Alice’s adventures in Mexico by Carol Roper

Seated on a turquoise sofa behind sliding glass doors of the terrace, Alice Sutton watched striated colors of orange and pink meld and fade in sunset’s afterglow. In the fireplace across from her a pressed log evenly burned giving her a sense of peace. Seated at her feet her reddish brown retriever licked his paws.

Alice was one of those women about whom it is said, “Looks good for her age,” which was sixty-nine soon to be seventy. She was slender, wore little makeup, and had blended the white strands of her cheek length hair with a honey blond tint. Her dress style was casual classic. Faded Levi, boot cut jeans,a light blue cashmere turtleneck, Michal Kors flat heeled boots.

She had recently been driven out of America by the bile of daily life that spilled over like boiled milk scorching every thing in its path and come to find a home in Mexico. A country where she felt she could live and breathe without constant worry about things over which she had no control, like getting older.

“This is what I moved here for,” Alice thought, holding a glass of white wine, “New possibilities, new friends, beautiful, natural views.” The past three weeks were a search for the perfect rental with Denise, an agent Alice met on an Expat Facebook page, and had led to this perfect spot on the sofa in quiet reverie.

“Almost done,” Mitzi chirped from the kitchen island where she was putting together a tray of appetizers.

Unfortunately the perfect place for Alice was already leased to Mitzi, a friend of Denise’s.

Mitzi had a cherub’s face and tinted brown hair. She wore a red V-neck jersey that covered a Buddha belly. Her legs were encased in black leggings and on her feet high-heeled strap sandals that cut into her flesh.

On this last day of Alice’s Airbnb rental Denise suggested Alice meet her friend Mitzi who needed a housemate.

Mitzi’s lover had experienced a last minute change of heart and returned to his wife leaving Mitzi with a house she couldn’t afford.

Alice had no such problems. She had benefited from the sale of the company where she had spent the better part of her youth and had lived alone since her last relationship ended leaving her with their dog. Alice could easily afford Mitzi’s rent and was thinking of a tactful way to broach taking over the lease.

“Can I help you?” Alice politely asked.

“You fed the dogs that was enough, thanks.”

Watching the two humans from outside the terrace were three dogs: Alice’s brown Labrador and Mitzi’s two small white poodles.

“It’s almost done. A few snacks to keep us sober before dinner. A great bunch of women live around here. Saturday nights there’s a band at La Fonda. It’s a lot of fun. Since you’re new I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s the oldest restaurant on the beach and we meet there to eat and dance.”

Alice’s sense of propriety recoiled. Dancing? Women in their sixties and seventies dancing in public? Not alone in the kitchen as she did when an irresistible song played on her iPad?

“I don’t think I’m dressed for dancing.”

Mitzi lifted the snack tray from the counter top. “It’s Mexico no one cares what Gringas wear. We’re free here. You can do what you want, wear what you want,” she added. “I’m a grandmother of two. If I wore what I have on now in the states one of my neighbors would call social services to do a wellness check on me and I’d wind up in a nursing home in restraints,” she chuckled.

“Yeah, their safety nets are like the lifeboats on the Titanic.” Alice said, watching Mitzi navigate unsteadily toward her.

“It’s all about the Benjamins. Me, I don’t have savings, so I hope I just drop dead one day,” she said blithely. “Otherwise I tell my grandkids, “Just drug me and throw me off a cliff.” She paused in front of Alice studying the glass topped coffee table

“Let me help…” Alice began to stand.

“Got it, got it,” Mitzi said, lowering the tray to the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Sorry this is all I have. I just moved in two days ago.”

Alice looked at the platter of cheeses, Viennese sausage and olives and mentally calculated the grams of fat and cholesterol.

“It’s fine. Denise and I had fish tacos for lunch.”

“Food here is the best.”

Mitzi’s hoop earrings jangled as she dropped her full weight onto the couch. “Oh, look at our dogs, they’re so cute together. “It’s nice our dogs get along. What’s yours called again? My brain is like mush today.” She leaned forward reaching for the bottle of wine and poured a full glass.

