"Can you help me, I am trying to get laid by her" and other insightful comments
Neny (my closest CR friend) had her birthday party out in the country, at a pool. They hired a musician, he was really good.
Heather and I spent most of the night dodging the advances of drunk Costa Rican surfers. One spilled a glass of wine in Heather's lap. Another one said in a slurred Spanglish outburst, "I like the ocean, you know, the coast, the waves, the pussy."
When I started laughing at him he said, "What? Can you help me, I am trying to get laid by her." Then he lunged in for a kiss, which she was somehow oblivious to, and I palmed him in the face. "Why? Why do you do that? Why are you going back to the America? You should stay here, in Alajuela, in my bed, in my skin."
I saw Marco yesterday, looked him right in the eyes and said hello. He looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. Marlen didn't say anything to me all day, a moment I'd only prayed for. You could taste the tension in the house. So we decided it was best to leave.
Heather wanted to leave on good terms. I knew it was a waste of time. I can accept the fact that Marlen was a conniving fucking bitch since the second we met her. But Heather wants to believe in the goodness of people and all that crap, so she tried to talk to Marlen.
I have never wanted to hit another human being as much as I did yesterday afternoon. Pure garbage spewed out of that woman's mouth. We were the one's whose trust was broken, whose money was stolen, who were lied to relentlessly, yet Marlen never once said sorry. She guilted us for telling people about it, and how it was going to be our fault if the maid lost her job at other houses. We never once said it was the maid. It was pure denial and pure bullshit. I'm pretty much immune to guilt trips, but Heather was sobbing.
That didn't stop Marlen, she just kept at it. Some nonsense about the attic light being on and a gun in her bedroom, her stories and sorry ass excuses get more and more deluded. Hey, maybe space aliens took the money and turned on the attic light.
I had to leave, and didn't say good-bye. Of course the second I did, she told Heather what a lying thief I was, blah blah.
I brought all my stuff over to Sergio and Neny's, sat in their porch while Antonio screamed and hit the Pit Bull in the face. The Pit Bull snapped at him, he screamed louder, then the dog started humping my leg.
Sergio gave us a ride to Heredia. It was raining hard, we got lost, asked an arguing couple on the corner for directions, almost got hit my a taxi, all with dreary saxophone music in the background.
We finally got to our friend's house, who'd just had a serious conversation with their neighbors about the grandfather coming into their house with bricks. The little girl told me about the poisonous snake they'd found in a can of paint. I carried my bags upstairs, collapsed on my bed. Ahh...