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I spot an older woman across the lobby. She’s no stranger to me. She has crunchy highlighted curls, clippy-clappy sandals, and a charm bracelet so full it jinglejangles every time she gesticulates, which happens to be quite often. She’s a hand talker. I know because I’ve dealt with her all week. Complaint after complaint, endless rounds of torturous apologies that I knew would never placate her. She wants me fired. Usallfired. Either that or blood.
What could we have done better in all this, you might be wondering?
It’s simple. Changed the weather.
“You know what?” she told me yesterday when she’d cornered me near a fiddle tree in the lobby. We didn’t start there, of course. Our conversation began in the center of the lobby, and every minute or so, I’d take a subtle step back, trying to get away from her. Without meaningto, I’d cornered myself between her and the tree. One of the huge leaves was dangling down and tickling my head.
“You know who doesn’t have hurricanes?!Cabo.I’ve never experiencedanythinglike this in Cabo!”
Never mind that she was finishing a free coffee after eating a free breakfast during her free stay here. Her face was still red and flushed from her multiple comped treatments at the spa—none of it mattered. She was still threatening to sue us for “undue trauma” and her “future therapy bills.” Would any of that hold up in a court of law? Absolutely not, but that’s not the point. She was waving the litigious card as a means to an end. This here was a good old-fashioned shakedown. What other free shit could she grab on her way out the door? “Are those chairs bolted down? What about the fancy fish in the lobby tank? My niece would love that little Nemo-lookin’ one.”
Now, she’s wheeling her luggage toward the door on her way out for good. She can barely keep track of all her stuff. The purse propped on top of her carry-on is overflowing with souvenirs from our gift shop. There’s no room left for her neck pillow, so she has to wear it.
She looks over and spots me. Like a homing missile locked onto its target, she’s about to pivot and pick up where we left off yesterday.
But alas, there’s no time!
“Your airport shuttle is waiting for you right outside!” I say with a genuine smile, tacking on a wave. I’m exceedingly happy to deliver the news.
Don’t let the turnstile hit you on the way out!
I only let out a sigh of relief when she’s bump-bump-bumping in the back of the airport shuttle on her way back to torment the poor souls in her own life.
“Now what time do you have?” I ask the receptionist again.
“Five twenty-four.”
Damn it.
By the time 6:30 rolls around, I’m so antsy, I can barely stand still.
I’m outside of the resort’s lobby, waiting for Paige and rethinking everything. Earlier, I’d poked around the Siesta Playa gift shop, first considering a stuffed bear that was soft and cuddly, but it felt too juvenile. Then, I looked over a box of chocolates. A souvenir key chain. A Siesta Playa hoodie. I’d ended up putting it all back, and now I’m empty handed, which feels like the wrong choice.
Should I have picked up flowers or a corsage, maybe? What are you supposed to do in this situation? You know the kind where you’re madly in love but it’s alsojustthe first date?
Worse still, Paige is late.
It’s 6:34 and I’m sweating.
Then, up ahead on the gravel path, I see Paige dead-out sprinting. When she sees me, she immediately slows to a calm walk as if she’s going to fool me.
“Iwasn’trunning!” she shouts for my benefit.
“I saw you!”
“I thought there was a snake back there chasing me!”
She’s close enough now that I can see she’s breathing hard. “Listen, I was late, and I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t coming ... also, there was a snake ...”
She has no idea what she does to me. On the outside, I’m cool, calm, and collected, but it’s a front. She has me twisted up inside, beside myself to have her.
She finally reaches me and stops right when she’s nearly toe to toe with me. It’s a dangerous move on her part, because I take her hand too easily. I’m still amazed that I’m allowed to just touch her like this without fear that she’ll pull away and make some joke.
“Did you miss me today? I could lie and tell you I never thought of you once ...,” she teases.
“Should I admit how nervous I’ve been?”
“Yes, tell me everything so I feel better. I could barely function all day because of you.”
