Mexico - 6. Chapter 6 of 16

Leaving Guaymas should have been easy. There were only a few ways. But neither of us knew the roads. Though someone else did.
“Mark,” I said slowly, having spotted something in my rear view mirror.
“What?”
“How long have you known Anne?”
He took it as curiosity and answered easily. “A couple of years. Why?”
“How long have you been engaged?”
He didn’t want to answer that, so I didn’t push.
“But she loves you?” I went on.
I glanced at him. He was studying his hands, as if measuring one against the other.
“She loves you,” I repeated. “No matter what you think.”
“I know that,” he admitted. “I never doubted it.”
“Then you know how pissed off she’ll be when she reads your note.”
I tactfully downgraded its length again.
“I’ll call her later.”
“There’s no need,” I told him. “She’s right behind us.”
He jerked around before I could even warn him not to. Even through my dusty window, Anne noticed and honked her horn.
“Shit,” Mark said.
I began to pull over.
“No,” he said. “I can’t talk to her now.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I can’t.”
“You’ve got to.”
He thought about that and quickly realized I was right.
“Well, give me a minute.”
He just stared downward while I looked for a safe place to stop. Mexican roads were narrow, and even the highways had almost no shoulders. I didn’t want to wreck my car.
Meanwhile, I signaled Anne out my window, showing I was trying to pull over. At least, that’s what I figured my gestures meant. Who knows what she thought?
Within a mile, I found a spot. I stopped in a wave of dust, Anne just behind me. I hadn’t really looked at Mark because I’d been so focused on the road. When I did look, he was still studying his hands. Only now, they were tightly folded into fists, one clutching the other.
He got out without saying goodbye, and I thought that was pretty well it. But he left the door open.
As he stood near the front of Anne’s car, I watched in the mirror. Mark was by the hood, on what would have been the shoulder if the road hadn’t suddenly dropped into fields. Anne pointed at the passenger door, then motioned for him to get in. He gestured for her to get out. She shook her head, but once traffic temporarily cleared, she did.
I could hear them talking though they started low. She was upset, of course, with reason.
“I don’t love you,” I heard Chris yelling at me.
“What’re you doing?” Anne asked Mark.
“I don’t want to fight,” Chris had gone on.
“I didn’t want this to happen,” Mark nearly echoed.
“Then get in the car.”
Mark didn’t move
“Please,” Anne asked quietly.
“Don’t go,” I’d begged Chris.
“This isn’t new,” Mark continued.
It was for Chris and me. But he left, no matter how I apologized. For my yelling when he was wrong
“I’ll call when I get back,” Mark told Anne.
“Call? Just come home.”
Then they were living together. That was confirmation. As Chris confirmed that the guy I’d found him with wasn’t the first he’d slept with.
“That’s hardly sleeping!” I’d shouted, remembering their gymnastics on the stairs.
“You’re too conservative for this,” Anne told Mark.
As Chris had told me. But I wasn’t too conservative to take off to Mexico. Well... travel. First, I’d finished the semester, unwilling to risk my job.
Maybe I was too conservative.
“Next week?” Anne asked Mark.
He shook his head.
“You only have two off,” she seemed to remind him.
“I’m not going back,” he said. “It’s more than just us. It’s the whole thing.”
“What... thing?”
“There’s nothing left,” Chris had told me. “Don’t you understand?”
“What’ll you do?” Anne asked Mark. When he didn’t answer, she added, “Come back now, before it’s something stupid.”
Instead, he held her. As Chris had held me. God, I hate crying.
Mark kissed Anne, and she started to smile. Then he turned away.
It knocked her out. You could follow the shock. Numbly, she trailed him back to my car, watching as he gently closed the door.
“I love you,” she said, touching his lips through the open window.
He was smart enough not to say anything.
I wasn’t. I’d made a mess.
He nodded at me while Anne kept staring. As I tried noiselessly to re-start the engine, she backed slightly away from my car. Then she just stood.
“Go,” Mark said.
“You’re sure?”
“Go.”
Anne watched as I eased onto the road.
She watched as I watched her in my mirror.
She just stood.
Mark was staring straight ahead, as if he didn’t dare look anywhere else. But I knew he could see Anne’s reflection.
I drove slowly, in case he changed his mind. He didn’t. When neither of us could see her any more, he kind of sagged in his seat. It wasn’t the little slide he’d done when we’d passed the hotel. And it wasn’t defeat.
Then he didn’t talk. Neither of us did, for the longest time. When I found myself tensely about to hum, I pointed to the radio.
He looked at me then nodded.
I turned it on. Getting static.
I tried to find a station but needed to drive.
Mark found one.
I soon had to confess, “I’ve always hated Mariachi bands.”
He smiled, but I could tell he didn’t mean it. I knew what he was thinking about. And I felt so sorry for Anne.