La Clínica: A Doctor's Journey Across Borders

Chapter Twenty-seven

 AS I WAS ABoUT To LEAvE THE oFFICE, THERE WAS A KNoCK at the door. It was Rick. “you still here?” he asked. “yeah, I was sort of daydreaming,” I said. “I just remembered something about that place in Mexico. I read it in the papers,” he said. “What’s that?” I asked. “That place you want to go to in Mexico—isn’t that the place I read about? The guy was a pervert. He was doing it with young boys. Wasn’t that the place?” Rick asked. “yeah,” I said, “there was an article about it in the paper. It was never proven.” “But you must have known if it was going on. People don’t make that kind of stuff up.” “Well, you know, it was the sixties or the early seventies, and Americanswouldcomedowntothevillagetovolunteer,andsometimes there would be these little relationships. Mostly, it was the Mexican guys and the American girls. occasionally, one of the American guys would have a village girlfriend. But this guy, Carl, who was in charge of the clinic, was pretty discrete. He had this one Mexican boy, a teenager, who I guess had a relationship with him. Mostly they were companions , and everyone seemed to accept it. I was maybe twenty or twentytwo at the time. you know how you are at that age, your mind jumping around reading sexual intentions into actions that don’t have them, getting turned on at inopportune moments, analyzing your sexual chapter twenty-seven  • david p. sklar thoughts, worrying about them. I just figured I was being uptight even wondering about it.” “Did he come on to you?” “To me? No, I was too old.” “Too old. you were what, in your twenties? How old was he?” “I don’t know, maybe thirty-five or forty.” “And you were too old?” “yeah, I heard he liked them younger, thirteen or fourteen.” “That’s sick. That guy should be in jail. Are you going to see him when you go down there?” “Idon’tthinkso.Hedoesn’tgothereverymuchanymore.I’mmostly going to see the other people—the family I lived with and some of the others from the village. And I want to see what the place looks like.” “How did he keep from getting caught?” “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not proud of everything I did,” said Rick. “There were times I got drunk and ended up in bed with someone, and I had no memory of it. Sometimes you mess up. Particularly when you’re a young buck. But there has to be a line somewhere. I’d kill anyone who touched my kids. Doesn’t matter if I ended up in jail. I’d get a gun and kill the motherfucker myself.” “yeah, I know what you mean. I feel the same way about my kids. But this guy really seemed to be in another world, making new rules. The whole mood of the place was to question what was going on in the old world and do things differently.” “yeah, it sounds like he was doing things differently. Sounds like some kind of sexual Disneyland with a different ride for every taste.” “No, Rick, it wasn’t like that. Mostly everyone just worked in the clinic and took care of sick people. If you live somewhere day after day, night after night, you become friends, and in some cases it gets deeper. It wasn’t only in one direction. I think people realized there were advantages in marrying an American and getting out of the village to the United States.” “So what’s the appeal of going back? Sounds like everyone wants to get out. They’ll even sleep with you to do it.” “No, not everyone. But for some people, our life here looks so exciting with so much possibility. And life there was pretty hard and pretty predictable.”  la clínica • “I wonder what that guy is doing now. Maybe he’s down there hiding out, and you’ll find him.” “I doubt it. But who knows, I might bump into him.” “He’ll probably be some pathetic old senile guy. He probably won’t even remember any of it.” “yeah,” I said, “like Reagan, who said he couldn’t remember that he had authorized all those guys to break the law, and then he really was senile. There are certain memories that are too dangerous or painful...