The Summer We Came to Life (23 page)

HONDURAS IS STUNNING.

To be fair, we could be driving through a chicken coup after what we've been through and I'd think that was stunning, too. But Honduras does
got the goods,
as Jesse put it a few miles back. We've passed plantation homes next to aging military barracks, palm tree farms that stretch out like Iowa corn fields, vegetable gardens clear up the sides of mountains, and houses no bigger than a toolshed with eighteen people, a cow, and some chickens sitting out front. Kendra's got my camera pointed out the car window and I'm teaching her about drive-by shooting.

“Aim at something way ahead of you, then watch as it rushes in close, hold your breath, try to capture it one second sooner than you think you should, and then watch it fly away.”

Click. Kendra takes the picture of a child balancing two yellow water jugs on a stick across her shoulders.

“If you get it right, the object of your desire appears crystal
clear in a blur of swirling life. You get it right maybe one time out of a hundred.”

“There's a poem in there somewhere.”

“Me? Or out there?”

“All of it, Sam. Everything.”

“I know what you mean,” I say. “I know what you mean.”

 

We're at the airport. Kendra's staying a day with me; everybody else is on the same return flight. The parents are off dealing with the roughed-up rental cars when I turn to Isabel. “Iz, you sure you don't want to change your ticket? Stay a day with Kendra?”

Isabel looks uncertain, then she smiles. “You two bond. I'm going to spend time with my mom. I've got a lot to think about.” She gives me a hug. “Anyway, we've got plenty of time, right?”

Again, I desperately want to ask her about Ahari's vision. What did they see? “Iz—”

Jesse calls out to us, rushing over and tugging Arshan by the hand.

Isabel smiles at me again. “But, hey—no job and a severance package. Maybe I'll come back after your residency or you can meet me in Indonesia.”

Kendra holds up her hand. “Whoa, there. If you need somewhere to go, missy, come to New York and help me figure out how the hell I'm going to do this by myself.” She points at her midsection.

Jesse and Arshan butt in and give me a hug goodbye.

I take Arshan by the elbow. “Listen, I'm serious about the quantum physics chat. I'm going to call you.”

“Astrophysics. Stars and planets. Not the spooky stuff. But I'll do my best.” He narrows his eyes. “You staging a return to science, then?”

Before I can answer, Lynette comes up and kisses me on
the cheek. Then she takes my face in her two hands, squeezing it like a vise. “Call your father. You hear me? You heard my story and Jesse's story. You might not have forever to set things right, kid. Okay?”

I gulp. I
do
want to talk to my father. I suddenly have a million questions about his life, about my mother. Why did I ever think it was too late to forgive someone who's been there since birth?

Cornell pries Lynette's hands from my face. He puts out his hand to shake, then scoops me up in a crushing hug. “Great trip, Samantha. Everybody survived. Good job.”

I hear Isabel take a breath.

Jesse pulls me away and takes up my hand. “Time to go,” she says, and kisses each of my fingers. “Samantha Anne Wheland. You gonna marry that man or not?”

My stomach flutters like a flight of fireflies on a summer's eve. I look around the circle at six peering faces that make up my entire world.
Breathe, Samantha
. “I'm not positive, but most likely I will. You all know I like to jump before I think about it too hard. Although I would prefer we chalk it up to my undying belief in love.”

KENDRA AND I HOP INTO A CAB OUT FRONT OF the airport. We fall into a comfortable silence. Our two faces stare out opposite cab windows, absorbed in our own worlds of thought, both knitting future scenes of our lives with new handfuls of thread.

So for me, the whole way back, past the stadium and the vegetable market, along the grimy alleyway streets with the broken windows and the corner bars, across bustling Boulevard Morazan with its parade of fast-food chains and electronics stores, and up the hill past the barb-wired police headquarters, I can think of nothing but Remy. My chest and toes hum and buzz and tingle with nervous energy. Outside the dusty cab window, I see flashes of life scenes to come.

Remy's hello when he answers the phone. His laughter turning to relief as I relate the vicissitudes of the trip. In three weeks, he picks me up at the Charles de Gaulle International Airport with roses and a waiting limo. He takes me
by the waist and dips me like a movie star kiss in the middle of baggage claim. People clap. Old women cry.

The cab jerks to a stop outside of the apartment, jolting me out of my daydream. I look at Kendra and smile.

