Authors: H. Ward
What Amber didn’t want to admit was that she couldn’t trust her own judgment. When she got up to buy the rum, she had just wanted a moment to digest what Cal had confessed about his father, and to escape her own irritation at his bossiness. She had never intended to put Cal to some kind of test, but as her imagination made her question him more and more, there was an unexpected opportunity.
A little while later, Cal noticed that Amber was walking back down the beach toward their spot, but she had a guy on each side of her. One was in between them in age, maybe mid 20s, the other a bit older than him, perhaps early 30s. They were good looking and athletic, and their tiny speedo bathing suits and pale skin marked them as European. Amber was laughing in a flirty way and Cal wondered if she was deliberately trying to make him jealous. They looked like they might be brothers, and the older of the two had smoothly rested his hand on the small of Amber’s back. The problem with Amber, Cal thought, was that she carried herself like someone much older. He doubted that the guy walking her down the beach realized that she was only twenty-one.
“This is Denes,” Amber gestured to the younger of the two men, “And this is Tomás. They’re Hungarian,” she said by way of introduction. “This is my brother, Cal.” Amber stared at Cal. “Denes and Tomás are siblings, too.”
The two Hungarians stuck out their hands and Cal shook them perfunctorily. “Nice to meet you,” Cal said, in a voice flat with controlled misgivings. He wondered why Amber playing some not very funny game.
“Cal’s been in kind of a bad mood today, that’s why I went to get the rum.” She held up the bottle. “We just need some coconuts.”
Denes saw a vendor down the beach and waved at him, holding up four fingers. The man came with four coconuts and a machete and hacked holes in each one on the spot. The coconut vendor stuck straws in while Denes produced money from some tiny pocket in his skimpy swimsuit. Amber uncapped the rum and poured generous shots into each coconut.
“Here Cal,” she said as she handed one to him, “Maybe this will loosen you up.”
Cal took the coconut and dutifully sucked at the rum, but he thought Amber was acting childish considering he’d just told her about his dad. Clearly, he thought, she was fixated on what she perceived as him being possessive, and she was making her point about it very clear.
The Hungarian brothers flopped down on the sand. Denes sat cross-legged, while Tomás pulled Amber back between his legs so that she leaned against his chest.
“So what do you do?” Tomás asked Cal, trying to be friendly.
“I work for the DEA,” Cal said, laughing harshly.
“DEA?” Denes asked, “What’s that?”
Amber pressed her lips together and gave Cal a piercing look. “It stands for Drug Enforcement Agency. But he’s just making a joke.”
“Oh,” Denes said politely. “I see.”
“Cal’s a pilot,” Amber said as she rested her arm on Tomás’ muscled leg. “Small plane charters,” she added. Silently she thought: or so he claims.
Tomás looked impressed. “Flying must be very interesting. I just teach high school biology.”
“But the birds and bees are pretty fascinating, don’t you think?” Amber commented, knowing that Tomás wouldn’t catch the implication.
“Oh yes, flora and fauna are very interesting, I love zoology and botany very much. But you know, I have to teach about cells and eco-systems and all that too.” Tomás played with Amber’s hair with one hand and it was starting to make Cal crazy, along with Tomás’ accent— Cal kept feeling like Count Dracula was hitting on his woman.
“How long are you staying in Panama?” Cal asked, assessing the threat level.
We’ve been here two weeks already, and Denes has to fly back day after tomorrow, but I’m staying two more weeks,” Tomás said.
“Tomás was also planning on going to the National Park, so now you don’t have to worry about me, I can go to Darien with him.” Amber’s lips pursed slightly as she gauged Cal’s response.
Cal stood up, shoving his coconut at Amber. “I think I’ve had too much sun and I need to get some work done. I’m going to go now.” His voice softened and there was a hint of a question as he looked at Amber. “I’ll see you…later?” Amber’s eyes followed as Cal strode off.
“Your brother seems…out of sorts,” Denes said.
“Yes, that’s a good way of putting it, ” Amber replied, her sea of doubt only amplified by the fact that the emotion in Cal’s voice felt real.
###
It was late when Tomás and Denes walked Amber back to Cal’s bungalow. Amber was more than tipsy, although her pair of escorts seemed little impaired. The trio had stayed on the beach drinking rum, and then gone to the inn where the brothers were staying so that they could get dressed. They then took her to dinner where they drank more. Clearly they had some practice drinking, Amber thought, as she leaned against Tomás, his arm around her waist. And clearly she was trying to avoid any self-examination.
A short distance away from the bungalow, Amber shooed them away, “I don’t want to wake up Cal, especially if he’s not feeling well,” she explained. “Don’t misjudge him,” she said softly, “He’s not always in a bad mood. He has a lot of things on his mind.”
“Sure,” Denes said, “See you tomorrow,” and he turned and walked away discreetly, leaving his older brother alone with Amber.
“What about his sister? How is her mood?” Tomás asked as he pulled Amber to him. She could feel Tomás’ burgeoning erection straining against the light cotton of his pants. He began nibbling at her neck and then whispered in her ear, “We could have some fun down on the beach.”
Amber hiccupped, “Not like this.” She made it seem as if her drunken state was her excuse, “If I’m going to have fun, I need to be a little more sober.”
Tomás didn’t push, “Okay. There will be time, I think, to have fun.” He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “Where should we meet tomorrow?”
“At the coffee bar, around 10. It’s the one painted green, right on the beach.” Amber hiccupped again. “Excuse me,” she said, covering her mouth with a hand.
Tomás laughed, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He kissed her once, hard on the mouth, then turned and left.
Amber shuffled the short distance to the bungalow, but when she tried the door, she found it locked. She leaned her face against the door, listening for any sound as she tapped lightly. There wasn’t any answer, and then she knocked harder. When Cal still didn’t answer, she pounded at the door as hard as she could, kicking it with one foot.
