Rosa listened to Marisol, the tour guide turned agent-interpreter-problem solver, with boredom. The words no longer formed sentences in her mind. She watched as the woman, hired by her husband, gesticulated vigorously and importantly in her sun-faded, too-tight top. Rosa unconsciously began to play with the diamond pendant hanging around her neck. Sunlight danced joyfully on the large, yellow teardrop gemstone nestled in the brilliant setting, the size of a thumb.
“Another glass of champagne, darling?” her husband cooed, already pouring.
For a moment, Rosa considered not drinking. The previous two glasses had hit her hard in the scorching sun, and she felt a bit drowsy. But before the thought was fully formed, her lips were already resting on the crystal rim. She closed her eyes as the bubbly liquid spread over her tongue. She loved being retired. While working and raising children, she always had to wait for the sun to set. Now, enjoying the fruits of her labor, even her morning orange juice came spiked with champagne.
She turned her always flushed face toward the sun. The expected invigoration didn’t come this time. The joy that usually came with alcohol failed to spread through her body. Instead, the drink she had with her mid-morning coffee only brought a leaden fatigue. Disappointed, she grabbed her husband’s glass of cola, hoping a little extra caffeine might improve her mood.
“Of course, there’s an extra charge for urgency,” she heard Marisol’s distant voice.
Rosa glanced at the woman with one eye. She noticed that Marisol’s posture had changed. She instantly sensed something was off.
“An extra charge for urgency, you bitch” she thought to herself, closing her eyes again without saying a word. She suspected that Marisol had sniffed out that there was plenty of money to be made here if she played her cards right. She threw everything she had into it, and Rosa didn’t blame her. The guide-turned-agent had to make a living, and the compatriots who didn’t know the area or speak the language were a huge opportunity for someone like Marisol, who was starting over yet again.
The knowledge that she, Rosa, was the one who would keep Marisol tossing and turning in her bed for weeks filled her with a pleasant sense of satisfaction. If only that woman knew that Rosa had enough cash in her purse right now to change Marisol’s life forever, she’d probably stick a fake nose on herself just to please the wealthy couple. Rosa grinned. A dull tingling ran from the top of her head down to the back of her neck and shoulders. She didn’t feel so sleepy anymore. She would have loved to join the conversation, but the role of the cold, distant, diamond-necklaced, elegant lady had grown on her. Rosa lightly tapped the table next to her champagne glass, signaling her husband to pour more. The waiter promptly brought another bottle.
Rosa discreetly raised her shoulder to her pleasantly numb chin, making sure no one noticed the naughty sip that slipped past her and tried to escape through the corner of her mouth. She straightened up, casting a disdainful glance at Marisol, whose words she no longer understood. Her fingers played again with the gemstone hanging around her neck. After all, she, Rosa, didn’t even need to understand what that woman was babbling about. Marisol would get a bit of pocket change, which she’d be thrilled with. Rosa wouldn’t even remember her name. Marisol. Mar y sol. Anyway, what a tacky name that was!
Marisol watched in dismay as the drunken woman poured champagne straight down the side of her mouth. She glanced cautiously at the husband, who had lowered his head. The intoxicated woman had finished nearly a bottle and a half in less than an hour. It wasn’t even eleven in the morning. Marisol knew this would be the first thing she’d give thanks for before falling asleep tonight. The woman couldn’t have been more than fifty, yet she carried heavy, red bags under her eyes. Marisol felt sorry for her and couldn’t help but be grateful that she wasn’t the one sitting in Rosa’s seat.