Eternity (21 page)

“My heart is racing!”

“I’m sorry; I do have that effect on women” Carlos jokes back.

“That was so close; you bring out the worst in me Mr. Johnson” I say giving him a playful shove. Taking my hand in his and placing a kiss on my knuckles, “I bring out th
e
bes
t
in you” he murmurs seductively.

It takes another hour to reach Nohoch Mul, its forty-two metres tall which makes it the highest in the Yucatan peninsula according to the leaflet. Standing at the bottom it could be a hundred meters tall for all I know, it looks as though the summit literally touches the clear blue sky above it.

We start a slow, steady ascent; the steps are uneven and polished from years of being trampled by tourists; the only support being a weathered piece of rope, attached to the top then laid out down the steps to the bottom. It is little, to no use as far as Health and Safety is concerned, in a way it is a refreshing change to back home, but as far as me versus death goes, it is of no consolation.

Halfway up we stop for a rest, this is my Everest! Clearly our earlier shenanigans have worn me out more than I thought. Resting my head on Carlos’s shoulder we sit in comfortable silence surveying the view for a few minutes.

“Are you ready to go again?” he asks too soon. If I was on my own I probably would have just given up and gone back down by now, but I don’t want to seem outdone so we stand and carry on up.

At the top I’m so glad I persevered, it’s truly stunning. In every direction, as far as you can see is dense forest. You can faintly make out the tops of some of the other monuments poking through the tree tops, the only audible sound is the wind and the only other living things with us are the birds soaring high above our heads.

There is a small square room, empty apart from the dust, but roped off to the public, other than that it is just us and the view. Standing on the edge Carlos wraps his arm around my shoulders and holds the camera up, taking a panoramic picture to capture the expanse of forest surrounding us.

It’s a beautiful picture, with Carlos on my left I have my right hand wresting on his stomach, his head slightly cocked towards mine; if you didn’t know better you would think it was a honeymoon picture, a couple openly affectionate with each other, standing alone together, just them against the whole world.

The thought sends a wave of sadness over me; I suddenly feel a crushing pain at the loss of my life with Jake. By the end it was all but over anyway, but we started out this way, where did it all go so badly wrong to end up like this? I try to think back, to remember any warning signs, only ever seen in hindsight, that might suggest it was doomed from the start, but it’s futile. We were happy once, I can’t deny that, but maybe the years just changed us too much to salvage what small flame might have been left between us.

“Hey, you alright?” Carlos asks, concerned at my sudden melancholy. I shake the gloom from my thoughts and plaster on a smile, “I’m wonderful, thank you for this, it really is a beautiful picture” I say sincerely, desperate to re-kindle our lighthearted, happy atmosphere.

“Come on, let’s get down off this death trap, I’m starving” I say taking his hand and tugging him back to the steps. Looking down them now though they seem far steeper than on the way up, each slippery surface about a foot in height down from the last, but most are less than a shoe length in width.

The wind now seems fierce, making us even more unstable, clinging to Carlos’s hand I ask, “So, how are we going to do this?”

“Um, maybe hold on to the rope?” he offers, I throw him a skeptical look, “That rope doesn’t look like it could hold a feather, let alone the two of us”

“Yeah, you’re probably right, let’s just take it slow”

Holding tightly on to each other we take the first shaky step, as expected the surface has no grip and for one wobbly second I’m convinced we are both going to tumble head first down the whole thing. At the last second I sit on the top step, dragging Carlos down with me.

“Well that’s not going to work” I state, “I think I’m just going to bump down on my bum, it’s got to be the safest way?”

Carlos looks less than impressed with my idea, but equally agrees that walking down is not an option; to save some face he decides to climb down backwards, facing the steps, his hands holding on while his feet walk down slowly.

The group from before has caught up by now and are slowly leaking onto the bottom steps. I know we look like idiots because on the way up it doesn’t seem so bad, but they will see once they get to the top. Thankfully by about two thirds of the way down the steps become wider and shorter so we scramble to our feet and make it to the bottom with a little dignity.

It takes another forty-five minutes to walk back to the entrance, by which time I’m so hungry I would eat Carlos’s arm if I thought I could get away with it. “I’m soooooo hungry” I whine.

“Me too, there’s a street vendor down the road, with roasted corn, have you tried it?”

I want to scoff at him; of course I haven’t bought any food from a road-side stall, who in their right mind would? There’s no hygiene and what ever they make stands out in the sweltering heat, no thank you! But I don’t want to offend him, so it looks like I’m going to have to break my personal rule of never eating anything from someone who hasn’t washed.

I shake my head and he leads me down the road and round the corner to shaded area. It’s a large open space with a canopy of multicoloured fabric hitched up in billowing waves above your head and a dusty tiled floor, scattered around are numerous stalls all offering an array of foods, sweet and savoury, as well as hot and cold drinks. Every step you take fills your nostrils with new exotic smells, each more mouth watering than the last.

Best of all, every one of the stall owners are well groomed, the men are mostly in Hawaiian style shirts, ¾ length shorts and sandals, while the women wear, loose dresses or jeans and t-shirts.

Sitting me down on one of the benches Carlos scampers about gathering a feast for us. When he returns he explains each dish to me, Roasted corn with lime and chilli powder, pork ribs in Guajillo sauce, chicken wings in a spicy peanut sauce and for after, churros sprinkled in sugar and cinnamon and dipped in melted chocolate.

