Under the Mexican sun 'the trip'

A Story by 4sqaured

I stirred in bed, the covers clinging like a second skin. A hot night in a series of hot nights. I’d long lost count of how many times I’d flipped the pillow searching for cool relief. Overhead the ceiling fan hummed, shaking, trying to break its bond with the ceiling and fall free, fruitless. Your place in our bed was empty. When had you woken up? I stretched, letting my arm fall onto your side, running my hand across the thin linen looking for vestiges of you, a stray hair, lingering warmth. We’d always said that we wouldn’t go to sleep angry, funny the promises we make and quickly abandon, we both may have perished due to lack of sleep otherwise.

Sounds of our tropical environment floated through the open windows, chirps of the colourful native birds, buzzing of winged insects and the monotonous groan of the pool filter. I stumbled over to the coffee maker, still wholly unsure of how to use it. I plowed ahead.

‘Coffee babe?’ I called.

It may have been presumptuous to assume that you could hear me, or that you were even listening. But the click clacks of your fingers across your MacBook keys assured me that you were in a reasonable range of my voice. So why no answer then?

‘Babe, would you like a coffee?’ I tried again, this time raising my voice, like I had so many times on this trip.

Again I waited for a response that didn’t come, and considered how loud silence could be.

It wasn’t so unusual for you to be up before me. We’d fallen into routine, you’d be up early out on the deck, MacBook in hand researching and planning the day’s activities. I’d awake, make the coffees and try my best at gaining your attention. How many times you’d peered at me from behind the screen, glasses halfway down your nose and told me in earnest that you were concentrating. I’d meet your glare with a grin and soon we’d both be laughing and you’d fill me in on what you had planned. My laissez-faire attitude towards our activities may have waned on you, you’d asked me multiple times what did I want to do? I’d reply with ‘I’m easy’ or ‘Whatever you fancy’ which I sense you regarded as apathy, but it was honesty. I really was easy; I’d happily have plodded along doing just about anything, if it meant spending the day with you.

Poking my head through the doors to the deck, there you were. The tan you’d been working on since we’d arrived now glowed golden, drenched in the morning sun. How beautiful you looked, eyes knitted in concentration in front of your screen. One thing I had no doubt about was that this place agreed with you. The tiles were already hot and burned my walk weary soles as I crossed towards you.

‘Morning babe!’ I chimed as I dropped into the seat next to yours.

You raised your eyes from your screen, barely, just enough to register my arrival, but the wall of silence I’d encountered earlier held strong.

My craving for your attentions peaked and I pulled at your leg, which hung limply below you. I took your foot in my hand, running my fingers along your bare sole, tickling. You’d told me countless times how annoying you found this, but we’d always ended up in fits of laughter and I’d hope this to be no different. Instead of laughter and the usual squirming that followed, I was met with stoic resistance. I looked at your face in search of a smile, finding only a grimace. You took your leg and pulled it free in one deft movement and tucked it under yourself like an injured animal nursing a wound, away from my cloying grasp.

You’d invited me on this trip, one that I couldn’t have imagined taking six months previous. You’d implored me to come, three weeks just you and I making our way around Mexico. I was flattered, but mostly excited at the idea of having you to myself for three whole weeks, without the usual noise and clutter of our lives at home. You had already been away in Cuba for two weeks before I met you. The intermittent Facetimes we’d shared over a precarious Internet connection helped, but they didn’t sate me and when I landed in Oaxaca I was overwhelmed by excitement. After 20 hours and various transfers, I was back on the same continent and in the same city as you. I floated through customs as if in a daze, peddling my Duolingo Spanish to anyone that would listen until I found a cab. I remember calling you, before I saw you as I pulled up outside of the location you’d sent me. I was uneasy stepping out of the air-conditioned cab, into the all-consuming heat of a foreign city. You told me you were close, ‘just grabbing a coffee’ and so I waited on the street, with a new travellers weary distrust of locals, until I saw you. As you approached a smile broke across your face and beamed, and like a moth to a light I knew where I needed to be. I ran and then you ran, we were running. I’d left my bags; the only thing worth possessing was coming toward me, anything else was superfluous. We embraced with tears and tender kisses. You wiped my eyes, and how long ago that seems now.

Out on the deck the mosquitos crowded, hungry for blood as I was for reconciliation. Applying the spray had become as commonplace as taking a shower so I knew we had no need to worry. But the incessant buzzing in the face of your firm silence frustrated me to no end.

‘Babe’ I implored, trying to meet your eyes with mine.

‘Please can we talk?’ I was frustrated by how whiney I knew I sounded.

I moved my chair closer to yours; the metal legs caught the floor and scraped noisily. Without seeing it, I knew you’d rolled your eyes. You’re pupils had spent most of the trip in a state of constant rotation so why should now be any different. I reached and took a strand of your hair, dry from the sun and seawater and began twirling it around my finger. Still you paid me no mind, although the click clack of your fingers across the keys slowed, and took on an aggressive tone.

Your computer stood like a wall between us, my frustrations mounted and I pushed the lid closed. You reacted as I’d expected, in anger. The look you shot me caused me to shrink back into my seat.

‘I didn’t want to do this right now, but if it’s really what you want then we’ll talk!’ you spat, every word laced with acid.

