Seven
Literally
Everyone is dead. Not literally, of course, but they may as well be. I guess travel really tires my family out. Even Noah is passed out on the couch, limbs sprawled into impossible positions. It’s only nine o’clock. Do you see what I mean when I say my family is boring? I’m not tired in the least, so I’ve got the TV on with the volume almost all the way down.
“Violet, can you turn that down?” my mother asks, her voice muffled by her pillow. “Your family is trying to sleep. It’s very inconsiderate.”
No, what’s inconsiderate is what will happen in the morning, when everyone gets up at the crack of dawn and makes enough noise to raise the dead, much less the sleeping teenager trying to vacation properly.
I turn the volume down a notch.
“I can still hear it,” my mother mumbles, irritation edging into her voice. Sleep is like a religious ritual to her. “And the screen is so bright. Can’t you just go to bed?”
If I went to bed, I knew I would lie there, awake, until 4:30 in the morning. So I switch off the TV, grab a room key, and walk out the door, making sure to shut it gently behind me. I don’t have any particular destination in mind, but I’m in Mexico. It doesn’t matter where I go because I’m in Mexico.
I venture through the hotel, down a few floors, through a few halls, mostly just going the opposite direction of any sound I might happen to hear. I get a burst of optimism, thinking of all the possibilities of this week, my steps getting lighter and my insides getting jittery as I realize just how far I am away from home. Of course, I had realized this bit of information when we first got here, but it hadn’t really occurred to me that I’m hundreds of miles away from any and all reputations I might have, any and all conceptions anyone has about me. I could be anyone here. I could do anything.
Soon enough, I find myself outside by the overly large swimming pool. It’s lit up from the inside, easily transfixing anyone who could appreciate the beauty in their surroundings. I slide my slippers off and dip one toe in the water. It’s warm in contrast with the night air.
Suddenly, I find myself wondering if, by the end of this trip, I’ll have skinny dipped in this pool. It’s a random thought and I have no idea where it came from. But before I can think of any deep-rooted psychological implications, I spot a figure moving steadily toward me, and my attention is diverted. For now.
Of course it’s Mario the towel boy. You and I both knew that as soon as I saw the “mysterious” figure walking toward me. The string lights on the fence surrounding the pool are dim, but they silhouette him enough that I can’t quite make out his features. Even so, I know it’s him. Who else would be walking toward me with such purpose? A kidnapper, maybe. But kidnappers don’t wear flip-flops and cargo pants.
“Hey,” he says as he stops in front of me. It’s the kind of hey that isn’t just a hey. It’s not hey, how’s it going? It’s hey, I’m picturing you in your swimsuit (or less) right now. I have never been heyed like this before, but I’ve heard it directed toward other people enough to be able to interpret it.
However, due to my lack of experience being heyed, I was afraid to hey him back, because I wasn’t picturing him in his swimsuit (or less) and I didn’t want to sound like some chipper little girl being all like heyyyyyyy! with twelve exclamation points tacked onto it. So I just smiled and waited for him to say something, which he wasted no time in doing.
“Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
I could handle the hey. This, on the other hand, was a total curveball. I didn’t know if he was talking about the pool or the beautiful surroundings or himself. The way he said it was a confusing combination of playfulness, flirtatiousness, and boring small talk. So I honestly had no clue if he was just talking or if he was talking.
But he just lets out a simple laugh—probably at the expression on my face. I’m really trying to work on that. Controlling my facial expressions, that is. I can do a mean poker face if I really try, but most of my facial expressions are involuntary.
Meanwhile, as I am off in lala-land trying to decide which emotion to display on my face, Mario sits down at the edge of the pool and lets his feet fall into the water. In response, the water around him ripples and I sit down next to him, letting my feet graze the surface.
It really is beautiful; I could sit here for hours. Mario’s feet are illuminated by the lit-up water, looking almost radioactive compared to the rest of him. We are the only two people within sight as far as I can tell. It’s quiet and peaceful, but no matter how calming the sound of the far-off ocean is, I can’t ignore the presence beside me. We went from playful to intimate in zero seconds flat. There’s just something about sitting beside someone in such a setting. All alone. At night.
I clear my throat softly, breaking Mario out of some trance. He glances at me with a smile. “Do you ever get sick of it?” I ask, trying not to let my voice get too loud. We’ve got the entire pool area to ourselves, but it feels like the entire universe is within grasp.
“Get sick of what?” he asks, staring directly at me. It’s like he doesn’t even notice our surroundings. Maybe you just get used to it after a while.
“This,” I say, indicating everything around us, from the still pool water to the abandoned chairs to the almost indistinguishable line where the dark sky meets the dark ocean.
