~ Fifteen ~

Our flight landed in Lima about thirty minutes ahead of schedule. The sun had not made its grand entrance yet but Christian and I covered our skin with light foundation anyway. Once we made it through the long immigration lines in the airport and were standing outside with our luggage, Aloysius hailed a taxi. His Spanish was flawless as he haggled a price with the driver, which was a hard thing to do at the airport because drivers often took advantage of tourists.

“Where is your place, Aloysius?” I asked as I inhaled the familiar aroma of the city. It was a mix of dust from the lack of rain in the coastal desert and car exhaust. Most people might turn their nose up at the scent but to me it was inviting. Of all the places I’d visited, Lima was my favorite and when I left it years ago, I left a piece of my heart in its hands.

“It’s a two story apartment in a building on the edge of Miraflores. It overlooks the Pacific. There’s a doorman at all times. There’s also a pool and a garden on the roof.” He sat in the front seat with the driver.

“It sounds lovely,” I said. Aloysius smiled.

As we entered heavier traffic, Christian’s eyes grew wide. His hands grabbed at the armrest on the door or flew up to grip the ceiling of the old station wagon that should have been junked long ago. “Aren’t there any traffic laws in this country?”

Aloysius laughed and remained perfectly relaxed, his hands on his lap. “There are but I think they’re optional. Don’t worry, the driver knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, but does anyone else?” He gripped the armrest with both hands this time as the car veered around two other cars and squeezed in front of another with a blaring of the horn. Though the road was two lanes wide, someone had figured out that three lanes worked out just as well.

“Think of it as organized chaos. It’s almost like Peruvians can read each other’s minds. They seem to know the other drivers’ moves as well as their own,” I explained, prying his fingers from the armrest and holding his hand in mine.

We reached the building and the driver parked in the usual parking space: the sidewalk. Christian released the breath he had been holding for most of the ride and got out to retrieve our luggage. Aloysius paid and led the way into the twenty-some story building. As soon as we reached the door, it was opened before he could grasp the knob.

“Buenos días, Señor Benjamin. Good to see you,” a short, dark skinned doorman said in a heavy Spanish accent. His eyes swept over Christian and me.

I extended a hand to him but he looked at Aloysius before taking it. “Buenos días. Soy Lily y el es mi esposo, Christian.”

Christian looked shocked at my Spanish but also shook his hand. The man didn’t flinch from the coldness of our skin. It didn’t surprise me, considering Peru was a very superstitious country and their beliefs were diverse.

“This is Pepé. This is my granddaughter and her new husband. It’s their honeymoon,” Aloysius explained. Pepé looked confused. “Luna de miel.”

“Ah, sí.” Pepé smiled. “You need Carmela?” he asked.

“Sí, por favor,” Aloysius said and headed to the elevator with us close at his heels.

“Who’s Carmela?” I asked.

“She’s my housekeeper.”

Once inside the elevator, Aloysius took a key off his key ring and handed it to me. I tucked it into my pocket. The doors opened to the twenty-seventh floor and he led the way down the long hallway. Tables with fresh flowers on them lined the hall, along with an occasional, lavishly carved wooden chair with a plush velvet cushion on the seat.

“Even the hallway is beautiful,” Christian said as he set our suitcases down and waited for Aloysius to unlock the door. Three beeps sounded but stopped when he punched some numbers into a keypad. “You have an alarm system?”

“It was already here when I bought the apartment,” Aloysius explained. “I didn’t bother taking it out. I’m seldom here anymore. Remind me to give you the code.” Aloysius started taking sheets off all the covered furniture, but when I started helping he shook his head. “You two get settled. Carmela should be here soon anyway. She’ll take care of the rest. Your room is at the top of the stairs.”

Christian picked up our suitcases and I led the way up the spiral stairs in the corner of the living room. There were a few doors on that level but I opened the one Aloysius said would be ours. Christian dropped the luggage and whisked me off my feet and into his arms. “You are such a romantic,” I said.

“I can’t help it. This is a threshold, is it not?” He kissed my lips before I could answer and carried me to the bed. He set me down as if I were a feather. We didn’t even look around the room before he was over me, his lips devouring mine.

A light knock on the door brought us back to reality. “Yes?” I yelled.

“I’m going out for a while so make yourselves at home,” Aloysius said. “Carmela will be here any minute so let her know if you need anything. Oh, and don’t worry about her.”