“Damn it Cal, let me in,” she yelled. “Let me in right now.” Still there wasn’t any answer. She slumped down to the ground, her back against the door and her head resting on her arms across her knees. A few more minutes passed, and then she heard the faint sound of the tumblers in the lock clicking as the doorknob was turned. She scrambled to her feet, drunken tears running down her face.
When Cal opened the door she threw her arms around his neck and said over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Cal stood there impassively, “You need to grow up, that shit can’t stand.”
“I didn’t fuck him, I swear, I only drank and had dinner with the both of them. I promise I didn’t fuck him.”
Untangling her arms from around his neck, Cal simply turned around and got back in bed. Amber sat on the other side of the bed, and scuffed off her flip-flops as she tried to unknot her sarong. She couldn’t make her fingers work quite right and in frustration, she finally just ripped the cloth to get it off. She pulled off her bathing suit, and brushed at the sand clinging under her breasts. “I’m sorry Cal, I started having all these crazy thoughts. I don’t know why I did that.”
Cal sighed and turned over, giving her his back, “Then maybe you better figure it out, Amber McShane, because I’m not going to share you with Euro-boy.”
When Amber woke up the next morning, Cal was gone. Most of his stuff was missing too, but there was a note on the dresser, “I’ll be back in two days. If you’re still here, I’ll be very happy to see you. And if you insist on going to Darien with Count Chocula, well, I guess I won’t.” It wasn’t signed, but Cal’s point was clear.
Amber crumpled up the piece of paper and hurled it at the wastebasket, missing by a lot. She barely knew him, she said to herself. He was hardly worth getting upset about, she grouched. Tomás was ever bit as handsome, and she didn’t have to put up with all the secretive shit. If she needed a fuck, a handsome biology teacher would do just as easily as some enigmatic pilot. At least the biology teacher wasn’t trying to tell her what to do. Glancing at the clock, Amber remembered it was two hours ahead, so that made it 9:30. She vaguely remembered telling Tomás something about 10 o’clock at the coffee bar, so she quickly jumped in the shower. The saltwater had made her hair stiff, like straw, but when the water hit her sunburned shoulders, she flinched. It would have been a lot worse, she thought, if Cal hadn’t made her submit to the sunscreen.
Journal Reflection 5
Have you ever read Othello? Shakespeare had something to say about jealousy. It is, after all, what drove Othello to kill his wife Desdemona and then himself. Of course, poor Desdemona was innocent, and it was Iago, envious of Othello’s status, that convinced Othello that his wife had been unfaithful. Sexual and romantic jealousy has been the reason that a lot of people a lot more modern than Othello have committed murder too. Even short of homicide, jealousy is still poison. It only takes a small drop to pollute something much larger.
Where does protectiveness leave off and possessiveness begin? What is the difference between concern and captivity? Or the dividing line between being cherished and being dominated? I want a man to care, to protect and preserve me, but the moment they cross some invisible line in my head just the tiniest bit, I panic and run. The thing I fear most in life is being trapped in someone else’s box, being made to do things I don’t want to do. I don’t care if it’s someone I love, if they put too many expectations on me, I’m going to take off.
The problem is that it’s so hard to distinguish between expectations that are valid, or expectations that are controlling, or expectations that exist purely in my own imagination. Fears are like strange flickering movies that you project onto the blank screen of another person. No one wants to accept responsibility for their own fears, especially if they aren’t real, so we have to blame someone else. And that’s when—in your own mind—your potential soul mate becomes some kind of green-eyed monster living under your bed ready to jump out and chain you in a closet forever, or maybe, they’re just going to eat you—and I don’t mean in the fun way.
In the end, we’re all human, and not monsters at all. But because we are just people, we’re prone to do stupid things. We get jealous when we think we might be losing something we value, and we push away when we think someone is trying to exert control in ways we don’t want. Both are caused by fear, and in the end, both screw up the thing we all want most: a meaningful connection that is more than just a fuck. Why do we do that? Why do we sabotage the chance to really make love?
Chapter 5
When Amber got to the coffee bar, Tomás was waiting. He was already sipping at a coffee, but he was alone.
“Where’s Denes?” Amber asked.
“Packing his suitcase,” Tomás said. “What would you like?”
“Café con leche, I guess, thanks.”
“Do you want something to eat?”
“Just a sweet bun.”
Tomás ordered at the bar and paid for her, which suddenly made Amber feel a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t like it was a huge expense, but she wasn’t sure if expectations might be attached or not. Before they went to Darien, she would have to work all that out. She caught herself. Had she decided then? Was she abandoning enigmatic Cal and heading south with her biology teacher?
Tomás pulled a guidebook out of his small knapsack and thumbed to a page with a turned down corner. “Look, I’ve been reading about the park. It sounds fantastic down there. I want to take many pictures to show my students. Do you have things for backpacking?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” Suddenly she was overly aware of the slightly stilted nature of Tomás’ English. Of course, her Hungarian amounted to zero. He set her coffee and bun down on the table. “How do you say thank you in Hungarian?” Amber asked.
“Köszönöm,” Tomás said. Amber blinked, she thought she was pretty good with languages, but she couldn’t manage to even repeat it. Tomás repeated each syllable slowly, “Kur-sur-nurm.” He laughed, “Hungarian is a confounding language. No one can speak it unless they are born to it. This is the reason I studied English.”
“Tomás,” Amber started and then hesitated, “If we’re going to travel together, I should be honest about a few things.”
“Okay,” he said casually, as if it mattered little to him.
“I don’t have a lot of money, so I have to be frugal.”
“Frugal? I don’t know this word.” He sipped at his coffee.
“It means to be careful with money, to not spend more than what’s absolutely necessary.”