Notes from a Spinning Planet—Mexico (23 page)

Sid picks up the pitcher of remaining margaritas, takes it to the sink, and dumps it down the drain. “I don't think so. I think the main concern is that the combination knocks people out. And if someone took Benadryl along with a couple of drinks and tried to drive, well, that could get ugly.”

“Do we still want to do a little intervention with her tomorrow?” I ask.

“I think it ci be a good thing. Maybe after breakfast.”

“Yeah, I'm concerned that she has one more night here—without us. I mean, she could really get into trouble.”

“I know.”

“Wow!” I say suddenly, going over and hugging my aunt. “I almost forgot, you're engaged. Congratulations again.”

She smiles and looks down at her ring almost as if she's still absorbing this new development in her life. “Thanks.”

“And Happy New Year.”

“And to you too.” She sighs. “Are you as tired as I am?”

“I think so.” Even though I want to hear all the details, I realize we will have plenty of time to talk tomorrow.

So without much more ado, we both start getting ready for bed. But before I climb between the sheets, I go out and put that ottoman in front of the door again. Okay, I know it's a silly gesture, but I hope it'll help keep Shelby safely in the suite tonight. I can just imagine our naked lobster going outside to dance by the swimming pool.

Shelby's rash is better in the morning. Instead of all the raised welts, she looks more like she's had a bad sunburn, and she's puffy. Of course, she cant stand how she looks and refuses to go to breakfast with us.

“Want us to bring something back for you?” offers Sid.

“No. I'll find something here,” she says sadly. “I'll be fine.”

“I'm surprised she didn't try to get us to bring her a Bloody Mary,” I say as we walk toward the restaurant, and Sid laughs. Then I ask her how it feels to be engaged in the light of day.

“It feels wonderful.”

“No second thoughts then?”

“Are you kidding?” Then she looks at me. “Speaking of feeling wonderful, it looked like you and Ryan were getting cozy last night. What was up with that?”

I just shrug.

“Caught up in the moment?” she persists. “Or something more?” 1 m not sure.

“Really?”

“Well, it felt like something more. To me anyway. Who knows how Ryan will feel this morning. And then there's the whole Shelby thing.”

“What Shelby thing?” She frowns. “I think its pretty obvious that Shelby is not Ryan's type. You know that, Maddie.”

“But remember how Ryan was in love with her in high school?” I say as we get closer to the restaurant. “If she hadn't changed—or if she changes back—well, who knows where it might go with them.”

“I don't think so, Maddie.”

It's too late to discuss it further, since Ian and Ryan are waving and joining us. “We got a table,” Ian says, after kissing his fiancee. Ryan gives me a hug and even a peck on the cheek, then takes my hand as we walk to the table. I feel Sid looking at me, like she's saying, “I told you so.” Still, I'm not totally convinced.

We have a nice breakfast, and although Ian and Ryan don't fly out
until tomorrow, they offer to accompany us to the airport. Then Sid brings up the Shelby-intervention plan. “We're going to talk to her after breakfast,” she says. “We feel like it's our responsibility.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “And in a way, Shelby has thought of us as family. So it makes sense.”

“Do you really want us to be involved?” asks Ian.

“The more the merrier,” says Sid. “Besides, we've all four witnessed her drinking binges. And, Ryan, you've probably seen even more than the rest of us.”

“I don't know about that,” he says. “You guys have had more than your share.”

I try not to snicker as I recall Shelby's naked-lobster dance last night. Sid and I already agreed not to tell the guys about this little incident. We think the poor girl deserves a bit of respect.

“I was involved in an intervention once,” says Ian. “One of our cooks had a drug problem. He was the nicest guy, and everyone liked him, but his drug abuse was ruining his life, and he was messing up at work.”

“So how did you handle it?” asks Sid.

“Very carefully. We made sure Collin knew the reason we were doing it was because we all loved him. For starters, we all said positive things about him. Then we told him our concerns, but we did it in a kind way.”

“Did it work?”

“It got him into rehab.” Ian sighs. “We thought he was going to make it, but the last I heard, he had moved to Dublin and had gone back to the same old stuff.”

“Too bad.”

“You can only do what you can do,” says Sid.

“Like my dad says all the time,” I add, “you can lead a horse to water, but you cant make him drink.”

“Or, in Shelbys case, you can't make her stop drinking,” says Ryan.

