He took another long sip of the new drink. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the table and let his eyes drop to the girls’ stuff before him.
Neither bag had any obvious clues as to what the girls’ secrets were—no condoms or tampons or birth control pills. No medications. No visible money. A book blocked most of the view inside, but he could still see the tops of two bottles of sunscreen, Coppertone 30 and a Mexican discount brand of unknown SPF. A small towel, blue terry cloth and a flower pattern. The strap of a cellphone with a small Hello Kitty on it. They had to be college age at least to be traveling alone. It simultaneously thrilled and depressed him to think that if they were college freshmen he would be more than twice their age. A well-thumbed issue of Cosmo, the same one his wife was reading. Reed hoped that it didn’t belong to the brunette. He thought of how the dark-haired one had smiled at him just long enough for him to think that she meant it.
“Thanks,” the tall girl said, surprising him, already back. He hoped he hadn’t looked as if he were snooping. She handed him back the key card. “You’re a lifesaver.”
She bent down and began to lift the bag, but lost her grip on one handle and it dropped. The stuff balanced on top fell off sideways, sending the camera and the third girl’s bag to the floor, spilling the contents, scattering things under the table. There was a soft splash. Several coins rolled out across the cement, stopping eventually in ever-tightening concentric circles, a few dropping into the water and sounding like rain. The digital camera bounced off the hard terra cotta and came to rest near Reed’s left foot. Without the book to act as a stopper, the tiny purse emptied: a Pandora’s box of random tiny things onto the ground. Movie ticket stubs, coupons, two hair bands, a small comb, a foil and plastic package of small pills that actually did look like birth control, a wad of money that was not U.S. dollars and was not Mexican pesos. Euros?
“Shit,” the tall girl said.
“Wow,” Reed said, standing up, steadying himself on the table before moving to help. “Looks like you set off a grenade.” They looked at each other. She giggled.
“Right?” He said, miming pulling a pin and tossing an imaginary incendiary over the pile. “Boom! Stuff all over the place?”
The other two girls pushed open the bathroom door, saw the mess, and came running over.
“What happened?” the peroxide blonde said.
“It was all my fault,” Reed said, interrupting her. “I tried to hand it to her and somehow I just knocked the bag over. I’m sorry.”
“He’s just being nice,” the tall girl said. “Saintly. First the bathroom, now taking the blame….” She touched his shoulder briefly.
Reed realized she was flirting with him and wished it were the enigmatic brunette instead. But the brunette was just standing back, watching casually, not seeming to care that her stuff, along with the others’, was strewn over the cement.
“Damn it, Sharon,” the short blond said. “You dropped my camera? If it’s busted you’re going to pay for it.”
“Hah,” Sharon snorted. “If it’s broken just ask Daddy Warbucks to send you another.”
“If you broke it, you fix it.”
“If I’m buying you a new camera you’ll be getting a one-time disposable. Something that fits my budget. Or…what, you think I should turn tricks on the corner to pay for it?”
“Did you even turn it on yet?” the third girl asked. “Stop bickering. It’s probably fine.”
They waited as the other girl hit the power switch. Reed heard the telltale electric whine of the autofocus.
“Does it work?”
The rich girl took a photo and peered at the viewfinder. “It looks okay. But if it turns out to be broken….”
The third girl looked at Reed, then silently mouthed “Drama,” lengthening the “a”s.
Reed felt his cheeks begin to get hot, a heat that started in his neck and then spread upward and outward, all the way to his ears. The three coeds collected the dropped items, thanked him again for the use of the key card, and started to leave.
“Wait,” said the third girl. “Where’s my book? It was right here.” She looked at Reed, as if he’d somehow hidden it.
“We’re going to miss the bus,” Sharon said. “You’ll find it later.”
“But it’s not here.” Again, a look at Reed. You took it?
After they’d gone, Reed settled back into his chair. He closed his eyes and saw that young woman’s face swimming there in the darkness of his eyelids. He remembered the look she’d given him, how they’d shared that secret laugh at the other girls’ expense. That feeling in his chest, as if some magician had reached his white gloves into the top hat of his torso and released a wild dove there. The idea that the last thing she’d ever think about him was that he’d swiped her book bothered him. The unanswered, “Why?”
Laurel returned right as Carlos was serving him another cocktail.
“What was that all about?” she asked. “Those girls.”
“They needed to use the bathroom. I lent them my key.”
She sat down. They looked at each other.
“Reed,” she said, softly. “I’m going to go back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? What do you mean? We just got here.” He sat up and stared at her.
“I’ve got so much going on back home. You know. Important stuff.”
“Oh, like this isn’t important?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I think it’s important. Us.”
“I shouldn’t have said it like that. It’s just—”
Reed stood up. “I’m sorry but I think that’s bullshit.”
“People are staring,” Laurel said, looking around.
“Let them look. I care about us. Having a future.”
“Stop it, Reed. Now.”
“We don’t share anything anymore.”
“I mean it.”
“But don’t you think we could—”
Laurel cut him off by plunging back into the pool. This time she popped up only a few yards away, and before she could say anything Reed cut her off. “So now you’re just going to walk away? That’s it?”
“I’m not walking away,” his wife said. “I’m swimming away.” And then she went under.
“What?” Reed yelled. Ripples seemed to mock him. He felt dizzy, but there was nothing to steady himself with. He
