to fix this, Carlos needs to know what his brother is doing; I’d bet money that this is what happened with his last girlfriend too.
I wander aimlessly around the resort for most of the night, silent tears kissing my cheeks, until there is nothing left inside me. This holiday has been doomed from the start, I’m bruised and broken in every imaginable way and it’s not even over yet. The way I figure I’ve got two choices, stay and attempt to re-kindle things with Carlos, only to then have to leave him again in seven days when I go home, or call the airline in the morning and change my flight; leave tomorrow and just run away from the whole sorry mess.
Even the thought of going home pulls at my heart, being away from Carlos now is killing me, let alone leaving the country. I decide to go back to the house, maybe he has had time to calm down and has returned, at least then I can speak to him and hopefully explain it all away.
Easing the front door open quietly, I step into the darkened room. I can make out Marcus’s silhouette at the breakfast bar; as I approach a smile stretches his lips, “Carlos has had all your stuff returned to your room” he smirks, chucking the key at me, “He doesn’t want to see you here again. If I were you I’d just go back to where you came from”
I guess the decision to stay or go has been taken out of my hands and it knocks the wind right out of me. It didn’t even cross my mind that he would react this way; I expected anger, sure, but to totally cut me out of his life like that and let Marcus deliver the blow! I don’t even have the energy to argue anymore; defeated I leave without a word.
As expected my old room is unchanged, my suitcase sits at the end of the bed as it did the first day I arrived, when I was filled with excitement and anticipation, only this time round I’m anything but. I’m too depressed to call right now, but as soon as I wake up I’m booking onto the first available flight home.
As exhausted as I feel, I can’t sleep; my mind is still reeling from everything that happened tonight. Opening the mini bar I peruse the contents, as much as I might like a stiff drink right now, I think alcohol has got me into enough trouble already tonight, so I settle for eating the entire contents of food instead. It’s mostly chocolate and a couple of pots of cashews, ideal comfort food.
I don’t even bother getting undressed, instead slip under the covers fully clothed with my chocolate hoard and watch the flickering images on the television screen as I devour the lot.
I wake around ten, either I didn’t fall asleep till late, or I was really tired as this is by far the latest I’ve slept in all holiday. Looking around my room it all comes hurtling back, the loss, the regrets, it breaks my heart all over again.
My hair is knotted and rough from going in the sea yesterday, but I can’t even bring myself to shower; all I want to do is cry and wallow in self-pity, how can something so special, unravel so easily? I allow myself another hour in bed, curled on my side, sobbing into the pillow, before dragging myself up.
I need to call the airline; picking up the phone I spend thirty minutes bartering with them, but the earliest flight they can get me on is not until tomorrow night. The man on the phone was as helpful as he could be, he advised that all the flights until then were fully booked, but if I wanted to come and sit at the airport then I could be on reserve incase a seat was cancelled. I said I’d think about it, but in reality I can’t bare the thought of sitting there, publicly crying all day and night.
I should speak to Carlos, if only to let him know I’m going, but he hasn’t called so I can only imagine that he has not changed his mind since last night.
I resolve to write him a letter, although I spend the first hour sitting with my pen poised over the paper, at a loss at what to say. Finally I manage to put it into words –My Dearest Carlos,
Firstly I am so sorry for what you saw, but please believe me when I say it truly was not what it looked like. Your brother forced himself on me after getting me drunk, which is when you walked in. He said after that he just did it to get rid of me because I didn’t deserve you.
Whatever his motives though, it was a cruel and callus thing to do, to both of us.
I understand how you must feel though and I know that there is no reason why you should trust me, but if nothing else, I want you to understand what you mean to me.
These last two weeks, hectic as they were, have been nothing short of a miraculous. I never thought I could feel this way about anyone and through that I have learnt so much about myself as well. I am a better person for knowing you and it pains me deeply to think that I will no longer have you in my life.
I will always treasure the time we had together and I will always hold a place for you in my heart.
I love you.
Kaitlin x
It’s still doesn’t get across the depth of my feelings for him, but I think admitting that I love him goes some way towards that; and it’s true, I do love him, it sounds mad to say after just two weeks, but I can’t deny it. I think about him constantly, I day dream about our future together and I’m purely elated from just being close to him, it all adds up, I love Carlos Johnson.
But what does it matter now? I’ve ruined it, I’ve lost the love of my life.
If only I hadn’t gone back to the house, or if I had excused myself and hid out in our room till Carlos got back, things might have been different.
