March of Time

Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, 1987

Dear Diary,

I stepped off the plane in my light wash jeans, white cotton peasant blouse, matching Levi jacket, and a pair of Cherokee wedges. I was just 21 and was wearing what I thought was the height of fashion. I had left Seattle on a typically cold, wet March morning, having no idea of the weather difference this far south. I realized I was overdressed. My linen skirt and a silk chemise would probably be the only appropriate clothing I brought. 

I had never been away from home on my own before. My friend Julie had asked me to go with her when her traveling companion had to cancel. I had the money and thought, what the heck, sure! My boyfriend, however, was so opposed to it. We argued for weeks, but I called a travel agent and booked the flight, bought my traveler’s checks, and set to planning my trip. 

He was a year older than me and, for the last year, had been going out with “the boys” every night after work and drinking. After one awful night, I decided the relationship had run its course, but the lease still had a few months to go. We had dated since I was a junior in high school, and I thought I was in love. I sometimes wonder if I know what love is.

He argued that he thought I would meet someone in Mexico and would end up leaving him. He had a valid point. I was going to leave him. Just not today, not before my trip, and not before the lease was up.

One morning, as my friend Julie and I were driving to work, we talked about our trip and our boyfriends. We split the driving every other week. The parking in downtown Seattle was quite expensive. We were two young women who supported ourselves and had what I think are unique relationships. My boyfriend handed me a monthly bill for half of the groceries, the rent, lights, etc. Recently, I realized he was little more than a roommate I slept with. 

Her boyfriend didn’t want her to move in and said it was complicated. So, she rented a little tiny basement apartment from a kind elderly lady who wouldn’t allow her to have her own phone line in the apartment. Whenever I had to reach Julie, her landlady would answer the phone, go all the way downstairs to let her know the phone was for her, and also say, “Now, don’t be too long; I am expecting a call.”   

I was driving that morning, and Julie brought up the trip. We were leaving this coming Saturday.

“I think I might have to cancel,” she said. “Tony said if I go, he will break up with me.”

I thought about what to say and how to tell her that Tony had told Marc (my boyfriend) that he had been seeing his ex-girlfriend for a couple of months and trying to figure out how to break up with Julie. Having a girlfriend that I could confide in was something new to me. I had mostly guy friends until I started dating Marc.

Relationships between women are complicated, and I usually don’t have the patience for the drama and hurt feelings. I didn’t know if it was my place to tell her what Marc had told me, and I decided to try a new tactic. 

“Marc thinks that if I go, I will meet someone, fall in love with them, and then leave him. He’s quite convinced of it.”

She just stared at me. I was trying to keep my eyes on the traffic but could see her gaping at me.

“But you two are so in love.”

“We really weren’t,” I stammered. Marc told me a few months ago that he wanted to see other women but didn’t want to ‘lose me.’ I have no intention of staying with a man who wants to try out other women and come back to me if it doesn’t work out”.

“What are you going to do?”

“What are you going to do?” I asked her.

“I don’t know.” She admitted. “I had planned this with my old friend Brandy over a year ago. When she canceled without any reason, she couldn’t get her half of the deposit back from the resort, so I offered it to you. She made me give her half of the reservation back, and I have been living on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches until you decided to go with me.”

Something clicked in my brain. I was connecting the dots. Brandy was the name of Tony’s ex-girlfriend. So, she planned this trip, got Julie invested in it, and then backed out. That would leave her ten whole days with Tony all to herself.

Should I tell her? No. The last time you told a friend something you heard, it didn’t turn out well for you, even if it was true.

“I cannot buy out your half of the trip, Julie. I plan to go, lay in the sun, swim in the ocean, and read all fifteen books I have packed in my suitcase. My airline ticket is non-refundable, as is our resort fee. We may as well go, enjoy what we have worked hard for, and figure out our boyfriend problems when we return.”

