The woman that lived at the end of the hall seemed to have been quite beautiful. She used to wear short skirts, tight, a hairstyle that used to be cool and the neckline showed much of her implants. Ever since I arrived to this hotel in Mexico City she looked at me as if she wanted to be with me... alone.
-Please, call me Kathy!- she seemed like a good person with a latin accent
The morning sun was bathing the desertic bougainvilleas; the heat was about to arise. "Time for breakfast, isn't it?" She wouldn't stop smiling at me.
-Yeah, right, uhm... Kathy - I answered; there was not much to say really.
Mexicans are quite curious really, I realized that this days. Some of them don't like to talk, but some seem to start a chat out of no particular topic: weather, diets, shopping, breakfast.
-I'll ask for some diet scrambled eggs and a big orange juice.... -small talk
Kathy grabbed me from the arm and pulled me to the cafeteria. It was a sunday, my plane was to take off the next day. I didn't know what to say as we moved around the pool. I haven't been doing much the last two days except for calling my mom and the office, walking around the mall, buying stuff and hang out. Nothing great to brag about.
Hidden speakers were playin' some easy listening music, Kathy smelled like flowers and her touch was fragile on my arm. Just like a girl, I thought, and I tried to find her plastic surgeries: lips, nose, breasts, possibly a liposuction; thought there's also gravity and the years influencing on her body.
We sat near a window. We ordered. Kathy started telling me about the last time she dyed her hair and the dilemma of choosing a color, about a show where women had their hair dyed and they looked great, about her favorite tv show, about the time when she hooked up with a tv guy and what she like about him; finally, she shut up and stared again at me without letting the smile go away from her face.
-It's been years since the last time I slept with an American...
I took a sip from my coffe to lessen the importance of her last statement. "Really?... How was it?"
My indifference seemed to upset her. But just a moment, like if she became unsecure of her sex appeal or like she remembered her age. Just a blink. Charming as she was, she explained to me that it was right after her third divorce and she's been having a bad time since, she didn't want to have anything serious at the time. Too many months alone. Visiting old boyfriends. Simulating renewed passion. One of them even took her to visit some beaches and prehispanic ruins. But he was tired and couldn't go on with those vacations for any longer. One night, at the bar, she drank alone, drank much more than usual and met a british guy, that seemed to be poor.
But that didn't stop her. He was alone too. And lonely people communicate in a special way. Casual snuggles, some call it. So, with no more to it and with the drink in her hand, she asked him to kiss her. She told me that she would only ask such a thing being drunk while playing with a necklace that lightly touched her chest. The british, don't know if scared or courageous, came close and kissed her. And they talked about nothing, she asked him to not talk about himself. Finished her drink, grabbed her purse and, with a signal, he understood that he should follow her to the bedroom. I can imagine what happened then, she danced for him with a dimmed light that would hide her age and then, they moved on to other things.
-That was the last time I snuggled an American...
I took another sip from my coffee. Took a bite off my breakfast which I had barely even touched. Stared out the window to the city. "It's sad...", didn't know what else I could say.
Kathy didn't answer. I examined her, hold her hand and said: "A british is not an american..."; but she wasn't paying attention. We split up the check and I paid the tip.
We made the whole trip back again to the hall, and we passed-by my door... and were heading all the way down the hall...
Autor: James Jack
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