Dolphin Dreams

by Lyle Nicholson

  A server dressed in an Outback Steakhouse uniform approached with menus, and the old man waved her away with some words in Spanish and a smile. Tepeu said, “Señor Acan has taken the liberty of ordering several Australian tapas that he hopes you will like, and of course some beer.” Tepeu smiled at Señor Acan, who beamed a smile back at Tepeu and then one at Niklas.

  As the server left, Acan leaned forward and, in perfect English, said, “My friend Tepeu tells me that the dolphins talk to you. Is this so?”

  “Well, yes,” Niklas admitted in a sheepish tone. “It seems I hear a series of voices when I’m around them…not quite sure what to make of it.” Niklas leaned back in his chair and looked at Tepeu, who was smiling at him and urging him on.

  Acan looked left and right before he spoke. “That you hear them is a wonderful thing —they speak to many people, but few hear and understand what they say. That you have had a vision of how to free them is very important. None of us have been given such a vision.”

  “I see,” Niklas said, “but having a vision of dolphins flowing out of the pool is one thing, and making it happen is another.” Niklas looked around; hoping no one who understood English was within earshot.

  The server returned, placed a cold beer in front of each of the men and a large, round dish of deep-fried onions on the table. “A Bloomin’ Onion,” she said with a heavy Spanish accent. Then she left.

  Niklas looked longingly at his beer. He longed for a large swallow of the frothy, amber liquid, but he was not sure of the Mexican drinking traditions. He thought the word to say before drinking was Salu-something but was not sure. Back home, he would have said kippas by now and half his beer would be gone, in true Finnish style.

  Señor Acan held up his glass, looked Niklas in the eye, and said, “Salud!”

  Niklas was relieved. He responded with a salud and downed half the beer. He smiled at both Tepeu and Acan when he placed his glass down.

  Acan was about to say something, but then he looked over Niklas’s shoulder and said, “Ah, here are my sweet girls coming to join us.” Acan stood and walked around Niklas to greet the newcomers.

  Niklas turned in his chair and saw a little girl, perhaps seven or eight, in a white dress and sandals accompanied by a young woman in her mid-twenties wearing a T-shirt and slacks. They walked holding hands towards the table in a slow, ambling fashion, smiling as they approached. When they were within a few feet of the table, Niklas recognized Maria Fernandez, the woman he had met at the dolphin pools the previous night.

  Acan made the introductions. “Señor Niklas Okkonen, this is my granddaughter, Elisa, and my goddaughter, Maria.” Acan turned back to Niklas with a bright smile. Niklas could see the obvious love the old man held for the two.

  The little girl curtsied and flashed a quick smile at Niklas. Maria took Niklas’s hand, and her eyes flashed that same brilliance they had the night before. He felt electric around her.

  Acun sat in his chair, motioning for everyone to do the same. “Señor Niklas, these are my dedicated soldiers, committed to freeing the dolphins. As you can see, they are a formidable force.” Acun let his eyes move from his goddaughter to his granddaughter, and he winked at each.

  Niklas was speechless a moment. ”Señor Acun, perhaps I was too full of tequila when I spoke with Tepeu last night. I apologize if I have misled you in any way.” Niklas put his hands on the table as if getting ready to rise.

  Maria placed her hand on his and rested her brown, liquid eyes on him. “Tell me, did you swim with the dolphins in your dreams last night?”

  Niklas felt a bolt of energy pass through Maria’s hand to his, and he looked into her eyes. “How did you know?”

  Maria kept her hand steady on Niklas’s. “Last night, after you left the pool, the dolphins told me they would take you with them. The moon was full last night. It is a special time for them.”

  Niklas felt his hand become moist with sweat under Maria’s, but he did not want to move it. “How do they escape at night? I was told I wasn’t in my room this morning …I returned from swimming with them when someone knocked on my door.”

  Maria flipped her long black hair to one side and squeezed Niklas’s hand again, holding him in place. “I don’t know how they transport us. Somehow they don’t leave their pen, but we leave wherever we are. They’ve taken me with them several times, and Elisa …many times …too many times.” Maria looked over at little Elisa.

