Nora in the Sun Pt. 05

Chapter 10

I arrived back at the villa after a slow, lonely walk. I felt numb. Empty. Hot and cold, guilty and angry, alternating mercilessly. The sun was getting low, the hills stretched shadows across the roads and sand.

In my head, the same question played over and over. Did you really think you could do that with your mother?

Did you?

I ducked through the front door and went straight to my room. Mom wasn't on the first floor at least. It was a relief. I didn't think I could even look at her. But I wanted to, as an honorable man would. I wanted to look her in the eyes, take it all back, to say I was sorry, to try and make things right. But by the way she pushed me back, the way she left without speaking, told me that maybe I had broken the very precious trust and grace she held toward me.

At least, I figured, I could go back to the states, go back to college. Pretend none of this had ever happened, while nursing the agony of this unspeakable day for the rest of my life. I could get married to a girl my age. I could have kids of my own. I could live an entire life of my own, but I knew through all of it, I would always relive the deep regret of today.

I knocked at the bathroom, making sure it was empty. Showered. The bathroom had a faintly humid feel to it. The mirror was just barely fogged. Mom had gotten here before me. The thought of it made my heart ache.

Trying to keep the thoughts of her wet, gorgeous, porcelain body, the one that would never be mine out of my mind, I freshened up and changed into a loose button up shirt that made allowance for the heat.

Dad was awake, finally. His red eyes looked like concentrated misery. Sleep deprivation and cheap booze over the last few days had completely thrown him off. He was gulping some pills from a travel bag and washed it down with what looked like instant coffee. "Morning, kid," his voice croaked in the late afternoon. He was the picture of hungover suffering, but he had a fake smile on that creased through his unshaved face. "Ready for a party tonight?"

"You can't be serious," I almost laughed at him.

"I am serious," dad mumbled. "Your mom made me promise her before the trip that I'd take her dancing. So. Day two, and we'll get it done, and then we can relax with all of our tasks complete. Good plan, huh?"

I nodded back, ready with an excuse to stay home.

Then mom's footsteps came softly down the stairs. I didn't want to look up.

"Wow..." dad's surprised voice startled me. "Nora. You look..."

I looked up. My jaw let go.

Dad couldn't even finish his own sentence either.

Mom stood halfway down the steps, a light summer dress floating about her. It was patterned, reaching only down to her soft thighs, scattering colors with yellows and reds, blue and green flowers, Aztec rhythmed vines, all the edges frilled and laced. Vintage Mexican styles clearly influenced whoever designed it, but it held itself low, the tops of her shoulders completely exposed as the straps lay around her arms. Mom's hair cascaded down, around her shoulders and back, drifting along the soft white of the tops of her breasts, leading to her long, pale arms draped over the railing.

Her makeup... in this instant I realized that mom really was an incredible beauty. All this time, she maybe only had a little makeup on, but tonight... she had really put forward an effort. Her eyes were dusky, her lashes longer, darker. Her lips jutted out, a darkened scarlet between two rosy pink cheeks. Her poise was calm, clear, dignified. Noble. Impossibly beautiful. Like a mythical queen, in the body of the perfect woman.

She made eye contact with me for an impossible second. Her face straight and unreadable. I had to look away. Then she looked at dad. "Well?"

"Now we're talking," marveled dad. Mom laughed in response and brushed her hair back, shyly looking his way.

The dress swirled as she descended, the heights of her lovely legs peeking out with each movement. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. She was so, so beautiful.

"Well, I'm ready," dad stood up, actually showing some enthusiasm as he tried to keep from tipping over. "I promised you a dance, and now we're going to make it happen." He reached out a hand, and mom took it. Her dark eyes went back up to mine. I felt the ache in my heart grow. She looked away from me again.

"Come on, kid," dad called. "You're buying everything tonight!"

We went out together, waved down a taxi in the village, and took a quick journey over the norther border into Chetumal, Mexico. The city really was along the border lines. Brick and adobe buildings poked upward past the checkpoint. A few guards lazily glanced at our passports at the taxi window, mostly staring at mom, whose sunglasses kept them from getting a good look at her face. They settled for looking down at her gorgeous body instead, then waved us on.