“Chance.” Alice glanced at Chance and saw his nose pressed against the glass and his expression pleading to be saved from the poodles that couldn’t seem to stop sniffing him and pawing at him for attention.

“‘Chance’ that’s different.” Mitzi took a long swallow of wine.

“It’s the name of the main character in ‘Being There.’ It’s a novel about a simple-minded gardener who’s mistaken for a genius.”

“Oh, poor Chance, he’s not too bright; but, he’s handsome. I named mine, Minnie and Mickey. My grandchildren loved Disneyland.”

“I like your earrings,” said Alice.

“Do you? They’re my favorite.” She leaned forward to choose a piece of nut encrusted cheese and a handful of crackers. “How do you like the house?”

“It’s beautiful,” Alice replied thinking of how to bring up taking over Mitzi’s lease.

“I always loved this house. I used to pet sit for the owners. He had a stroke so they had to go back to the States. The wife does ceramics. She designed the tiles and found a factory in Mexico City to make them. It’s all original.”

“It’s well done,” Alice agreed. Vaulted ceilings, unobstructed views of the ocean and mountains, a master suite discreetly behind the open kitchen and living room.

“Denise probably told you, my boyfriend, Hector, my ex-boyfriend now, helped me move. He even borrowed a truck for it. I rented this place because he wanted us to live together. We needed four bedrooms because he has two teenage sons. But then he changed is mind.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Hector has a Visa so he has a chauffeur service taking people to San Diego and Los Angeles airport or doctor’s appointments. He makes a good living. We were going to share expenses.” she clicked her tongue. “I’m really trapped because I gave up my one bedroom condo. I have nowhere to go.”

Alice thought offering to pay Mitzi’s moving expenses could be an incentive for Mitzi to transfer the lease.

“What do you think about the sharing it?” Mitzi asked

“To be honest I’m not sure it will work.” The two downstairs bedrooms were where Alice would stay had security bars over the windows that made her feel anything but secure. There was no sitting area, no TV, no place to plug in a coffee maker or microwave, no views. “I mean downstairs doesn’t compare to upstairs.”

“Of course you’d have use of the kitchen. And, also I’m not here a lot. I supplement my Social Security with a pet sitting service. I’m away for days, sometimes weeks.

“Who takes care of your dogs?”

“Me. I drop by twice a day to feed and walk them. I also have an expat mail and shopping service and drive to the States once a week. I mean you’d practically have the house to yourself.”

Alice envisioned the responsibility for Mitzi’s dogs and more would inevitably fall on her. She reached for a cracker and a different subject to avoid further discussion. Light reflecting on the glass of one of the photos on the fireplace mantel caught her attention. “Are those your grandchildren?”

“Yes, from when they were kids, and their father, my son. They lived with me after their father was killed in a mass shooting.” Mitzi related this in such a matter of fact voice that it took a moment for Alice to absorb the meaning, then she choked on the cracker in her mouth.

“Oh, my God,” Alice coughed. “I’m so sorry, that’s horrible.” She reached for her wine glass.

“Are you okay? Do you want some water?”

She shook her head as she swallowed. “I’m okay.” she said, lowering the glass and feeling guilty having heard of the tragedy for thinking of taking the house from Mitzi. What kind of greedy, evil person would do that? She cleared her throat. “I just you know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, thank you. It was fourteen years ago. My grandchildren are adults now. They and their mother came to live with me in the house where their dad grew up. Once his daughter, she was about seven at the time, was sitting on the stairs having a conversation but no one was there, so I asked, ‘Who’re you talking to sweetie?’ and she told me, ‘Daddy.’” Mitzi looked at Alice. “That’s amazing right? We felt his presence everywhere.”

“I’ve heard that happens,” although it had not happened to Alice.

“That’s how my life was. I’m so grateful I could help them. They’re all grown up now. Both are married. My grandson is a fireman, his sister an engineer. I could’ve lived with either one of them but, Both wanted me, but well, you know…” Mitzi’s shoulders slumped.

There is grief for the dead. but no commiseration for the loss of friendship, the loss of a job, the loss of community, the loss of certainty, the loss of youth, mused Alice.

“Do you have children?” Mitzi asked.

