I had lost everything a long time ago, and I could make it impossible for myself ever to come back to Zihuatanejo because I had seduced Sheila. Her husband would hate me and have turned the whole village + the area + the whole beach, + all the restaurateurs against me, which was unlikely because her husband was a pushover. Still, if he had, I would need to go to another place; I would like it in Chile; I had family there, a sister or something, and it was just as beautiful there as it is here, even if there would be no Sheila there or a Juan Carlos. My thoughts raced as Sheila gently patted me on the back. That was undoubtedly her way of comforting. I would have preferred her to caress me, but of course, she remained straight, and she remained American.
I had to call Aunt Lili. I had to return to the Internet café and find the best way to travel to Chile. I was getting ready, but Sheila wouldn't let me go. She told me again to relax, but I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. The only way to relax was swimming for me and sometimes a lovemaking session but it had been a long time since I had sex. And I just wasn't straight enough to try that again with Juan Carlos. The fact that I had done that a few years ago had everything to do with curiosity, he had insisted in a friendly way that I wanted to try it again with a man, it had been okay but no more than that, the male body and the male member did still not fascinate me.
Now that my mind had wandered and I had been able to relax more, Sheila let me go.
Are you okay again? She asked. Are you all right?
I nodded. I was all right. Now, get up slowly so as not to arouse suspicion. Relaxed, I walked to my bungalow, to put on clothes, and go to the Internet café. I tried to avoid everyone because if someone would ask me how I was doing, I would burst into tears again, and I wanted to avoid that with all my might.
My bungalow was cleaned up; I cleaned it myself. Here in Las Urracas, you didn't rent a cottage that was kept clean. You did that yourself, and I always kept track of it. I did that everywhere I was because I didn't live anywhere and lived everywhere and couldn't tolerate mess around me.
I looked at the bed in which I had slept the sleep of the innocent that night. I hadn't known anything. Not that my mother was dead and had been for a while. The day she had died, Aunt Lili had not written. Or had she? I couldn't remember. All I remembered was the gist. A shark had eaten my mother. But I didn't know when, and maybe I would never know.
The whole meaning of the e-mail hit me in the face again, and I threw myself on my bed, crying. It was like that, it was like that again, it was still like that, my mother was dead. And not only was she dead, but she had also horrifically met her end. Was that karma? She had left us, and she left life. Was this what she deserved? Was karma like God punishing you for your actions? A Buddhist once told me that karma was often misinterpreted in the West, that it was indeed interpreted as punishment, but that karma meant action and that you could change your karma. Suddenly, I remembered more of what that Buddhist had told me; she had given me a phrase that I could say at any time of the day and night and repeat endlessly because that phrase could give me the strength to keep going.
Quietly, I began to say the phrase she had taught me. It was a sentence in a foreign language, Old Chinese, or Japanese with Sanskrit. It was not a mantra, she had assured me; a mantra was a spell for initiates and consisted of secret words that would have a magical effect; this was a phrase that anyone could say, and there was nothing secret about it at all. I lay on my back and started repeating the sentence. Almost immediately, I felt better, stronger, and more powerful. That Buddhist would sometimes do it for an hour, so I decided to do it for ten minutes, and I would say that phrase for ten minutes. I felt a strength rising in me, although I also felt sadness. The recitation and all the emotions had exhausted me. I felt exhausted, and I wanted to lie down and close my eyes, but there was still so much to be done today. In any case, I had to call Aunt Lili today; it was now half past eleven, so it was early evening in the Netherlands. Aunt Lili liked a drink, so I had to have spoken to her before eight; otherwise, she might be drunk, and not much came out of her. It could be she was already intoxicated, and I should call later in the day if it were tomorrow in the Netherlands. If I decided that, I could stay here and maybe get some sleep.
~To Be Continued