Chetumal's streets were lined with palms, hung with lights, glowing softly in the increasing darkness. Hundreds of flags and patterned banners hung over us in the streets while electric lights popped up like fireflies. Little crowds formed, young people readying themselves for the night life, spilling out of bars, restaurants, cantina music dancing over us.

By the time we got out of the car, dad seemed like he had recovered, walking quickly towards a cantina that seemed especially decorated with lights, the brickwork rising a few stories into the air. He rattled off his opinions, glancing often at mom, who leaned on his arm as they walked. "Here's this great little spot I saw last night. I didn't go in, had a little disagreement with the guy at the entry, but I'm sure he wouldn't say no to us if I brought this pretty little thing," he chatted happily, looking often at mom, who smiled, blushing, surprised at the compliment.

The man at the entry waved us in without another look, and then stopped a couple people behind us that were too drunk for how early it was.

It was a multi-storied bar full of wide, brightly colored verandas -- everything about the place seemed half inside, half outside. Toward the back and at the front, several patios unfolded from the interior, where a live band with trumpets and guitars and great black hats played excitedly. The whole place was festive, with an explosion of color and sound. We found an empty table on a patio overlooking the street below, with a great view of the dancing area, where adobe pillars and flowers on vines surrounded the multi-colored tiles.

"I'll get the beers," I offered, wanting to get away. I went to the bar, put up three fingers for three beers, forked over the cash, and gathered the cervesas, as cool to the touch as the hidden pool. Some feminine voices spoke in English at one end of the bar. Pretty girls, about my age, chatted with drinks in their hands, laughing, cheering, sipping margaritas, talking happily in mellow southern accents. I made eye contact with a blonde girl with freckles, who waved at me, guessing I was probably American too.

I gave a little nod, trying to smile. But I left to bring the beers to mom and dad. She shrugged and waved goodbye to me, looking a little disappointed.

Maybe I'd go back a little later. She seemed friendly.

I got back and saw mom hanging on dad's arm. As I dropped of their drinks, mom looked up at me, and then quickly back down. Dad reached for his beer like he was a man dying of thirst. It went down in seconds, and then he jumped up. "Alright, honey," he joked, "let's get this dance over with."

They went off to the dance floor while I nursed my beer. The noises seemed too loud. The sights lost all their color. I didn't want to stay while they enjoyed themselves. They could have done all this without me.

Really, more than anything else in that moment, I wanted to get on a flight home and to forget everything. I took a quick glance to the dancing area and saw them, close to each other, mom's dress swishing as she moved. The dress only went to her thigh - her movements were fluid, and the dress seemed to flow as well, flowing up her leg, back down, revealing the tops of her lovely, creamy thighs and hiding them, over and over.

I downed my beer and grabbed the one mom had barely sipped, draining that one too. One of the waitstaff went by and I flagged them down, asking for three more beers. I felt the alcoholic glow in my cheeks. Some of the color returned. The sound came back. I watched, only a little less sad, as mom gorgeously twirled on the dance floor to the bright sound of horns and guitars and tenor voices.

The song ended.

Dad turned to head back to the table, but mom pulled his arm, and gestured at the place they stood. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was clear. Mom wanted to keep dancing with him, but dad, satisfied that he kept at least one of his promises, wanted to hurry up and get back to drinking. He yanked his arm away, entirely focused on something else. Mom stood, shocked, in the middle of the dance floor. Her head turned slightly. She looked at me, seeming so... alone.

Dad collapsed in the chair next to me. "Ahh. A well-deserved reward." He took the beer and looked around casually. His head stopped when he saw the crowd of American girls at the bar. "Some friends of yours, champ?" He downed another beer in one go and motioned at a waiter. "Tequila. Tres. Si." Turning to me, he asked, "And what will you have, son?" He threw his head back, laughing.

"I'm good," I answered, as mom returned to the table, sitting next to dad. The tequila appeared as quickly as he asked for it. "Ahh," he sighed. "Paradise." He threw them back, one after the other, at a speed that would have put any college partier to shame. His head turned back to the bar where the American girls were.

"I'm..." he hummed, staring fixedly at the blonde girl with the freckles, "going to see what other drinks they've got here." Without any hesitation, he stood up and walked straight up to her group. Mom watched him go, her eyes hollow.

I couldn't imagine what she was feeling, but from the way she looked, I could guess, hint at the kind of frustration she was facing.

