We went to the Gravel Pit for lunch although it was early, just before 11. First we stopped at the Super-T and bought a bottle of white wine, unchilled. At the restaurant we asked the waitress for glasses with ice. She brought out shrimp cocktail glasses, the kind they put malted milkshakes in in the U.S., loaded with ice. We uncorked the wine and filled 'em up.
The Mexican food items on the menu wouldn't be available till one o'clock (I don't quite understand why it's so difficult to get comida mexicana in this town) but the waitress did say we could have chile rellenos or quesadillas. We ordered the rellenos because I'd told my friend how good they are here. The sauce is spicy and the cheese inside the chiles actually melts rather than congeals.
The flies were a nuisance but the rellenos lived up to their reputation. We refilled our shrimp cocktail glasses with more wine, more ice. We talked with the Coca-Cola delivery man - or pretended to converse, understanding every other word but it was enough to get the gist.
We talked about our lives, men, sex. It'd been a long time since I talked sex with someone - almost as long since I had sex. Most women I know here are married. They don't want to talk about their sex lives and I don't want to hear about them. So it was a treat getting to talk raunchy sex with a single woman. We didn't hold back. We poured the last of the sauvignon blanc.
That's when we noticed the man sitting at a table along the wall, facing us. We'd just had a discussion about what kind of facial hair we like and don't like and he fit the bill with a nicely-trimmed goatee. Both of us agreed he was one of the most handsome men we'd ever seen. Every time I glanced his way, he seemed to be looking at us. "Oh-oh, do you think he understands English?"
We paid the bill and headed for the van. "Is he looking at us? I can't tell," I asked and my friend said yes. I started up the van, we rolled down the windows and waved to the handsome man as we pulled away. He smiled and waved back.
We made note of his vehicle.
I dropped my friend off at her place then stopped at La Palapa for a small margarita. I wasn't ready to return to my closed-up trailer - closed up to keep the cool AC air in and the mosquitoes out. There were quite a few families at La Palapa even though it was mid-week. The kids are out of school, the families are vacationing in Kino. I watched the vendors strolling between palapas, the banana boat flinging off the riders. Xavier the musician gave me a key chain - a painted shell with Kino on it - because the colors matched my shirt.
I think about the handsome man. If I had a man to play with - nothing serious mind you - I'd probably be happy to make a commitment to staying here. I'd build a palapa over my trailer, enclose the porch, make this my home. At least for a while. After all, everything is temporary, at least in my life.
After buying tortillas I visit with a friend. I tell him I'd probably stop thinking about leaving if I had a boyfriend, a cowboy who likes to dance. There's this man he's been wanting to fix me up with, a man from Hermosillo who has a home here, a man who only speaks a little English. I take a deep breath and say okay, let's do it.