***
When Adrienne told Frederick about the wedding, he was very understanding, and he gave her a week of freedom. She packed her suitcase, and took a cab to MSY, where she boarded a flight to Mexico.
A baby screamed in her ear for half of the journey, and she was just considering trying to find a way to throw it off the plane, when its mother took a Poland Spring water bottle out of her purse, and poured a little of its contents into the baby’s milk bottle.
“Not water, of course,” the mother said confidentially to Adrienne. She was haggard-looking – ravaged-looking, really. There were dark circles under her empty eyes, and her thin hair was unwashed. “I put the vodka in a water bottle to get it onto the plane. I’ve been trying to wean him off of it – it’s all my husband’s fault, he’s the one who started it, the stupid damned Russian.” She looked down into the baby’s chubby face, her expression half-amused, and half-disgusted. “It works, anyway,” she muttered, stuffing the nipple of the bottle into the baby’s small red mouth.
Five minutes later, the baby was asleep. It didn’t wake up again until they got to the Acapulco International Airport. Adrienne thought about saying something encouraging to the mother before debarking the plane – but then she thought better of it, and hurried away.
While she was looking for her bag in the airport, she was assaulted by the smell of sweat, fast-food tacos, and jacaranda blossoms. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant – you might say there was something exotic about it – but just the same, she made her way quickly out of the airport, and set about looking for the shuttle that her brother had recommended to her. Alphonse had offered to come and pick her up, but she’d declined, with the excuse that she was sure he’d be busy with the wedding preparations. But really, she was just nervous about seeing him again.
The little white van took a while to arrive, so she sat on her suitcase on the sidewalk, watching the passing traffic, and trying not to think about anything.
Hard as she tried not to think, though, she was preoccupied with the image of her brother’s young face, the last time she saw it. No doubt he’d look much different now. Maybe she wouldn’t even recognize him.
She was grateful when the van arrived, and a little Mexican man got out to help her with her bag. She let him pick it up for her, and nodded graciously, almost pleased by the warm smile he offered her. Nearly all of his small teeth were visible, when he smiled, stained brown with pipe tobacco. His wrinkled face wore an expression that wasn’t just friendly, but hospitable, as if he were willing to listen with an entirely open mind to anything you might have to say.
“Hola, señora,” he said kindly. “My name is Miguel. Where are you headed?”
“I don’t know if you’ll know where I mean,” Adrienne returned, “but I’m looking for a house on Sepulveda Boulevard.”
“Ah!” Miguel exclaimed. “Everyone knows where to find Señor Rivet’s house. We often drive his business people out to meet him.”
“How did you know who I meant?” Adrienne asked suspiciously.
“Because,” Miguel answered patiently, “Sepulveda Boulevard was put in, you know, just for Señor Rivet’s house. Señor’s house is the only house on Sepulveda Boulevard. Down on the south end of the bay, where all the newer things are.”
“How far is it?”
“Not far. Less than twenty miles.”
“Good,” Adrienne said with a sigh. “The flight was long enough.”
Miguel looked at her knowingly, squinting into her face with intelligent little black eyes. Her discomfort and anxiety didn’t escape him.
“You are a business associate of Señor Rivet’s?” he asked curiously.
“No,” Adrienne replied, in an almost regretful tone of voice. “He’s my brother. And he’s getting married.”
“Ah!” Miguel repeated. “Felicitaciones! Well – congratulations to him, I mean.”
He peered inquisitively at Adrienne, and asked, “Are you married, señora? Well – since I didn’t know, I suppose I should have called you señorita. But I had a hard time believing such a beautiful woman could be unmarried!”
Adrienne nodded, a little stiffly, and answered, “Yes. I’m married.”
“Ah! Excelente! I knew it.”
He stowed Adrienne’s bag in the back of the van, and asked, “Where would you like to sit? In the middle, or up front?”
“You let passengers sit up front?” she asked.
“Ah, yes,” he answered with a wink. “I do, señora, when they are as pretty as you.”
Adrienne smiled in spite of herself, and allowed Miguel to hold the passenger door open for her. Then she got into the van, and Miguel drove them out onto the freeway.
They were silent, for a few minutes. But little Miguel wasn’t a naturally quiet fellow. Soon, he started peeking towards Adrienne, and smiling in that understanding little way of his.
“You are afraid to go to your brother,” he said. “You have not seen him in a long time, I think.”
“I haven’t seen him since I was fourteen,” Adrienne answered quietly, gazing pensively out the window, and not quite understanding why she’d answered the man.
“Ah!” said Miguel. “Yes – a long time. But it will be all right, you know. A brother never forgets his sister.” He clapped a hand to his chest, and smiled honestly. “A brother loves his sister forever,” he went on, “just as God intended.”
Adrienne smiled back at him, feeling appreciative of his kindness.
“But you will miss your husband, yes?” Miguel inquired.
Adrienne looked away, and frowned slightly. “He’ll be fine without me,” she said. “We do just fine without each other.”
Miguel stared for so long at the side of her face, she began to worry that he would crash into something. She looked at him in alarm.
“You do not love your husband,” he announced in an important-sounding voice.
Adrienne held his eyes for a moment. They were like the eyes of a kindly snake-charmer, making her say what she didn’t want to say.
“No,” she answered. “I don’t love him. We’re friends, you might say. Our business threw us together.”
Miguel nodded in an understanding way, and looked back to the road. Adrienne let out a sigh of relief.
“Business is a funny thing,” he said. “It brings people together. My wife was a waitress in a restaurant, and I was a cook. I also made pottery. She encouraged me to show my work to my boss – and he asked me to glaze my creations, so that they could be used for decorative platters. I made a little splash with my platters. People wanted to buy them; they offered me a lot of money for them, but my boss always found a way to keep me from getting it. Eventually, I just went back to being a cook. But I married my wife! She’s always believed in me. I still make pottery – but I drive pretty people like you to make money.”
He winked at her, and she couldn’t help but smile.
“Your wife sounds like –” (she thought for a moment, wanting to find the right words) “– she sounds like a perfectly perfect person.”
“Ah!” he said. “She is perfect. I have never seen anything so perfect as my Mariana!”
He peered at her, and added, “I hope that someday you will find someone so perfect, señora.”
Adrienne laughed softly, and stretched back in her seat. “You wouldn’t think it was bad of me to divorce my husband, Miguel?”
He chuckled, looking thoughtfully out the windshield. “Ah,” he said, “no, señora. Not bad at all – if you find someone who is perfect.”
Adrienne watched his kind face for a moment, but then turned to look out the window, savoring the beautifully clear June sky. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the sky this way. Sometimes, she looked at it in the morning, drawing her bedroom curtain aside to see if it was raining – but she had never noticed how blue it was.
It was perfect.