“Not unless she wants it for herself,” says Ian.

“But at least we can speak the truth to her,” I say, “in love.”

“Shall we say ten o'clock then?” asks Sid. “That's in about thirty minutes, and hopefixlly early enough that Shelby hasn't had anything to drink yet. Or at least not enough to be impaired.”

“And that'll give you time to pack and be ready to go to the airport?” asks Ian. “Not that we'd mind terribly if you missed your flight.”

Sid laughs. “Well, I'd mind. That could be an expensive mistake.”

He nods. “Yes, I've heard everything's pretty much booked coming in and going out of here this week.”

So we head back to our suite, hoping Shelby is, one, fully clothed and, two, not drinking. To our pleased surprise, she is both. Well, the fully clothed part might be debatable. She has on her bikini, along with huge sunglasses and a large sun hat that pretty much makes it impossible to tell that it's her. In fact, she could actually pass for an old woman with bad eczema.

“I thought I'd get some sun today,” she tells us, holding out a patchy red arm. “You think it might help?”

“No,” says Sid. “I think it might hurt.”

Shelby frowns. “Really?”

“We could call the doctor and find out,” I suggest.

“Would you?” she asks. So I dial the office and am eventually connected to Dr. Heishcel. I remind him of Shelby's situation and ask about her going out in the sun today. He gives me a little medical lecture, which I try to write down. Then I hang up and tell Shelby.

“The doctor says that sun exposure may aggravate or worsen your allergic reaction. He also said to avoid chlorine in the pools. And stay out of the ocean. He said to keep doing the soda baths and to wear loose clothing and to apply cool compresses to bad areas, to get lots of rest, and to keep drinking plenty of fluids.
Not
alcohol,” I add, although he didn't say this. But if he was familiar with Shelby's habits, I'm sure he would.

Shelby pouts at all that.

“So why don't you go put on something loose fitting,” says Sid kindly, “and I'll fix you something to drink.”

Shelby brightens. “Something good?”

Sid nods. “Something good for you.”

Shelby rolls her eyes, then goes back to her bedroom.

“I'm getting nervous,” I say to Sid. “I've never done any kind of intervention before. Do you think she'll get mad at us?”

“I think if we do it like Ian suggested, with kindness, caring, love…”

“Right.”

Sid makes a pot of coffee while I mix up a pitcher of orange, papaya, and pineapple juices, hoping again that Shelby might consider this a mixed drink. Pathetic, I know, but if it helps to soothe the girl, it might be worthwhile.

Shelby and Sid are sitting on the couch when Ian and Ryan arrive. Shelby tries to make a fast break—I'm sure because she's embarrassed to be seen right now—but its too late. I've already let them in.

“It's okay,” I tell her. “They heard all about your unfortunate experience yesterday.”

“Tough break,” says Ryan, shaking his head. “That must feel pretty lousy.”

She nods. “Yeah, it's been miserable.”

“At least there was a doctor handy,” says Ian. “Can you imagine if he hadn't been there?”

Shelby shakes her head. “No. I guess I'd be dead.”

“We have coffee and juice,” I offer, bringing out a tray with cups and glasses.

“What's the occasion?” asks Shelby as she sits back down on the couch next to Sid.

“Just friends getting together,” I say lightly.

“It's our last day here,” adds Sid.

“Did you tell Shelby the big news?” asks Ian.

So Sid tells Shelby about the engagement, and Shelby looks truly happy for the two of them. “I'd marry Ian for the accent alone,” she tells Sid.

Sid laughs. “Yes, it's rather nice, but there's a lot more to him too.”

Then the room gets quiet. I wonder who's supposed to start this thing. I hope it's not me, because I don't have the slightest idea what to say.

“Shelby,” says Ian, “we wanted to talk to you before we all go our separate ways.”

“Huh?” she looks up from her coffee.

“For starters,” says Sid, “Maddie and I want to thank you for your hospitality. It was so generous of you to share your suite with us. We really appreciated it.”

She waves a red patchy hand. “Oh, that was nothing. You guys make great roommates. No complaints from me.”

“And it's been fun getting to know you,” I say. “You're such a congenial person…you have such a great disposition.”

“Really?” she seems surprised by this. Then she laughs. “Oh, you mean when I've been drinking. Everyone thinks I'm fun then.”

