Tall cool one

by Zoey Dean

  Oh? That was the best she could come up with? Oh?

  "I mean, it's a date," she added. "Anna and I are going to La Trinidad to shop. The hotel van is bringing us back to the resort at five-thirty."

  "Excellent. I'll meet you up at your casita at seven. All right? Enough time to get ready?"

  "Perfect," Sam agreed. And it really was perfect, like some fairy tale she had dreamed up. But no alcohol or

  223

  hallucinogens were involved--this was real life; it really was happening.

  Then Eduardo leaned across the table, took her hand, and kissed it. It wasn't lame or corny at all. It was sweet and sincere and, from Sam's point of view, absolutely amazing. But even more amazing was what he said when he moved her hand from his warm lips.

  "Sam, may I say one more thing to you?"

  She nodded.

  "Just this." He gazed into her eyes. "You are very beautiful."

  224

  Moth Larvae

  A nna and Sam studied the wood sculpture of a Mexican peasant mother cradling her infant son. It was two feet high and gloriously done. Sam had expressed an interest in it, and the artist with the weather-beaten face had just named his price.

  "I have an aunt who collects primitive art," Anna murmured to Sam. "That piece is worth at least five thousand dollars. He's asking the equivalent of five hundred."

  Sam shook her head. "Only one problem. I don't have that kind of cash on me."

  It was early afternoon. As planned, the Las Casitas van had dropped them off at the La Trinidad town square. They'd wandered around the small town and stumbled into this artist's studio--basically a hole-in-the-wall. No wonder the sculptor had such an anxious look on his face.

  "I can't buy it," Sam realized. "Let's not prolong his agony." She began to tell the artist this in her very fractured Spanish, but Anna interrupted.

  "Listen, Sam. I've got an idea. We can call Las Casitas

  217

  225

  and have them send out some Mexican pesos with the driver when the van picks us up. I'm sure that would be no problem. They'll just put it on your account."

  Sam nodded. "That's a great idea."

  Between Anna and Sam, they were able to explain their plan to the artist. At first he wasn't buying it. But eventually, they managed to convince him. He was so pleased about the purchase that he kissed both Anna and Sam on the cheeks like long-lost relatives. Then he reached into his ancient trousers and extracted a business card. Anna examined it when he handed it to her.

  "It's a restaurant. El Toreador. The Bullfighter. I think he wants us to eat there."

  " Sí. La comida es muy buena" said the artist. "Good. Good."

  "Then we should go," Sam agreed. "I'm starved. When you don't eat for three weeks, it's amazing how hungry you get."

  "Maybe we should just hang out in the town square until the van comes back," Anna suggested.

  Sam gave her a cockeyed look. "Are you crazy? Hang in the town square when we can go be wild women? Where'd you learn all that Spanish, anyway?"

  "An extended trip with my aunt to Marbella when I was twelve," Anna explained. "She taught me every Spanish curse word she knew. We worked up from there. Then I took it at Trinity."

  "Good. Teach me some good ones at the restaurant so I can shock Eduardo tonight."

  226

  Anna agreed to Sam's plan. She wasn't all that hungry, and she thought sitting in the town square and sipping a coffee while the colorful world of La Trinidad passed by would have been fun. But Sam was right--it wasn't all that adventurous.

  The artist gave them rough directions to El Toreador, kissed their cheeks again, and the girls walked away. As they departed, Anna tried to call Las Casitas on her cell. No luck. She couldn't even get a signal and realized that there was probably no microwave relay tower in La Trinidad. They'd have to find a landline. Well, that was fine. They could use the phone in the restaurant, if there was one. If not, they'd figure out something.

  "Wow, I just bought my first piece of art," Sam realized as they headed down the rough-hewn sidewalk. "That is so cool."

  "I think it's this right turn," Anna said, pointing at a narrow side street that went downhill. They followed the street, turned left, right, and left again and finally came upon El Toreador by accident. They tried the front door, but it was locked.

  "So much for adventure," Anna said. "No one's here. Should we go back to the town square?"

  Sam shook her head and pointed across the street. "Isn't that a restaurant?"

