Something Right Behind Her (21 page)

Milly was waving
and making plans with the black- haired little girl she met at the pool. Mom
met the girl’s mother and said she was really nice, and that maybe we should
have dinner with this other family. Dad and I both looked at her kind of
blankly. It’s a joke in our family that no matter where we are, Mom and Milly make
friends and want everyone else to get all chummy too, and Dad and I just try to
lay low.

“Maybe we can
meet them for drinks,” Dad said. “That way if they’re boring we aren’t stuck
with them.”

“Whatever,” Mom
said, and she rolled her eyes. “Actually, there’s some dance-party at the
pavilion tonight, with a band, so that might be fun for a while after dinner.”

“I don’t know
how long I’ll last after three hours of diving this afternoon,” Dad said, “but
it sounds like fun for a bit.” Dad excused himself and headed back to change
into a fresh suit for his diving class. I decided to go back to the room for a
bit, maybe see if I could rent a movie. I needed to get out of the sun for a
while. Milly decided to come with me, which was fine. I needed a distraction.

Milly and I
watched some dumb movie with a monkey in it - the kind where the guy’s best
friend is some stupid animal until he meets the right girl. Then we did some
girly stuff – we went down to the spa and had our nails done, and Milly
got the front of her hair braided and put some beads in it. Mom and Dad gave us
each a little spending money, and since Milly spent hers on hair, I decided to
get one of those henna tattoos on my arm - the kind that look like bracelets. I
got it on my upper arm and thought that it came out really well. It made me
actually feel like going out to a beach dance party, even if Mom and Dad would
be there.

After our girly
afternoon, I took a nice hot shower and got dressed. I put on a plain white
tank that showed the tattoo off and some big, shiny shell earrings, the kind
that would be super-tacky if you ever wore them at home. Then I put on a
super-short denim skirt, but it seemed a little too heavy for the beach, so I
changed into a hot pink skirt I bought at the end of last summer. It was
longer, but was made from a cute crinkly sort of fabric, so it seemed right for
the beach. I put on some flip-flops and went out onto the terrace off the room
Milly and I shared. The sun was still pretty hot, even though it was near
dinner - it shown right onto the terrace, so everything looked hazy. A couple
of little lizards skittered past, and I called Milly over to see them. I could
see some of the red bathing trunk guys out on the beach, gathering up towels
and stringing lights for the party. I couldn’t tell which one might be Carlos,
since the sun half-blinded me, but I thought he might be the one stringing
lights, who looked a little thinner than the rest of them. I still couldn’t
figure him out - a guy that wanted to run hotels for a living seemed like a
player- type when you thought about it, but I was just here to relax, and
forget about serious stuff, so what did I care if a guy paid some attention to
me, and gave me glasses?

The dining room
was all decked out in lights with lots of flowers, but no Christmas or Hannukah
decorations. The whole thing was about not offending anyone. The music was all
Spanish, and the food was mostly French, but with loads of local fruit. I
checked out the crowd, and figured almost all the Americans were Jews, but you
couldn’t really tell with the Europeans. Maybe some of them just didn’t want to
be somewhere that was all Christmas-y. I was cool with not celebrating either
holiday and just doing this trip, but Milly seemed a little put out by it. She
still wanted things like Wii games and stuff for her Nintendo, which, of
course, Dad got her anyway.

When Dad finally
showed up, the waiter was opening the second bottle of wine, and I have to
admit, with Grandpa’s help, I’d had my share of the first bottle. Dad was
pretty jolly after his day of diving. He was going on about the fish he saw
when he was diving, how there was a lionfish deep down in the coral and how he
got within a foot of it. That was not what Mom needed to hear. “This is why I
stayed on the beach today,” Mom said. “So I didn’t have to go poking around in
some shark-infested waters.”