Who am I kidding? Marcus was set on breaking us up as soon as he clapped eyes on me, that psycho son of a bitch! I never stood a chance.
My fury towards Marcus spurs me long enough to shower vigorously and dress, but as I reach the door to leave I find myself empty again. What if I bump into Carlos, or Marcus, or their parents!? What could I say? ‘Sorry I’ve blown into your lives like a tornado and turned everything upside down, but don’t worry I’ll be leaving tomorrow’.
I need support, I just can’t do it alone; returning to the phone I call Blair, it’s two now so I doubt she’s in, but it’s worth a try. She answers shortly and in my relief at hearing her voice, the whole story falls from my lips, omitting only the part about changing my flight.
“My gosh Kate, you have got to be having the worst holiday on earth! Do you want me to come over to you?”
“If you don’t mind I just want to get out of here, I feel stifled stuck in this room” I need to walk and talk to clear my head.
“Give me ten minutes, then meet me on the beach, where we were yesterday” she suggests.
“Ok, thanks Blair, you’re a star” I say genuinely humbled by her relentless ability to come through for me.
Now all I have to do is leave the room. I should have taken up her offer to come to me; I plot the route I want to take, it’s probably safest to stick to the most populated areas, rather than the side paths. I feel sick with nerves, all I want is to be with him, but the thought of bumping in to him right now could not be more scary. I don’t know how I will get my letter to him; delivering it to his house is out of the question, risking running into him and Marcus is too high. I could take it to his parents, but they are sure to know what happened by now, so that’s equally as undesirable.
Maybe I could just give it to Mari on reception, or even Blair; yes, Blair would do it, I’m sure.
I grab the letter off the vanity table and shove it into my clutch bag. Walking over to the mirror I lean in and examine myself, my eyes look dull and tired, my damp hair hangs lifelessly over my shoulders. I could try and do something with it, perhaps put some makeup on, but I just can’t find the motivation.
Sighing, I turn away from my reflection; it’s now or never, grasping the door handle I take a deep breath in before yanking it open.
I was half hoping to find a note from Carlos on the doorstep, but its empty just the immaculately clean shine or marble, glinting up at me.
Tears start to pool in my eyes again. Pull yourself together Kaitlin! I scold myself as I wipe them away with the back of my hand. If I can just get through today, then I leave tomorrow and I can be as sad as I like in the privacy of my own home. I take a minute to mentally pull up the wall around my emotions, the same one I used after Jake left and I’m ready to face the world.
I walk at double speed to the beach, keeping my stare fixed to my feet the whole way, so even if I was to walk past Carlos I would be unaware of it.
I’m relieved to see Blair already waiting for me when I arrive. After a brief hug we begin to walk along the shoreline, away from the resort.
“I’m sorry for dragging you away from John again, what were you two doing today?” I make small talk to fill the silence.
“Oh that’s ok, we weren’t really doing anything today, John is taking advantage of me going out and having a siesta” she smiles.
I’m building up to tell her I’m leaving tomorrow, but I know she will be disappointed at me bailing out.
“Blair, I’ve changed my flight” I start cautiously.
She turns and looks at me quizzically “Oh?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow night” I blurt it out.
“Oh Kate, you don’t need to do that. You shouldn’t let what’s happened ruin this holiday for you!”
“I know, but it kind of already has. I can’t spend another week not leaving my room for fear of bumping into any of the Johnson family.” I try to explain my predicament.
“I guess, but have you even spoken to Carlos about it?”
“No, but he chucked me out of his house and hasn’t tried to contact me, so I don’t think he wants to speak to me.” My voice wavers, but I blink away the forming tears and swallow past the lump in my throat.
“You can’t think like that, of course he was angry at what he saw, but if you don’t explain it, it’s not going to get any better is it? You need to at least give him a chance to understand what happened”
She’s right as usual.
“I have written him a letter” I say meekly, “I was wondering if you might take it to him for me?” I feel pathetic asking her now, as I return my gaze to my feet.
“Of course I will, but I still think it should be done in person, letters can be misconstrued”
“Ok, well you give him the letter” I say taking it out of my bag and handing it to her, “then if he wants to speak to me he knows where to find me, but if not…” I shrug, not knowing how to end the sentence. If not my heart will shatter into a million pieces, if not I don’t think I will ever be able to love again, if not I may as well just lay down and die.