  The place was called Los Molinos. The exterior was nondescript: a gray wooden door with a hand-painted sign and the menu tacked to it, a glass window with hand-painted lettering announcing the name of the

  227

  restaurant and BUENA COMIDA, CERVEZA FRIA. Good food, cold beer.

  They crossed the street and tried the door. Tinkling bells signaled their entrance. The interior was small, with a dozen battered tables and wooden chairs, a wooden bar with a mismatched set of bar stools, and an ancient billiards table. Two old men played dominos at one of the corner tables; a third snoozed with his head against the wall. A few younger guys sat at the bar, watching a soccer game on TV The bartender--a beautiful dark-haired young woman in American-style clothes--read the Spanish edition of Cosmopolitan magazine. She barely glanced at the girls before returning to her reading.

  A cadaverous elderly waiter with a thick shock of white hair greeted them effusively in good English, guessing at their nationality. "Lovely American señoritas!" he cried, clasping his hands. "Welcome, welcome!" He gestured to a table, held out one chair for Anna, then hurried around the table to help Sam get seated. "You would desire menus?"

  "We would," Anna told him. "But can we use your telephone first?"

  "To where are you calling?" the waiter asked, a bit wary.

  "Las Casitas resort," Sam told him. "We'll pay you for the call, of course."

  "Certainly," he said, with a small bow. "And there is no charge." He turned to the bartender and barked out some instructions. She scowled but still got the

  228

  old-fashioned rotary phone out from under the bar and dialed some numbers. She talked briefly with the person at the other end, then held the telephone receiver toward Anna and Sam. "Para usted." She gestured.

  Sam got up, took the receiver, and had a quick conversation with the Las Casitas desk. A moment later, she was back with Anna. "Done. They're bringing pesos for me. Listen, let's celebrate my purchase." She turned to the waiter, who had waited patiently for her. "A bottle of mescal. Some tapas. No. Lots of tapas. Bottled water. And two glasses."

  "Muy bueno." The waiter beamed happily. "We make our own tapas and our own mescal also!" He kissed the tips of his fingers, indicating just how well they had chosen, then hustled behind the bar and told the bartender to prepare what they ordered. She fired a sullen look at Sam and Anna before getting up to work.

  "So, mescal." Anna felt a little uneasy. "That's on my long list of new experiences I might try someday, maybe."

  "Kind of like tequila, but stronger. Made from the mescal cactus. I crossed it off mine when I was fourteen at this party in Topanga Canyon," Sam recalled. "This guy who was a junior at Harvard-Westlake showed me how to down a shot straight up. He said it made girls sexy. Pathetically enough, I downed seven of them. Cammie rescued me."

  Anna raised her eyebrows. "When I think emergency, I don't think of calling Cammie Sheppard."

  Sam rubbed a finger along the edge of the rough-hewn

  229

  table. "Yeah, well, she'll fool you now and then. Anyway ..." She spread her arms expansively. "I'd say now's the perfect time to cross it off your list."

  Moments later, the elderly waiter returned with a brown bottle, two brown shot glasses, a plate of tapas, and the bottled water. "Enjoy," he said with a slight bow, then retreated to watch the soccer game.

  Sam did the honors, pouring generous shots of mescal into Anna's glass and then h
er own. Anna peered into the bottle from the top. "Do you know that they put moth larvae in the bottle? And that once it dies, they know the alcohol content is sufficient?"

  "Well, that's certainly different from the way Cristal is made," Sam declared, raising her glass. "We should christen your mescal-drinking experience with a toast."

  "To new experiences," Anna decided, and clinked her glass against Sam's. She watched Sam down her shot in one swallow. Then she did the same. Instantly her throat was on fire.

  "Water!" She grabbed one of the bottles, tore the cap off, and guzzled.

  "Come on, Anna. Take it like a man," Sam ordered with a laugh. "What kind of party girl are you?"

  Tears came to Anna's eyes. "Whew." She fanned her face. There was a mirror on the wall near their table. In it, she could see the female bartender sneering at them. That was enough motivation for her to pour them each another shot. She could prove she wasn't a wuss. This time, she knew what to expect. "Your toast, Sam?"

  230

  "To rich girls gone wild," Sam decreed.

  They clinked glasses and downed the second shot. This time the heat spread from Anna's throat to her belly and the top of her head; she felt sunburned from the inside out.

