La Clínica: A Doctor's Journey Across Borders

Chapter Twenty-one

 My THoUgHTS ABoUT My DAyS AS A MEDICAL STUDENT and intern were interrupted when the phone rang. It was Laura. “Hi,” she said. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” “I’m . . . I’m oK,” I said. “Actually, I’m a wreck. A guy came by and wanted to buy our house.” “our house?” “yes.” “Did you already put it on the market?” “No,” I said. “Then why would he come over to try to buy it?” “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess someone saw you moving out. one of the neighbors called him. Some friend of his.” “vultures, that’s what they are,” she said. “So I guess that was my crisis for today,” I said. “Well, I talked to the kids. I called them at camp, and they sounded fine.” “Fine? Aren’t they upset?” “No, they seemed oK. Lots of activities, horseback riding, basketball.” “Well, that’s nice,” I said. “I told them you were going to Mexico, and they were very excited,” she said. “Really?” “yes, well, you’ve told them so many stories about it over the years. chapter twenty-one  la clínica • They know most of the characters. And they know how important it is to you.” “Well, that’s interesting,” I said. “I didn’t realize it had such an impact upon them.” “oh, it’s had an impact upon all of us. Even me.” “Really?” “Sure, don’t you remember?” “yes. yes I do,” I said. “Well, sleep well.” She said. “Bye,” I said. When I hung up, I thought about what she had said. Maybe she was just trying to be nice. But it made me stop and consider, and I thought back to when we first met and when I took her with me the last time I went back to Mexico. We first met at a hot spring. In a hot spring in the mountains of New Mexico, you notice things: the feel of sand and pumice against your legs and back as you sit in the warm pool, the steam drifting up out of the clear water into your nostrils and eyes, the cooling breeze across your forehead and chest, the birds in the pines calling, answering , calling, answering. you notice a red pickup far away down the mountain in the parking lot; a small pine tree sticking out of the back of the pickup; the emergence of two women from the truck—one slim with light brown hair, and the other stooped, darker, older; and their steady progress along the trail until they reach the pool and stand there staring at us, my brother Ron and me. We smiled up at them before staring out at the mountains again to allow them privacy to disrobe. But I watched as the younger one removed her jeans and then her shirt and folded them neatly before stuffing them in a crevice in the rocks. And then she removed her underwear, exposing a lithe, paleskinned body, which she quickly hid beneath the water, leaving only her face exposed, the crimson lips and gray-green eyes, thick brown eyebrows, and long straight chestnut hair. “ooh, it’s hot,” she said. And then the older woman got in and spoke. “I’ve always wanted to come here, but I didn’t want to come by myself. My daughters would never let me go with them.” They pretended they were alone now, stopped conversing, closed their eyes, and then opened them and stared across the valley at the  • david p. sklar granite rock face and the forest. The hot spring had a long tradition of serving as a place of healing and contemplation, where each person could feel at peace and serene. They seemed to be seeking such a peaceful contemplative state. After fifteen minutes, they were done. As she stepped from the pool and dressed, I noticed the curve of her back, the way she held her shoulders, her small breasts, the ampleness of her hips. “your underwear just fell into the mud,” I said. “oh. oh, thank you,” she said and finally met my eyes with a shy smile. She picked up the underwear and gracefully toweled off her legs and feet. We met them again in the parking lot. “Hi,” I said. “Is that your Christmas tree?” “yes. yes it is. We cut it down today. That’s why we were so filthy...