What could Nora possibly have missed that meant her husband would treat her like this? She looked amazing -- had done herself up as best as she could. She was beautifully shaped, her face was beautifully painted, and the way the dress laid along the sides of her shoulders, hinting at the sexy plush of her chest, it made literally every man who looked at her linger. All except for dad, who was now making an ass of himself in front of somebody much younger than him. The blonde at the bar chatted and laughed at his jokes, oblivious to the kind of person he was. The girl smiled at him. Touched his arm.

Mom visibly reacted to that. "I need..." she choked back a sob, "I need to get some air." She got up and went straight for the exit. I grabbed a fistful of cash, threw it down as fast as I could, and reflexively went after her.

She must have hurt so badly. I knew she needed something, some reassurance, just a word to let her know that dad was in the wrong. I figured that despite everything that happened between us, I could at least do that. But she was fast. Faster than I expected. She was completely out of sight by the time I stood up.

I got nervous. It wasn't safe to be alone at night in a town you had never been to before. It quickly turned into a matter of her safety. I had to move fast. It was already dark out.

At the exit, the man at the front practically had to dodge to let me pass. I looked up and down the road, but I couldn't see her. Alleys and walkways split off in every possible direction - she could be anywhere. The man at the front turned to assess me, guessing my intention by the way I was bent in pursuit. He smiled as he recalled me entering with mom and dad. "La senora? You want... senora bonita? Where she go?"

"Yeah," my voice exploded. "Where? Where did she go?"

He pointed, laughing at my panic. "There."

I ran, sprinted, desperate to catch up to her before she was too far gone. "Una belleza hermosa," I heard him calling after me, laughing.

I took the first left and saw the flash of her dress disappearing around a corner. Electric lamps, dim, soft, lined the alleys and left shadows everywhere. I dashed until I could round the corner... and then found her, standing against one of the tan adobe walls. "Mom!" I shouted, shaking.

But she didn't respond. Her hands were wrapped around her body. She was sobbing, clear diamond tears falling from her lovely face, and onto the cobblestones below. Her shoulders heaved, her head bent low. I could only watch as the most beautiful, amazing woman in my life cried, deep, renting sobs that I felt powerless to stop.

What could I do? I couldn't approach her. Not after what happened today.

"Mom..." I said. "Hey." She looked up as she sobbed. Her eyes, her cheeks were red with uncontrollable tears.

"Dad's... he's not..." I thought I could explain it to her in a way that held some semblance of respect for my dad. But each mournful cry she made, every tear that fell, every memory of every disappointed look she made, they shattered even the pretense of respect for him. "I can't believe he did that," I said, finally.

"I try so hard," mom moaned through gritted teeth. "He has no idea how hard I try for him."

"I know, mom. I know."

"It's like he stopped caring, so long ago..." She trailed off, no longer sobbing, but the tears continued to fall. Her voice was hoarse, breaking. "I don't know why. What have I done, Brett?" She turned and looked me in the eye, pleading for an answer. "What have I done, or what have I not done that makes him that way?"

"It's not you that's the problem, mom," I whispered. "He has no idea."

"Of what?" she asked, leaning back. Hopeless.

My heart hurt, it was breaking for her.

I had to make her pain stop. I had to tell her something, anything that would make the pain end. Anything that could bring her back to being that happy, awestruck, contented girl I swam with in that secret paradise. And that's what I realized I wanted. For her to be happy again. I would give anything for that.

The truth rose in my heart. I couldn't contain it. I was going to say every word I meant, everything I had held back, everything I knew to be true about her. "Dad has no idea how incredible... how amazing, patient, and kind... how beautiful of a person... how beautiful of a woman you are."

Each word I spoke put a flicker of light in her eyes. She looked at me, shocked, but I continued. "Nora." I emphasized her name to make her listen. "You are the kind of woman that every man dreams of. You're gorgeous and smart and... noble. More noble and good than anyone I've ever met." I stood taller, remembering all the sacrifices she made to make sure my brothers and I grew up in a safe, stable home. "You worked so hard to raise us, to keep everything tidy and clean. You stood by when things were hard, you pulled through despite all the ways dad didn't. And you managed to look like a goddess the entire time." Her eyes went wide. But I wouldn't stop. Not this time.

