Page 14 of Out of Office

“Oh, that is beautiful,” I exclaimed, walking behind him to the sleeping section of his cabana. Adrián’s huge bed faced the beachfront. A plushy three-seat oversized sofa sat on one side of the wall. Here, everything was minimalistic. The opposite wall had the door leading to the bathroom. A potent ceiling fan whistled low, no AC, making my hair fly a little.

My heart soared as I focused on the greenery and lush bougainvillea right outside the sliding door. The crash of the waves lured me, and I wandered closer to the glass, afraid to touch it lest I woke up in my bed in South Florida, ready for work yet again. The beautiful Caribbean Sea glittered magnificently in the late afternoon light, and I closed my eyes, giving silent thanks for the day’s blessings.

“Oh... Adrián, this is breathtaking. Thanks, thank you for inviting me,” I said, facing Adrián, who stood as if a lightning bolt had struck him, frozen. “Are you alright?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m equally grateful to have you here. Are you good with us sleeping so close to each other?”

I flushed, studying the large king-size bed. The sheets were freshly tucked, and there was an abundance of pillows I planned to enjoy. Unbidden, the memory of Adrián’s hand on my waist earlier made me shiver. If that slight touch turned me into molten molasses, what would sleeping next to him do to me?

“Yeah, sure, sharing a bed is...fine. I mean we’re adults, and we can—It’s okay. No problem.” At that precise second, my arms, in a show of unnecessary independence, disregarded any of my mental orders. My arms transformed into one of those inflatable long-armed dancing balloons outside of car dealerships. Smooth.

“Ahm. I’m not sleeping on the bed. I’m sleeping there.” Adrián choked, then pointed to the large sofa, which I now noticed also had a sheet draped over a folded single sheet and two pillows.

“No, you’re not. That’s no...that’s not the plan.” Heat rose to my cheeks at what my words implied.

“Oh, so I’m going to find out the plan? Does this involve choice number three? Please tell me more.” Adrián sauntered toward me, standing much too close for the comfort of my heart and the state of my underwear.

Being around Adrián was like visiting an amusement park. Exhilarating but tummy-ache-inducing. He tucked his bottom lip behind his teeth, and I wanted to kiss him until I could suck the bottom lip into my own mouth.

Madness. That was what this was. How could he elicit so many emotions in me in less than twenty-four hours?

“No, I meant, I don’t want you to have to give up your bed. That is not what I intended when I decided to stay. I don’t want to put you out of your way.” There, that sounded like the thirty-seven-year-old composed woman I actually was. Girl, about damn time you showed up.

“Mmm-hmm. I still want to know what choice three entailed. But I’m going to let that slide. Want to go have dinner at the fonda? Then we can come back and haggle about who sleeps where.”

Seven

Adrián

“No need to change, the fonda is a chill place,” I explained as Genevieve put down her things, then picked up a small cross bag and followed me out of the cabana. I had not been ready for the powerful impact Genevieve detonated within me when she first walked into my bedroom.

Since we met she’d always been moving fast, either planning her day, checking emails and taking calls during the mornings, or animated in discussion with me on any topic we could think of on the way back. She carried herself well, but a thread of tension lay underneath...after all, I recognized that rigidity.

That tension that crept into every second of the day when I was teetering on the ledge of burnout. For me tragedy brought me back from that ledge, but for Genevieve it seemed nothing would. That tragedy closed my chapter for my workaholic ways. The wound of losing myself and my loved ones had cicatrized, but the phantom pain still visited me at the mere touch of it. Maybe these two weeks could restore her. Maybe I could help her with that. Be her shelter while she replenished and filled her cup again, but was there a way for me to do that without being lured into the same old tendencies she exhibited now? It was heady to meet someone so passionate about her career and how she wanted to leave a mark in the world with her work. I remember that intoxicating feeling.

Standing in my bedroom, I witnessed her slightly softening. Arms loose, shoulders down, back languid and straight. It had been a few seconds if anything, but there was an instant where she was fully present, and it rocked me. I felt the energy and the power just as strong.

The early evening gold and purple hues had crept up as she’d settled her things in my cabana. Mosquitos flew around us, and the night creatures’ symphony started its crescendo as we navigated the path back to the main casita and toward the road.

“We can take the car if you want, but the walk is not far. A mile, if anything.”

“That’s okay, I can do that.” Genevieve smiled, and my breath caught at how gorgeous she was under the fading evening light. She wore the same leggings and T-shirt from the morning, the shoulder of her dark brown skin begging for a kiss—Gen swatted that shoulder with her right hand, pulling me out of my horny, addled thoughts.

“Oh damn, did you get it?”

She pulled back to find the dead mosquito that dared mess with her.

“I did, but not gonna lie I’m losing the battle here.” She grimaced as she swatted yet another mosquito. Damn. Mosquitos loved new blood.

“Sorry, I should have thought of that, they don’t mess with me much because I’m old blood. They’re tired of my ass.” The distraction worked; the tinkle of her laugh poured gently over me, warming me inside and out.

“I doubt that...” she murmured, then smirked.

The laughter unlocked something loose in Genevieve, and we continued the banter all the way to La Buenona. This was what we had from our rides—this easy flow of ideas, jokes, and anecdotes. By the time we reached the fonda, the night was fully settled, and the heat transformed from relentless to slightly bearable.

“So, what’s the story with the name of the fonda?” Genevieve asked as we stepped up the large cement step that brought us up into the opened structure of the restaurant. The familiar mismatched chairs and tables pulled from different households of my family filled the large cement expanse with colorful plastic tablecloths. Just as I suspected, the fonda brimmed with the new tourists visiting the town, a multitude of shades of attractive Black patrons filled us past capacity and I could see where Mario must have pulled some of the plastic chairs we kept in the back for the nights where we turned the space for tamboritos and parties.

“Wow, busy night,” Genevieve said, impressed with the restaurant as Chichi and Mario navigated the tight space between tables, checking in on people. A pang of guilt hit me to think I’d left my family to fend on their own, but then Claudia popped her head out of the window of the kitchen where they expedited all orders. I saw she was talking to three of my cousins and the guilt lessened, but only a little.

---