I know I’m being melodramatic, but right now, caught up in the throes of grief yet again, it’s just how I feel. I let myself think we actually had something, that the years I wasted on a bad relationship were not all in vain because they had ultimately lead me to Carlos. I was stupid. I should never have let myself get so involved in a holiday romance, but it seemed so much more than that, I was effectively living with him for God’s sake, no one can say that wasn’t real.
I can’t believe it’s over, I can’t believe that I’ll never see him again, never kiss his lips or caress his soft skin, what I wouldn’t give to feel his body against mine just one more time.
I can’t control it as the tears spill over, drenching my face.
“Oh Kate” Blair croons, pulling me into her embrace. We sit like this for some time, me sobbing gently into her shoulder.
“I’m sorry” I bleat, “I’m just such a mess”.
“You have nothing to apologise for. Trust me, if I had been through half of what you had these last few months I would be a mess too” she pulls a hanky out of her pocket and carefully mops the wetness from my cheeks, “now come on, let’s get you a drink”.
I hastily rub my hands over my face and stand to attention, “I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had”.
We take two trusty jugs of cocktails to the beach and sit and watch the waves roll in. It’s such a stunning place, literally every view is like a picture on a postcard; you can’t quite believe your eyes when you’re surrounded by such beauty. At least I’m miserable in a picturesque place; just sitting on the sand helps the healing process along.
Laying side by side Blair tells me about her plans for the future. This holiday, as well as celebrating the anniversary of their marriage, is the last holiday they are taking as a couple, before they start trying for a family. It surprises me that they have been married for ten years but only just thinking about children now. She explains that they both have good careers and they wanted to establish them first; they got married at just twenty, so they figured there was plenty of time to have kids later. She’s nervous about it, but you’d have to be blind not to see she will make a wonderful mum. A pang of jealousy sores through me; Blair has it all, both of them earn good money, she married the perfect man for her when she was barely out of school and is now living happily ever after.
I married a twat and have paid the price three times over for that mistake and now it seems, I’m destined to repeat my errors in picking the wrong guy, over and over for the rest of my life!
“You’re so fortunate, with everything you have” I say, trying to keep the envy from my voice.
“It’s not always been this way you know, it’s a long story so I won’t get into it now, but it’s safe to say that we’ve had our struggles. Life’s like that, you have ups and downs, but it’s ultimately what you take from it that counts”
She sounds so serious, she reminds me of one of those inspirational speakers; the thought makes me laugh out loud.
“Did I really just say that?” she chuckles making me laugh even harder. It’s one of those moments when you spend so much time being sad that the slightest thing cracks you up.
We’re giggling away together when something catches my eye. Propping myself up and looking in its direction I see Carlos, halfway towards us on the beach. Instantly I smile, my face lighting up at the sight of him; but he does not respond in kind, he has an expression like thunder, his green eyes burning holes into me. He stands for a moment, his body visibly tense, before turning and stomping away. My world caves in around me again “He must have seen us laughing and thought I was having a great time, thought I wasn’t affected by all this” I slump back down onto the sand, I can’t do right for doing wrong!
“You have to talk to him, this is just ridiculous. If he had any idea how you’ve really been, maybe he’d forgive you. I mean why else was he coming over?” she has a good point, but I just don’t want to put myself out there, when he’s clearly still so easily angered.
“Can you just give him the letter? I don’t know that I could manage to say everything I want to his face without screwing it up”
She begrudgingly agrees and sets off to find him, while I return to my room, with one of the cocktail jugs, to hide out and drink myself into oblivion.
Back at the room I’m suddenly overwhelmed with loneliness. Was it ever a good idea to come away alone? And sure I have Blair here, but I don’t want to constantly encroach on her holiday, it is a second honeymoon after all. I can’t help but be aware that it is always me calling her; she must be getting sick of all my problems by now.
Of course there was Carlos, but I’ve just hammered the last nail into that coffin, so now it’s just me, all alone in a foreign country. I miss my home and my Caz and even my job! I miss everything that’s familiar, good old constants that at least create the illusion of my life being comfy and safe.
For the first time since arriving I actually can’t wait to get home and not because I’m running away, or I feel like I have to go, but because Iwant to be home; Mexico has helped me get over Jake, which was the whole point of coming in the first place and now I want to go home and forget all about this holiday.
Subconsciously I pick up the phone and dial Caz, it’s about 10pm back home, so at least she’ll be up this time.