“This?” he asks. He’s looking at me weird. I am just about to get frustrated that he’s not getting my point, when he takes my face in his hands and kisses me right on the lips. With his lips. When he pulls away, he says, “I could never get sick of that.”
To say he took me by surprise would be the understatement of the century. Nobody’s ever been so forward with me. Usually my kisses are a product of months of buildup. I’m not one to go around kissing boys I’ve just met. It’s not my style. It’s completely out of my comfort zone.
At this thought, I remember what that one lady said on the plane ride here, just before we were going to start descending. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. I don’t want to agree with this, but I know that deep down, I do. Maybe never having fun on vacations is partially my fault. I can’t put all the blame on my mother when I’m the one who’s too afraid to go out and do something.
I look at Mario, contemplating. And then I take that step, out into the unknown. Not literally, because then I would have landed in the pool. But I grab Mario and I kiss him. Literally, not figuratively. Though, I’m not sure how you can kiss someone figuratively.
And let me tell you; this literal kissing is different than any kissing I’d ever previously experienced. Not because it’s literal (all my kisses have been literal, but we’ve already sort of established that, so I’m just going to stop with all the literal/figurative stuff), but because it’s spontaneous. Unexpected. Refreshing. And it’s kind of interesting to kiss someone when your feet are in the water. I’ve never kissed someone under the water before, but this is kind of like that, I suppose. Except we can breathe. Which is nice.
Mario is a very good kisser. So good, in fact, that it makes me wonder if he does this all the time with girls staying at this hotel. Maybe it’s the reason why he works here in the first place. Regardless, I decide to continue kissing him. Because it doesn’t matter if I’m just another nameless girl with soft lips to him. I’m having fun.
Until I sneeze right on him. Right in his face! He’s so startled that he kind of pushes me into the pool. I really don’t think it was on purpose. I keep sneezing while I’m in the water. I have no idea what Mario’s doing. Amidst all the sneezing, I inhale some water and start coughing up a lung.
It’s awful.
When I’m done making a fool of myself and can finally breathe normally, everything is silent. Too silent. The kind of silent that’s really awkward and slightly terrifying.
I look at Mario, who is standing at the edge of the pool, looking down at me like I just gave birth to alien twins. That probably would have been better than this.
“Um…” What are you supposed to say in a situation like this? I climb out of the pool as fast as possible, dripping wet and freezing cold. “I’m… sorry?” And then I run like hell to room 514.
“Violet, can you turn that down?” my mother asks, her voice muffled by her pillow. “Your family is trying to sleep. It’s very inconsiderate.”
No, what’s inconsiderate is what will happen in the morning, when everyone gets up at the crack of dawn and makes enough noise to raise the dead, much less the sleeping teenager trying to vacation properly.
I turn the volume down a notch.
“I can still hear it,” my mother mumbles, irritation edging into her voice. Sleep is like a religious ritual to her. “And the screen is so bright. Can’t you just go to bed?”
If I went to bed, I knew I would lie there, awake, until 4:30 in the morning. So I switch off the TV, grab a room key, and walk out the door, making sure to shut it gently behind me. I don’t have any particular destination in mind, but I’m in Mexico. It doesn’t matter where I go because I’m in Mexico.
I venture through the hotel, down a few floors, through a few halls, mostly just going the opposite direction of any sound I might happen to hear. I get a burst of optimism, thinking of all the possibilities of this week, my steps getting lighter and my insides getting jittery as I realize just how far I am away from home. Of course, I had realized this bit of information when we first got here, but it hadn’t really occurred to me that I’m hundreds of miles away from any and all reputations I might have, any and all conceptions anyone has about me. I could be anyone here. I could do anything.
Soon enough, I find myself outside by the overly large swimming pool. It’s lit up from the inside, easily transfixing anyone who could appreciate the beauty in their surroundings. I slide my slippers off and dip one toe in the water. It’s warm in contrast with the night air.
Suddenly, I find myself wondering if, by the end of this trip, I’ll have skinny dipped in this pool. It’s a random thought and I have no idea where it came from. But before I can think of any deep-rooted psychological implications, I spot a figure moving steadily toward me, and my attention is diverted. For now.
Of course it’s Mario the towel boy. You and I both knew that as soon as I saw the “mysterious” figure walking toward me. The string lights on the fence surrounding the pool are dim, but they silhouette him enough that I can’t quite make out his features. Even so, I know it’s him. Who else would be walking toward me with such purpose? A kidnapper, maybe. But kidnappers don’t wear flip-flops and cargo pants.
