Love Drugged (16 page)

He moved past me, pausing at his suitcase. Would he reach for the gun? I nearly pissed myself. But then he shook his elegant finger at the suitcase. “No, not in there.” He went into the bathroom.

He’d left the door to the courtyard wide open and I could hear the gardeners’ banter. I might have fled if my knees hadn’t felt so weak.

He returned with the sunscreen: Neutrogena Sensitive Skin SPF 50. He smiled, almost bashful. “Perhaps you think I’m overly cautious …”

I took it with my free hand. “It’s fine, thank you.” I turned to go, almost free. But when I reached the door, he called my name.

“Jamie.”

“Yes?”

“The next time you need something, I hope you will simply ask.” His voice was kind.

“I will,” I said.

I raced down the cobblestone path toward the pool.

“That took long enough,” Celia said, squinting into the sun. She was sweating almost as much as me.

“I had to get sunscreen from your dad,” I said.

“He had some? There’s a shocker.” She sat up and reached out a hand. “Let me rub some on your back.”

“Excellent,” I said. “But hold on—I gotta pee.”

Discreetly I took the folded washcloth to the changing rooms next to the pool. There was a bathroom there, and I closed the door. I opened the washcloth and stared down at the pills, more relaxed. I smiled.
My pills!
I hadn’t seen them in more than a week. Sure, I’d had a comfortable spell without headaches or sore shoulders, but I was willing to welcome those back gladly if it meant I could be straight. I was ready for Celia and me to move forward in our relationship. I put one pill in my mouth, then bent down over the sink and drank water from my hand.

Maybe three sips of water, that was all.

I wasn’t thinking.

seventeen

It was ugly. In the six hours that followed, my stomach emptied its contents. Like Linda Blair in
The Exorcist,
my body was possessed. I couldn’t believe I had so much crap inside me. Whenever I thought,
That’s … gotta be … all there is
, my body respectfully disagreed and I raced back to the fancy bathroom.
Afterwards, sweating and desperate for rest, I climbed into bed. Within minutes I was back at the toilet.

Worst of all, I wasted a pill. Dumb-ass risked everything by going into Dr. Gamez’s room for the pills and then sent the first one right down the toilet.

Celia was attentive but seemed suspicious. “Are you sure you didn’t eat some of that fruit salad?”

“I may have,” I lied. “I just don’t know.”

She sat on my bed and stroked my forearm. “Are you lying to me because you’re embarrassed to be such a stupid gringo?”

“I bet you say that to all the boys you bring here,” I said, batting my eyelashes at her pathetically.

At regular intervals, Dr. Gamez came to check on me. He stood stiffly next to my bed, hands clasped behind his back, asking about symptoms. He was formal with me, professional, and demanded every detail, every ache or pain. At times he seemed annoyed; I wondered if he regretted bringing along such a careless guest, one who would squander the opportunity to be in paradise. All I knew was that I felt lucky to be under a doctor’s watchful eye.

For the next three days, we didn’t leave the resort. I was afraid to be too far from a bathroom. On one hand, I had certainly learned my lesson about the local water. But I didn’t feel so steady on my feet yet. I was not up to exploring the town or scaling ancient ruins. Dr. Gamez made me email my parents every day, using his laptop, to let them know I was okay.

Secretly, I took a pill each morning—with bottled water. The metallic aftertaste returned, along with the headaches, the afternoon stiffness in the shoulders, and the restless, dreamless sleep. But all these side effects, I knew, would be worth it.

Instead of touring, Celia and I lay by the pool, playing Gin Rummy and Solitaire or reading magazines we’d bought at the airport. We took short walks around the estate. We dutifully sat through a Spanish Mass in the adobe chapel. Afterward I took a postcard from a wooden box in the vestibule. The postcard showed the hand-painted altar, so I sent it to my grandparents:

Mexico is beautiful and fascinating. Some nights I sleep in a hammock. I got sick, but I’m feeling better. Most of all, we are happy to be helping the impoverished local people at the clinic.

By the fourth morning, I felt almost normal again. My appetite had returned, and Dr. Gamez told me it was safe to do whatever we wanted. After breakfast, Celia and I rode in the resort van back to Mérida. It was old and crumbling, with narrow streets. Even the tiny cars were vintage, unspoiled by snowfall and salt. We took pictures of each other in the town square, a plaza surrounded by rows of palm trees, ornate Colonial buildings, and a big stone cathedral. We wandered and shopped. Celia bought some colorful bracelets and a cloth coin purse. I bought a brass key-chain shaped like a donkey; I thought maybe I could hang it on our Christmas tree at home. After two hours, we were bored.