  Sam nodded. "Whew, baby, that is some potent shit." Sam spun the bottle around and gazed at it. "Brown. No label. Huh. They probably do make their own. If we drink enough, maybe we can bring the little sucker back to life."

  "Give it mouth to mouth," Anna suggested. Then she laughed, really feeling the alcohol. "That's so funny."

  "I know!" Sam chortled. She poured them one more shot, her hand none too steady. "Last one. To ... to what this time?"

  "To Eduardo," Anna decided.

  "Eduar-r-r-rdo," Sam repeated, rolling the r. "What a hot name. Isn't Eduardo a hot name?"

  "Very," Anna agreed

  "Why is he into me? That is the question...."

  "Why not?" Anna asked.

  "He's probably just a guy who wants to get laid," Sam slurred. "I look like an easy mark."

  "Sam, think. He's gorgeous. He obviously has money. I don't think he's hurting for female companionship. Besides, he treated you with respect."

  "True," Sam agreed. "Drink up."

  They clinked glasses and drank. Anna gagged as she felt something slither down her throat. She tried to

  231

  hock it up, but it was too late. "Yecch!" she sputtered.

  "Too strong?"

  "No. That larva must have spilled out into my glass. I think I just swallowed it!"

  Sam grabbed the mescal bottle and peered inside. "Yep," she pronounced. "You did."

  "Great," Anna moaned. "Serves me right."

  "Don't flip out. But I should warn you, it's going to get you stoned out of your mind."

  "My friend Cyn told me that was a myth."

  Sam shook her head. "No, it isn't. I saw a guy at a party down the worm. Fifteen minutes later he was standing on the kitchen table in his mother's high heels, trying to hump his dog."

  Anna felt weak in her knees. "But Cyn told me--"

  "Don't worry," Sam assured her. "Wherever you're going, I won't leave you stranded." She waved her hand to get the elderly waiter's attention. "Another bottle of mescal, por favor. Tout du suite. I mean, ahora. "

  The waiter stared at her. "You are sure? We make strong mescal here."

  "Give the drinks to your friends." Sam gestured toward the men watching the soccer game and playing dominos. "Just bring me the bottle with the worm. Okay?"

  The waiter gave her a dubious look and repeated her instructions, as if to make sure he understood them. When he was sure he did, he made an announcement to the customers that resulted in raucous cheering and shouts of, "¡ Olé, la gringa!"

  232

  "The cheers are for you," the waiter told her as he moved off to get the new bottle. "You have ... how do you say in English ... made their afternoon."

  "Tell them thank you. Don't forget to bring me the worm," Sam reminded.

  For the next ten minutes, Sam chowed down on the delicious tapas while the waiter poured shot after shot for his happy customers. Many of them stopped by their table to toast the American girls. Anna, who ordinarily would have been happy for inducing such cross-cultural bonding, just sat there nervously. She was too unsettled to eat and monitored herself to see if-- when--she might feel something weird.

  Finally the waiter placed the second brown bottle on the table between them. "One bottle, one worm," he said, then hesitated. "Be careful. There are special ingredients in our mescal. From the desert."

  "Works for me," Sam told him. Then she tipped the bottle over and let three fingers worth of mescal plopped into her shot glass. Plus one dead worm. "Come on, Anna. Don't make me drink alone."

  Anna swallowed hard. Her mouth felt fuzzy, her lips thick. The colors in the room were achingly bright. No. Maybe she was just imagining it. That had to be it; her overactive imagination was at work.

  "Okay." She poured one more glassful of mescal from their first bottle. "To what?"

  "To the slaves of Beverly Hills; thank God we're not there," Sam pronounced.

  233

  "I'll drink to that."

  And they did. More than once.

  "Hey, Anna! Check out this lizard. Right here!"

  Sam pointed to a large iguana that was sunning itself on a large sandstone rock. "C'mere, Bill." She held out her hand toward the reptile. It didn't move.

  Anna flew across the sandy landscape toward Sam. At least she felt as if she were flying. She'd been utterly captivated by a purple desert wildflower that had sprouted from the side of a cactus. In fact, she'd gotten her nose practically inside the flower to examine it, amazed by the striations and curves on its interior.

