We got to Cabo and went out onto the balcony and the first thing that happened was a girl named Sarah from the condo below us climbed the pillar of the overhang to come up to our balcony and say hello.
She said, “I think the reason our generation has so much mental illness is because we are so far from where we’re supposed to be, biologically, like we’re supposed to be monkeys crawling around in the forest.”
This was after some conversation but not the amount usually required to get to such depth.
How can I describe her? Completely unabashed. Young and full of life. Beautiful. Unapologetically herself. Talkative.
My two friends continue to talk to her while I write. Greg asks what her and her friends are doing tonight. They don’t have any plans. Greg says the rooftop club that we can see from the balcony is a good one.
She says, “Want to go now?” It’s 3:45 in the afternoon. She has been doing coke for the past day and a half. Greg still has work to do on his computer. I would go with her, but I don’t tell her this. I don’t say anything. I just stay quiet and keep writing about this angel, friend, someone, I don’t know; but she is certainly more interesting and exciting than any of the last hundred or so people I’ve met.
She leaned back with one leg thrown over the other, wearing shorts that barely covered anything. Her eyelids fluttered over her eyes as she took unconscious drinks of the beer Greg gave her.
She talked about everything and I sat there and typed on my phone about her just hoping she would never stop or, even if she did stop talking, that she would at least not leave and take with her all the life that she so easily brought and could so easily take away.
I wonder if she is aware of the power she wields, to bring the whole universe to bear in a pair of short shorts that contain barely anything, let alone all the stars that were ever in the sky for as many nights as a man ever lived. One moment is not enough to contain her.