That afternoon, back at the resort, we changed into our swimsuits and headed toward the pool.

“Before we swim, I want to show you something,” Celia said. She led me down a series of stone steps into a woodsy landscape. A well-defined path led to a clearing under a canopy of trees. There was a small round pool of greenish water, maybe twenty feet wide.

“Cool,” I said. “Is it a natural spring?”

“No idea. It may be rainwater. It’s called a
cenote
.”

“Very pretty. Let’s go back to the pool.”

“Let’s relax here first.” She pulled off her T-shirt, so she was standing there in her shorts and bikini top. “It’s kind of romantic, don’t you think? Come on.”

“Really?” I leaned toward the water, peering. “Don’t you think there are a million bugs in there? Scorpions? Snakes?”

“Don’t be such a girl. You’re the boy, remember?” Her shorts dropped to her feet, and now she was standing in her yellow bikini.

I suddenly felt vulnerable. “If this were a
Friday the 13th
movie …” I began.

“It’s not,” she said, irritation creeping into her voice.

“Right.”

“The
cenotes
are meant for relaxing. We sit in them every time we come.”

I swatted a fly away from my face. “We don’t even have towels.”

“Come on,” she said, gingerly stepping into the water, exploring the bottom with her feet. “Don’t be a pussy.”

I had no choice. I doffed my shirt and followed her. “I don’t want to put my face in.”

“Me neither. So we won’t put our faces in.”

The murky water was tepid, almost lukewarm. I didn’t see the attraction. Compared to the pool, this looked like a sewer pit. Celia crouched at one end of the
cenote,
only her head sticking out of the water, and I crouched opposite her. I waved my arms on either side of me to ward off critters.

She was grinning wildly. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. It still feels … sketchy.” I slapped my neck—another fly, or maybe the same one.

She came toward me. “Let me get your mind off the bugs.”

I recoiled. “So, um, Celia, when is your birthday, anyway?”

She made a funny face. “Is now
the ideal moment to update your calendar?”

“Something like that.”

“November 30. Same as Mark Twain and Winston Churchill. Yours is in October, right?”

“October 24. Same as Kate Winslet and Nicky Hilton.”

“Cool. Must be the birthday of sexy, smart, creative people.”

“Yeah—and
party-loving
hotel heiresses.”

She nodded, not smiling, in a sultry way. She lifted her hands to my face to kiss me.

When we kissed, I reached behind my back to steady myself on the slimy rocks. I realized she was giving my hands permission to wander, but I didn’t want to touch her under water. It seemed too intimate, too open-ended. Her own hands moved easily from my face to my shoulders, then to my chest. She played with my nipples, which made us both laugh.

As her hands traveled south, I realized what would be expected of my body. There needed to be a transformation … down there. I prayed that the pills would kick in for once and give me a miracle:

Under trees, among bugs, and still feeling iffy,

To Jamie’s surprise, he got a huge stiffy.

Inevitably her hand brushed against my shorts, and I jumped.

“
Celia,
” I sputtered. “Wait, I—I saw something.”

She blinked at me. “Close your eyes then.”

“I swear, I saw something in the water
right there
.” I pointed over her shoulder, at nothing, but her angry eyes didn’t stray from my face.
“It was like a spider lizard,” I said. “Or a lizard spider!”

“Jesus Christ, what is
wrong
with you?” she said. “You’re in a private swimming hole with a half-naked girl, and you’re freaking out about a lizard?”

“I’m sorry.” I shrugged. “I’m a wimp when it comes to the great outdoors. I’m a city kid who never—”

Now she rose out of the water, arms folded and dripping. “You know what? I’m starting to get really pissed off. I bring you all the way down here so we can spend some romantic time alone together. First you get sick and you need to rest all the time. Now you don’t even want to touch me?”

I shook my head helplessly. “Please just give me some more time. I’ve never had a girlfriend before. Don’t hate me for being inexperienced.”

“Jamie, I don’t care that you’re not experienced. But I’d expect you to be a little more
enthusiastic
.”

“I’m nervous. And really—kissing in this scummy little swamp?”

“No, it’s not just here.” She closed her eyes, lifted her hand, and rubbed her forehead hard. It was the same place my head ached. Then she looked straight at me. “Whenever we’re together, being intimate, you seem reluctant. Almost … indifferent.”

