Baía

Divorce wastes three things: money, time, and love. I’m ignoring all three of those things because I’m a new, content woman. Well, not content. More like angry, but I’m glad that my excuse for a husband is out of my life for the rest of it.

To get him off my mind, my girlfriend booked us a trip to Salvador as a mini vacation. Well, Beth just doesn’t want me to blow up at my coworkers as I’m trying to rid every memory I have of Richard. She’s right though. I do blow up very quickly for, sometimes, no reason at all.

On the plane, I stare down at my pamphlet of Bahia, the province where the city of Salvador is located, which is spelled Baía because of the language difference. The cover is the same for every tropical tourist attraction: beaches, oceans, piña coladas, and tourist markets (which supply crap trinkets twenty-four seven). For this trip, Beth is doing all the important talking because I don’t know a word of Portuguese. That’s one downside to this vacation, but if people speak English slightly, I’ll be fine. I flip the thirds of the pamphlet open to get a glimpse at the information. “Best Beaches,” “Fun Activities,” “Smart Museums,” all the typical stuff is in the flyer.

“Are you excited, Di?” Beth asks, nudging my side with her lotioned elbow.

“Whatever you say, Beth.”

***

Our hotel isn’t as bad as I originally think it would be. It has that cozy Hawaiian touch in Brazil. There are nice restaurants and bars in the area. The youngest age of children are sixteen and mature. A beach sits at the side, and there are no stupid ex-husbands in sight. This vacation will have to be the best one I’ve been on in ten years. For the longest time, a good vacation has been nonexistent. What I consider a vacation is no constant argument. Nothing here.

To spend the afternoon, Beth and I get into our bikinis and head down to the beach bar. After a long plane ride, I know for goddamn sure that a margarita will cure my headache. “Make that two.”

“Diane, we’re not getting drunk on this trip,” Beth scolds as if I’m six again.

“I know my limits, Mom.”

She pushes me, and I almost fall off the barstool.

“I’d take your amigo’s advice if I were you, madame,” the bartender butts in with his thick, Brazilian accent. “We lose poor tourists with drunk stupors.”

“Gracias, Capitano Obvioso,” I mutter into the margarita glass.

“It’s, “Obrigado, Capitâo Óbvio," madame. It’s offensive to use Spanish...or Spanglish in this case, in Brasil. But I’ll let it go. Bem-vindo ao Baía.” That one’s easy. Welcome to Bahia, my ass, but I don’t think he said, “My ass.”

“O-bri-ga-doo to you, too.”

Beth smirks, and my face presents evilness at her to get her to stop.

“So where are you pretty ladies from?” the bartender asks, putting the second margarita glass next to the empty first.

“New York City,” Beth replies, batting her lashes like a love struck teen.

Jesus.

“América, of course. Some family of mine live in Florida. Not much help when there is nothing but English and Spanish up there.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Eh, what can you do?”

Nothing. That’s what.

“So what do you ladies come to do in Baía? The weather is very nice, sí?”

“Muito,” I respond at last.

“Actually, we need all the time we can get here,” adds Beth, “Diane’s going through a very nasty divorce with her jerk ex-husband.”

“Beth!”

The bartender chuckles and says, “Ah, marriage. Easily broken nowadays, eh?”

“You’re tellin’ me,” I hiss.

“But do not think that your life ends when the marriage does. As long as you’re still standing, life goes on.”

I wolf down the rest of my second margarita and almost choke on the contents of it. “Thanks for the tip, Sherlock.” My butt slips from the stool, and my feet go towards the hotel again.

“Diane! Where are you going?” she calls.

I don’t respond.

***

When Beth and I stop arguing about the bar incident and after she falls asleep, I escape our hotel room to the beach. I was taught to never go to bed angry, so I’ll stay awake pissed. There are a few hammocks hanging from the palm trees, and I take the one nearest me to watch the moon glimmer over the ocean. The stars sparkle like sequins on my old party dresses. I haven’t worn those since I married Richard. Well, he’s gone now, so I could wear them again for sure. For now, I wish I were naked, so I won’t feel so...trapped.

