The Table of Truth - Chapter One, Part 3

Part 3

Better Than Sex


I returned to the border this time with a surprise hidden away in my bag. At home, I had decided to take on transcribing jobs again, but before I dove back into my work, I wanted to make one last trip to give something to this woman I had met. I was fascinated by her; she lived a whole kind of life I could never imagine. I wondered what had driven her to this place, who she really was inside. I didn’t even know her real name; nor did I want to. This was an exciting time, and her spirit had pulled me out of the depths I was living in and helped me go back to a normal life. But now I needed to return to that life, and I knew that if I continued to visit, I would be fooling myself into believing this relationship was more than it really was; just a passing fancy for both of us.
Nevertheless, her raw pleasure and infectious smile had pulled me out of the dumps and replaced the lecherous man who wanted nothing but a pussy to fuck with a man who I could be proud of once again. I owed this present to her. I couldn’t wait to give it to her, and to say goodbye.
After crossing the border I noticed again how the walkway split into a second direction. The taxi drivers were already calling me to them, but many of the locals were turning to the right and walking through another gate. Above it I could see the large arch which stood near Nina’s place of work. I headed toward it.
The scent of tacos mixed with the pungent odor of exhaust fumes defined the basis of the smell in Tijuana. I got lost in the senses as I rounded the corner at the McDonald’s and found myself in a town square. Here, numerous vendors claimed territory for their wares and devices. In the center was a machine with bright, multi-colored hoops that the tourist is strapped into, then spun around so as to mix up all the alcohol and food they had consumed from the neighboring restaurants. It reminded me of Da Vinci’s painting of a man with his arms and legs spread out. They offered me a ride and I declined with a wave.
Looking up, I saw my north star, the arch, which was past a bridge filled with more vendors who sold various trinkets for next to nothing. Beyond that was a walkway filled with restaurants and stores that led upwards to the arch.
The wires holding it made a twanging sound, which echoed down the streets as they blew in the wind. A mariachi band stood beneath playing for whoever would listen.
From here I could remember walking down a hill into the bowels of downtown with Eddy and the others, and around the corner was Chicas.
Inside I leaned against the nearest wall while I scanned the room for Nina. It was crowded again, and she could be inside of any of the clumps of men, or even upstairs.
The woman with the jet black hair saw me, saw the seat next to me, and sat down. She wore a bright dress this time and seemed more comfortable. I asked her how she’d been, and she smiled and said things were great. I asked her if business was good and her smile faded. Though she nodded, she looked away, and it felt as though I had lost her. I sat down next to her and told her the dress looked nice on her. That brought back the smile.
Immediately, the waiter was on top of us asking what I wanted to buy the lady. I figured that she couldn’t have someone sitting with her unless they were giving the bar money so I ordered us drinks, then turned back to her.
“So tell me about your family,” I said.
She shifted a little, but didn’t hide from the question. “They live in Chihuahua.”
“Oh, what’s it like there?” I asked.
“Hot. Hotter than here.”
“Is that why you work here?
“No. I work here because I can make more money. I take it to them every weekend.”
The drinks came and I paid. “You drive it to them?”
“Si.”
“How long of a drive is that?”
“Twenty four hours.”
I almost spilled my drink. “Each way?”
“Si.”
I couldn’t believe it. “Each way,” I said again, diagramming with my hand.
“Yes. Each way.” She imitated my hand motion.
“You do that just to take money to them.”
“Si.” She drank coolly from her beer.
“They know what you do for the money?”
“Oh, no! They think I work as waitress.”
“That would be some good tips.”
She shrugged, looking into the crowd, clearly thinking about her parents, maybe seeing them in her mind’s eye because she covered up a little.
I looked into the crowd, too, but what I saw was a few dozen half naked women all there out of some sense of desperation, some need to feed someone, to take care of someone. I no longer saw the object of my carnal desires; I saw people who had reached the cliff’s edge of their lives, and who were giving their all to not fall over, to protect their families.
My whole life I had been taught to admire great thinkers, people with college degrees, wealthy philanthropists who generously gave to the less fortunate. But these women gave their bodies, their spirits, their all. Most didn’t like where they were or what they were doing, they didn’t tell anyone. They simply did it because something needed to stave off starvation and homelessness for their loved ones. I didn’t know about all of them, but women like the one I was sitting next to were at least as strong, if not stronger than the most fierce feminists back home.
But something still confused me. I once again saw the clear cut black holes in the stomachs of some of them where their belly buttons should be. Even the woman beside me had one, so I asked her about it.
“That for the fat to be sucked out.”
“Liposuction?”
“What?”
“They have their fat removed from their tummies?”
“Si. They tummies.” She made a hand gesture, like a tube coming out of her stomach. “The doctor plug in here. We get fat removed.”
“Doesn’t that hurt?”
She shrugged. “It my job.” She looked into the crowd again, chugging her drink.
Across the room a roar of cheering arose, and I looked across to see Nina being passed around another table. She was working a group of men like a keyboard, waving her butt against their faces. She placed one foot on the table and swayed her body to the music. Her other foot worked its way on the bench, bringing the men’s wildest fantasies to life. Other guys hovered around the table, sucked in by her charm. Dollar bills were fed into her pants and shirt. It was like a slot machine that danced when they put in money. I felt suddenly jealous, and wanted to kick myself for feeling that way.
“You’re here for her, aren’t you?” the woman with the jet black hair said.
I looked at her with apologetic eyes. She motioned forward with her head and said, “Go ahead.”
I ordered her another drink, paid for it, and made my way toward Nina’s table. I lost sight of her in the crowd that I pushed through. It was difficult navigating when every body was caught in single instances of the strobe light, but I managed to squeeze through until I got within ten feet of the table.