“I only saw one
shark,” Dad said. “And it was about this big.” Dad grinned and held his arms
about two feet apart, while Mom rolled her eyes. They were all chatting and
having a good time and hardly paying any attention to me or Milly, who had
given up and started reading her book. Gradually, I noticed, people had started
to drift back down to the beach, where they had set up the dance floor in the
exercise pavilion. I decided Milly and I should go check it out and leave the
adults to their wine and chit-chat.

There were a few
couples dancing already when we got down there, and a couple grown-ups dancing
with little kids. The music was your basic pop, just about everything you’d
hear at home on the radio. A song came on that Milly really wanted to dance to,
so I got up there with her. After all, who’d see me who mattered?

After a while, I
got pretty into dancing with Milly, and we stayed out there one song after
another, and then the dance floor was practically full. They had those
syncopated lights set up so they flashed in your eyes and made everybody seem
like they were moving in a robotic kind of rhythm. I felt someone move in close
to me and brush my arm up near my tattoo.

“I like it,
Bella, very nice!” Carlos gave my tattooed arm a little squeeze and grinned at
me through the flashing lights. “You’re getting into the spirit I see!”

I shrugged my
shoulders. “Why not?” I said. He moved next to me and joined me and Milly dancing,
facing her half the time and me the other half. He was cracking up at Milly’s
little swaggering moves.

“The
little-Bella is a hot dancer,” he said.

“Don’t encourage
her,” I said. I hated it when little girls danced provocatively, and Milly
isn’t usually that type. Carlos shrugged and kept dancing, not looking directly
at me for more than a second or two. He seemed to think I was being a little
harsh, a little uptight.

After a while,
Carlos guided us off the dance floor and we went over to the bar to get
something to drink. They had these nonalcoholic coconut drinks, which is what
he got for Milly. When I tasted mine, though, it tasted like rum. “It’s OK?” he
asked me.

“Yeah sure, “ I
said, looking at him questioningly. He just winked, though, and I figured
drinking for him came with the territory.

We took our
drinks and headed over to one of the tables that had been set up a few yards
from the dance floor. Lots of people were milling around by that point and it
was hard to hear, between the music, the waves, and the people trying to be
heard above it all. Milly saw the girl she’d met earlier in the day and ran off
to hang with her, leaving me alone with Carlos.

“Don’t you have
to work?’ I asked. “You know, circulate, make sure everyone is having a good
time.”

“When you see
me, Bella, and I am wearing these clothes,” he gestured to his khaki shorts and
his Hawaiin print shirt, “I am off-duty- no red shorts, and I am just another
guest.”

“Oh, I thought
that was the party uniform,” I said.

He looked at me
and smiled and shook his head. “Maybe you don’t appreciate my fine style, but I
think you look very nice tonight. Your tattoo is a good touch.”

“I’d get a real
one if my Mom wouldn’t freak out,” I said. I wasn’t really sure if this was
true, but I did like having the henna tattoo. It’d be weird, though, getting a
real one, having the needle penetrate my skin, having ink injected into my arm.

“You’re not the
type for real ink,” he said definitively, and I was taken aback. Why would
Carlos think he knew anything like that about me?

“How do you
know?” I asked. “How do you know what type I am?”

“Oh, I can tell
by looking at you, Bella. You’re basically a good girl. Oh, not so good you
aren’t any fun, but you aren’t a tattoo-girl. I hate it when the good girls get
tattoos.”

“I can’t see why
you think you know anything about me,” I said. “I don’t think I know anything
about who you are.”

He looked
disappointed to hear that. “I don’t believe that,” he said. “You’ve been
figuring me out since the first time we met. And I’ll tell you what you
thought: first, you were nice and polite to me but not very friendly, because
you thought maybe I didn’t speak English and I lived in some shack without
running water. You kept your distance because you figured I was ignorant and
that I thought all the girls who came down here were hot and horny and I’d just
grab you if you were too friendly.” As he said this, he grabbed onto my
forearm, and we started to walk down the beach, away from the crowd. “Then, I
told you I was American, and you started to try to figure me out. Was I the
sort of guy you’d give the time of day, or was I some homeboy who’d try to get
with you and be all nasty. Then I told you a little about my family, and you
started to talk to me and show me who you are. Now, I know you. You’re a
nice-looking, smart girl from the suburbs who isn’t much of a dancer, but who
looks hot in a bikini, likes a good rum drink, and maybe wants me to kiss her.”
I noticed my drink was almost gone, and that I felt slightly light-headed. Then
Carlos kissed me. It was a nice kiss.

