Oaxaca ~ Part I

He sat comfortably on a wooden chair by a table in the hotel room. The man was alone, in Spain he thought. At this point he saw no reason to continue his journey. He spooned the powder into a glass of water with the understanding that this substance would slow down and stop his heart. His end would be painless and he felt it was time to go. ‘A sound choice,’ he thought. It made sense. ‘No one else depends on me, not anymore. I’ve lived enough, done enough, been enough. And I’ve had enough’. Ben Gentry drank down the potion. 

As moments passed Ben felt an unexpected sense of imminence. Teeming with impressions, colorful cascading memories filled his imagination. ‘It was only life,’ he thought. ‘The fears and longings, the calamities and fiascos, loss and heartbreak.’ “Jesus,” he said as he stood up and walked to the open window. ‘But then there were the hopes and dreams, the plans and pursuits, the triumphs, the victories and the ‘I’m gonnas’.  

Suddenly the mystery and the magic of Ben’s existence took on new dimensions. Distant sounds of children at play mixed with faint tones of adult discourse. A cool breeze drifted through the room carrying aromas of foods and flora. There was a chorus of birds, near and far.  The whir of a motor scooter passed under the hotel window. Not far off was the report of a whistle. And yet more birds. Something awoke within Gentry, calling him back to the dance of life. 

Ben found himself walking up a cobblestone street, wondering if his body could metabolize the deadly substance without it killing him. He encountered a slender, dark-skinned woman who wore a light-blue cotton dress. He told her what he had done. The woman looked at him with piercing green eyes and said, “Maybe you’re dreaming”. He looked down at his arm and pinched it but it hurt. When he looked up the woman was gone. He could hear bells in the distance. Then everything in front of him was pale yellow. It was the color of the fitted, bottom sheet on the hotel bed. Laying face down, Gentry was awake. 

It took a few moments for him to understand he’d been dreaming, longer still to realize he wasn’t about to die. Ben turned over on to his back, looking up at the ceiling fan with its lazy turning blades. To his right on the bed stand he saw glowing red numbers on the clock radio.  7:38 AM.  Above the clock, on the wall hung a calendar, which showed the days of ‘Abril 2001’.  He could still hear bells in the distance. They were ringing in the Santo Domingo Cathedral, six blocks away from Gentry’s room at the Hotel Destino, in Oaxaca, Mexico. 

She sat alone at a small, square table on the sidewalk in front of the Café Mitla. Diane Sloane sipped from a cup of coffee as she gazed across the Zocalo, the Central Plaza of Oaxaca. Covering a full city block, the Plaza’s towering canopy of laurel and jacaranda trees shaded early morning visitors as they ambled across the cobblestone walkways. The walkways, which crisscrossed the Plaza, were lined with smaller hibiscus trees.  Rays of morning sunlight flooded the profusion of blossoms. Diane’s head was slightly nodding and her lips moved as if she were speaking with someone else. Gentry approached her from behind. 

“Excuse me?” He said.  

“Yes?”  Diane said, turning her head. “What?”

“I wonder if I might share this table with you?”  

Diane looked up at Gentry with a serious eye and shrugged her shoulders.

“The others are all taken.” He said.

Diane gave a quick glance around.  “Well sure,” she said, “why not?”

“Thanks,” Gentry replied. 

He pulled out a chair on Diane’s left and sat down. The two politely smiled and nodded to each other. Ben looked around for a waiter and seeing one gave a wave. The waiter walked over to the table and said, “Si Señor?”

“Un espresso doble, por favor,” said Gentry.

“Si Señor,” replied the waiter. “Y para la dama?” 

“Would you like another coffee?” Ben asked Diane.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“I’ve breached your privacy, it’s the least I can do.”

In a polite response, Diane lightly shook her head indicating “No”.

Gentry looked back at the waiter and said, “Solo un espresso doble”.

“Bueno. Volvere rapido,” said the waiter as he turned and walked into the restaurant.

Diane paused, then asked, “What was that last thing he said?”

“He said he would return quickly,” 

Diane smiled.

“I gather you don’t speak Spanish?” Gentry said.

“Actually I’m here for an intensive language course,” replied Diane. “I gather you do speak Spanish.”

“I grew up in an Arizona border town. It was cultural to speak Spanish. I live in Los Angeles now.”    

“I never liked L A,” Diane said.

“It takes about thirty years to like the place.”

Diane responded with a half smile.  They looked away from each other.

The waiter returned with a tray holding the espresso doble, and set the cup on the table.

“That was rapido,” Gentry said. 

“Anything else?” the waiter said.

“You speak English?” said Gentry. 

”I’m from L A, man,” said the waiter.

“So am I,” said Gentry.

“What part?”

“Venice… you?”

“Alhambra,”

“What are you doing in Oaxaca?”  

“My Uncle brought me down here last year. I was born and raised in L A but my family wanted me to experience the mother culture. Then my primo, y’know, my cousin, he got me this job.”

“How do you like it here?”

“It’s different, y’know?  Its Mexico, y’know?”  The waiter looked over at the vibrant scene in the Plaza.  “Mé-hico”, he said, pronouncing the word in proper Spanish and gesturing as if he was speaking of a mystery. There was a pause in the conversation. Gentry and Diane exchanged glances. The waiter smiled at them. 

“Con permiso, I gotta get back to work,” said the waiter.

“What’s your name?” asked Gentry.

“I’m Luis, Luis Carrillo.”

“I’m Ben Gentry,” then looking toward Diane, “and this is?”

“Diane,” she said. She seemed annoyed.  Ben could see it.

“Mucho gusto,” Luis said.  “Let me know if you need anything else.”  Luis turned and left.  

Ben looked over at Diane, and she looked coolly at him.  Ben smiled, looked out at the Plaza and sipped his coffee. Hearing someone laugh, Diane looked over to her right. Then she thought she heard Ben say something but the words didn’t register.  Looking back at Gentry, she saw him still looking out at the plaza.  She waited a moment, then said, “Actually, Ben, I came here this morning to have some quiet time. I’m not up for a conversation.”

Looking back at Diane for a moment, he saw an attractive, intelligent woman, who returned his gaze with a mix of sternness and vulnerability.

“Of course. And you should have it.” Pulling folded Peso notes out of his left front pocket, Ben put a twenty Peso bill on the tabletop.

“At least finish your coffee,” she said.” 

“That’s OK. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

Diane watched Ben walk away, into the Plaza.  ‘That was lame,’ she thought. ‘He seemed like a nice enough guy.  Or maybe not.’  She sighed and slightly shook her head.  Her reasons for being in Oaxaca had little to do with learning Spanish. 

To be continued…