But I could go no further. A mass of women trying to get the attention of the men who hovered around the table stood in my way. A few of them looked at me, seemed to recognize me, and suddenly a strange thing happened. They parted like the Red Sea, and there, before me, was the booth upon which Nina was flirting. I looked quizzically at one of the ladies who had moved. She had known why I was there, and she also knew that if Nina saw me and left, they would have a chance at this wealthy table.
I looked back at Nina, and she looked over at the strange sight, this path suddenly before her. Once her eye caught me at the end of it, she jumped out of the lap of the man and ran into my arms, kissing both cheeks several times. The table of men looked at me angrily, but the sea of flesh reformed, and they were soon happily enveloped by legs and breasts.
Nina and I went to our small table near the back of the bar and got ourselves Red Bulls. She was bubbling over with excitement. “I don't know if you should be drinking that,” I said. “I think you'll explode.” She leaned forward laughing, revealing her mouth full of gapped teeth. All of the features on her face wrinkled when she laughed that hard, and I couldn’t help but find it the most endearing joy I’d ever seen.
“I no want you to have to buy me drinks,” she said. “You come earlier next time. Maybe six? I can take break then. I want to take you to a movie.”
“I’d like that,” I said. And we were both silent for a time, studying one another’s eyes, searching for honesty, believing it was there. She smiled languidly, then an energy bubbled up inside her again, and it looked like she was going to jump to her feet. I interrupted her by pulling out the present from my pack.
It was a book I had found, an introduction to Freudian psychology. I thought that of all the psychologists, she would understand Freud the most.
“Oh. Is this what you reading?” she asked.
I handed it to her. “No. It’s yours.”
“You want me to read some part of it?” She began paging through it, searching for a bookmark.
“No. It’s yours. I bought it for you.”
“You give it to me to borrow?”
“No, no. It’s yours. It’s a gift. You keep it.”
It was as if all the sound sucked out of the room, as though everything disappeared except for the members of that table. It was as though all emotion vanished from the world but the shock of her face. Her jaw dropped and she looked at me, dampness welling up in her eyes.
It might be a cliché to say that making someone happy is better than sex; but in that moment, in that time, I found that the old saying stands true. Nothing made me feel better than the happiness I saw written all over her face. But there was more than happiness in those eyes.
There was hope.
She tried to speak, but no sound came from her quivering lips.
“You’re welcome,” I said. I couldn’t fathom the kind of life she must have led when such a small gesture should mean so much. She still couldn’t speak, so I changed the subject. “There’s a picture in there you can use as a bookmark.”
She turned to it and saw the photograph we had taken together. Then she jumped out of her chair and into my arms. She held on tight to the book, and lifted her feet in the air so I had to hold her from falling. Again, people were staring at us. “I love you, I love…” she said, then stopped herself. “I mean, I like you, I like you! Oh, fuck! I like you so much!”
At last when we sat down she said, “Where should I keep this? I need make sure I no lose it.”
“How about down your shirt,” I suggested. “It’ll increase your bust size, albeit make it a little square.”
She smiled with laughter. Her nose scrunched as it often did when she was excited. She raised her finger and nodded it like a puppet, then lowered it and said, “Give me you phone number. I keep it in the book so not to lose it.”
I gave her my business card again and she put it in with the picture.
“This my favorite possession. So I no lose any of it.”
She kept looking down at the book even while we talked.
“What movie do you want to see?” I asked her.
“I don’t know what’s show,” she said. “I not been out much lately.”
I remembered ‘The Aviator’, which portrays some of Howard Hughs’ last days as he wasted away inside of a dark room. It reminded me of my days before I met Nina, so I suggested that. She said okay.
A thin man stepped up to the table and gave a cock-eyed smile to Nina. She excitedly jumped out of the seat and into his arms, hugging him hello. He spoke to her a moment in Spanish, and I felt a pang of jealousy. But it was more than that. I worried that her fondness of me might all be part of the charade, if perhaps she was playing both me and this other man.
When she sat back down she asked if I could return the next day so we could go see a movie. I couldn’t imagine that she would go anywhere outside the building with me if she was only playing mind games. So I told her that I would come back soon. The next day I had a job coming in that I had to complete very quickly. I told her this and her face slumped as she nodded acceptingly. I suddenly realized that she was as suspicious of my sincerity as I was of hers. “No one ever comes back,” she had told me. How many times had men let her down? How many times had someone told her they would return, then never did? How many excuses had she heard in her time?
I told her that I would have some time next week, and we could go see a movie then. “You have my phone number now,” I told her. “You call me, and I’ll let you know when I’ll be available to come down, then we’ll go see the movie and we’ll talk about what you read in the book. How about that?”
She smiled and nodded. “I promise!”
“I look forward to it,” I said. “You know, I’d really like to show you around California.”
She shot me a ‘get real,’ look. It was the same sort of look you’d get if you told someone you’d like to show them around Mars.
Not long afterward, she walked me to the door where she was getting a cab for home, and I was on my way to the border. “I want to start on the book right away,” she said.
I walked back to the border thinking, still wondering if I was fooling myself into believing in some demented fantasy.
I was propositioned a few times on the way back. I knew they all needed help. This is a town of desperation. It’s a party town, yet everywhere you look, if you look, are daily, desperate struggles.
I got to the border, one of the lucky ones who could cross. Mothers and children sat near the doors to the border selling anything they could get their hands on; huddled in blankets like prisoners near the gates to the outside world.
I continued to wonder if I was just fooling myself all the way home, and the thought process lingered as I got inside and turned on my email to relate what I had witnessed Tim.
And there, on the screen, was an email from Jenny.