I am glad we are in the shade, along with the light breeze makes it the perfect temperature to enjoy the food warm, if we were in the sun it would have been unbearable to even think about spicy or hot food.

We spend a good hour gorging ourselves and chatting to the locals, for people who rely on this trade to live, they are unbelievably cheerful considering the lack of tourists, joking with each other, dancing and singing along to a joyful tune one of them is playing on a banjo.

A man pulls up with a mobile fridge, producing coconuts from inside; he approaches us signalling for us to purchase them, “Why would we purchase a cold coconut?” I ask Carlos who laughs at me.

“He puts a hole in the shell and then you drink the milk” he explains.

I manage to persuade him to let me buy one, he says it’s a waste of money considering we could pick a coconut up off the floor and take it back to the resort and put it in the fridge for free; much to the vendors delight I call him a spoil sport and hand over the cash without the slightest hint at a haggle.

As it transpires, Coconut milk, even cooled, is unpleasant, but I argued my point to get it, so I choke it down quickly, the neon green straw he poked through the hole he made in the shell makes it easier.

Once we are done we meander back to the Bentley which has seemingly waited for us the entire time and start the long journey home.

I slept practically the whole journey back, waking only to transfer from car to plane, to car, to house; consequently as soon as we step into the house at eight thirty in the evening, I’m wide awake.

I’ve got a nagging thought roaming about in my head to call Caz and update her on the whole Jake fiasco, but I think I can stand to leave it another day, she won’t be too mad that she wasn’t told right away; who am I kidding? She will be furious, but if she is going to be angry anyway, I may as well give her a reason to be and leave it till tomorrow.

Carlos grabs us both a beer from the fridge, about the only thing that is guaranteed to be stocked at all times and crashes out on the sofa.

“How do you fancy another cozy night in?” he asks cuddling in next to me. After yesterdays failed attempt I am more than happy to stay in tonight.

“Sounds perfect”

“Oh, by the way, my parents want to have dinner with us tomorrow” he drops in casually.

I stare at him open mouthed, “I can’t face them, not after this morning!” I protest.

“Its fine, they’ve seen a lot worse I’m sure”

“Oh well, that’s OK then” I retort sarcastically.

“Seriously, it will be alright, they won’t mention it, just pretend it never happened. They are being pretty insistent on meeting you properly and to be honest I actually want them to meet you, so if you won’t do it for them, do it for me” he says giving me his best pleading look.

“Arrg” I dispel my frustration, “Fine, but if you didn’t look so cute right now, I wouldn’t be agreeing”

“Thanks” he says compensating me with a kiss.

Tomorrow is going to be a nightmare; I decide I will have to call Caz in the morning, if only to get her advice about meeting the parents, at least my humiliation will distract her from heading out to kill Jake.

After about an hour I get bored of trashy TV and formulate a naughty plan in my head. I stand and walk across the room, “Where you going?” Carlos asks.

“Never you mind, nosey” I say, disappearing upstairs.

Once in our room I close the door behind me and route out my bag from the boutique, from its hiding place in my suitcase and empty the contents onto the bed.

It takes a good fifteen minutes to stuff myself into it and another ten to throw on some makeup and ruffle my hair into a hopefully, sexy bedroom style.

Now I’m ready I don’t quite know what to do with myself; do I go downstairs, where he is almost definitely going to spot me from the top of the stairs and then have the embarrassing feat of wobbling down them in these heels while he watches? No, I don’t think so. I could call him from the top of the stairs and get him to come up to me, but I don’t know how flattering this will look from that angle.

My only option is to position myself on the bed and call him from there. I lay down on my back, instantly getting the sharp heel of my shoe caught in the bedcovers; untangling it I try laying out flat, one leg bent up at the knee and an arm draped over the pillow above my head, but my boobs are practically strangling me. Rolling onto my front I push up on all fours, arching my back and pushing my bum into the air, ‘no’ I think giggling to myself. Finally I roll onto my side, bend my arm at the elbow and prop my head up on my hand and rest the other on my hip. This is the best I’m going to get, “Carlos” I shout out, waiting a minute I hear no reply; is there a way to yell sexily? “CARLOS” I try a bit louder.

“Yeah” the faint reply comes.

“Come here a minute”

“What?”

“COME’UP HERE” well this is getting off to a marvellous start.

I can hear the TV switch off and his footsteps as he climbs the stairs. I give my hair another quick scrunch and put on my best ‘come to bed face’.

As he opens the door his eyes widen, drinking in the sight of me.

“Surprise” I purr.

“Wow”

“You like?” I ask, though I’m already sure of the answer.

“Yeah I like” he drools as he approaches me. He crawls up the bed until he’s positioned over me and runs his hands up the corset. “Is this what you bought from that boutique?”

“Yep”

“Stand up and give us a twirl then” he says, jumping off the bed and extending his hand to me. I oblige, attempting to get up off the bed as gracefully as possible. Once I’m standing in front of him he lifts my hand so I can turn in a circle, giving my bum a smack in passing.

“Hey! I wasn’t bent over that time” referencing his rule from our second date.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself, I mean look at it” he says, taking both cheeks in his hands and squeezing hard.

Stepping back I wriggle out of his grasp, “Err, who gave you permission to grab that?” I ask coyly, sticking my ass out and slapping it hard. “ooh” I omit appreciatively, then bite my bottom lip and put on my best sexy expression.

“Oh sweetness, that’s so hot!” he reaches up to touch me again and I quickly smack his hand.