Page 54 of Seductive Desires

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There is onlyone place in the world I’ve wanted to go since I was seven years old. I boarded the plane to Mexico with only a small carry on. I could get everything I needed when I got there. When I got home. To the place where my mother and I shared the most memories. To the place I would dream of during cold and lonely nights on the streets or when things got so bad I needed to escape. I booked a room at the hotel my mom used to work at and the minute I stepped into the gorgeous reception area I was blasted with memories.

Blue decorative tiles covered the floor, just like I remembered. They had done a couple updates, the reception desk was now white with big blue glass tiles along the top. The walls were white too. They used to be bright orange. But the overall structure was the same. They still had large rounded archways between each room, spinning fans that looked like palm leaves, and a huge glass door that led straight onto the beach.

I splurged a little to get an oceanfront bungalow. I wanted privacy and luckily I hadn’t spent any of the money I got from when we sold Mateo the painting. It was almost like he was paying for this vacation, which made me smile. He was all about having fun. He would probably be proud of me for taking time off for myself.

I shook my head. I needed to not think about him. I didn’t want to cry again. Instead, I focused on the room itself. It wasn’t overly big, but since it was just me, I didn’t mind. The bungalow itself had a thatch roof. The one and only entrance was a large sliding door right in front of the bed. It faced the ocean, giving me a perfect view. Inside, it has a large king size bed with fluffy white bedding and sheer curtains along the four posts. There was a small loveseat at the foot of the bed, and a rustic looking dresser off to one side but not much else. The attached bath was beautiful. Bright blue sinks on top of white counters, a big open shower, all with rustic touches like the door jams looking like real branches of wood.

The room came with its own small private pool. It had a tall wooden fence around it and sliding doors that could open to give you a view of the beach while you swim. The pool itself wasn’t big enough to swim laps in, but was big enough for several people to lounge comfortably. It was unlikely that I’d be swimming in it much, I’d rather be on the beach, but it was still a nice option to have.

I was thinking about spending the first day in my room, just getting my head on right, but I couldn’t ignore the water even if I wanted to. So I slipped on a pair of shorts and a tank top, grabbed the sandals I picked up on the way here, and made my way down the beach. It was hot, the sun warming my skin, but the ocean breeze kept me comfortable. I walked barefoot through the shallows, the tide washing over my feet.

When I got too warm, I made my way back. The hotel had an outdoor bar and I ordered a drink before making my way to a swinging loveseat that sat on the edge of the beach overlooking the water. It had its own canopy, giving me a nice break from the sun as I rocked back and forth, watching the families play on the beach in front of me.

My stomach twisted as I watched a small family building a sandcastle, the parents cupping the kids’ hands to help them shape the towers. My mother and I used to do that. On her lunch breaks, we’d have a picnic on the beach and build sand castles. I always wanted to do the same when I had my own kids. Now, after everything, especially with Mateo, I didn’t feel like that would ever happen.

I wiped a stray tear away. I really need to get over him. I need to not give in to the overwhelming urge to call him and see if he’s healing okay. To ask if he missed me as much as I missed him.

“Mariana?”

I jumped, spilling some of my drink onto my lap. Holy crap that's cold!

The speaker was a small hispanic woman who looked to be mid to late forties. She was wearing a hotel uniform with an apron wrapped around her waist. Her long black hair was french braided tightly. I searched her face, frowning.

“Do I know you?”

“I suppose not anymore, mija. You were so very little the last time I saw you. My name is Carmen.”

I tilted my head, trying to figure out who this woman was. I didn’t have a ton of memories of my time here, and most of them were focused on my mom.

“Lucia said you would come back some day.”

My eyebrows flew up. “You knew my mom?”

“Sí, she was my very best friend. We grew up together, got a job together. I was the one who picked her up when she came back from America. I was shocked when I saw the tiny bundle in her arms. I did not even know she was pregnant.”

I motioned for her to join me on the swing. I had hoped I’d be able to meet people who knew my mother, but I didn’t think they’d be at the hotel. She sat with a sigh, playing with a rag as she looked out over the ocean

“I was very sorry to hear that she passed. I prayed for you.”

I nodded slowly, a lump forming in my throat. “How did you know it was me?”

She smiled at me. “Because you look just like her! Look at you, mija, all grown up. Your mama looked the very same at that age. I thought I was seeing a ghost for un momento.”

I dropped my gaze, frowning. “I don’t remember her face very well anymore. I only had one picture of her and I always thought she looked flawless. Not like me at all.”

She reached over, taking my free hand in between both of hers. “Mija, you were so little when she passed. You must not blame yourself for not remembering her. She wouldn’t want you to be sad.” She gave me a reassuring smile. “Lucia took her name very seriously, always bright and smiling. And you, sweet child, you copied everything she did. I don’t think I ever saw you frown, not even when you fell and got hurt. You would just smile at me and tell me ‘mama will fix it.’”

My chin trembled. I had to put my drink down so I could wipe the tears from my face. “I miss her.”

Carmen wrapped an arm around me, pulling me against her. I laid my head on her shoulder, trying my best not to sob.

“Do not cry, Mariana. She is watching over you. It would make her sad to see you so unhappy.” She rubbed my arm. “How long are you staying? I have a few things of your mother’s that may help.”

I leaned back far enough to see her face without leaving her comforting embrace. “Really?”

She nodded, looking thoughtful. “I even have some pictures, I think, from when we were growing up. And I know I have a few of you when you were little. You were my favorite part of the day. You used to help me fold towels, do you remember?”

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