“Ah, no, I, no-no don’t.” Alice replied. “I always thought I would one day but the time passed.” She explained even though no explanation was needed. “Never married.”

Mitzi grinned. “That’s probably why you look so young.”

“Well, I had some work done a dozen years ago. My last ditch attempt to look young enough to get a steady job again, instead of free-lance work.”

“The surgeon was good. It looks very natural. I would never have guessed. What kind of work did you do?”

“I was a reader and story analyst for a movie company”

“Reading is a job?”

“Well, it was a bit more than just reading, but yeah, that was my job until the boss sold the company to a big studio and laid us all off. I got a settlement but, you know, social life and work are intertwined.”

“Yeah. No job, no friends. I sold insurance. Home, auto, life. Now you can buy insurance online and if you have a problem you chat with a bot and if that doesn’t work you can talk to some nice person in India.”

The dogs suddenly leapt up barking in unison followed by the sound of rattling terrace doors.

“That’ll be Rusty.”

A moment later, a thin, bottle red-haired woman with a whiskey-weathered face plunged into the room.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What the hell Mitzi! I’ve been ringing the damn gate doorbell for ten minutes? I thought you were dead in here!”

“I put a sign on it to Knock.”

“I didn’t see it.” Rusty saw Alice. “You must be the new refugee from the land of broken dreams”

“Rusty this is Alice.”

“Hi Alice anyone every call you, ‘Alli?’”

“Not twice,” Alice replied with a crooked smile.

Rusty turned to Mitzi, “I like her,” she declared. “Wine please. Gin is better.” Do we have gin?

“No.”

“Where did it go?” Rusty dropped onto a red club facing the couch.

“We drank it yesterday.”

“Oh. Yesterday. Okay, whatever, I’m easy,” Rusty said. Alice was sure it was the opposite. “Glass please?”

“They’re somewhere.” Mitzi searched under the kitchen island for another glass.

Rusty turned to Alice. “Denise can’t find you a rental because she only shows her own listings.”

Apparently news traveled fast among expats, Alice deduced, not favorably, she liked privacy.

“In the States they have multiple listings and real estate licenses; here if a friend asks you to find a renter or buyer for their house you’re a real estate agent.”

“There actually is a multiple listing but it’s usually not current.”

There’s a half dozen Gringo beach communities south of here La Salina, Bajamar, if you like golf? There’s Ensenada, if you speak Spanish.”

“I’m not fluent.”

“You’d like Ensenada. It’s the first real Mexican city from the border. We used to go all the time for festivals. There’s a festival for something every day in Mexico. Here in Gringo-land it‘s like a suburb.”

“Actually,” Mitzi returned with a glass for Rusty and another bottle of wine. “We’re talking about sharing the house,” she said in a chiding tone.

“Is she your hostage? I’m giving options so Alice here doesn’t get ripped off.”

Rusty reached for the wine bottle.

“I’m not ripping…”

“You’re being ripped off Mitzi. We’re Americans, it’s what we do. You’re paying the homeowners for the privilege of taking care of their property.”

“But he had to go for stroke therapy”

“How is that your problem?” Rusty filled her wine glass then gave Mitzi a knowing look. “So Hector’s gone? I warned you about Mexican men. They marry by the time they’re twenty one and stay married. Even if he moves in with another woman and starts another family.”

“How’s Raul?” Mitzi countered.

“Ah Raul, mi Amigo,” Rusty said. “He’s a special case. We’re friends with benefits. He plays the guitar, we sing duets, and talk about all the stars I saw while growing up in Las Vegas. He’s a sweet kid,” Rusty chuckled. “Raul’s dick has this cute turtle neck on the tip. I think Mexican men are confident because they didn’t have their dicks snipped the way they do at hospitals in the States. I think that’s why American men are so paranoid. They need to carry a gun to protect what’s left between their legs.”

‘Rusty has a theory for everything.” Mitzi said.

Alice smiled at Rusty. “I like your theory.”

“We smoke a little weed; neck a little. Nothing below my waist. I’m too dry to get anything inside me and honestly are those ninety seconds of dick worth it? Sometimes I blow him. Then he goes home to his mama. By the way, is Hector circumcised?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Rusty looked at Alice “You’re too quiet?” she challenged. “You think you’re better than us?”

