 Honey
& Pain
By Keith Keller
Jonathan sat in a large plush chair in the lobby of the hotel while
his parents checked-in. A rapid clicking sound caught his attention
and he spun around onto his knees and peered over the back of the
worn red velvet chair. Jonathan was only 12 years old, but for the
rest of his life, when he heard the click of high heels he would
remember this woman.
Her dress was full length. As she walked, in a way he had never
seen a woman walk before, she gathered her dress on one side making
it even tighter around her hips and bottom than it already was.
The dress was a deep purple with soft pink roses that matched her
lips. Her brown hair was casually held on the top of her head by
a large comb.
His parents, finished at the reception desk, told him to come along,
breaking his trance. As he walked with his father he looked back
to see the woman scoop up the change she had come for and walk across
the lobby to the street exit. His dad noted his son’s fascination
with the woman. A curious smile appeared on his face, as he patted
his son on the shoulder.
Jonathan had his own room. A window with a little balcony provided
a view of the plaza. A jazz trio played in the center cupola. Adding
to his excitement was the Cervantino, a first class arts festival
attracting musicians, performers and artists of every genre, hailing
from every part of the world.
Not only were there formal concerts but musicians played on almost
every street corner. When Jonathan heard about the street musicians
he had begged his parents to let him explore alone. He wanted to
enjoy the music without his parents, that way he could listen as
long as he liked, or at least that is the way he explained it. In
truth, he simply wanted to dump the adults.
That night they had tickets for The Philip Glass Ensemble and Jonathan
sat in rapt attention throughout the concert. On the way back to
the hotel he whistled various strange melodies from the music he
had just heard.
* * * *
The next morning everyone was up early and Jonathan rushed through
breakfast, anxious to explore the town and hear the ubiquitous music.
His mother gave him 50 pesos for lunch and he promised to meet them
at4:00pm at the Teatro Juarez to hear Mexican pianist Raúl
Herrera.
As four o’clock approached, Jonathan’s feet began to
tire, as he meandered from corner to corner, hearing a wonderful
string quartet and finally standing under a window and listening
to a solo violinist practicing. It made him weep.
When Jonathan passed a cantina he was caught by the mariachi music
that flowed out of the swinging doors. He squatted down and leaned
his back against the cantina wall, listening to the mariachis, guessing
he could spare five minutes. He found that by bending his head down
he could look under the cantina’s swinging doors and see the
musicians. He shifted a little for a better view, and there she
was. The mariachis were serenading the woman from the hotel.
Jonathan by now had his head completely under the door. She was
the only customer in the cantina. Now on his hands and knees, the
view of her crossed legs protruding from a tight black skirt was
nearly overwhelming. She spotted him and raised her tequila in salud,
accompanied by a gleaming smile. Red hot heat rose to his face and
he banged his head into the bottom of the cantina door, scrambling
to his feet. As he ran for the plaza he kept seeing those legs and
those lips that were now painted red.
* * * *
Jonathan spent the following days awash in music. Days were spent
discovering new treasures on the streets of Guanajuato. He would
listen intently to one, cry listening to another, and dance and
leap to yet another. Evenings were spent at the beautiful Teatro
Juarez, built in an artful blend of Spanish and French architecture.
He would bellow bravo in his 12 year old voice and clap loudly at
a particularly good piece. Normally somewhat shy, when music lifted
his soul, he became unaware of all that was around him except the
music.
Time passed too quickly. They had one last day and the following
morning they would be leaving. Jonathan’s father informed
him that he had planned a surprise for Jonathan´s last night,
a grown up surprise, he hinted.
This worried Jonathan all day, as his fathers surprises were always
suspect. Like the time when he was eight years old and his father
told him he was going to get a first hand look at the way sky divers
train and even go up in the plane with a real parachute on. The
real surprise came when Jonathan’s father tossed him out the
plane by himself. This prompted his mother to want to press charges
and divorce his father. Jonathan’s dad convinced her not to
go the legal route, for fear that it may ruin their mutual friend
Irvin’s sky diving business. Also it would make Jonatan’s
father a convicted felon. “The chute was rigged” so
that he would settle to earth as gentle as a feather.
“That makes it premeditated, up from temporary insanity,”
said his wife.
Eventually Jonathan’s mother forgave his father, especially
when Jonathan asked if he could go sky diving once again. He did
that mostly to save his father’s ass.
The surprise arrived at seven sharp. She was 14 years old and dressed
in shiny blue and pink. Her mother, in braids and Guatemalan ethnic
clothing, was one of those old hippie moms who wanted her daughter
to be straight. The daughter’s name was Pagan and she hated
everyone in the room, especially Jonathan. Pagan hated as only a
pagan could.
What rotten throw of the dice, what sheer bad luck, wondered Jonathan,
had brought Jonathan’s father and Pagan’s mother together?
And which one of them had come up with this lame-brained idea? Obviously
Pagan had gotten permission to go to the teen disco, whatever that
was, if Jonathan could be brought along. This put Jonathan in a
category lower than a slug and he was to be scorned.
* * * *
Jonathan shuffled along slightly behind pagan, who had not spoken
a word since they left the hotel. They were walking on one of Guanajuato’s
narrow streets, too small for a car. Pagan suddenly pulled Jonathan
into a small dark alcove, motioning him to be quiet. Pagan pulled
off her pale shiny blue skirt, shiny pink top and pink slippers.
Somewhere a saxophonist practiced his riffs. Watching Pagan’s
clothes glitter in the Guanajuato moonlight, Jonathan thought her
mother had probably chosen her clothes under the influence of a
cactus blended with honey and spinach. Obviously Pagan felt the
same way, and had worn, unbeknownst to he mother, her idea of what
a girl wears out on a Saturday night. Under her clothes Pagan had
a tight little yellow dress. She stuffed her cast-off clothes into
her bag and produced a pair of high heeled sandals.
When they got to the club it was not a teen disco at all, in fact
it was not even a disco. It was a small restaurant-bar with a juke
box and pool table.
Several high school boys sat at a table, drinking cokes. Pagan waved
to them and joined them with many hugs. Standing by himself, Jonathan
felt awkward and foolish for about 10 seconds, then realized he
was a free man. He had been dumped.
He was just about to leave when he saw her, the women from the hotel.
She was pumping pesos into the juke box which had run out of inspiration.
Bob Marley filled the bar with honey and pain and reggae rhythm.
Music can do funny things to people. Bob Marley’s rhythms
can lift and carry you places and Jonathan, against his will, found
himself delivered to a space directly in front of this woman he
had only days before been admiring from afar.
“Will you dance with me?” he said, if possessed. She
didn’t answer but simply began to dance.
Every one watched them. They danced separately but together, he
loose and floppy, and she sinewy, strong, and sexy. Then the dance
was over.
 She
cupped his head in her hands and gave him a big kiss, leaving a
red lip print on his forehead. Everyone began applauding. Suddenly
Jonathan was aware of how much attention they were receiving. It
was circuit overload for Jonathan’s head. As he rushed from
the bar, full of feelings new to him, the sky erupted with fireworks
above his head. Once again Jonathan found himself running from the
woman of his dreams.
He walked back to the plaza and sat on one of the benches. All around
him were smiling people who loved music. He decided he liked Mexico
very much. Jonathan looked up at his parent’s hotel window
and caught a glimpse of his father kissing his mother.
When Jonathan stopped by his parent’s room they asked him
if he had had fun on his date. He had forgotten the red lipstick
on his forehead until his mother mentioned it. For the second time
that night he turned red and fled. In his room, he crawled into
bed and fell asleep listening to the music of a lone guitarist in
the plaza.
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