Publishing Rights

Juanita starts to say something to me when a handsome man walks up to the group with an armload of beers.  While he distributes the beers to the group, he turns and sees me.  His eyes move up and down very slowly.  For the first time in my life I understand the saying “he undressed me with his eyes.”  I feel naked and exposed in front of him.

Oh, Sister Mary Clement Marie, maybe you’re right.

He quickly asks who I am and Juanita responds.  They exchange a few short phrases.  

Juanita says, “Genny, I introduce you, Ernesto Soto.”

Ernesto extends the last beer to my left hand and takes my right hand in his.  He brings it to his lips and gently kisses the tops of my fingers.  I feel a shot of electricity shoot through my entire body.  I stumble backward in astonishment.  Ernesto smiles widely seeing the intended effect he has on me.  

Juanita turns him towards her, and speaks in a harsh tone.  Ernesto laughs, “Nice to meet you, Genny,” he says and turns to the others in the group.

“Stay away from Ernesto,” Juanita whispers.  “He thinks he is a playboy.  He is my friend, but I do not trust him with your heart.”

“Why? What has he done that’s so bad?”

“He has taken the flower from two of my friends and left them with no promise of marriage.”

It takes me a second to understand what this means and I giggle at the statement.

She scowls at my reaction.  “And whatever you do, don’t look into his eyes.”

“¿Mal de ojo?” I question.  

“No, much worse than the evil eye, he will capture your soul.” Juanita laughs gently.  “He will make you believe you are the only woman in the world for him.  His eyes lie to women and the women want to believe them.”

I laugh. “I’ll be gone tomorrow and I’ll never see him again.” I turn my attention back to my beer and take a deep drink.  She really believes he has that kind of power over women.  

Another man in the group comes over and introduces himself as Juan.  He asks me to dance.  When I decline, he promptly asks Juanita who accepts.  I realize he’s being polite and I smile at Juanita who hands me her beer and moves toward the dance floor.  As she leaves, Socorro reappears, breathless with excitement.  Her coiffed hair is no longer rigidly styled and her skin is glistening with small beads of perspiration. She’s quite beautiful in this messy state.

She takes a sip of Juanita’s beer and with a conspiratorial look at me, says, “Let’s dance.”  

I look around like a trapped rabbit.  I don’t think I should be dancing in this place. Like a tourist in a museum exhibit, I want to watch,not participate. I hold up my hands with the beers, as if to show her I can’t go - I have a different duty to perform. But she takes the beers from me and gives them to the others in the group.  I dutifully follow her.

The smoke from the dry ice lends an eerie feeling to the dance floor and the strobe lights are hypnotic.  Socorro moves her arms rhythmically above her head and dances like a flamenco dancer.  She takes my hands and motions for me to follow.  I awkwardly mimic her dance steps, which are part John Travolta and part salsa.  My long hair falls gently down my back and tickles my elbows.  Socorro twirls around on her heels and I do the same.  I’m trying to relax with the music and enjoy the moment despite the unfamiliar surroundings.  The more Socorro moves, the more I follow, intoxicated by the foreign and exotic music. 

The music suddenly stops and I realize the dance floor is empty except for Socorro and me.  All eyes are on us and everyone starts to clap.  I’m both embarrassed and invigorated by the attention. I imagine Sister Mary Clement Marie shaking her head and wagging a finger disapprovingly at me.  

Socorro curtsies to the audience and takes my hand to walk off the dance floor.  Apparently, Socorro is used to this kind of attention.  

The crowd thins and the girls begrudgingly decide to leave.  On the way home, we pull over to the side of the road and change back into our proper costumes to squelch any suspicion from the family. Before we go into the house, I check on my birds.  I feel more than a little guilty that I’m neglecting them, but Humberto and the gardener are taking good care of them.  

The area around the house has few lights so the stars are brilliant.  I can see why so many people come for romantic vacations in Mexico.  The area appears untouched by the rest of the world.

We quietly enter the house and climb the stairs.  The girls have two double beds in their room and say they will share one so I can have one to myself. I change into my night shirt and dive into the bed.  The girls quickly settle into their bed and I into mine.  I look at my watch and see it is 1:45.  

I want to get an early start in the morning, so I’m glad the girls don’t want to talk any more.  I’m asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

In what seems like a minute or two later, I hear a rustling outside the window and am up with a start.  The girls are already at the window when I join them.  Below are the silhouettes of three men.  At first, I’m alarmed, but one of them starts strumming a guitar and they start singing.  

We’re being serenaded.  I truly am on a different planet.

The girls giggle as the young men sing slightly off-key, but it’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed.  Juanita reaches out the window and pinches off a bloom from a nearby bougainvillea branch and throws it to the young men below.  Encouraged by this action, the three start a second song.  This time the voices are stronger and less tentative.  They are more expressive and passionate as they sing.  The lights downstairs come on just as they’re about to sing a refrain and Raul yells out his window.  

Once lit, I recognize the faces of the three singers.  The first one is Roberto, who first danced with Socorro, the second is Juan, who danced with Juanita, and the third is Ernesto. Ernesto looks directly at me, bows and blows me a kiss.  The three run off and I hear the motor of a car start up in the distance.  

Victoria comes up to the room and tells the girls and me to get to sleep.  The soft light from the hall shows her long hair flowing around her slight frame.  The sisters beckon their mother to come into their bed.  All three of them giggle like school girls at a slumber party.  I can only imagine the mother must have had similar nights as a young woman and doesn’t want to spoil the moment for her daughters.

I lie in bed wide awake and hear them softly whisper among themselves. I look at my watch in the dark. It glows 2:30. I’ll be dead tired tomorrow on the drive to Texas.  Gradually I fall back asleep reliving tonight’s adventure - the excitement of a kiss on the hand, dancing in the center of the floor, being serenaded by Ernesto.  I feel like I’m being pulled into some sort of strange fantasy, not sure if I want to stay or go.