I looked at Christian but I could tell he didn’t know what that meant either. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“She knows.” I heard his footsteps descending the metal stairs.

“What does he mean, she knows?” Christian moved to sit on the edge of the bed, shrugging. Before we could ask what he meant, we heard the door downstairs close.

“I’m not sure I want to be here when she gets here. Want to go hit the town?” My eyes went to the window to check the weather. It looked gray enough to venture out with no extra cover-ups.

“Sounds good to me. We have all the time in the world to be together.” Christian went into the bathroom attached to our room and ran his hands through his hair. He looked like his usual perfect self, even after sitting on a plane for so many hours. “I am totally in your hands in this city. I’ve been to Peru before but this is a bit more crowded than what I’m used to.”

“Where in Peru have you been?” I asked. I was going through the clothes in the suitcase trying to pick something that would help us blend in. From looking out the window, I saw that most were wearing a layer or two. It wasn’t that cold.

“I’ve been here two times. Some digs up north in Trujillo and Chiclayo and then, of course, Machu Picchu. That’s something we should do while we’re here. It’s such a magical place. So, anyway, where are we going?” He came out of the bathroom with his hair looking like it did when he went in.

“I was thinking we could walk through downtown Miraflores and head toward the ocean. I love the cliffs there.” I grabbed a windbreaker.

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” he replied and took my hand.

The doorman was on the telephone as we passed through the lobby so he raised a hand and waved. As soon as we walked onto the street the smells of the city filled my nostrils. I could also smell the saltiness of the Pacific Ocean so I led us to the left, following my nose. The streets were crowded with people. Some were walking leisurely but most seemed to be in a hurry, some carrying shopping bags and some carrying books and wearing gray school uniforms.

“This city is so alive, even this early,” Christian said as he looked at the people walking by. He stood almost a foot taller than most and I saw heads turning to look at him. Two children walked by pointing and I heard the word “gringo” whispered as they passed. I couldn’t help but smile at their curiosity and their delight at seeing an American.

“Did they call me what I think they called me?”

“Yes they did. You realize that’s not an insult, right?” I asked. I remembered the first time I heard someone say that while pointing to Ian. Christian shrugged. “It’s fascinating to them to see someone with your hair and eye color. You’re also very tall.”

“I do stick out like a sore thumb. I can see over everyone’s heads. I remember that from being up north. I swear there were adults only three feet tall there.” He smiled.

“You’ll see people that short here too. I feel tall for once when they’re around. I need to exchange some money,” I said and stopped at the curb. Buses went by so full that people were hanging out the doors. Taxis pulled to the curb, beeping their horns and cutting off the traffic behind them. I kept my eyes straight ahead so they would keep going. I felt a tug on the back of my shirt. A young boy, no older than seven, stood behind me. His face was dirty, and his hair was tangled and too long. The wool sweater he wore was much too small and full of holes. “Señorita, un caramelo por favor,” he pled, still tugging on my shirt.

“What does he want?” Christian asked, noticing the plastic bag the child held in his free hand.

“He’s selling candy. I normally wouldn’t do this but the children really get to me.” I pulled out a dollar bill, since I hadn’t exchanged any money to soles yet. The boy’s eyes lit up and his smile revealed rotten teeth. He pulled three pieces of candy out of his bag and handed them to me.

“Gracias, señotita. Dios la bendiga.” He took the dollar and examined it with wide eyes before stuffing it in his pocket.

“Did he say God bless you?” Christian asked as I dragged him across the street as soon as there was an opening in the traffic. “A child like that does tug at your heart.”

“I know. I don’t like to buy something from every beggar I encounter but the children are a different story. Their parents expect them to make money every day and if they don’t, they get in a lot of trouble. I saw a little girl get slapped by her mother when she didn’t make enough money. I feel bad for them. Most of them never even step foot inside a school.” I headed for the man with the blue vest who was standing on the corner.

“¿A cuanto está el dolar?” I asked.

“Dos ochenta, señorita,” he answered and then focused his eyes on Christian. I pulled out a bill and handed it to him. He examined the bill closely and then punched some numbers in his calculator, holding it up for me to see. I nodded and he counted the colorful Peruvian bills as he set them in my hand. He looked from Christian to me again before he shuddered and turned to walk to another possible customer.

“What was that all about?” Christian asked as we continued down the crowded sidewalk.