“Ah, you did return after all.”

My shocked jump tilts the hammock out of control, and it takes me a few seconds to get myself still and balanced. The bartender from this afternoon comes out of nowhere, and here I am, shouting, “Where the hell did you come from?”

“My bar? Or are you asking me to start at the beginning?”

“Okay, now you’re acting like a wise ass.”

His chuckling turns into laughing. “You are so uptight, aren’t you?”

Instead of arguing with him, I lay back down and mandate, “Leave me alone!” like I’m his American boss or something like that. The order is probably louder than that now that I think about it.

He ignores that and climbs over the stone wall anyway. He doesn't inch any closer to me after that. “Are you still mad?”

“What does it look like?” I counter.

“I can see very well. Diane, is it?”

He remembers my name? “Uh, yeah? What’s yours?”

The bartender tips his hat and bows his head. “José, but all my friends call me Zé.” Zé? That’s new. I know a lot of Josés at home, but none of them want to be called Zé. Joe makes sense, but they don’t mention Zé in any conversation. This Zé is quite muscular from the others. Plus, he’s not as clean shaved as the people I work with at the University. I imagine his hobbies being surfing or playing the guitar. Soccer maybe if the World Cup comes back around. He’s as tall and old as my husband used to be, and that’s scary.

“Well, Zé, how did you end up in the tourism business?” I question, figuring that talking to someone outside my social circle would at least calm my nerves.

“Jumping from job to job. Need the money, you know. Tourism is easy since I know English in this country. Imagine going to a foreign part of your home country just to work.”

I scoff and laugh. “I’ve been there, buddy. I used to be a waitress at a Mexican restaurant. Not a Taco Bell, but the real thing. I felt as if I flew to Mexico and back home everyday.”

“How did it feel?”

“Lost...like my marriage...and my divorce?”

“And what do you do when you get lost?”

I pause for a moment, swallowing the pride that I have left. “I get frustrated at people I know and don’t to make me feel superior again.”

Zé taps his goatee. “Hmm. I see now. I think you are more mad at yourself than your husband. You feel useless and weak after you called it quits.”

My eyes begin to water. “How did you know?”

Zé crosses his legs together and heavily sighs. “Bianca. She was beautiful. Every man wanted her, but she wanted me. Her pai ran a hotel in Rio de Janeiro. After he passed away, we took over the business. We were happy...until I became possessed with money and things to buy. She called it off after seven years of a happy marriage gone south, and I returned to Baía, the only place where I belong. She wouldn’t even look at me whenever we saw our faces. She didn’t want to think about the why we separated for the rest of our lives. No one does, you know.”

“Did you ever think of leaving here? To the States? Anywhere at all?”

“Hundred times, but I love Baía. It is like a song in my heart. A song that gave me a second chance at life. I stayed to rediscover my purpose here in Salvador. I knew there had to be something, you know.”

I nod slowly. “To start over.”

“Sí, to start over.”

“That’s why Beth brought me here. I guess I felt apart on it and let her down.” I shuffle to the side of the hammock and let myself fall onto the stone wall. “Everything’s been wrong with me since my marriage in the first place, and I turned into a monster after it was all over.”

“It is going to get better, Diane. Everything does.”

Without a word, I push myself back up onto my feet and smile a tiny bit. “Well, it was nice talking with you, Zé. I gotta go back before Beth starts having a heart attack.”

“Diane…”

I halt in place. “Yeah?”

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

My shoulder inch up and back down to regular position. “I don’t know. If you want to, then I could make arrangements.”

“Good. I want you to come to my bar and order something virgin next time.” Zé’s encouraging words are glued to my brain for the rest of the night. Bahia is a place to start over. I might as well start doing that and learn how to trust myself and others again.

All I can say in response to his proposal is, “Make it a piña colada.”