the madison review
shoulders contritely and spoke to me over her head. “At Dos Ojos, Rita makes all the Americans feel so brave. Maybe she forgets that she isn’t working now that you are here. Tomorrow let’s go to the reef. I’m leading a dive in the morning.” “I have to work,” said Rita. Words I never once thought I’d hear out of her mouth. “Come,” Juarez said to me. “While Rita works.” Rita liked talking about her job. In the past week, she had arranged camping on a deserted atoll for a retired couple from Greenwich, spear fishing for a bachelor party, a trek to Chichen Itza for a family with three teenagers who spent the entire time waiting in the Land Rover listening to suicidal music, and a visit for three businessmen to a local brothel -- although that one was clandestine. Rita said she was only the facilitator – she didn’t bother to condone or disapprove of any of these activities. She told me that her xenophobic clientele flocked to her, trusting her simply because she was American. “For some of these people, all I have to do is feed them a papaya for the first time and I’m a hero.” I laughed, but I couldn’t summon the taste of papaya from my own memory. I’m sure Richard couldn’t have, either. We’re not exotic fruit people. “They love her,” said Juarez. “Creating danger in a safe world is an art, mi amor. Don’t forget it.” • Rita and I had learned to scuba dive together in a class at our high school taught by a furry middle-aged guy who tried to convince us that the best diving in the world was in murky Buzzards Bay and that he would be happy to take us there on a private dive weekend. He’d be especially happy to take Rita. The class had been Rita’s idea, of course. Who else? Every winter afterward, when school break rolled around, it was Rita who picked which tropical resort we would go to. Our parents would stake out their territory: chaise lounges poolside, beach chairs near the ocean, or high-stools at the bar – any place where there was gin to fuel their marital bliss -- and we’d stake out ours: the reef, the dive shack, the boat. Year after year. Turks and Caicos. Bonaire. Belize. Most years, most dives, I had at least one moment 39