Eventually, I had to swim back to the beach. Marcos smiled when I came back, and said that he was sorry, that he would not try to kiss me again. I lay in the sun for a time, but I felt nervous, on edge. I kept glancing toward the water, expecting to see the woman. She did not reappear, but I could not relax.
We ate dinner at a small restaurant by the beach and took the bus back to Mérida.
Of course Marcos was playing a game. The name of the game was get the gringa into bed. I told him so on the bus back to Mérida. ‘I don’t know the rules to this game you’re playing. And I don’t play games when I don’t know the rules.’
‘You think I’m playing games? I’m sorry you think that.’ He sat in silence for a while, staring out the window. When we stopped in Mérida, he stood abruptly and headed for the door. ‘Come on. I will take you to your hotel. No games.’ I followed him, saying nothing.
Early evening and the shadows were thick in Parque Hidalgo. ‘Why won’t you sleep with me? What are you afraid of ?’ he asked me as we walked.
I shrugged. I looked in the shadows for the old woman, but I did not see her. But I could not stop looking.
‘Maybe I won’t see you again,’ Marcos said. ‘You don’t know what you want, so maybe I won’t see you anymore.’
‘As you like.’ I was watching the shadows. It seemed to me that there were too many of them, more than other evenings. The lights of the Cine Fantastico sign scarcely penetrated the gloom. A beggar woman in the square called out to me and I jumped, startled. When I gave her a coin, my hand was shaking. I did not know why I was afraid. Nothing had happened. The woman had not threatened me. No reason.
Marcos followed me into the lobby of the hotel and up the stairs to my room. The shadows were darker here, gathering in the corners like dust. The hallway was stuffy, and the shadows crept like rats along the baseboards.
The room was dark. Barbara was not back yet. I unlocked the door but did not step inside, reluctant to venture into the shadows.
‘You see,’ he said, ‘Barbara is not home yet. She is having a good time at Tixkokob. We can have a good time too.’ He put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me close to him. I saw the shadows moving and I let him hold me and kiss me on the neck. I wanted protection; I wanted comfort.
Through his jeans and my thin dress, I could feel his cock pressing against me. ‘Marcos,’ I said, ‘wait.’
His hand pressed against my ass, rubbing me against him. ‘You want it,’ he said. ‘We’ll have a good time.’ He half lifted me through the open door and pushed it closed behind him with one foot. The shadows were all around us and I clung to him for protection.
‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Barbara will be back.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not yet. Don’t be afraid. It’ll be all right.’
His hand left my back and undid the top buttons of my dress. He fumbled inside, pushing aside the top of my bikini and cupping my breast, rubbing his thumb over the nipple until it hardened under the pressure. My breath came faster and the shadows seemed far away.
‘Yes, I like you very much,’ he said, bringing one hand under me and pushing me down on the bed, taking my breast into his mouth and sucking gently, then harder. I moved against him. I felt warm and the shadows were very far away. He teased the nipple with his teeth. He ran his other hand up my thigh and under my dress, reaching inside my bikini. He had unbuttoned my dress to the waist and pushed my bikini top up around my neck. Both nipples were erect, and he pinched them between his fingers. The fingers of his other hand were inside me, urgently rubbing, stroking.
He lifted the bikini top over my head and pulled the dress down over my shoulders, dragging it under me and stripping away my bikini. The bed creaked when he stood and turned on the ceiling fan. He left his clothing in a heap on the floor and lay on top of me. My hips rose to meet him when he cupped my breasts and thrust deep inside me. The rattle of the ceiling fan drowned out the squeaking of the bed and the sound of my breath coming faster and faster.
I woke up when Barbara came back. The ceiling fan still turned. ‘Hey,’ she said softly. ‘It’s time to go back.’
I lay still for a moment, pretending that I was still asleep and thinking about the Caribbean coast, the place my mother wanted me to go. Pure white beaches where there were no shadows. Then I sat up and shook my head. ‘How was the village well?’
She shook her head and flicked on the light switch. ‘The village well is tucked away in a secluded limestone cave. No laughing children. No village women. I had to throw Emilio in to cool him down.’ She turned her head and I saw two bright red hickeys on her neck. ‘But not until after he had made his mark.’
‘You decided you weren’t going to sleep with him?’
‘I actually think he likes it better this way,’ she said. ‘It’s a power game, and sleeping with him would end the game. I think.’
‘We’ll find out.’ I stretched beneath the covers. ‘I slept with Marcos, so the game may be over.’ The shadows in the room were just ordinary shadows, nothing more.
‘Yeah?’ Barbara perched on the edge of the bed. ‘So how was it?’
I frowned. My memories were a jumble of shadows and urgency. ‘A bit quick for my taste.’
‘Ah, those hot-blooded Mexican men,’ she said.
I got out of bed. I showered and dressed while Barbara camouflaged her hickeys beneath a layer of calamine lotion. We drove back to camp through the evening gloom.
19
Elizabeth
Sunday was Etz’nab, a day of pain and sacrifice. I woke up feeling dizzy and aching, with no appetite for breakfast. I lingered in my hut, avoiding Tony, until late morning, when I went for a walk to the tomb site. En route, I saw an old man stirring a ceramic pot that was warming over a small fire. The resinous scent of sap filled the air. The woven cloth bag that lay on the ground beside him was dusted with dark blue clay; the carved wooden stick with which he stirred the pot was tinted a vivid blue.
Blue is the color that the ancient Maya painted the cakes of incense that they burned in ceremonies. Blue is the color they paint the victims that are sacrificed to honor the gods.
I did not like the look of the old man and his pot of paint. I walked past quickly and did not look back.
The students dragged into camp that evening, battered by civilization. On every dig there are times like this. People are weary from the rigors of field camp and dissatisfied with the limited civilization within reach. Relationships grow strained. Maggie and Carlos were squabbling because a casual fling had gone on too long; Robin and John were clinging together because departure and separation were approaching too fast. Field school had only three weeks to run.
Diane and Barbara came in late. I was sitting in the plaza when they returned, drinking still another pot of hot tea. Diane said hello, then headed for the hut. She seemed quiet, dispirited, but I did not pursue her. I did not know what to say to her.
Monday was Cauac, governed by the celestial dragon who brings tempests, thunder, and wild rains. I woke before breakfast and went walking. On the way to the cenote I saw a stoneworker chipping thin blades of obsidian, ceremonial blades of amazing sharpness. He smiled as he worked and I did not stop to watch him.
At breakfast on Monday there was little talk, but that little was stormy. Barbara had misplaced the rope she used for site mapping on survey and there was no peace until she found it, coiled in a corner of Tony’s hut where she had dropped it on Friday. The survey crew stumbled out of camp half an hour late.
John and Robin had apparently disagreed over something – I could not guess what – and they ate in silence. John left early for the tomb site; Robin strode off to the lab. Tempers were short and people were itchy and restless.