  Elisa looked up at Maria with a half smile and a half-sorrowful glance, as if the reminder of her swimming dreams was too much for her. The longing in her eyes was evident.

  Niklas looked away from her sad eyes before he got lost in them. “If the dolphins travel at night in some other realm, or plane, then why to they want to be free?”

  Maria moved her hand off Niklas’s and placed both of her hands on the table. “The dolphins, these ones especially, want the freedom to roam the ocean all the time. This is what they were born to do. They learn our tricks to amuse us because we keep them captive, but in spirit they want to be free.”

  Niklas’s hand felt cold, and alone, he longed for Maria’s touch. He looked at the determined expressions on the faces of Acun, Tepeu, Maria and Elisa. “So, how will I get the C-4 explosives I’ll need to blow open the pool to set them free?”

  Maria’s eyes went wide in shock. “Dios mío! You cannot use explosives. The shock wave would stun them, just as seismic ships beach them. No, no, explosives are out. You must find another way.

  Maria put her hand back on Niklas’s, and his whole body went wild in the sensation of tingles and vibrations. He could hardly think. He finally replied, “I could use something called Dexpan, but I would have to mix it, and probably drill some holes in the wall. It would take two hours for the Dexpan to crack open the fissures in the wall. The result would be the same with no explosion.”

  Tepeu shifted excitedly in his chair, and, lowering his voice, said, “Good, good, this Dexpan, where can we get this for you?”

  Niklas exhaled in resignation. “Well, any store that sells building supplies. I’ll also need a powerful cordless drill with a concrete drill bit, and a small bucket.”

  Acun and Tepeu conferred with each other, and then Tepeu said, “Home Depot, Señor Niklas, they will have everything. Señor Acun will have it delivered to your room tonight.”

  “Tonight? You want to do this tonight?” Niklas sat back in his chair.

  Acun moved forward, rubbing his hands together, “Why yes, yes of course. The dolphins have been in the pool for many years, and the cracks in the sea wall have developed only in the past month. And now you are here —everything is together. It’s as if the gods willed this to be so.” Acun placed his hands palms down on the table. “At midnight tonight, you place this…this Dexpan, and by 2:00 a.m., the dolphins will flow into the sea. There is also a high tide tonight, so this is perfect —yes?” Acun’s heavy, gray eyebrows moved in unison, accentuating his words.

  Tepeu looked from Niklas back to Acun. “Yes, yes, it is a high tide tonight. The dolphins can swim over the small reef in front of the beach. This is perfect.”

  Niklas looked at Tepeu and Acun and then to Maria and the doleful eyes of Elisa. He was outnumbered, but his brain was still searching for excuses. “What about the security guards? They’ll hear my drill on the beach.” Niklas dropped the statement as if he had just informed one of his undergraduate classes of their flawed argument. He sat back and crossed his arms at his wonderful objection.

  Acun smiled, flashing his perfect teeth, and his eyes smiled the kind smile of someone about to impart wisdom. “The security guard is no problem, señor. Mexico runs on mordida.”

  Niklas unfolded his arms and leaned his hands on the table. “Mor…dida, what is this?”

  Acun chuckled and winked at Tepeu. “This is bribes, my friend. Tepeu will see the guards at the start of their shift. He will tell them some gringos want some quiet time, silencio, on the beach —he will give them a few thousand pes
os and you will have all the time you need.” Acun patted Niklas’s hands as if confirming everything and rose to signal the meeting was over.

  Niklas rose from the table and realized he was bathed in sweat. His Mexican beach wedding shirt clung to his back, and his linen pants stuck to the backs of his legs and buttocks. He adjusted himself as modestly as he could. Maria smiled at him, making him feel more self-conscious.

  They stood in a circle, and the patron gave Niklas a firm handshake with a quick hug and pat on the back, which Niklas now realized was the Mexican custom. The smell of urine blocks and washroom chemicals was unmistakable.

  Minutes later, he stood in the bright, Cancun sunshine at the bus stop. The same bus, on its return trip, came screeching up in front of them. Tepeu ushered him forward, and they sat once again in the back of the bus and listened to the other passengers chatter to one another in Mexican.