“Kate! How are you? Last time we spoke you were all loved up, so are you ringing to tell me your getting married, or your pregnant?” she laughs, completely unaware of how much she has just put her foot in it. I’m half tempted not to tell her; if it wasn’t for the fact that I want her to pick me up from the airport tomorrow night.
“Actually it’s all fallen apart” I try to get out the story as quickly as possible before my emotions can catch up with me.
“Oh God Kate, that’s awful, of course I’ll come get you when you arrive, but are you sure you want to just pack up and go? I mean have you even spoken to him since?” I smile inwardly at how she is so similar to Blair.
“I’m sure. All in all, if you excuse the obvious hiccups, I’ve had a wonderful time, but I’m ready to come home now.”
“Well ok, but promise me you’ll sleep on it. There must be day trips you can go on, so you don’t have to worry about seeing him all the time. I just don’t want you to regret losing out on this holiday because of a man. You’ve spent enough years doing that with Jake.”
“I know, I know. I will think about it and call you if I change my mind” but somehow, I doubt I will.
After we’ve said our goodbyes I’m left even more homesick than I started, I’m half tempted to go to the airport and wait for any cancellations that might allow me to get back sooner. I’m all cried out now, I think at least; I just feel hollow.
It’s only half past four now, the sun is still shining brightly, but I don’t want to do anything, just lay here wallowing in my misery. And anyway I need to be in just incase Carlos calls; Blair should have given him the letter by now, so he should come round, or at least call, in theory anyway.
I’m still feeling a little woozy from the cocktails we had on the beach, the other jug is sat on the bedside table staring at me. The blue liquid which was once a fruity, exotic beverage, now tastes sickly sweet and makes my stomach churn.
Walking over, I pick it up and dispose of it down the sink in the bathroom, turning the immaculate white bowl the colour of the sky for an instant before it drains away.
What now? The room only offers so much entertainment and if I’m leaving tomorrow I want to make the most of the sun while I’ve still got the chance. I’m not in the mood for the Jacuzzi, it will only make me think about last time I was in there, which in turn will only make me think of Carlos, not that I’m able to stop thinking about him now.
I pick up my book, the one I thought I’d never get a chance to read, and head for the hammock; the golden afternoon sun is still soaking the balcony and this way I can bask in it, but still hear the phone if Carlos does call. God I hope he calls.
My book is a crime novel, perfect to get stuck into and take my mind off it, the characters are sure to be having a worse time of it than me. Opening the first page I’m showered with paper as all Carlos’s notes to me come flooding out. I shouldn’t start re-reading them, but I can’t help myself; I find myself staring at his charming words, tracing my fingers around the curve of each letter he penned.
How can someone so caring be so quick to dismiss his feelings? Did I really mean so little to him that he can just cut me out like this? A familiar dull ache forms in my chest, pressing down on my heart, why hasn’t he called? Surely he would at least want to say goodbye, even if it is over, don’t I deserve a farewell, no hard feelings, sorry it didn’t work out. Anything would be better than this silence.
Glancing at my watch, it’s ten past five, that’s an hour and a half since Blair left to find him; I suppose it’s possible that he has not had the letter that long and is just thinking on what to do.
This is torture! Picking up the phone I call Blair’s room.
“Hey, did you find him?” I ask as soon as she answers.
“Yeah, I gave him your letter about an hour ago, hasn’t he called?”
“No.”
“He was a bit annoyed that you were having a laugh with me, but I told him not to be stupid, you’d been depressed and pining after him all day and it was just bad timing that he saw us when he did.”
“What did he say to that?” I ask desperately hoping it was enough to re-assure him.
“He just sort of shrugged and walked off, but don’t worry as soon as he reads it I’m sure he will come around, you know what men are like” she tries to settle my distress.
“Yeah I do, that’s the problem.”
Minutes turn to hours and hours lead into the night, its 2am before I accept the fact that he’s not going to call. I’ve bitten my nails half to death with the suspense, but I finally have to admit it’s not going to happen, there’s going to be no happy ever after for us.
The sun rises on my last day, waking me instantly from a disturbed sleep. It’s only 6am but I know attempting to get any more rest will be futile. I’m mentally and now physically exhausted, at least my suitcase is already packed from leaving Carlos’s, all I have to do is chuck in my toiletries and I’m ready to go.
Ready to go, it sounds like a cheerful expression, ready to face the world, ready to have an adventure; it says nothing for my situation, ready to admit defeat and return to gloomy England in even more of a dark place than I left.