“That’s what I
am talking about, Bella, you’re a real nice girl and a nice kisser.” We had
gone a ways down the beach, and I suddenly felt a little panicked. What if
Milly was looking for me? What if my parents and Grandma and Grandpa had
ventured down to the party, and I was gone?

“I’ve gotta get
back, Carlos, “ I said. They might start looking for me.” He didn’t say
anything, just picked up my hand and started walking back to the party. I could
see his face in the moonlight, and he looked pleased, not like he cared at all
that our little alone time had come to such a quick end.

When we got
close to the pavilion, I dropped Carlos’ hand. I could see my Dad standing at
the edge of the dance floor with his hands on his hips. He was craning his head
all around and, sure enough, he turned and looked right in our direction.

Carlos clicked
his tongue. “Not good,” he said. But he continued to walk next to me back to
the pavilion.

“Andy, where
have you been?” Dad was pretty steamed up, in an uncharacteristic way. I was
caught off guard that he’d light into me like that right in front of Carlos.

“Just down the
beach. Jeez, “ I said. Carlos stuck his hand out to introduce himself to Dad,
and it took Dad a minute to regain his composure and shake Carlos’ hand.

“Nice to meet
you,” Dad said, though he didn’t sound like he meant it. Carlos took the hint
and said goodnight to me and see you later without making a big deal about it.
I could feel my cheeks getting hotter, and I wondered if Dad could smell the
rum on my breath.

“What is it with
you, Andy, going off like that down the beach with some
guy
you don’t even
know.” He gave the word guy a certain emphasis, as if the species as a whole
were suspect.

“I do know him,
Dad. I met him yesterday - he was one of the guys on the kayak trip.” I
retorted.

“That’s not what
I meant. I mean you don’t know anything about the guy. I don’t know anything
about the guy.” Dad paused as if surprised by the strength of his own argument.

I pulled back a
bit at that. What did Dad know about anyone I hung with? “Dad,” I said, “I’m
sorry, but you really don’t know the first thing about half my friends, and you
don’t know anything about Carlos.” I said this last part under my breath.

“And neither do
you, Andy. And I’m afraid I know a whole lot more than you do about guys like
him.” He sighed as he said that, as if Carlos were some tragic breed.

“You mean about
dentists’ sons?” I asked. “Because that’s what Carlos is. A dentist’s son from
Short Hills. I think he said his Mom is an accountant.”

Dad looked at me
and shook his head. “Well, maybe that’s what he is,” Dad said. “But you can’t
believe everything you’re told, Andy. Especially by guys…” He let his last
statement just hang out there.

“You mean all guys,”
I asked. Then, emboldened by the rum and wine, I added ” or just guys like
Carlos?”

“Actually,” Dad
said, “all guys, Andy. All guys.” Dad turned and walked away and I went in the
opposite direction. I couldn’t really say why, but I started to cry then, just
quietly, with the tears running down my face. I saw Mom in the crowd and told
her I was going back to the room to go to bed, and she tried to ask me what was
wrong, but I said I was just tired out from the sun. She let me go, and I half
ran down the path back to the room, hoping no one would follow – not Mom
or my grandparents, or Milly, or especially Carlos. When I got back to my room,
I turned up the AC, slipped off my clothes and got into bed. I let the tears
roll down my cheeks. I didn’t even try to stop crying. I must’ve fallen asleep
pretty quick, because I didn’t hear Milly come in. The wine and the rum had
gone to my head, and so had Dad’s comment, which sat in the back of my mind
like a stone. Yeah, guys might all just be after one thing. But what did that
mean? I should lock myself in a closet until I got married?