  Niklas watched the Outback Steakhouse disappear in the distance and wondered when he would wake up from this dream. He was hoping there might be a knock at his door like there had been that morning and that everything would return to normal.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TEPEU’S LESSONS ON TIPPING

  The bus moved slowly in the heavy traffic, and the heat rose around Niklas. His sweat-soaked shirt and pants stuck to the vinyl seats of the bus. The physical discomfort only added to his mental anxiety. Even more troubling, he couldn’t get the image of Acun, the supposed patron of Cancun, as the washroom attendant he had met a few days before at the Cancun Airport out of his mind. The smell — there was that smell.

  He could not take the nagging doubt anymore. Peeling his back off the seat, he turned to Tepeu. “Tepeu,” Niklas began slowly,” I mean no disrespect to the patron.” He waited for Tepeu to look at him. “But he looked a lot like a person I met when I landed in Cancun, a person who was the attendant in the washroom. Does he have a twin?” Niklas thought he should throw that in, as his mind was vulnerable to illusions lately.

  Tepeu shifted slightly in his seat and looked around to see if anyone had understood Niklas and his question in English. The Mexicans around them continued talking. “Señor Niklas, there is no disrespect taken,” Tepeu said. “Yes, the patron and the washroom attendant you saw are one and the same. He keeps his identity hidden to many. He said to me as we were leaving that he remembered you from a few days ago, and that you gave a very generous tip.” Tepeu patted Niklas’s leg.

  Niklas leaned forward so their heads almost touched. “But, how does a washroom attendant become the patron of Cancun?”

  “Ah, yes, I see your problem, señor. You do not know the power of tipping, what is called propina. You see, first you must understand that Mexicans are poorly paid —maybe fifty pesos a day. This is nothing in your country, no? Tepeu’s eyes widened to give credence to his information. “Now, tipping is how many of us make a living. This is understood —yes?”

  Niklas shook his head slightly. “Yes, Tepeu, I understand tipping, but how can a washroom attendant amass a fortune?”

  “Ah, I see your problem.” Tepeu smiled broadly. “You do not understand the power of tipping in Mexico, and the power of the gringo toilet.”

  Niklas was lost. “Gringo toilet …?”

  “Ah yes,” Tepeu began excitedly. “The toilet for gringos, especially at the Cancun Airport, is the most prized place for tips in all of Cancun.” Tepeu moved closer to Niklas and lowered his voice. “This toilet gets a steady stream of foreigners both day and night. Acun fought hard as a young man, beating all contenders to attain this position.”

  Tepeu leaned back a few inches and looked at Niklas to see if he understood. Niklas maintained a blank expression, so Tepeu leaned in again. “The greatest tips in Mexico flow all the time. You see, my bartending tips flow from noon to evening, but the toilet tips, especially the gringos’, they come all the time.

  Niklas finally understood. He nodded his head. He could see the steady stream of foreigners disembarking planes coming from all over the world and reaching baggage claim with euros, dollars, pesos, and full bladders. And there, they would see Acun, the patron of Cancun, quietly handing out pieces of paper towel and pocketing tips. Niklas did a quick calculation in his head and determined that Acun likely made four hundred to five hundred euros a day —well over a hundred thousand euros per year.

  Niklas let the idea roll around in his in brain for a moment or two and realized that a washroom attendant in Mexico made the salary of an engineering professor in Finland. He leaned in close to Tepeu. “I see. I see exactly how the patron has done well.”

  Tepeu beamed. “Exactly, my friend, and our patron has done well since he was a boy of twelve. He began as an apprentice to the first washroom attendant of Cancun.” Tepeu leaned in and almost whispered, “His boss started in the bus terminal and moved from there, but it was not as lucrative as it is now.” Tepeu waved his hands to state the obvious.

  Niklas nodded in agreement. “Amazing to think that someone would gain so much wealth from that.” He leaned back and instantly felt his wet shirt against the vinyl seat.

  “Yes, yes, exactly my friend,” Tepeu continued, looking over his shoulder. He leaned in again. “Señor Acun became the patron of Cancun from humble beginnings. He bought up beach front properties many years ago and sold them to developers and built hotels himself. But to remind himself of his beginnings and to keep a low profile, he keeps his position as the washroom attendant.”