“There is something else,” she whispered. “I am afraid if I go, I will meet a man and have an affair. I have done it before, and I can’t help myself.”

“Marc has told me so many times that he just ‘knows’ that I will have an affair. I want to have one since I will be accused of it anyway. Maybe I will meet a great guy who wants to get married and take care of me, not hand me the bill for half of the monthly household expenses. Do you know what he did last week? He bought a microwave oven and asked me for half its cost. I told him that he bought it without asking me. Therefore, it was his, and if we break up, it goes with him.”

Julie just stared at me; her mouth dropped open in complete disbelief. 

“I thought you two were so happy.”

“Nah,” I drawled, “I think I fell out of love when he didn’t come home that night in January. Maybe I was never ‘in love,’ maybe it was just a fantasy.” I popped in my favorite cassette tape, Aldo Nova, and “Fantasy” started playing.

We pulled into the parking lot. I got a five-dollar bill out of my purse, rolled it up, and pushed it into the pay box into spot number fifteen. We ran to our building, barely made the elevator, and pressed the button for the fifteenth floor. 

I was tossing my purse into my desk drawer and powering on my monitor when the work bell rang, and my boss stood to address my group. She gave us all our assignments and then stopped at my desk. 

“I wanted to let you know that the manager of the Visalia office is so pleased with your work on their claims that they would like to offer you the position with them if you are interested.”

I hadn’t even told my boyfriend about my interview with the Visalia office. I had been secretly making calls to check on apartments and had found one that seemed perfect for one person that I could afford on my salary. California had a lot higher cost of living than Seattle, so I had been looking at studios. 

“I told them that you would be on vacation for the next two weeks and would give them an answer when you got back. You know I want you to stay with us, but since our office will close in six months, I want you to take this opportunity. You have been such a great employee.” 

“Thank you,” I told her. “I will let you know when I return from my trip.”

***

Julie and I checked in to our beautiful beachside hotel. It had three stories, and the lobby had a thatched roof with wooden bridges between each wing and floor, just like that Swiss Family Robinson treehouse at Disneyland. I loved it. First things first, I found my room, number three fifteen. I tossed my suitcase onto the bed and dug out my swimsuit, flip-flops, and beach towel. I quickly changed, slipped on a crocheted cover-up, and grabbed the first book on the pile, “The Count of Monte Cristo.” One of the best stories about betrayals! It's just what I needed. I knocked on the adjoining room door, and Julie opened it, still wearing her travel outfit. 

“Why aren’t you ready?” I asked.

“I am tired and going to lie down. You go, enjoy the afternoon. Come wake me up when you want to go find dinner.”

“Sure thing!” I said as I skipped out of the room.

I found a perfect spot by the pool with shade from a palm tree. I tossed my towel and bag on the lounger. There was a beachside bar a little way down the beach, and I headed towards it. The thatched roof matched the hotel, and there were seats around the bar and little groups of people here and there. I didn’t know what to order and was still contemplating that when a group of girls about my age crowded around me. They were ordering these Pepto Bismo-colored blended drinks that smelled of coconuts and pineapple. 

“What are those?” I asked.

“Chi Chi’s! They are the best; you should get one. No! Get two. They go quick.” She advised.

“Dos Chi Chi’s, por favor, Señor,” I said in my best Spanish.

“Uno momento, señorita.” He replied with a big smile. 

He handed me two big pint glasses filled with the sweet concoction. I didn’t understand how much they cost, but I had several small bills in my hand, and he took one of them and handed me back a bunch of change. I slid one that looked like a quarter across the bar to him,

“Gracias Señor.”

“De nada, chica bonita.” He said as he grinned at me.

I took my drinks back to my lounger and got settled in. After several hundred pages, my skin was getting a bit pink. I refreshed my Coppertone and moved my lounger into the shade. The bartender kept his eye on my glasses and kept bringing me refills. I was six or so drinks in when suddenly everyone around me stood up and faced the ocean. Not one to miss out, I stood up and was amazed to see the most fantastic sunset.