"You're the perfect woman, Nora. The most perfect woman in the world. I mean it. Any man would be so lucky to be with you..." I paused. Then added, my heart aching as I said it, "and to have you."

She looked at me silently for a moment. I didn't look away. She gave a little smile. "Oh, baby..." She came to me, slowly, her arms opened up, and she embraced me, leaning her head on my chest. The softness of her breasts pushed lightly on me as she held me close. I put my arms around her. Despite all the uncontrollable sexual urges I felt earlier, I chose in that moment to put all that aside. To just hold her close, and to let he know she was loved.

She sniffed, and we rocked from side to side as she breathed softly on my chest. She relaxed. "Hey," I added. "It's been more fun when it's just us, right?" A plan formed in my head to at least help this night be something she'd enjoy. My mind flared with what I needed to do. "Let's go find another place, another bar! Another spot to dance." Her eyes lit up in response. I continued, driving the plan home. "You and I can party and dance as much as you like, all the way to morning if you want. You'll have so much fun, that dad will never, ever hear the end of it. And next time, he'll be the one begging you to take him dancing."

Mom laughed, wiping the tears from her face with her small, pale hands. Then she smiled at me, grateful, a hint of joy returning to her lovely face, and everything was blissfully alright again. "Alright, kid." She sniffed, took a deep breath, bravely straightened herself up. "Lead the way." We walked side by side into the dimly lit streets of Chetumal, my arm around her shoulder, her arms around my waist, her head leaning gently on the edge of my chest.

...

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Ch 11

Christmas lights seemed to be a popular theme in one of the main drags of Chetumal -- wrapping up and down the palms and bushes like Las Vegas in the winter. The evening breeze flowed through, and we were surrounded by partiers, young, old, families and tourists, all commingled in a joyous sea of laughter and music.

We walked together, excited, into bar after bar, throwing back shots, trying flavors of margaritas, sipping beers, and the warm flush and feeling of all the booze loosened our limbs, made the music soar, faster, louder.

It became a blur of laughing, of mom raising her arms as her dress swished around and around, and sometimes she spun, the edges rising all together, revealing her upper thighs in a blaze of fun. Heads always turned to look, but I hardly even noticed. Neither did she.

She smiled and laughed through the night like I had never, ever seen her. I had a feeling this was like her best times in college -- times where her and her friends just let go of everything stressful. Those times would be exclusively for bottles and good company. She danced like she was young -- her hair flying back and forth. We were completely lost in the dancing, glorying in an infectiously loud crowd that moved up and down to the rhythms that rocked through our bodies.

At some point in the night, we realized dad hadn't sent us a text to let us know where he was. Since mom left him at the bar earlier, he was a complete mystery. "Where do you think he fucked off to?" I asked, the alcohol letting the question slip.

Mom shrugged, her face immediately flushing with anger. "I don't give a shit where he is. I hope he gets fucking robbed tonight." She took a bottle of tequila and poured herself a shot.

"What a fucking asshole, right?" I clinked my glass against hers.

"That fucking asshole Ross can go fuck himself," mom yelled, finally letting herself say it, and then her glass went up to her rosy lips, and she took the shot like a champ. The music got louder. We let ourselves go.

Hours; drunk, blissful hours went by. The sharp sour of lime and the tang of salt flashed in our glasses, over and over. Mom's forehead was wet with the effort and sweat of the absolute blast we were having. Drops of her perspiration went down her neck, her back, jumping as she danced. Sometimes she'd look at me and smile, open mouthed, laughing as I kept up, showing off the moves I learned in college.

Girls my age appeared and disappeared through the night. Some tried to talk to me, some tried to lock eyes, to dance closer. But I didn't care. None of them mattered.

Before we knew it, it was two in the morning. The alcohol was fading, we were all sweaty, tired, and the party across Chetumal started to thin.

"Air," gulped mom, waving at her red face. "I gotta get some air."

I followed her out. By this time, the air had cooled even more, and the cold of the sea breeze soothed my burning skin. Mom was along the corner. She had a cigarette, a girl passed her a lighter and she lit it, took a drag before handing it back. Then she was alone on the corner. People were disappearing, locals into doorways, tourists into the surrounding hotels, partiers into cabs. Soon it was just her and the cigarette and the cool breeze.