The first few days had been some of the best of our relationship. We drank deeply in each other, drunk on love and with an insatiable lust. We’d only been apart mere weeks but we clawed at each other like starved dogs, whole mornings spent under the exposed bulb of the Airbnb tangled in sweat laden sheets. You told me that you’d missed me and marked my back with your nails, maybe as a reminder should we ever separate again. When we did emerge, we strode hand in hand through the streets, ate heartily with locals and drank mescal late into the night. Every conversation was ended with a kiss or a declaration of love. We were so happy it was arrogant.

You pushed your computer to the side, and for the first time we met free of obstacles.

‘What’s your problem babe?’ I asked, once again initiating contact, reaching for your hand which you pulled back as if from a hot stove.

You looked away wistfully, and sighed. This is not something you had wanted to do this morning and I had drawn you into it. I am and have always been my own worst enemy.

‘Sam, I need space, we’ve been together everyday for the past two weeks and you’d think ayou might want some space too, yet here you are again clawing and fawning over me. You make me feel so claustrophobic’

Your words hurt, and lingered. How could I have been so oblivious to your growing resentment?

I was incredulous, and momentarily lost for words.

‘But wasn’t the idea behind this trip to spend time together?’ I asked trying to nullify the hurt in my voice.

‘It was, and we have, but there’s only so much of me I can give, and you seem to want it all!

Again the ease at which these worlds left your mouth stung.

Like many men before me, I reacted in prideful anger, how could I possibly be at fault here?

‘You talk about all this time we are spending together, but the whole time I feel like I’ve been talking to the back of a book or the back of a screen’

‘So?’

‘SO?’ I repeated

‘So, I feel like you use your books, your laptop, even your phone as a shield for intimacy. How often is ever just you and I’

At this you laughed, ‘What a meek man you must be to be threatened by books, do you know how ridiculous you sound.’

In that moment I did feel meek, regret ran hot in my blood for persisting until this point. Why didn’t I know when to quit?

The trip felt soured as it went on, like fruit left out past ripe. We still fucked, but passion had been replaced with necessity. As if not doing it would be an admission of something neither of us was ready to admit. Where once we had clung close to each other through the hot, close nights, there now almost wasn’t enough space for us to be far enough apart, the space between us grew bigger until it was an unbridgeable chasm. I often tried, stretching a comforting arm over to you, but you’d wriggle and worm yourself away as if escaping the grabby hands of a chimpanzee. Naively I put this down to the heat. At meals it felt like we had less and less to say, conversations which had once flowed like open spigots now loomed, silence generally fell just after we ordered and it oppressed until the food came, which was never fast enough. I’ve always struggled with silence, it allows for too much freethinking, worries begin to creep and overwhelm, what could you be thinking that you aren’t translating into words? I met silence as a challenge to be overcome and threw words out as if one might be the missing piece to your puzzle. But maybe what you wanted was engagement, to be challenged and drawn out, and not bombarded with non-sequiturs. More often, as the plates were removed from the table, you’d take this opportunity to join the restaurant Wi-Fi with your phone to your face, a smile grew, one not directed at me, where before there had only been impassivity, it was almost mocking, and I’d catch my reflection in the shiny black surface of its reverse, wishing it really was my face you held between your hands.

In the silence that followed, I regained composure breathing deeply, allowing the hot air to fill my lungs. You were standing now, hands on your hips in pure frustration.

‘Is that really what you think? I asked.

‘You sap my energy Sam; I wanted you on this trip with me as a partner. But it feels like my purpose here is to keep you occupied. How can I explore if I’m busy holding your hand all day’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that the affection that I bestowed upon you was such a burden, I love you! If that isn’t plainly obvious, I want to be with you, to spend time with you. The closer I seem to get the further away you seem to be, can’t you meet me in the middle?’ I retorted, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

‘The middle? I do everything Sam and yet you still expect me to do more’

As you said this, you turned away, not wanting me to see the tears that had begun to stream down your sun-glazed cheeks. I wanted so much in that moment, to take you in my arms, to wipe away the tears like you had mine. But after the words we’d exchanged I held back not wanting to smother you further. You turned back to face me, the sadness I’d hoped for in your eyes had been replaced with resolve.

‘I’m sorry but I just don’t think I can do this anymore, I don’t think this trip was a good idea’ you dropped these words like anchors, pulling the whole conversation to a halt.

‘But what are you saying? I blurted

‘I am sorry Sam, I do love you’ you said, tenderness now restored in your voice.

‘But I need my independence now more than ever, I didn’t expect to feel this way, but I can’t help that I do. I’ve booked a flight; it leaves in a few hours. We’ll talk when we are both back home’

I sat in stunned silence, clutching at my chest ready to catch the pieces of my heart. The pain was immense and tore through me; hot tears welled and fell quickly disappearing under the hot gaze of the sun. I searched for words, but none could explain how your admission had hurt me. You rested a hand on my shoulder and bowed your head to meet me, your resolve had broken and tears flowed easily from your eyes as if mimicking mine. Minutes passed and we stayed, humbled by the knowledge that this would be the last time. Finally, you headed inside, without looking back to begin packing your things, I sat unable to move, the world had stopped spinning for me alone. Within a few hours you’d packed and hours later still you’d gone, finally I was alone.