Caz had warned me about this, coming home worse off than before, but I couldn’t help it, truth be told I didn’t want to; if it hadn’t ended so badly, it would have been just what I needed. A refreshing change to help me forget all about Jake and realise that there are plenty more fish in the sea; so it all fell apart and damaged me further, so what? In hindsight, if I was given the chance to do it all over, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Well no that’s not entirely true, I would never have spoken to Marcus; what is that guy’s problem? If I weren’t so drained by the last couple of days I’d march round there and give him another piece of my mind.
How messed up do you have to be to destroy your own brothers life, twice, without even knowing anything about it. I know that last time was different, worse, if that’s even possible, but still; what kind of person rocks up out the blue, just to put an end to a relationship? He tried to make out like he was doing it to protect Carlos, but he’s done nothing but hurt him and all for no reason. I didn’t even know about the money till I was already involved, not to mention that I have plenty of my own; it was truly the last thing on my mind when we got together.
Even if he had nothing it wouldn’t change the way I feel about him.
Time is slowly ticking by, my book lays open but unread on my lap as my mind whirrs frantically, searching for an answer to solve this catastrophe.
The later it gets the more nauseas I become. He still hasn’t called. I need to call reception to book me a taxi to the airport, but I’m still clinging on to the hope that he will come bursting in and take me into his arms, desperately apologising for his mistake and swearing he will never leave me again.
I’m kidding myself, he’s had all night to dwell on it, so if he hasn’t done anything by now, he’s just not going to.
Reluctantly I pick up the phone, ringing reception and getting Mari of all people.
“Hi Mari, can you book me a taxi to the airport, I need to leave at about 15.00 today” I jump straight in, there’s no point in skirting the issue.
“You are leaving?” she asks surprised, but does not specifically question as to why.
“Yes I am” I reply without elaborating.
She pauses, clearly hoping I will give a reason, but finally agrees “Yes Miss Mavers, I do it now for you”
I thank her and end the call before she gets the courage to ask.
Right, I have just under eight hours before I go, I still need to say goodbye to Blair and John and get a few more presents for everyone at home from the gift shop, but then that’s that and I’ll be on my way.
I take one final luxurious shower then pack up the last of my things. Dressing in comfy airplane clothes, white linen trousers, a sky blue vest top and flip flops. I leave a light cardigan out for later incase it’s cold in the airport and then scrunch my wet hair up in a bun and head out.
I find Blair just leaving her apartment, “I was just coming to find you” she says with a look of concern on her face, “I take it from your expression that he still hasn’t called?”
“Nope” I say dejectedly, “I was just coming to say bye to you guys, I’m leaving at 15.00”
“Oh Kate” she sighs, wrapping me up in a bear hug, “I’m going to miss you” As she pulls away I can see her well up, I haven’t seen Blair cry and I can’t say I had expected her to.
“It’s OK, we’ll keep in touch” I re-assure her, “I’d love for you and John to come and visit me in England sometime”
“We’d love that too” she says, answering for them both.
She wipes the tears from her face and follows me to the shop, explaining that helping me buy things will cheer her up.
As it goes she buys more than I do, swearing blind that she will really use Mexican wall hangings and glass bowls in her home and they won’t just get put in a cupboard never again to see the light of day.
I pick up a pair of pearl earrings for my mum and a shot glass for my dad as he collects them, but does not yet have a Mexican one.
I grab a couple of stuffed toys with the name of the resort on for Caz’s kids and some of the decorative glass wear and a bottle of rum for Caz and Phil. I’m not convinced the rum has any obvious Mexican connection, but they like it and it’s expensive; either its good stuff, or I’ve just been ripped off; either way, I’m sure they’ll appreciate the thought.
We head back and find John so I can give him a proper goodbye, to my surprise he wells up too, his voice cracking as he demands I come and visit them before the year is out. i promise I will and thank him for lending me Blair so many times, “No thank you, for taking her off my hands” he jokes, having composed himself.
We decide to go for one last long leisurely lunch, to make the most of the three hours I have left with them. We choose the Mexican restaurant as it seems most fitting and order practically everything on the menu. I refuse the wine, leaving them both with looks of astonishment, before I explain that I don’t want to be tipsy of hung over for that matter, when I have an eight hour plane ride ahead of me. They nod understandingly but not before a valiant effort to persuade me into it with a chorus of, it’s my last day of holiday, how often will I get to be drunk at lunch once I’m home, if you can’t do it now when can you and so on.
