Notes from a Spinning Planet—Mexico (22 page)

Ian and Ryan go to get us drinks and return with fluted glasses of champagne, complete with strawberries at the bottom. And then as the boat begins to pull away from the dock and move out into the bay, we all toast to a lovely evening. The view of San Lucas from the boat is incredible—the lights reflecting off the dark blue water. Everything is so perfect I feel like I should pinch myself. I still wonder in amazement that Shelby isnt here tonight, making us a fivesome. I take a sip of champagne, which tickles my nose, and I think a foursome is much nicer.

Dinner is served inside. And, like the rest of the evening, its incredible.

“I hope you two don't mind the old folks’ music tonight,” says Ian. “Would you rather be rocking out at Cabo Wabo?”

I laugh. “Not me. I happen to like Latino jazz.”

“Me too,” says Ryan. “I used to not like admitting it, but I'm really not into hard rock. It gives me a headache.”

“No way!” I say to him. “Me too.”

“I guess we're just a couple of old fogies in disguise.”

After dinner, we leave the table to walk around the boat and check out the view. I can tell that Ian and Sid want to be alone, so Ryan and I make ourselves comfortable on a couple of deck chairs near the aft of the boat. I lean my head back and sigh, just relaxing and listening to the quiet jazz music as the world moves slowly by. “Wow, I think I could get used to this,” I tell him.

He sort of laughs. “Then you'll probably have to get rich or marry a rich man.”

I sit up straight now. “I would never marry a guy for his money, Ryan.”

“Oh, I know, Maddie. I was just joking.”

“Do you think Ian is rich?” I ask in a quieter tone.

He shrugs. “I don't know. He's got his restaurant, and he's single. I suppose he could've socked money away. Or maybe he made some smart investments like Sid did back when the stock market was good. I've never really asked him.”

“I hope this vacation isn't setting him back.”

“I don't think you need to worry,” he says. “Ian seems pretty sure of himself. He's here because he wants to be.”

“Do you think he's in love with Sid?”

Ryan seems to consider this. “I think it's a real possibility.”

Then we both just sit there quietly for a while. But it's a comfortable quiet. And I like that neither of us feels the need to talk constantly. People who talk constantly make me want to run and scream. In my opinion, the world could use a little less talking.

Dessert is served at ten. It's actually a dessert buffet, and everything looks delicious.

“I feel like a kid in a candy store,” I tell Ryan. “I want everything.”

“Go for it,” he says.

“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes. “And then maybe you can roll me down the gangplank later.”

“It won't hurt you,” he tells me. “I like a girl who's not afraid to eat what she likes.”

“You mean you like fat girls?” I say.

“I didn't say that.” He smiles at me. “But why not enjoy yourself, Maddie? It's your last night in Mexico.”

So I do go for it. I take a little bit of everything that looks good to me. And then we go sit down, and I make a total pig of myself. “Oh, man,” I say as I push my plate aside. “That was so stupid.” I make a face. “I need a nice, long beach to walk on now.”

“Well, that's not going to happen,” he points out. “But we can dance.”

Already a number of couples are dancing on both the inside and outside dance floors. Ian and Sid are taking advantage of the dancing too.

“I'm not a very good dancer,” I tell him.

“Me neither,” he admits.

“Well, I guess we really do have some things in common.”

He reaches for my hand. “Want to give it a try?”

He leads me outside, which is a relief, since the lights are dimmer out there, and if I make a fool of myself, hopefully, it'll be less noticeable. To my relief, a slow song is playing, providing what I hope will be an icebreaker—well, as long as I don't step on Ryan's toes. But after a few seconds, I realize this isn't as hard as I thought it would be. We sort of seem to figure it out.

We dance again and again, and it seems like we're getting better. Even in the fast dances, where some of the couples really know what to do, we try some new things and actually pull them off. And I'm thinking,
This is really firn!

After a while, we take a break and go inside to get something to drink. We look for Ian and Sid, but they seem to have made themselves
pretty scarce, which we both think is kind of cute. Then we go back outside, where it's cooler, and the stars and moon are shining brightly, and we really get into the dancing again. I know we're not the hottest dancers on the floor, but we make a fairly decent attempt at the mambo or the rumba or whatever this Latino dance is called.

I feel like I never want this night to end. Not only is it totally fun dancing out here on a boat that's floating in the Sea of Cortez, but I feel like something is happening between Ryan and me. Even though I warned myself not to let my heart get overly involved, I'm afraid that's what's happening. Still, I try to convince myself its simply a result of the evening, the music, the boat, the champagne, Mexico… Who wouldn't feel like this? Things will be different tomorrow. And then we'll go home.

Suddenly the music stops, and people are counting down to the new year: five, four, three, two, one—
Happy New Year!
All around us couples are kissing. And the next thing I know, Ryan leans down, and I tilt my head up, ready and waiting. Then he kisses me. On the forehead! Okay, I'm sure my face must be conveying my hurt and disappointment. My embarrassed, rejected disappointment. I turn away from him, getting ready to make some little excuse to escape before my flushed cheeks give me away. I could hide out in the ladies’ room until I'm composed. Then Ryan puts his hand on my chin, turns my face back to him and says, “May I have this kiss?”