  Niklas sat forward in his seat and placed one arm out the bus window. He felt the warm air rush over his skin and watched the scenery roll by: hotels, restaurants, shops, police headquarters. He suddenly became aware of the voices of the passengers around him. It was as if someone had turned the sound back on.

  The bus roared around a corner, and Tepeu touched Niklas on the shoulder. “This is our stop, señor.”

  They stood together at the bus stop as the other passengers walked away and the bus took off again in a blast of hot diesel. Tepeu looked into Niklas’s eyes. He had to look up at him to do so. ”Señor Niklas, tonight we will bring everything you need to your room at 11:00 p.m. Do not worry. The dolphins and the gods have blessed our mission —we will succeed.” Tepeu slapped Niklas on the back and walked off down the street.

  Niklas stood watching him leave and felt free for the first time. He wanted to run, run to his room and pack his bags and run for a taxi to the airport, and any flight that would get him back to Finland. He knew if he stayed at the hotel, events would collide. One thing would lead to another. He was not sure he could follow through.

  He walked slowly, his head down, his hands stuffed into his pants pockets, through the large entryway, where he was greeted by the smiling hotel staff and an unsmiling Malcolm.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  NIKLAS DOES RECON

  Malcolm grabbed Niklas by his shoulders. “Good God, man, where have you been? I saw you get on the bus. Did you not get word from Caroline about your speech? A spot opened up at 2:00 p.m. My goodness you missed it again, old boy.” Malcolm looked at his watch. “It’s just gone half three. Your timing could not be worse.”

  Niklas looked up at Malcolm, trying to focus on him, climbing out of his own thoughts. “Missed my speech …but Caroline said there were no openings, no room, nothing in the schedule.”

  Malcolm grabbed Niklas’s shoulder more tightly, as if he were about to shake some sense into him. “No, no. I told Caroline a spot opened up for you at 2:00 p.m. One of our main presenters had to rush home for a family emergency. Caroline said she told you that. Everyone was waiting for you in the main hall. Quite the crowd I must say —and you didn’t show again. Bad show, old boy.”

  Clarity hit Niklas in a flash. He remembered that when Caroline had told him there were no openings, she never once made eye contact. She had lied to him.

  Then the truth dawned on him. Many years ago, Barcelona 2009, he refused Caroline’s advances at the Technology Seminar cocktail party. He was drunk; she was drunk and d
eclared she wanted a good lay from a Norseman. He declined. This was payback, that’s what this was, payback that took some three years to land on him.

  Niklas knew there was nothing he could do. Caroline would deny everything. Smiling, soft blue eyes would dart here and there as she manufactured a cover story. Nothing he could do at all. “Sorry, old man.” Niklas shrugged and walked away.

  He walked back towards his room, past the conference room. Conference attendees were milling about, coffee and pastries in hand, chatting in groups about the latest industry gossip. Niklas was almost clear of the groups when Rafu, Otto, and Pekka emerged laughing and smiling from the room.

  Pekka spied Niklas first, and with a look at his other friends, he called out, “Hi, Niklas, we missed your speech again.” He turned to his compatriots, who broke into wide grins and tried to suppress laughter. “You must be enjoying your time in Mexico, as you’re not participating in the conference. Your university must think you’re a superstar.” Pekka turned back to his friends, who broke into laughter. Caroline joined their group, and it was obvious from her grin that she must have shared the little prank she had played on Niklas with them.

  Niklas merely raised his hand, waved a brief hello and goodbye, and walked on. The laughter followed him down the hallway, past the restaurant and the lobby bar, and almost to the dolphin pools. He was aware that the dolphins were not swimming by the bridge. He saw them out of the corner of his eye. They were all crowded around the sea wall, splashing. He wanted to see what was happening, but a change of clothes was more important.

  Ascending the five flights of stairs two at a time, he reached his room slightly out of breath. It had been cleaned —a little mint and “Do Not Disturb” sign lay on the pillow, and a dry-cleaning bag lay at the foot of the bed. Finally, Niklas thought, I have my clothes back.