If you see a sign like that, one that says the best thing about a place is its people, you can be sure you’ve arrived in hell itself,” Pedro told Larry as they drove along in the 4x4.
“So, nothing’s changed, then?” Larry asked.
“Everything and nothing,” Pedro replied. He studied him for a moment and said, “The look on your face . . .”
Very near the apartment, the food stands began. They were no longer the shoddily built stalls of Larry’s youth. Though the basic concept remained the same, they were now solid, attractive structures, picturesque purveyors of typical local gastronomy. They stopped at one of them, settled at a table, and Pedro ordered two double shots of aguardiente to start.
“Well, you’re here now,” Pedro said. “You can get back all the time you’ve lost. If you put your mind to it, it won’t be long before you’re the same old Larry you used to be.”
He raised his glass toward Larry in a toast, but he didn’t say anything, just downed the drink, holding his gaze triumphantly. The aguardiente gave Larry goosebumps. He shuddered and choked back a cough.
“I’d forgotten the taste.”
“You never forget how to drink liquor. It’s like riding a bike. Did you not drink over there?”
“I learned to drink whiskey,” Larry said. “Cheap whiskey.”
“Well then, you’re screwed. Whiskey’s expensive here,” Pedro said. “Want another?”
Larry said no, but Pedro ordered two more aguardientes.
“Last one,” he told Larry.
Pedro grasped the nape of Larry’s neck with his broad, horny hand and said, “It’s not every day a guy like you comes back to this crap-ass country. We’ve got to celebrate it, receive you the way Libardo would have liked.”
“I’m the one who’s going to be receiving Libardo. He came back from the beyond so we could bury him,” Larry said.
“Yeah, I know,” Pedro said. “Your mom told me. All those years not knowing. It’s fucked up, huh?”
Larry picked up the newly filled glass and, holding it near his mouth, said, “I never pictured him resting in peace under a tombstone or a cross. I pictured him at the bottom of a lake or being pulled along by a river, dumped in the middle of nowhere or in a mass grave.”
He took a sip and pondered for a moment. All those people who left and never came back, who were heedlessly kidnapped in retaliation, who found themselves on the business end of a vengefully pointing finger that decided, this guy yes, this one no, that guy yes, and that one, and that one too.
“How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?” Pedro asked.
In response, Larry tsked him. Pedro laughed and gave him a powerful slap on the thigh. Larry protested and took another sip of aguardiente. Pedro clapped him again, and Larry punched him in the shoulder. They both laughed.
“You didn’t answer me, you rascal,” Pedro said, “but you look like a man in love.”
Larry held his gaze for a minute.
“What are you looking at, dude?” Pedro asked.
Larry watched him a while longer, in silence, and finally said, “I have to tell you something that happened to me on the plane.”