to get my brain to go back to concentrating on the counting, it’s only five seconds I lie to myself, you can cope with five seconds, and then another and another.
I want to pull my hand away but he has it in a vice like grip, occasionally muttering “still” and increasing the pressure even more! I’m near to braking point when he finally stops, brushing another wipe over the area, a little too firmly for my inflamed skin and releasing my hand. I get a couple of seconds to admire his handiwork before he seamlessly swathes it in cling film and extends his arm towards the front of the building motioning for me to leave.
Now it’s all over I’m in a state of shock, from the pain, from my utter disbelief at what I’ve just done and from the nagging worry that I may now have Hepatitis! This could turn out to be the biggest regret of my life, but looking down at my plastic coated wrist, at least it will be a pretty regret.
I stand up shakily and head out, the original bearded man is waiting for me and passes me a piece of paper with 500peso scrawled on it, clearly his language skills don’t extend to numbers.
In a daze I pull the notes out, half passing them to him and half dropping them on the desk, muttering an apology as I step out into the sunshine. The heat is unbearable, even in the air conditioned shop I was sweating profusely and having repeated hot flushes, so out here is a whole new level of hell. I practically fall back into the cab, scaring the driver half to death as he had fallen asleep against the window while he was waiting.
Once he realises it’s me, he sits smiling looking me up and down until I realise he wants to see what I have just had done, thank god I didn’t get it in a more personal place is all I can think as I show him my wrist.
He’s nodding enthusiastically as I lean my head back on the seat and close my eyes, waiting for my stomach to stop churning; I can safely say I will never be doing this again!
The short drive back goes slowly, with each bump in the road threatening to bring my breakfast up and the air con intermittently making me feeling like a shivering mess; I go from too hot, to too cold about twenty times per minute, with my body fighting off the shock of what it just went through.
When we arrive back at the resort, even though my body temperature has just about stabilised, I loathe the idea of stepping back out into the oven hot air.
I slink out of the cab, giving the driver a pathetic smile before scuttling into the lobby. As I pass through the glass front I catch a glimpse of my reflection, I’m white as a sheet and I can feel the beads of sweat re-forming from my brow to my toes.
Collapsing down into one of the plush leather chairs, my slick skin squeaks and I almost slip right off again. In less than a minute Mari is by my side, “Miss Kaitlin!” she exclaims, taken aback by the drastic change in my appearance in such a short time, “I get you water” she states, rushing away again and returning promptly with a fresh bottle from the fridge.
Taking it from her I smile, offering my usual excuse, “I’m fine, really. But thank you” taking small sips of the chilled water gradually starts to bring the blood back into my face and I see her begin to relax as I stop looking like the walking dead.
“You look better” she says after a few minutes, “I see?” she asks gently touching my hand where the edge of the cling film rests.
“Oh yes, of course” I oblige, turning my forearm to show her. By now it resembles how Carlos’s looked yesterday, with a layer of blood and sweat trapped between my skin and its temporary bandage.
Unless she saw Carlos’s, she will not know the significance of it, but she politely smiles and tells me it’s beautiful in broken English.
I give myself ten minutes in the lobby, by which time, apart from my hair and clothes being a little damp, I’m pretty much back to normal then make my way back to the house; the whole trip only took around forty minutes, so I’ve still been gone less than an hour