It’s a wonderful way to spend the afternoon, eating and chatting to two wonderful people on decking in the sunshine, looking out over the beach. It’s so perfect I actually forget everything else for at least an hour, making me question my decision; have I acted in haste, should I stay? If I do stay, maybe with more time Carlos might still come round, but if I go home, I’m out of sight, out of mind.
I may have made a terrible mistake.
I don’t voice my concerns, I’ve been up and down all over the place these last two days, so I don’t want to get their hopes up, only to change my mind once again. And anyway, I’ve re-booked the flight which was costly and the taxi is booked, the hotel knows I’m going, so it may not even be possible to stay on now; even if it was the hassle and expense to change it all again barely seems worth it, for a faint possibility of reconciling with Carlos. I’m clinging on to false hope again, I need to just cut my loses and go home.
Today is lovely because I’m in a beautiful place, with wonderful people who are making a special effort because this is my last day. Logically if I was to stay another week, it would not be like this every day; there would be days when I’d be alone and all the classes and day trips in the world can’t change the reality that I am on my own out here. That’s bad enough at the best of time, but if you load on a huge helping of missing Carlos and knowing he hates me, you are left with a recipe for savage depression.
No, I made the right choice, I need to be back with my friends and family, in my own safe environment, throwing myself back into my work and moving house to block any unpleasant thoughts from my head; before I know it I will have forgotten all about it, I hope.
The afternoon flies by and before I know it, its 14.30 and time to go. Blair and John escort my to the lobby, a bell boy has already collected my suitcase and deposited it outside ready for the taxi. At the desk I check with Mari if there have been any messages left while I was out and she confirms that my hopes have been in vain. Her eyes still hold a multitude of questions but she simply wishes me a safe journey home and reaches over the desk to squeeze my hand briefly as she does, as if with an unspoken understanding.
Standing outside waiting for the taxi Blair takes my hand, placing a tiny heart shaped pink gem in it, “I bought this for my friend back home, it’s meant to bring love to the person who has it, I think after everything you’ve been through, you deserve it” she says closing my fingers around the semi-precious stone.
“Thank you” I croak, fighting back the tears. In the last three months I think I’ve cried more than I have in my whole life put together, it can only mean I’m due some good times, well overdue in fact.
As the taxi pulls up we all hug once more, I let the tears flow freely now, under the pretence of leaving my two good friends, but secretly I’m mourning the loss of Carlos, there’s no possible way I can deny it any longer, he has left me.
Taking one more longing look back at the resort, I climb into the taxi without any sign of Carlos running over to stop me and wave my silent goodbyes out of the back window as we drive away.
I keep waving until they have long since disappeared from view, then slouch into the seat and weep silently into my hands.
We arrive in good time, leaving me a good two hours sitting around the airport before my flight.
After checking in I mindlessly wander around the duty free shops, picking up perfumes and alcohol that I have no want or need for, before finally finding a quiet corner near my boarding gate, where I can be alone in my misery. The minutes drag by, each agonising one reminding me of what I’ve lost and reinforcing the fact that I will never get it back, it’s excruciating.
By the time my flight is called my eyes sting and my face is red and puffy, but I’m beyond caring, I am an emotional wreck, so why shouldn’t I look it.
I wait for almost everyone to board before forcing myself up and walking over, dragging my feet and barely even raising my head as I hand over my ticket.
I bet their trying to suss me out, is there something wrong with me, or am I in this much of a state because I plan on taking the plane down and killing us all, you can see the concern etched over their faces. I try and fail to give them a re-assuring smile, instead only managing a lopsided grimace, only frightening them all the more.
The two stewards whisper something in Spanish to each other before asking me to wait for a moment and calling through to what I suspect is the security team, all the while scrutinising my passport photo before studying my mess of a face.
I’m half tempted to try and explain my appearance, but I just can’t be bothered, this is nothing but a fitting end to a troubled holiday.
I run my hand across my forehead trying to rub away the building tension, I just want to be left alone, not stared at and treated like some low life miscreant.
I mentally will them to just let me board, if I hadn’t of waited till last they probably would have just let me through so not to hold up everyone else; either that or I would have been subjected to a very public investigation. That really would have been too much to bare.
The stewards are still speaking on the phone when I feel a gentle touch on my arm; I turn, fully expecting to find a security guard ready to march me into a back room for interrogation, but in reality, I couldn’t have been more wrong.