Without speaking, I nod, unsure of what he means. Another smooch on the forehead, perhaps. Maybe a cheek. Then he leans down again, and this time he
really
kisses me, fully on the lips, like he means it! And, okay, there are fireworks going off all around us, flashing and
exploding, but my eyes are tightly closed. And yet I can still see them—exploding inside me in all different colors. When we stop kissing, the fireworks are still going off, colorful starbursts over our heads, reflecting in the water and echoing in our ears.

“Wow,” he says with a smile.

“Wow,” I say back.

“Happy New Year, Maddie.” He slips his arm around me and pulls me close to him.

“Happy New Year,” I quietly tell him, suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious at this sudden turn in our relationship. Or maybe it's not so sudden.

Now the band is playing, and everyone is singing along to “Auld Lang Syne,” and although most of us don't know all the words, we make a bold attempt, and it's a happy crowd. Sid and Ian join us now, heartily singing along. Then the music stops, and the fireworks settle down a bit, and I ask if anyone knows what
auld kng syne
really means. Okay, silly question, I suppose. But I think I just needed a break of sorts. Maybe a transition.

“As I understand, it's an old Scottish song that dates way back,” Ian tells us. “Robert Burns was the first one to put it on paper, but I don't think he created it. To be honest, I'm not even sure what
auld lang syne
means.”

“I think it simply means not to forget our friends,” says Sid.

Ian nods and smiles, running his thumb down Sid's cheek in an affectionate and familiar way. “Yes, that fairly well sums it up, doesn't it, dear?”

She smiles up at Ian now. “And we haven't forgotten old friends, have we, Ian?”

His eyes seem locked onto hers now. “No, we haven't.” Then they kiss right in front of us. Okay, this is getting just a little too intimate for me right now. I mean, I don't enjoy watching my parents kiss, and I'm not too sure about watching my aunt. I'm tempted to move away and give these moonstruck old lovers their space, but Ian stops me with his next line. “Shall we tell them our news, my love?”

My aunt smiles at him. “Yes, I think they should be the first to know.”

Ian waits until the loud thundering of the fireworks’ grand finale subsides, and we all clap to show our appreciation for the spectacular show. As the crowd settles down and a quieter song begins to play, Ian makes his announcement. “I've asked Sid to marry me, and she has said yes.”

Sid shows us her ring, a stunning solitaire diamond set in platinum, but I think her eyes look even brighter. Then Ryan and I congratulate them both with lots of hugs and slaps on the back, and I can tell they are both really happy. I'm wondering where they are going to live, and I hope Sid's not going to abandon Seattle before her two new roommates have even moved in, but I'm not really worried. Honestly, does it matter where they live? The important thing is they'll be together. I can hardly believe it's taken these two nearly thirty years to get back together. What they have now will, I'm sure, last them the rest of their lives. Who cares where they live? But I do wonder where they'll get married.

The boat is heading back to the docks now. And although it's been a fantastic, unforgettable, wonderfully romantic evening, it's just like the old cliché says—it seems all good things must come to an end. Before long, we are heading back to the resort, and then were standing outside our suite, telling our guys good night and agreeing to meet for breakfast in the morning. Then, as Ian gives Sid a kiss, Ryan gives me a kiss as well. As we go inside, I feel like I'm floating.

I'm not the only one floating I realize as we close the door. And I'm not talking about my aunt, although I suspect she
was
floating just moments ago. But there in the living room is Shelby, with the music cranked up, wearing nothing but a goofy smile. Her skin reminds me of a lobster that was left to boil too long. And she's dancing like she hasn't a care in the world.

I'm sure glad we didn't invite the guys in for a cup of coffee.

hat's up?” I ask Shelby, and she turns and looks at us with this really spacey expression. Then I notice a mostly empty pitcher of what I'm sure must've been margaritas. I nudge Sid and point to it.

“Shelby,” says my aunt in a stern voice, “have you been drinking?”

Shelby just laughs and continues dancing.

I go to her room to see if she took the other Benadryl capsules, and it seems she has. I get her terry bathrobe and put it on her. To my surprise, she lets me.

“I was jus’ partyin',” she says with a very definite slur. “Ish New Year's, you guysh. A girlsh should have some fun, shouldn't she, don-cha think, doncha think?”

“How's the rash?” asks Sid.

“It was ishing,” she tells us with a serious frown. “It felt like little bitty bugs were crawlin all over me. So I took the pills and called down for some drinks. And now I feel so mush better.” She lets out a long yawn and flops down to the couch.

“I wonder how long ago she took the pills,” says Sid.

“Who knows, but I think we should get her to bed,” I say, pulling her up by her hands. “Come on, Shelby.”

“You wanna dance?”

“No thanks.”

Her brows come together like she's trying to see me better. “Where you been, Maddie? You look pretty.”

“Thanks,” I tell her. “Lets get you to bed.”

She protests as both Sid and I help her back to her bedroom, but by the time we get her into bed, she is half-asleep.

“Happy New Year, Shelby,” I say.

She opens one eye. “Happy New Year.”

We turn off the lights and tiptoe out of her room, but I can hear Sid starting to giggle, and by the time I close her door and we're back in the living room, we're both laughing.

“I know it's terrible,” says Sid, “but I was just thinking about how Shelby looked when we came in tonight.”

“The dancing lobster,” I say, and we both laugh harder.

“Poor girl,” says Sid. “Can you believe she ordered a pitcher of margaritas after the doctor specifically told her no alcohol?”

“Seems pretty crazy.”

“Hopefully, she'll sleep well tonight.”

An awful idea yanks me out of the humor. “You don't think it'll hurt her, do you?”