Luna de Miel Chapter Eleven: Siesta
A knock at the door of their suite sounded. The maid, Mano thought, as he pulled away from Carmen and strode over to answer it. "Permiso?" asked a prim señora, her gray hair in a severe bun. Mano nodded, taking the pitcher of water from her. The bellhop took this moment to scuttle in and out with the second and lighter trunk.
"Ayuda la señora, por favor," Mano said to the maid with a smile as he stepped aside to let the bellhop pass. "I know what to do with this," he continued, indicating the pitcher. The pitcher he carried to a dry sink in the bathroom where an ornate china bowl stood with a stack of small linen cloths beside. The maid busied herself unpacking Carmen's dresses and gowns, hanging them in the wardrobe in the dressing area. He returned to the sitting room, leaving the door to the bedroom open in case he was needed. He could hear the conversation between Carmen and the servant.
"The turquoise one, por favor," Carmen indicated the dress she desired to wear that evening. The maid hung this apart, shaking out the full skirt.
"It does not appear to need pressing, madam," the maid said.
"No, leave it. And gracias," Carmen answered with a polite smile as she removed her shoes. The maid helped her out of her traveling clothes and into a robe. Carmen then settled atop the bed. She was still so tired; perhaps a short nap would help. Mano tipped the maid on her way out and then edged into the bedroom to look at his wife, now resting. Better let her have a nice siesta. She is exhausted. And so beautiful, even asleep.
He tiptoed into the bathroom, where he stripped off his shirt, hanging it on a hook, then washed and shaved, using water from the pitcher to fill the bowl on top of the dry sink. He rinsed his hair as well, slipping on the man's robe he found hanging in the bathroom. With a towel around his neck, he edged out of the bathroom and bedroom into the sitting area to settle on the sofa and rest himself. He dozed at last, awaking with a start to check the time on the gold pocket watch Carmen had given him as a wedding gift. Oh no, already 5:30! He sprang from the sofa, rushing into the bedroom to wake his wife.
"Mi corazón, it is time to rise. You have been asleep two hours! Por favor, we must quickly freshen up and change. We must be in the lobby again in thirty minutes."
Carmen's eyes popped open. "Mano!" she cried as she jumped up and rushed past him into the bathroom. "Call for a maid. I must bathe!" She said other things, and he was reminded of how his sister might scold him. He caught the word "bruto," among many interjections and laughed. He had not meant to make her late. He rang for the maid-two pulls for bathwater, the engraved card beside the bell cord read-and busied himself rummaging for his evening clothes in the smaller of the trunks,
"Servicio," came the call from outside their rooms in five minutes. Mano opened the door to let in the same maid followed by four attendants bearing large cauldrons of steaming water to fill the tub so that la señora could bathe. He stepped out of the way, ducking behind a screen in the bedroom to begin changing his clothes. He donned his black suit, white ruffled shirt, black string tie, and black leather boots. A glance in the mirror as he combed his hair and straightened his tie told him that yes, he looked good. He slipped into the sitting room as the attendants scurried away. There he waited, checking the time on his pocket watch. Thirty minutes passed. Then thirty-five. Forty.
"Beloved, you look beautiful," he exclaimed, looking up from his watch as Carmen walked into the sitting room. Dark hair piled atop her head and crowned with a lace mantilla, the string of pearls he had bought her in Mexico City around her throat, her elegant neck enhanced by the plunging neckline of a black and turquoise gown, she took his breath away. No Spanish lady could have looked lovelier. The maid, who had stayed to help her dress, smiled at the additional tip he supplied and slipped out. Carmen beamed.
"Shall we?" he offered his arm as they left the room to descend the stairs into the grand lobby.
They stood at the front desk as the manager called for their carriage. As he surveyed the lobby, Mano noticed the two bearded strangers still sitting in armchairs, still wearing their suits, a French newspaper discarded on a coffee table in front of them. Settling Carmen in a chair, he strolled toward the men, pretending to look out of the cut glass windows in the door and down the street to see if the carriage were coming, but really desiring to overhear their conversation. The few words he caught made him wish he had not eavesdropped, but Tío would have been proud of the straight poker face that he kept.
VKS & MJRod claim the creation of Carmen Navarro, although we took her first name from a David Dortort script proposal. We also are the creators of the Vargas clan , Rancho Navarro and its people including Delgado, and all of the characters in and around Hermosillo. We would have nothing to create were it not for our favorite western, "The High Chaparral," to which we pay tribute.