“No,” I say quickly. “I mean when you're sober, Shelby. You're a really sweet person when you're sober.”

She frowns. “Oh.”

“And you're a smart girl,” says Ian. “Witty and funny and clever. You seem to have a lot of potential.”

She frowns now. “Hey, what's going on here? Am I about to die or something? What are you guys up to anyway?”

“You're not about to die, Shelby,” says Ryan. “We just want you to know that we like you. We care about you. You've got so much going for you, Shelby. I remember how you used to be back in high school, how you cared about people, how you took your faith seriously. You were an amazing girl.”

“But I've changed,” she says in a stiff voice.

Ryan nods. “You know that you have.”

“So?” She looks around at us.

“So, we care about you,” I say “We don't want to leave San Lucas without telling you that.”

“And we're concerned about your drinking,” adds Sid. “We think you have a problem.”

Shelby laughs. “Oh, this? I'm on vacation, you guys. I just get a little silly sometimes. Its no big deal.”

“When you go missing in a foreign country, and the security guard finds you sleeping in the bushes at two in the morning, it's a big deal,” says Sid. “Trust me, I'm a journalist. I've covered stories like this before. It's a very big deal.”

“Well, I'm sorry about that,” says Shelby. “I didn't mean to worry you.” She laughs again. “Remember, that's why I treated at the spa. And look where that got me.” She holds out her arms and shakes her head. “Do you think God's trying to tell me something?”

“Yes,” I say suddenly, “I do. I think he wants you to know you're wrecking your life, Shelby. I mean, I have no idea why you feel the need to drink all the time, but it's obvious something is going on.”

“And you could end up in serious trouble,” says Ryan. “Or even dead.”

“And we like you better alive,” says Ian in a kind voice. “You're such a pretty girl, Shelby. You seem so full of life. Why do you want to put it all at risk?”

She just stares at him now, as if something he said has really gotten through to her, but I can't figure out what it is. And then it's like something in her cracks, and she starts to cry. Sid and I are sitting on both sides of her, and Sid puts an arm around her shoulders, and I take her hand.

“It's okay,” says Sid. “It's good to cry.”

So we all sit there for a minute or so while Shelby cries. Ian even goes into the bathroom and comes back with several tissues. “Here.”

Finally she stops and wipes her nose. “This is really sweet of you guys,” she says. “I dont think I've ever had anyone care for me like this before.”

“Maybe they just never took the time to tell you,” I say.

She nods. “And I know you re right. I know I drink too much.”

“Do you know why?” asks Ryan.

She shakes her head now. “No, not really. I wish I could tell you some really pitiful story. I mean, like yours, Ryan: first your dad dies and then your mom. You have a reason to become an alcoholic.”

He sort of laughs. “But that would only make things worse.”

“Maybe.” She wipes her nose. “And I think ofthat girl that Mad-die became friends with. What was her name?”

“Francesca?” I offer.

“Right. That poor girl lost both her parents too, when she was young. And then she grew up in an orphanage. She should be the one sitting here telling you why she's an alcoholic.”

“Except she's not,” I say.

“Right.” Shelby nods. “You see what I'm saying? I don't have one good reason to be an alcoholic.”

“Maybe that doesn't matter,” says Ian. “Maybe what matters is that you recognize you have a problem.”

Shelby sighs.

“And then you realize you need help,” adds Sid.

“What kind of help?” asks Shelby
“Maybe you need some kind of rehab,” I tell her.

“Or a twelve-step program,” offers Ian.

“Something that will change the direction you're going in,” says Ryan, “before there's a real train wreck.”

Shelby sits up straighter now. She wipes her eyes and looks evenly at us. “Well, I'll keep all the things you've said in mind. And I appreciate you taking the time to talk so honestly to me.”

“But?” Ryan's brows draw together just slightly.

“But I'm starting to get itchy now.” Shelby stands. “I think I need to take some Benadryl and a soda bath. So if you'll all excuse me.” Then, just like that, she leaves.

We can hear water running, so maybe she was telling the truth. Or maybe it was just an excuse to get out of here.

“We did what we could,” says Ian, standing. “It's up to her now.”

“That's right,” says Sid. “Everyone handled it really well too. No regrets.”

“What she said about Francesca reminded me of something,” I say. “I told her we'd write letters of recommendation for her. I know I didn't really have the right to speak for you guys, but I thought I could at least ask you.”