This is Mary’s story. I will try to keep it short, I know nowadays people do not have the patience, or the time, for lengthy, convoluted stories. I met Mary on one of the world’s beautiful beaches, Las Canteras in Gran Canary.
Why I was there, what I was doing and with whom, does not add anything to Mary’s story, so I will just be her scribe. Suffice to say that I am Irish, like her, a woman, like her, into my old age, like her. Might be, we are both quite similar, and this is why she told me how she ended up, this sad looking, old Irish woman, walking the beach up and down, up and down, piercing the crowds with her clouded vision.
***
Miguel enjoyed the cool relief of the El Muelle mall when he passed through the big squeaky door. He did not want to sweat, the image he projected was that of a successful Spanish business man prospering in the Canaries. Strange enough, the women he met almost never wondered why such a successful man did his own shopping. Must be in their countries even men with money went to the shop by themselves. If Miguel really had that money, he would for sure not spend his time reading labels in food shops. But, as things would have it, he did not, so he did have to go out and make a living.
That morning he saw a new cruise ship had docked in the port and it was imperative to get there early. These cruise people are desperate to get off the boat, and if you do not catch them early, then they spread out in the city and it gets difficult to bag them. His target were women that were alone mainly, although he did have some successful threesomes, but those were a lot more work and now he just needed a quick one. Miguel owed money, as usual, to the wrong people. They are never right these lenders, are they?
Miguel went into HiperDino and as usual he scanned the crowd. Old couples, women in twos, nothing for him yet. He went to the meat counter, chatted a bit with the butcher and just as he was leaving he saw her in the dairy section, mumbling something to herself. Not such a good sign, but he was desperate. He got close and he found she was reading the butter labels.
‘Guapa, if I help you choose your butter will you help me choose a bottle of wine? I am useless when it comes to wine …’
He came very close to her looking intently in her extremely blue eyes. She was your standard middle to old age woman, a bit chubby, a bit soft, but well taken care of and dressed in a way that betrayed her shyness. She overcame her surprise and smiled at him graciously. Good teeth, that is always a bonus.
‘Oh no, I do not want to buy butter, I am just fascinated by how many Irish butters you have. Kerrygold with a Spanish label, that is mad! Wait till I tell the people at home. They will say I am mad! Will never believe it, not in a million years!’
Miguel put on his surprised face, although he knew exactly where her accent was from.
‘Of course! Irish butter is the best in the world! Do you not eat Irish butter where you are from my Nordic goddess?’
Mary got all flustered and awkward, but her Irishness pulled her through.
‘But I AM IRISH!’
Miguel got even closer slyly.
‘Oh! So, not only do they have the best butter in the world, but also the most gorgeous women! Those Irish!’
With that she was hooked.
***
Mary barely slept the few hours between when the boat stopped in Las Palmas till morning. This was her trip of a lifetime and she meant to take advantage of every little thing that happened. She religiously followed the timetable of the stops and all the activities, getting involved in everything. She did not get too much rest, but that was fine, people don’t go on cruises to rest, they go to explore the world, to learn, to better themselves. Her nieces had gotten her a very smart phone and had taught her how to take photos and to send them. She was on the cruise less than a week and had taken more than a thousand photos. Mary was that person that exists on all ships, overexcited and way too delighted with everything. This is amazing, this is so good, oh look at the view. She had saved for this cruise for the better part of 10 years, so she planned to enjoy every bit of it.
After breakfast, she waited patiently for people to start appearing on land, while sipping a sweet cold coffee on her own balcony. She had gotten herself a deluxe cabin with a lovely balcony on the port side of the ship.
Booking the trip had been a journey of discovery in itself. She looked up maritime terms, she read articles with recommendations to make sure she chose correctly. Preparing was as much part of the trip as the trip itself. She had chosen well, her view was perfect. She could see people on land, tiny like bugs, moving in all directions. At 9 am she was ready and out the door with her paper, cruise, purple bracelet firmly stuck on her wrist.
By the time she actually got into the mall it was almost 20 past 9. Even 7 years ago, Mary confesses, she was not the fastest walker in the world, and plus, she was meant to enjoy herself, not rush, she had rushed her entire life. The cruise was her present to herself at turning 60. Never before had she done something similar.
Mary takes a quick photo to mark the first visit to the mall and happily passes the squeaky doors. The mall looks decent, a bit dark and deserted, but in fairness, it is quite early, she thinks to herself as she makes her way to the shop with a strange logo resembling the Flintstones’ pet. Strange choice for a logo, but fun, she has to admit. Mary does not really need anything, all she could wish for is provided on the ship, she loves though to look at the strange and foreign things they sell. All sorts of unusual foods with colourful labels, that she reads out loud to herself in a mumbling voice, trying to understand what they are with the bit of Spanish she picked up from her guide. And then she sees the butter.
‘No way Kerrygold! Manteq … What? Irlandes…’, Mary giggles. Then he comes and the world stops, right then and there, forever.
***
Mary tells me that she has gone over that moment countless times. She knows how every second passed, what he said, his eyes on her, his passionate manner. She smiles. He was handsome, but not that kind of unattainable handsome, you know like those men that you see on TV and you know they would never look at the likes of you. Miguel, that was his name, she tells me longingly, was that kind of warm, clean, nicely looking man. Not too young either, she does not really know the age, but a bit younger than her for sure. Early fifties maybe. Somehow though, he did not make her feel old. On the contrary, he made her feel wanted and interesting for the first time since HE left her for, the cliche, a younger woman.