“Home sweet home, for a day,” I say, and tug on the rusted handle of the cab door.

Kendra looks a little queasy. Is it morning sickness or the errant cow that just parked itself outside her cab door? I remind myself that Kendra isn't Isabel on the traveling front. She's a Green Zone traveler. Predictable five-star resorts with exotic letterhead.

“Come on, honey,” I say, and tug her over to my side to exit, while I hand the cabbie some lempiras.

 

When Kendra comes out of the bathroom holding a wash-cloth to her forehead, I'm sitting on the balcony. I called Remy twice but got no answer. I left a positively ebullient message I'm now regretting. He knew I was getting home today and, what, he's not waiting by the phone? Kendra looks at me and then my phone and starts to ask questions I don't want to answer. I hand her a glass of iced tea and cheers her with my beer.

“So, Ana Maria—the girl's house we stayed at—she called, to see if we had a good time. And she invited us to a dinner party tonight.”

Finally Kendra smiles. Dinner parties are a concept she can relate to.

I pat the seat next to me and Kendra sits down, putting her feet on the railing, an echo of the day Isabel arrived a week before. As I watch her look out over the city, I think of everything that has changed. Mina is gone. I know she was before, but now the absence is final in a very different way. Not sad, but in a way I would gingerly describe as freeing. It wasn't my fault. It isn't my fault that Mina is gone and can't
return. The responsibility, the guilt—they've lifted. Mina gave me that. Now my choices are mine alone.

Kendra looks over like she heard me. “Are you really going to just marry him, Sam?”

“
Just
marry him?” I don't look over yet, but I can feel her eyes running over me, searching. Now I look. Hers aren't the judging eyes I was expecting. More like thoughtful concern. Who is this Kendra? Are we all changing then, so fast? “Not so long ago you were the one who would've been thrilled.”

Kendra nods but rests both hands on her belly pointedly. “Yes, but things change, don't they?”

“Why did you break up with Michael?”

“Ah, now there's the question. I suppose I always knew what he was, who he was, but I was lazy. Lazy and in a hurry. A bad combination.”

“I don't get it. You always seemed to adore him.”

“I certainly adored giving that perception. On paper, he was perfect. But underneath, he was mean and lacking in integrity. Which is so painfully obvious now that I've had some time alone to think. Something I never took much time to do before.”

It's true. Kendra surrounded herself with acquaintances and boyfriends in succession. She quantified her self-worth by her social network.

Kendra sees my answer and smiles sadly. “I think we choose people who mirror our own insecurities, either in contrast or collusion. My biggest fear was always that I was weak, that I wasn't a good person—”

I start to protest.

“Lemme finish,” she says. “I play tough. But I've always suspected that I lack conviction, that when push came to shove I couldn't make the hard decisions you and Isabel make. That I wasn't quietly brave like Mina. And I knew I wasn't a woman who could be alone. I wanted to seal the deal on that one as soon as possible.“

“But Kendra, you're not
pretending
to be strong. You—”

“Well, that's kind of the amazing thing. The worst, most humiliating thing that I could imagine was getting pregnant and having my theoretically soon-to-be fiancé insist on abortion. But it forced me to see my choices as my own, apart from anyone else in the world. Which is—well, scary, isn't it?”

Kendra looks at me and waits. Is she right? Will I be choos ing Remy out of fear? Is he a mirror of my faults or a Band-Aid? What am I scared of? I'm scared of failing. I'm scared of being a nobody. I'm scared of living an ordinary life.

I sigh. I look out over the twisted city, the dusty chaos that doesn't scare me one bit. But in the fading light, it does seem distant and lonely. Being alone—is that the scariest thing?

“Come on, let's get ready for dinner.”

IT ISN'T SAFE TO TAKE CABS AT NIGHT IN HON-duras. It's an unwritten code, Ana Maria says. During the day, fine. But at night, theft is at their discretion. Now she tells me.

But that is how we come to be chauffeured by Ana Maria's personal driver, deposited gracefully in front of the restaurant. Kendra might have overdone it—she looks like she's going to a Manhattan gala. I look down at the trash in the street as she glides over it in her Manolos. But she doesn't seem to care. Actually, she seems elated. I realize now that I may
have
thought Kendra snobby and a bit, well, shallow. It's fascinating watching your best friends metamorphose. Or grow up? That's what it was. And I was changing, too, wasn't I?