The sun was a giant glaring orange ball of fire sitting perfectly on the horizon. The sky above it was splashed with grenadine. One second, the sun balanced on the far edge of the ocean, and then it splashed out of site in a fantastic bloom of color across the sky. I had never seen anything like it. Everyone applauded as it was a show put on just for us.   

I headed back to my room. After a quick shower, I changed into a peach-colored linen skirt and turquoise silk camisole. I laced my wedge espadrilles, got up, and knocked on the adjoining door.

“Come in,” I heard faintly.

I opened the door, and Julie was still in bed. She was pale and had sweat running down her forehead. Her mousy brown hair was limp and dull. What happened while I was out for the afternoon? I rushed to her side and asked her what was wrong.

She had ordered a burger and fries from room service after I left. I asked her what she drank, and she pointed to the sink in her room. She had been drinking tap water all day. She said that it had only been a few minutes after she had eaten that she started vomiting. It got to the point where she didn’t know what end to hang over the toilet. I told her I would go to the pharmacy and get her something. She said no. She wouldn’t take anything that I bought her. I didn’t know what to make of that statement and left her there.     

I was dressed up and ready for dinner, so I headed back to the beachside bar and restaurant. I spotted the girls from the bar, and they hollered at me, “Hey, Chi Chi Girl! Come join us for dinner.”

They were all from the University of Texas and on Spring Break. I told them I was on Spring Break from work and my boyfriend. After dinner, we decided to go dancing. We danced all night long and well into the morning. When the taxi dumped us off at the hotel, it was 4 am. 

I opened the door to my room, and there sat Julie. She had her arms crossed and looked like my mom when she caught me in a lie.

“Where have you been?” She demanded.

“I have been out dancing all night with a group of girls from the University of Texas. It was so fun, we danced on the tables in Señor Frog’s.”

“Sure, you have,” she snarled. “I called Marc and told him you were out with a guy. He is in the process of throwing your belongings out.”

I spent the next few hours making international calls through the hotel switchboard to Marc and my parents. My parents convinced him to leave my belongings alone. I had paid my half of the rent, and I was entitled to have my things there. I tried to convince him of my innocence, but it was in vain. He had it in his head that I would betray him, and he believed I did. He did say if I love him, I will come home now and work on our relationship. 

I told him that I would try to change my flight. I didn’t try very hard, so I had another seven days. I took a nap and woke up around noon on Sunday, March 15. I checked in with Julie out of some misguided loyalty. She was very sick and had a bad case of Montezuma’s Revenge. She told me that Tony had broken up with her right before we left Seattle, and she was so upset that she decided to make up the story to Marc. She was mad about me getting the job offer in Visalia. She was angry that I was planning on leaving Marc when we got home from Mexico. She was just mad.

I walked out of her room and slammed the adjoining door.

I picked up the next book in my stack, Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare, and headed for the beach. I spent some time trying to wrap my head around the lines, “Beware the Ides of March. Men at some time are masters of their fates. But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” I had never really realized what this meant. I had never read the play before; I only watched it at the Green Lake Bathhouse Theater. 

I believed that one should be wary of people within their immediate circles around March 15th. Julie had betrayed me by sabotaging my relationship with Marc. Marc betrayed his friend’s trust when he told me about Tony’s affair. Tony had betrayed Julie. 

My friends from the University of Texas showed up around 4 pm, lured me back to the bar, and this time we got pitchers of Chi Chi’s. 

I want to tell you that I spent the next week hanging at the beach with the spring break girls, but they went home on Monday. I, too, like Brutus, put that last dagger in and twisted it. I spent the rest of my time there in the arms of a handsome man who treated me like a Queen and wanted me to move in with him. He was a stockbroker in Vancouver, BC, and I would be a new claims manager in Visalia, California. I told him I would think about it. I lied.

To thine own self be true,

Cleo