It was a few days after her 49th birthday. No celebrations, just something small with the family, a few presents. It was nice, she fondly remembers the way they were, and then one night, they were getting ready to go to bed, when his phone rang. It never rang that late. She did not hear the conversation, she just saw him rush back in the room, his face in panic.
‘I have to go!’, and off he went without any explanation, her husband of 27 years. Puf! Out the door! Mary tried to go after him, offered to help, but he was frantic. Just got in the car and left.
The day after, late afternoon he came home to a worried, anxious Mary. That is when he told her. The world ended then too. The earth stood still on its axis and Mary was sure it will open and swallow her whole with grief. As it turns out SHE had an accident, that is why he ran out. She was another bloody Mary, go figure, one he met in work, a younger Mary, a better Mary, more compassionate and caring.
‘I am a nurse!’, Mary would tell herself walking in circles in the empty house. ‘There is nobody more caring and compassionate then me! The insult!’
Anyway, the accident made him understand that SHE was the one, and he could not waste any more time pretending that, that was not the truth as difficult as it would be for … the old Mary. The he left. Just so, all their life, all their habits, broken, and behind, an old version of Mary, left hating him and drowning in grief.
‘I am so sorry Mary!’, I tell her and delicately touch her sun-burnt hand.
‘Oh! No worries! I had more heartache since then. That is the before story. So when I turned 50, I promised myself that at 60 I will do something to celebrate myself, and I set my mind on a cruise. I had this French patient once, he was rambling while he had a fever about a book he read as a child, with some people on a cruise, with a young poor guide, I don’t know, I just got this idea of a cruise stuck in my head and decided that this is what I will do. Go cruising! But in style, real luxury, so I saved for 10 years and I made my dream come true!, her smile is sad and somehow emptiness radiates from her.
She had told Miguel all of this. He was just so easy to talk to, and he was so interested in her, asking lots of questions with his suave, Spanish accent. They went to have a drink, and then lunch. It was unfortunate she could not bring him on the boat, they had the most wonderful activities in the evening.
‘Oh, but no! You cannot leave me alone!’, Miguel’s eyes seemed wide with hurt. Let me take you out! Go change, put on your most beautiful dress and I will show you a night to remember!’
And that he did for sure.
When they met it was like magic. He looked so handsome, and took her in his arms and kissed her in the most sensual way, close to her lips but not really touching them.
‘I swear even the way he walked, very close to me, barely touching my back with his hand from time to time, when I least expected it, made me just, lose my mind.’ Mary looks at me ashamed. ‘A woman in her sixties, can you imagine! Such a fool!’
She goes on.
‘The night was fabulous, so when he started to look for his wallet and almost had a breakdown that he forgot it in his hotel I saw no issue to pay for food and drinks. Euro to euro, everything so cheap, far from me the thought of letting something so menial like paying for dinner get in the way of … you know, everything. So out went the card here and there. Now, I know the moment it happened, but then I did not suspect anything.
After dinner, we went to something like a dancing club for older people. Yes, they have those. Packed with finely dressed people of my age, older, younger, everything. Dimmed lights, bouncy Spanish music, heaven for a lonely woman from Mayo. I had given him my card to get drinks, and he came gesticulating that it asks for the pin. I did not think, I did not, not even for a second, doubt him. I was so well fed and watered, that my senses were just out of service. The tap limit must be reached, I told myself and gave him the pin. I even wrote it down.’
She looks at me with shocked eyes for something that happened 7 years before.
‘I wrote my pin, my freaking card pin on a napkin and gave it to him. Even now I get nauseated when I think at how stupid I was and how I let this happen to me.
The night went on, he gave me back my card, he was so happy it was flattering. Only after I thought that maybe he was so happy because he saw how much money I had on my card. Later on he took me to the boat, a perfect gentleman, he held me close and kissed me and when he said good bye, he said what I did not understand then, but what makes perfect sense now.
‘I just need to make a living guapa! Adios!’
I though he means he needs to go to work or something and he feels sorry for having to leave me, his love behind, his Maria, as he called me. What an idiot I was!
The rest I assume is pretty obvious. The next day I tried to find him, but I could not, he was nowhere to be found. Then the boat left, and then, in less than a week my card was empty. Over 13 thousand euros, all my savings, all I had in the world gone. Don’t ask me why I did not have a savings account, I just did not, did not think I needed it, the money was there, I never needed a savings account. Whatever, there were withdrawals from ATMs, expensive items from shops, and I had no idea, I was painfully in love, cruising the seas, pining for the man that took advantage of me.
Then I get this call from the bank, they noticed suspicions activity on my card, but as the PIN was being used and as I had informed them I am going out of the country, it was too late when they blocked the card, way too late.
Oh God, the pity in their eyes! The mocking side, glances! The desperate old woman conned out of her life savings. I could not live there anymore, but I had nowhere to go. So I sold my house, the only thing I had ever owned and moved out here, where it had all gone wrong. I hate this place now, but I cannot not acknowledge its beauty. I made some friends, old, bitter people like me. And whenever I go out I look for him, the man that robbed me. Sometimes I think I see him, but it seems that because of all the publicity of what he did to me he had to run from here, they never found him anyway.’
Mary sighs ‘And now I live here …’
‘In paradise!’, I add and bring up my glass of beer with lemon.
‘Hm, not for me though, for me it is like tainted paradise, Eden after the fall.’, her voice is sad and I know there is no point in encouraging her to go to Mayo. Mary sees this as her penance, the only way she can deal with the guilt and the shame of letting herself be taken advantage of.
We sit there, at a wobbly plastic table, having chilled beer and enjoying our silence made more resonant by the sound of the waves.
Sometimes even a tainted paradise can bring moments of peace.
