Chapter 13

In the town of Tixtla, Mexico, in a small community there was a very modest home that was comprised of two bedrooms, a bathroom that was covered, and a living and eating area that was uncovered. The floor was the terrain.

There was a man that resided with an Indigenous woman whom most people called El Doctor. It was a few days before Christmas and the little house was made to feel festive with colorful handmade decorations.

El Doctor was in the bedroom with Xochi a slightly older woman, with jet black hair that fell to her lower back. She was short in stature and her skin was a pretty golden brown.

She lay with her face down on the sheets. El doctor hammered away as her cheeks rippled with the pounding motion. He pushed deeper with every stroke. She yelped and groaned. Up until her first sexual encounter with him, she had never really known what it was to enjoy sex.

She was married young and when her husband realized she was barren; he left her for another woman in another town. She had lovers, but they would always get off and leave her wondering why sex wasn’t that desirable.

But that first time the kind doctor, opened her up wide with that elephant trunk and those deep rhythmic strokes, she screamed in unbridled passion and longed for more. And this night was no different, he stroked her kitty until she purred. When it was over, she would always cuddle close to him until she fell asleep.

She felt a closeness to him, but he was lost. His mind was always in a fog, with images of people coming and going. When Xochi fell asleep, he rolled over and looked at the wall. Something didn’t feel right. How was it possible he was with this woman that claimed to be his wife, but he had no recollection of her. His eyes closed. And just like clockwork, the vision of this biracial American woman appeared to him, The woman with the honey-colored eyes. Her smile, her laughter, the way she moved, and her curves. She seemed so real to him.

The next day, in the town, he helped Xochi set up the products she sold to tourists. As he set up some crafts, a woman, beautiful, fair skin, with blonde hair, spoke to him. As he responded, she asked, “Where are you from?”

He smiled, it delighted her, “From here,” he said plainly.

She replied, “Really, because your accent is like the Venezuelan people I know.”

Xochi saw the woman taking too long to move along, so she approached, “Are you buying?”

The pretty woman got the message and moved along. He was used to Xochi behaving in that manner. She was protective of him and he often got tired of reassuring her that he wasn’t leaving.

After helping set up, El doctor would work in a small shack helping the people with minor injuries. He had a knack for healing, but he didn’t know why.

Xochi went home to prepare dinner and put things away. He worked in the little office. A young woman entered with her 13-year-old son that had a camera in one hand and a magazine in the other. She was selling tamales.

He saw the picture on the cover of the magazine. It was of a nature trail, very lush and green. It reminded him of something. He asked, “Are you going to be a photographer?”

He nodded, “Yes sir. Just like my aunt. She moved to Florida and works in photography. She sends me her old equipment and magazines of some of her favorites, like this one,” He showed El Doctor the photograph, “My aunt is working with the photographer that took this.”

He read the byline, “Taylor Newman.” He nodded, “I wish you all the best.” He smiled.

He purchased a couple of tamales and watched them head out to the next destination. He repeated the name. “Taylor Newman.” He smiled.

It was the day before Christmas, and Raul’s and Taylor’s house buzzed with family members. Raul’s parents, his brother Cristian and his wife and their two children, and his sister Hannah. Everyone had a section of the house to retreat to if they wanted privacy.

In the kitchen, the ladies talked while they prepared various dishes. The men watched football in the family room.

When dinner time arrived, everyone sat around the table in the formal den. Things were going great. Taylor didn’t grow up with a big family and often longed for those connections.

His mother commented, “I’m so excited about our new grandbaby coming in March.” Everyone commented and expressed their excitement, except Raul’s father. He had a stank face and spoke in Spanish, “This baby is not my son’s child, so it’s not our grandchild.”

It got quiet. Taylor’s face was cracked. Part of her wanted to reach across the table to slap his face, but she remained poised. Raul commented, “Papa.”

“What did I say? It’s true. Just because you decided to help out a single mother doesn’t make you the father.”

Taylor spoke, “I don’t know if you know, but I can surmise what you’re saying.” His jaw dropped.

She didn’t speak perfect Spanish, but she knew enough to know, he was talking shit about her, so she commented, “Sir, let’s be very clear, I’m an accomplished photographer, known internationally. I can very well take care of myself. Let’s not pretend I was some whore your son found eating out of garbage cans.” She stood up and left the room.

His dad looked at him, “You let that woman speak to me like that in your house.”

Raul stood up, “Mira papa. This house is my house and Taylor is my woman, so that makes this her house too. And the baby she’s carrying, I will treat like my very own. If you have a problem with that, you can leave.” Raul stood and angrily left the table.

Raul’s dad looked at his wife, “That’s your son.”

She stood up and scolded him, “Ya callate!”

The brother shook his head, “Papa, that wasn’t nice.”

He sat and pouted. The dinner was suddenly silent and awkward.

Raul opened the bedroom door slowly; he saw Taylor with her purse. “Where are you off to?” He placed his hands on her hips and looked into her eyes.

“I need to get out of here.”

“I understand you’re upset. But I took care of it. This is our house, if anyone should leave, it’s him.” He placed his forehead on hers, “I love you and the baby, Taylor Newman, accomplished photographer and pianist extraordinaire.”

She laughed and then kissed him. She had a familiar look in her eye. He grinned, “um, what going on in that mind of yours.”

“I hear it’s supposed to rain in about twenty minutes.” She bit her lip, “I can put on that one dress you like and we can drive the van down to the piers and I can be loud.”

His eyes widened, he cleared his throat, and he nodded. “what if someone asks where we’re going?”

“I can walk out mad and you can follow me into the garage.” She kissed his lips, cheek, and neck.

He nodded. She smiled with glee and went into the closet to find the dress. When she came out, she wore a white off-the-shoulder maxi dress that was light and airy, it was long-sleeved and had beautiful wide cuffs. She put on her best mad face and stepped out into the living room. No one was in the living room. She hurried to the garage and got into the van. Moments later Raul got into the van.

They were like two teenagers headed out for mischief. He leaned over and kissed her. Then he drove out of the garage and they left.

The sky was dark, there were clouds and the rain poured in giant droplets. Instead of driving to the piers, they went to the lake. Not a person was out at that time of night, especially with the weather. The thunder clapped in the background and the sound of the raindrops sounded against the vehicle.