“Give me a break, Celia. I’ve been sick.”

“Not just this week.
Always
.” She flailed for a second, literally stomping her feet in frustration.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m not the right guy for you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s becoming obvious.”

We walked back to the pool in silence. She dove into the water and I lay on a chair, feeling pathetic and desperate.

Dramatic storm clouds had filled the sky. Loud birds gathered in the palm trees, shrieking at each other angrily. Within minutes, for the first time since we’d been in Mexico, it began to rain. The first big drops crackled as they hit the paving stones around the pool.

“That does it,” Celia said, getting out of the water. “Time for a nap. Alone.
Adiós.”

We retreated to our bedrooms.

Supper was another elegant buffet prepared especially for us—platters of grilled fish and vegetables, warm corn tortillas, a pot of beans, and plenty of colorful fresh fruit that went untouched.

Celia was chilly with me, as she always was in front of her father. It was all part of the Great Friendship Charade that we performed for Dr. Gamez’s benefit. Terse and polite, we answered his questions about our visit to Mérida. We talked about tropical rain, about how much harder it rained here than at home. Celia never looked in my direction.

Dr. Gamez said cheerfully, “Tomorrow the weather will be fine, and we will go see some fantastic ruins.”

But already, sir, we are viewing the fantastic ruin of a grand relationship—one that was rocky to begin with.

“I have a tiny headache,” Celia announced. “I’m going to bed early.”

The waiter gave us three umbrellas, and we separated.

In my room, I lay on the bed, listening to the thunder. I missed Chicago. I missed being in my own bed. I actually missed my grandmother’s bland cooking. I thought about Wesley, going off his Ritalin, and I felt worried. I wrote him a postcard:

Hola buddy—
Mexico is cool, but I’m keeping you on
my radar screen. Wish you were aquí.

Sprawled on the bed and listening to the rain, I’d never felt so miserable, so lonely. I’d finally been exposed as a fraud. Not a real boyfriend, hardly a real boy. My brain kept replaying all the mistakes of the previous weeks and months: the lies, the excuses, the thieving from my parents and Dr. Gamez. I’d been pushing my friends away, even potential friends like Ivan, and for what? What had made me think this trip would be a good idea? Obviously I wasn’t ready for a real relationship with anybody.

I heard a knock at the door and sat up.

Celia entered, wet head and shoulders first, almost shy. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, and I was.

“My head’s a little better.”

“That’s good.”

“I’m annoyed at you, but—I don’t like being alone out here.”

“Me neither,” I said.

“Anyway, I brought a peace offering.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a deck of cards.

“More Gin Rummy?”

“And one other thing.” She had a dark bottle. Its label was edged in gold. I wasn’t sure if it was wine or champagne. She handed it to me.

“Where did you get this?”

“I asked Fabian, and he brought it to me.”

“Wow, they’re nice here.”

“Okay, so listen. I realize that neither of us drinks. Honestly, I don’t care two shits about drinking.”

“So why’d you get it?”

She shrugged, still not smiling. “I thought if we had a few sips, who knows? Maybe we could both be more relaxed around each other.”

“Worth a try.”

She reached into her bag again and pulled out a corkscrew. “Fabian needs it back tomorrow.” The corkscrew was silver and complicated. It looked like the skeleton of an exotic marine animal. Neither of us could figure out how it worked. In the end, we just twisted the screw part into the cork and pulled. A team effort, one pulling on the bottle, the other on the corkscrew. Eventually we got it open. I grabbed two short square glasses from the bathroom and Celia poured.

It was red wine, and it tasted like wet chalk. Celia made a face. We both drank the first glass quickly, then poured another. We sipped the second, and it still tasted awful.

We began a game of Gin Rummy. Within a few minutes the blood in my veins felt warm, my head a little heavy. Celia won the first hand and we clinked our glasses together. She said, “Want to play best two out of three?”

My heart wasn’t in it. I put down my cards. I spun around so that we both were sitting against the wooden headboard. I reached out and took her hand. She was wearing the bracelets she had bought in town, and we examined them together without speaking. Another minute passed. I thought randomly of Covici’s hand-painted plea for silence:
Silence is a mansion where dwell my greatest notions.
Outside the room, the rain kept splattering on the cobblestone path; the crickets were quiet for once. Celia let her head drop against my shoulder, and I smelled the chlorine in her loose, shiny hair.