Well, it’s been quite a long time since my last blog update, so I’ll make two – one about pre-Megan & Beth trip and one about the visit itself.
So to begin with, the Saturday before the girls arrived, Chris and I went to Heiner’s mom’s birthday party. Yes, Heiner’s mom’s. I’m not exactly sure why, but there we were in front of the cemetary, looking for the house. Of course, without the aid of street signs and house numbers, we just sort of peered around houses until we saw some possibly familiar faces (All Chris, of course, because I – having gulped down a rum & coke – was now trying to gear myself up for what I was sure would be an interesting evening). We finally see Heiner’s sister and bravely plunge into the fiesta.
After greeting Heiner’s sister – lovely, cheery blond who always forgets that we’ve met before – we run directly into Heiner and Monica – his on again off again girlfriend of years and years and years – who begins to give me death stares. Sweet. This is going to be great. We join the other party-goers, mostly Heiner’s mom’s friends as the Mariachi band arrives. At this point, I have the opportunity to see the Heiner family close up. His mom, Marta looks like a more feminine version of him, with thicker, less greasy hair. The three of them are beaming – you can tell that Marta is thrilled that Heiner’s come back from Guanacaste just for her birthday. His sister is thrilled that their mom likes the mariachi, and I’m surprised that large machetes have not come flying out of Monica’s eyes hurtling towards me.
After the dancing and singing and large sombrero wearing, Chris and I sneak outside – we’re supposed to buy beer and come back to hang out with Heiner, Monica, and the other ‘youngsters’ who will be (hopefully) turning up soon. Instead, we walk towards the church because I’ve clued Chris in on the death stare problem with Monica. We get halfway to the park and realize that we have nowhere else to go but back to the birthday party. It’s too late to come up with a new plan, too much energy to go to San Pedro, too boring to go home. Besides, who knows when Heiner will be back from Guanacaste next. This could be my last time to see Heiner, EVER. So, we reverse, pass the party, and head to the liquor store.
Back at the house, we sit outside, just to the side of the piñata that’s being hacked to pieces by smallish children and Heiner’s mom. As I grab a strawberry candy off the floor, Monica comes over. I’m not exactly sure of from where Monica’s not so subtle dislike of me stems – whether the simple fact that I talked to her boyfriend when he took my order at the Pica and sometimes asked him for darts is enough to make a Tica jealous (all indicators point to yes), or if she knows about the mutual but unspoken crush between Heiner and me after she left him for someone else a few months ago. Anyway, in pure self-defense I grab Chris’ hand. This seems to bring the death stare intensity down a notch or two to just desiring me serious bodily harm. Heiner comes over and holds Monica’s purse for her (men should never, ever have to hold little girly purses for girlfriends).
Conversation turns to Guanacaste, the money Heiner’s making (a lot evidently, and all in dollars), their bus ride back to San Jose that morning, and other assorted Curri gossip items. Huesos comes over and it’s almost beginning to feel normal. So normal, in fact, that someone suggests we head to the Pica, so that Heiner can see what it’s like now and we can all play some darts.
So, off we go to the Pica, Heiner, Monica, Chris, and me crammed into the backseat of Huesos’ friend’s car. I’m still pondering why we’re driving from in front of the cemetery to the Pica when we get a flat tire. While the boys impressively changed the tire in less than 5 minutes, it was still more time than if we had just walked in the first place. Of course, the all-male effort to change the tire left Monica and me to make small talk – Gee, it’s cold. Yeah, wish I had a sweater. Oh, I like your purse. Really? Thanks! Then it was back into the car to zoom off to the Pica.
Inside, we head for the back corner in the other room – by the door to the little patio area. Monica and I grab on stools while Chris runs to the bathroom and Heiner orders our beers. Huesos and friend are already in line for a dart game. At some point Heiner suggests to Chris that they play too (Side note: evidently, when they suggested that we play darts what they meant was they’d play darts and the girlfriends would watch. Monica doesn’t like to play darts, but I sort of felt like I was babysitting her, keeping her busy so they could play).
Anyway, I look up from Monica’s purse (it really is a very nice purse) to find that Chris and Heiner were playing against Arbol and another random guy. Ahhh, yes, very interesting.
While they play, Monica and I chat like good little Ticas. We play 20 Questions: How long have you been with Chris? One month (She does the mental math to see if my being single and Heiner’s being single ever overlapped). How long have you and Heiner been back together? Almost 2 months (my turn to do the mental math). Do you want ice for your beer? Yes, please.
Then come the confessions. She’s living with Heiner now out in Guanacaste. She says they could never be together if they were still living here. Too much (too much what? History? Other women? Distractions?). But that now she thinks they might get married (but never be able to live in San Jose, evidently). She left Heiner to be with someone else. Then she left the someone to come back to Heiner. I begin to see a pattern as Heiner has often done the same thing himself, usually using the sob stories of how she left him to help him pick up chicks.
My confessions are slightly less confusing, serious, and twisted. I live in an apartment with 2 other students. We like to make macaroni and cheese. I’m here till August. I like the beach. I used to date Arbol. Now I’m dating Chris. They’re playing each other in darts. Oh, the irony. I’m happy. I like dating Chris. Just Chris. Only Chris. In fact, I have a Chris only policy – as in no one with any other name. Other names are totally unattractive.
And somehow, my babbling, combined with her beer drinking, serves to make us into friends, or at least almost friends by the time that the boys lose to Arbol. A devastating loss, but, after all, Arbol only loses to Vernor (and sometimes to Julia!). Heiner and Monica head out, breaking the spell of our almost friendship. And there I am, the last girl in the Pica again.