The restaurant is a bustling oasis of light in the dark city. Salsa music greets us merrily in the street. Lanterns hang from the awning around the patio. People of all ages are bunched together in groups, laughing loudly.

It's not
exactly
like a record scratching to a stop when we enter, but pretty close. A gorgeous black woman and a freckled redheaded albino chick. We must look like an American TV commercial in 3D.

“Samantha! Over here!” Ana Maria gives me a big hug, and the room breathes a collective
aha,
the mystery solved.

Ana Maria was one of my roommates in college. It's fantastic to see her in her element. This is her friend's restaurant opening, and she is obviously the proud hostess.

If I had to guess, I would've thought it was a wedding. Everyone knows everybody, moving around the room like Cuban casino, a group version of salsa dancing. She sits Kendra down in a seat next to a handsome guy and then moves his equally attractive friend over so we're seated boy girl, boy girl. Kendra cocks an eyebrow at me and I laugh. Ana Maria winks and takes off to continue her duties, match-making apparently her specialty. Had I told her about Remy? That's odd if I hadn't mentioned him.

The attractive friend next to me pipes up. “Antonio.
¿Como te llamas, bella?
” His warm eyes dig into mine.

“Samantha,
Que—
” I catch sight of the panic in Kendra's face. Her idea of a dinner party did not involve practicing her high school Spanish.

Antonio notices immediately. “And your friend here?” he says in accented but clean English, turning to Kendra. “Did you also go to school with Ana Maria?”

Of course—wealthy Honduran kids are sent to the American school and then off to American universities. Kendra beams in relief. “Kendra Jones. Nope, I'm just a visitor. One night only, boys.”

Antonio laughs along with his friend, whom he then nudges and points at. “Armando,” he says in introduction.

Kendra turns to Armando. “Hi there.”

Antonio picks up a fancy shot glass next to my water glass
and pours a shot of expensive tequila. He raises his own glass in toast.

Kendra again looks nervous.

“Kendra doesn't drink,” I say, and throw mine back in one gulp.

 

Two too many tequila shots later, and everybody at the party is my long-lost old friend.

There's Señora Lopez, who is the aunt of Luisa, who is one of the two owners of the restaurant. She makes the best pupusas in town and I am having breakfast at her house on Wednesday.

There's Charlie, whose real name is Marco Reuben Ernesto Cesar Diaz, who is the cousin of the boyfriend of Luisa's partner Mercedes. His father manufactures corn chips, the equivalent of Doritos in the U.S. He's insisted we join them next weekend on his boat. Kendra is jealous.

José owns a restaurant around the corner. They have better soup, but the food tonight
is
divine, he admits.

Lorna thinks I dance better salsa than Mercedes.

Paco wants to take me shopping on Thursday.

Juan thinks Antonio and I make an adorable duo.

Ah, and Antonio.

Antonio is a breath of spring air. He is ice cream with whipped cream. He is s'mores over a campfire. He dotes on me all night. He isn't shy—he interjects jokes at all the right moments, he dances seductively, he laughs heartily. It's just that he watches me, appreciative. He presses for more stories. He thinks I live a beautiful, honorable, enviable life. In his eyes, I am powerful, brave and experienced. A feeling spreads through me warmer than the tequila, warmer than the crowded dance floor. The feeling is confidence. I hadn't even noticed that I'd lost it until tonight. I love my life. When did I start to judge it so unfairly?

 

It is well after three when we head out to the waiting car. Antonio walks with me. Kendra slips into the backseat, leaving me conspicuously alone with him.

“You are very surprising, Samantha. Will I see you soon?”

I look at his face in the soft glow of the lanterns. They are being blown out, one by one. I can still see his eyes, glinting in happiness. He is so young, meaning he is my age. But there is a confident maturity about him, very un-American in the best of ways. He is gentle, kind.

He raises an eyebrow, teasing me about the pause. I sigh and his face falters.

“I have—” I hesitate. I have no idea what I was going to say next. I have a fiancé? I have to think? I have a free day tomorrow?

“I have to go,” I say, kiss him lightning-quick on the cheek and duck down into the car next to Kendra.

Kendra says nothing as we drive away.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. You're amazing.”

Suspicious, I study her expression. She means it. Sincerely.