“Hey,” he says as he stops in front of me. It’s the kind of hey that isn’t just a hey. It’s not hey, how’s it going? It’s hey, I’m picturing you in your swimsuit (or less) right now. I have never been heyed like this before, but I’ve heard it directed toward other people enough to be able to interpret it.
However, due to my lack of experience being heyed, I was afraid to hey him back, because I wasn’t picturing him in his swimsuit (or less) and I didn’t want to sound like some chipper little girl being all like heyyyyyyy! with twelve exclamation points tacked onto it. So I just smiled and waited for him to say something, which he wasted no time in doing.
“Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
I could handle the hey. This, on the other hand, was a total curveball. I didn’t know if he was talking about the pool or the beautiful surroundings or himself. The way he said it was a confusing combination of playfulness, flirtatiousness, and boring small talk. So I honestly had no clue if he was just talking or if he was talking.
But he just lets out a simple laugh—probably at the expression on my face. I’m really trying to work on that. Controlling my facial expressions, that is. I can do a mean poker face if I really try, but most of my facial expressions are involuntary.
Meanwhile, as I am off in lala-land trying to decide which emotion to display on my face, Mario sits down at the edge of the pool and lets his feet fall into the water. In response, the water around him ripples and I sit down next to him, letting my feet graze the surface.
It really is beautiful; I could sit here for hours. Mario’s feet are illuminated by the lit-up water, looking almost radioactive compared to the rest of him. We are the only two people within sight as far as I can tell. It’s quiet and peaceful, but no matter how calming the sound of the far-off ocean is, I can’t ignore the presence beside me. We went from playful to intimate in zero seconds flat. There’s just something about sitting beside someone in such a setting. All alone. At night.
I clear my throat softly, breaking Mario out of some trance. He glances at me with a smile. “Do you ever get sick of it?” I ask, trying not to let my voice get too loud. We’ve got the entire pool area to ourselves, but it feels like the entire universe is within grasp.
“Get sick of what?” he asks, staring directly at me. It’s like he doesn’t even notice our surroundings. Maybe you just get used to it after a while.
“This,” I say, indicating everything around us, from the still pool water to the abandoned chairs to the almost indistinguishable line where the dark sky meets the dark ocean.
“This?” he asks. He’s looking at me weird. I am just about to get frustrated that he’s not getting my point, when he takes my face in his hands and kisses me right on the lips. With his lips. When he pulls away, he says, “I could never get sick of that.”
To say he took me by surprise would be the understatement of the century. Nobody’s ever been so forward with me. Usually my kisses are a product of months of buildup. I’m not one to go around kissing boys I’ve just met. It’s not my style. It’s completely out of my comfort zone.
At this thought, I remember what that one lady said on the plane ride here, just before we were going to start descending. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. I don’t want to agree with this, but I know that deep down, I do. Maybe never having fun on vacations is partially my fault. I can’t put all the blame on my mother when I’m the one who’s too afraid to go out and do something.
I look at Mario, contemplating. And then I take that step, out into the unknown. Not literally, because then I would have landed in the pool. But I grab Mario and I kiss him. Literally, not figuratively. Though, I’m not sure how you can kiss someone figuratively.
And let me tell you; this literal kissing is different than any kissing I’d ever previously experienced. Not because it’s literal (all my kisses have been literal, but we’ve already sort of established that, so I’m just going to stop with all the literal/figurative stuff), but because it’s spontaneous. Unexpected. Refreshing. And it’s kind of interesting to kiss someone when your feet are in the water. I’ve never kissed someone under the water before, but this is kind of like that, I suppose. Except we can breathe. Which is nice.
Mario is a very good kisser. So good, in fact, that it makes me wonder if he does this all the time with girls staying at this hotel. Maybe it’s the reason why he works here in the first place. Regardless, I decide to continue kissing him. Because it doesn’t matter if I’m just another nameless girl with soft lips to him. I’m having fun.
Until I sneeze right on him. Right in his face! He’s so startled that he kind of pushes me into the pool. I really don’t think it was on purpose. I keep sneezing while I’m in the water. I have no idea what Mario’s doing. Amidst all the sneezing, I inhale some water and start coughing up a lung.
It’s awful.
When I’m done making a fool of myself and can finally breathe normally, everything is silent. Too silent. The kind of silent that’s really awkward and slightly terrifying.
I look at Mario, who is standing at the edge of the pool, looking down at me like I just gave birth to alien twins. That probably would have been better than this.
“Um…” What are you supposed to say in a situation like this? I climb out of the pool as fast as possible, dripping wet and freezing cold. “I’m… sorry?” And then I run like hell to room 514.
♠ ♠ ♠
lol