“He could tell something was different about us. These people believe more readily than most. Don’t worry about it. See, he’s over it already,” I said looking back to see the man was busy waving his arms and trying to flag down new customers.

“Those are nice,” Christian said as he stopped to point through a shop window. “They would look great on you.”

“Which ones? The way-too-high boots or the shiny red heels?” I asked.

“The boots. You should try them on. They are so you,” he said with a hopeful smile on his face. “I bet they’re real leather.”

“They do make great shoes here. They don’t look at all practical though,” I complained though the more I looked the more I liked them. They were knee-high black boots with a small silver buckle around the ankle and very thin four-inch heels.

“For me?” he begged. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay. You don’t have to beg.” I looked at the other display window in case there was something else I liked before walking in. Cigarette smoke hit my nose before I noticed the man leaning against the trashcan. He nodded in greeting. I opened the door and pulled Christian inside.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’ll try the boots on for you,” I answered. I looked out the window and the man was still there, looking at us as I looked at him. My attention was taken from him as a sales woman came to ask if I wanted to see something. I pointed to the boots, gave her my size in European measurement, and she disappeared behind a curtain.

Moments later, we left the store with the boots in a bag and a satisfied smile on Christian’s face. I looked at the trashcan as soon as we were out but no one was standing there. As we neared the intersection to the coastline, I smelled cigarette smoke again. I turned to look behind us as a shadow disappeared into the doorway of a restaurant.

“What’s wrong, Lily?” Christian asked, following my eyes.

“I don’t know. I feel like we’re being followed.”

“Why would someone be following us?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s forget about it. I guess I’m just feeling a little paranoid.” I pulled him across the street, zigzagging through traffic and onto a wide sidewalk. I looked around but didn’t recognize the park I thought should be on this street.

“You look confused,” Christian said as he looked around the crowd, now a bit paranoid himself.

“This is all so different. It used to be a park. Now it’s a…mall?” The last time I had been in this district of Lima a park sat here. There were benches, a round, concrete rink where children roller-skated, a fountain, and the bird-like statue. The statue was still here, along with the fountain, but the rest was gone. At the cliff’s edge sat a huge, modern shopping center that looked like it was carved right into the cliff.

“Whatever this is, it’s beautiful, very modern,” Christian said as he took in the sites.

Keeping a tight grip on his hand, I dragged him through the crowd toward the briny scent blowing at our faces. My hair was its usual mass of tangles as the wind blew it to veil my face. Cigarette smoke filled the heavy air around us and I turned to find the source, pulling my hair away with my free hand. A teenage girl stood against the rail, her arm around a boy, the cigarette dangling from her parted lips. The skinny dark-haired boy held a cell phone out in front of them and clicked a photo. She grabbed the phone from his hand and ran toward the stairs, laughing as she dared him to chase her. It wasn’t the man who was watching us earlier.

Don’t worry about it. Try to relax and enjoy our honeymoon. Christian kept his comment from reaching the happy crowd around us. I nodded and smiled at him. I would do as he wished but I would keep my guard up, just in case.

When we reached the railing on the patio, we both stood against it and looked out at the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. The waves crashed against the shore and the white caps rolled onto the fine, brown sand. Looking closer to where we each had a hand on the orange rail, the cliff unfurled into the nothingness below, or at least it looked like nothingness until my eyes spotted the tiny cars on the road along the beaches.

“This is breathtaking,” Christian said and leaned to kiss my cheek. “What is that glow over there?” He pointed to the far left.

I focused my eyes in that direction and could, in fact, see a faint orange glow. It was daylight now but very hazy. The glow was confined to one spot on the sand. “I don’t know…maybe, a fire? There must be people on the beach.” I tried to focus on any sounds that might be coming from that spot but it was difficult with all the traffic and the beeping horns. The happy chatter of the shoppers around us also drowned out the possibility of hearing that far.

Deciding to forget about the fire, I turned my eyes back to the stairs on my left. The boy that had been chasing the girl down the stairs stood on the bottom step, his hand gripping the railing. He turned his head and a smile spread across his lips. I thought I saw his head nod slightly.

“He wants us to follow him,” Christian said, already pulling me away from the railing.

“What? How do you know that?” I asked, not really wanting to move but curious anyway.

“I…I don’t know. I feel it, somehow. Come on.”

The boy never turned to look at us again. He kept his eyes straight ahead, his pace fast, as we followed behind him without speaking.