This was one reason Alice disliked being around drunks they were too easily possessed by energies with different personalities.

“She’’s joking,” Mitzi intervened. “Rusty, did something happen today?” She asked concerned.

“Today?” Rusty pointed to herself and paused. “Nope. Just another day in paradise.” She laughed at herself and became quiet.

Mitzi leaned toward Alice like a sales agent seeing a customer slipping away and said quietly, “Rusty hasn’t been feeling well lately. A bladder infection and I think the antibiotics affected her.”

Alice, who once lived with and loved an alcoholic writer, thought; we always make excuses for their addiction.

“Anyway,” Mitzi smiled brightly.“We should get our acts together so we can get our meal orders in to La Fonda before the band starts.”

“You should move in with me, Mitzi.” Rusty said.

Mitzi looked at Alice then Rusty, “I have too much stuff. ”

“You’re waiting for Hector to return.”

“Maybe I am. I, we, — Sometimes on Saturday I cook a pork roast while he watches futbol on television and afterwards we eat and then take a walk on the beach. Sunday he goes home so he can take his sons to school Mondays. And she’s not his wife. They never married. His wife died in a car accident five years ago. She’s his boy’s aunt. Maybe once they had something, but it’s over. And Hector’s fifty. There’s sixteen years between us, not thirty,” she said pointedly and leaned forward to pick up tray.

Alice observing them thought if she stayed, even temporarily, there would be no way to avoid becoming embedded in Rusty and Mitzi’s drama.

Rusty stood. “It’s Saturday night, let’s dance. What should I sing tonight?”

“Just behave yourself.”

“Don’t know that one,” Rusty mugged.

“Last week your blouse was open your waist.”

“A wardrobe malfunction.” Rusty poked her.

“Whatever,” Mitzi snapped.

“I need to take Chance for a walk.” Alice said standing and feeling slightly woozy from her glass of wine. She was a light drinker.

“Sure we’ll wait for you, “ Mitzi said. Walking toward the kitchen area with the tray. “I’ll clean up here. I hate coming back to a dirty kitchen.”

Moments later, with Chance tugging at the leash, Alice opened the front door. Chance yanked her forward, nearly knocking her into a neatly dressed, pudgy, middle-aged man wearing a white shirt and dark slacks and holding a bottle of Gordon’s Gin and a single red rose in his hands.

Alice intuitively knew he was, “Hector?”

“Si,” he shyly grinned.

Holding Chance’s leash, she turned and called into the house, “Mitzi, someone’s here to see you!” Before continuing on her way.

Twilight illuminated Alice’s path as she walked Chance along the hillside that overlooked the ocean in the distance and the Scenic Highway. She was glad Mitzi and Hector were reunited. Seeing the headlights of vehicles traveling north and south she recalled Rusty’s suggestions of other communities to explore. Life changing moments aren’t always earth shaking; sometimes all one has needs is to be present for it. Alice had always been a person who liked order and routine yet here she was unsure of where he would spend the night, walking alone with her dog in a rural area entirely at peace with her surroundings and herself. She was a different woman now.

Written by Carol Roper 2023 Ⓒ Carol Roper

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivatives 4.0 International License. Under the following terms: Attribution — You must give appropriate credit, provide a link to the license, and indicate if changes were made. You may do so in any reasonable manner, but not in any way that suggests the licensor endorses you or your use.NonCommercial — You may not use the material for commercial purposes. NoDerivatives — If you remix, transform, or build upon the material, you may not distribute the modified material.

ABOUT Carol Roper: I am a published and award winning playwright, produced television, screenwriter, blogger and YouTuber.

Alice’s Adventures In Mexico is from the collection of Hand Made Stories are a series of character driven fictions based on the lives and experiences of vintage aged US citizens who live in Baja California, MX.

I moved to Baja California in 2011 when I was 71. Best decision I ever made.

You can also visit me at:

http://www.post.news/@celebrate

https://carolroper0.wordpress.com

https://www.youtube.com/@Carol_Roper

Two Katrinas painting Frida Kahlo