  How much time had passed since they'd left the restaurant? Anna wasn't sure. A couple of hours, maybe. Knowing how wasted they were from the mescal, they'd had every intention going directly from the restaurant to the town square to hang out until the van arrived. But at the end of the alley behind Los Molinos, Sam had spotted a trail that headed off into the Mexican desert. And she'd convinced Anna that they ought to take a scenic detour.

  That detour had extended as the girls--fascinated by everything they saw--strolled deeper and deeper into the wild, barren landscape.

  Anna peered down at the iguana. "Sam? How do you know his name is Bill?"

  "He told me," Sam said seriously. "Shhh. Listen, he'll tell you."

  234

  Anna cocked her head to listen. The iguana flicked his tongue at her. "Hey," Anna protested. "He hates me. Look what he just did!"

  "Maybe he's hungry," Sam said. She reached into her pocket and found a piece of gum. She held it out to see what the iguana would do.

  "Sam? I don't think Bill has teeth. To chew gum. Which means he'd have to gum the gum."

  Sam found this comment hysterically funny. Anna thought that her finding the comment hysterically funny was hysterically funny. The two girls laughed so hard that the sound echoed off the distant hills.

  "Wow, that is so cool," Sam marveled. "It's like our voices are all over the desert." She cupped her hands around her mouth and turned toward the distant, golden hills. " ¡Hola!"

  "Hi!" Anna yelled directly at Sam's face.

  Sam reeled backward. "Why are you yelling?"

  "You said 'hello' in Spanish. So I said 'hi' in English."

  "Oh." Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Right. That makes sense."

  Anna pointed at the lizard. It hadn't moved despite their shouting. Maybe he really was magical. "You should give Bill the gum."

  "Good idea."

  Sam unwrapped the gum and tossed the stick at the iguana. Anna saw an arc trail as the gum flew through the air. "Did you see that?" She pointed at the trail, which still hung in the air.

  235

  "What?" Sam responded.

  "That!" Anna couldn't find the words, so she trickled her fingers through the air by way of illustration. A trail formed b
ehind them, too.

  "Your fingers?" Sam asked.

  "What about my fingers?" Anna looked at her hand. "Fingers are so amazing, aren't they?"

  "You wanted me to watch your fingers?" Sam asked.

  Then Anna remembered. "I meant the trail. Did you see the gum trail when you tossed it to Bill?"

  "What's a gum trail?"

  "No," Anna said. "In the air. Just before."

  Sam looked at her, puzzled.

  "Sam. Are we tripping? We can't be tripping. The worm thing is a miss!"

  "Well, I think it's a hit," Sam said.

  Anna licked her dry lips. "Myth, not miss."

  "Theriothly?" Sam lisped. That made them both crack up again. When Sam caught her breath, she reminded Anna what the waiter had told them about the homemade mescal. "He said it's got some weird shit that makes you trip."

  "Like Don Juan," Anna realized. "And Carlos Castaneda. 'To seek freedom is the only driving force I know. Freedom to fly off into that infinity out there.'"

  Sam looked at the iguana. "Bill, what's she talking about?"

  The lizard stuck his tongue out at Anna again. Then he jumped down from the rock and scurried away. Sam

  236

  charged after him as he scampered up a small dirt mound and down into a hole. "See, he hates me," Anna said.

  But Sam was too fixated on the sky to respond. "Check it out, Anna."

  Anna looked up. Puffy cumulus clouds scudded across the endless blue from east to west, shapes morphing as they did. "I see a lion. And a girl fishing." She turned to Sam--her friend had sprawled in the sand to get a better view of the sky. So Anna dropped down next to her. "This is so great. I haven't done this since I was really young."

  "You don't have to stop. You're still really young. And we've got all the time in the world."

  Anna checked to see what time it was. Four-fifteen. But when she put her arm down and tried to focus again on the clouds, she was overwhelmed by the sensation of the watch on her wrist. It felt heavy. Really heavy. So she took off the watch and tossed it away.

  Much better.

  "What are you doing?" Sam said as the wristwatch skittered across some flat rocks.

  "Being timeless," Anna explained.

  "Great idea. I want to be timeless, too." With a few quick movements, Sam removed her own wristwatch, then flung it off into the desert.