Ticket to Paradise

I let out a huff of breath as I dropped my suitcase on the bed Carmen had assigned me in the small room we were going to be sharing for the next two months. It was the one closer to the window, the one that would be bathed in bright Mexican sunshine way too early in the morning, every morning. And even though I was a much lighter sleeper, Carmen still told me with a cheery smile that I was stuck with what I got, since she had to deal with it when she visited with her older sister the summer before.

So I just accepted my fate without so much as an argument. If I was going to spend so much time with Carmen over the summer, then I was going to have to choose my battles wisely. Arguing incessantly would get me nowhere but Misery Land, a place I rarely liked to go.

“CARMEN!” a small, Mexican-accented voice screamed at an unfathomable volume before the door slammed open, and a tiny girl, maybe five or six, flew through the opening.

Hola, querida,” Carmen greeted with a huge grin, leaning down and hugging the child with all her might. “Isa, this is Teri. We only speak English around her, okay?”

“Okay,” Isa agreed, smiling. “Teri, you’re pretty.”

Oh, wow. That was all it took to make me love that kid. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Isa giggled before launching herself onto Carmen’s bed and landing in a huge pile of her carefully folded clothes. “So what are we doing today? Going to the beach? Getting ice cream? Playing checkers on the deck?”

“Whoa, chica, calm yourself.” Carmen let out a small laugh before making dramatic hand motions to wave her cousin off her stuff, which was completely ignored. “I’m going to unpack before we do anything, and after lunch, we’ll take it from there. Cool?”

“Cool.” But the small girl’s tone was solemn, her eyes turned to the ground, and it was clear the decision was anything but cool.

“ISABEL,” an older woman’s voice called, followed by some Spanish, and Isa disappeared.

“I’m sorry about her,” Carmen granted. She paused for a second, shaking her head at the mess left behind by her cousin, before starting to fold and talk again. “She can be a little crazy, but she really is a sweetheart.”

“She’s a kid. Of course she’s crazy.” I laughed shortly as I turned back to my own suitcase and eased the zipper open. My clothes inside were not the picture of perfection like Carmen’s, since I was the kind of person who liked to wrap things into tiny bunches and stuff them into the space until they fit every nook and cranny. My mother hated it and said that I looked ridiculous when I walked around with my wrinkled clothes, but the creases weren’t that bad. It wasn’t like I wore linen or anything.

The two of us unpacked in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the occasional shutting of drawers and the soft Spanish music coming from Carmen’s iPod that was hooked up to her charging dock. The songs sounded nice, even if I couldn’t really understand what the lyrics said, and I found myself shaking my hips at a couple of the tunes.

“Carmen, bring your friend down the stairs!” the woman’s voice from earlier demanded. “I have made food, and she is too skinny.”

I made a point of looking down at my stomach and shrugging, while Carmen snickered at my joke. “Trust me, she’ll say that all summer and do everything she can to make you gain weight. She thinks I’m too skinny, and I’m way bigger than you.”

I was about to chime in that a size ten was nowhere near fat, even if I was a size four, as was a best friend’s job, but Carmen dismissed me and walked out the door to lead the way.

I dropped the new pair of Victoria’s Secret underwear back on my bed and followed her into the hallway that connected our bedroom to Isa’s bedroom. The space was cramped, but I didn’t exactly plan to spend that much time chatting in the hallway, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

After squeezing my way down the stairs, which were held in a tight, winding staircase with a wobbly railing that made me experience feelings of claustrophobia I’d never had before, I finally saw Carmen’s Aunt Elena. When we’d first arrived, she’d been cooking like a fiend and had told us with a flourish to go upstairs and try to get comfortable while she finished.

Just like the rest of the house, the kitchen was small, and the food that was piled on plates and platters all over the stove and limited counter space just made the room feel tinier. But the boisterous woman didn’t let it bother her, and the smile on her face was wider and more genuine than any I’d ever seen in my life.

“Welcome to our home!” she greeted enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around me and hugging as tightly as she could. “I’m Aunt Elena, and you can call me that, too, even though we’re not blood, okay?”

I nodded and was about to thank her, but she spoke again without waiting for any response from me. “Carmen, show your friend the food! Both of you must eat, eat, eat! It’s okay?”

“Yes, it’s wonderful. Gracias, Tía.”

Her aunt smiled again and ducked out of the room, pulling her daughter with her, muttering something that was probably along the lines of banning her from the kitchen until we’d taken the food we wanted.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, careful to make sure Aunt Elena hadn’t heard me. “This is crazy.”

“She doesn’t always cook quite this much,” Carmen told me conversationally as she helped herself to some dish that looked like it had chicken, rice, and beans. “I think she’s celebrating our arrival a little bit.”

“I feel so special,” I joked, even though it was kind of true. I’d never had any kind of reception like that when I visited someplace, though maybe that was because my visits with my other family members were extremely limited.

“So soak it up while you can!” Carmen cheered as she piled more food onto her place, while I started doing the same. Each of the dishes looked so incredibly good, and I ended up taking a little of everything, hoping that nothing would be too spicy for my palate.

As I ate, I was completely quiet, mesmerized by the best meal I’d ever consumed in my life (which made me feel kind of awful for my mother, but it wasn’t my fault she cooked solely American food, like meatloaf and pizza), and Carmen made various jabs to her family about how I was never that silent. Which was true. I didn’t think I’d ever gone more than a half hour in her presence without making one of my signature sarcastic quips before.

Once we were done eating, Carmen told Isa that she’d take her to the clothing store down the street to get a new t-shirt, which made the small child bounce off the walls with glee, but I opted out. “I just want to finish getting unpacked and call my mom,” I explained. “And maybe go over the Spanish notes one more time.”

Carmen rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Alright, we’ll be back soon. Behave yourself, hear me?”

“Yes, Mom.” I made a twisted face at her, which made her laugh again, and then she was gone with Isa.

In their absence, I did what I said I was going to do, except call my mother. I had a feeling that I’d just make her feel guilty if I talked about how much I loved Mexico already and how great Aunt Elena’s food was, and I’d probably scare the shit out of her if I told her that I was going to work at a resort that dealt with a whole lot of Spanish-speaking people, so I decided against it. Instead, I just worked on pronouncing the words Carmen had taught me, training my mouth and tongue to move faster to say them with more ease, and prayed that I wouldn’t embarrass myself on my first day of work.