Notes from a Spinning Planet—Mexico (19 page)

“Passed out, you mean?” suggests Ryan.

Sid just nods.

“So we should just go to bed and forget all about her?” I ask in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Sid frowns. “Well, I don't know.” She presses her lips together as if trying to come up with the right answer. “Truthfully, Maddie, if you were missing, I'd have called the cops by now.”

“But that's Maddie,” says Ryan. “Shelby is different.”

Sid rolls her eyes. “I've noticed. How about the resort security?” she says. “Did you call them?”

“No, but that's a great idea!”

“We should've thought of that,” says Ryan as he goes for the phone. Within seconds, we hear him talking, but it sounds like he's hit a language barrier.

“Give it to me,” I insist, practically grabbing the handset from him. I do my best to make myself clear in Spanish, even giving the man a fairly good description, ending with
“Bonita, muy bonita,”
which means “very pretty.” This seems to get the security guys attention, and he assures me they will be searching diligently and will contact us if they discover anything. I give them our suite number, then hang up.

“Are they going to look for her?” asks Sid.

“Yes. He said they'd call if they find her.”

Sid sighs now. “Well, I don't mean to appear unconcerned, but I am going to hit the hay now, kiddos. And you should too.”

“I know,” I tell her. “I will.”

“Good night,” she calls as she heads back to bed. “Don't worry. I'm sure Shelbys just fine.”

“She's probably right, Maddie,” says Ryan.

“I know.” I walk into the kitchen and turn on the light. “But I think I'll stay up for a while. I know I wouldn't be able to sleep much anyway. And maybe the security guy will call back with something.”

“What are you doing?” he asks as I fill the coffee decanter with water.

“Making coffee,” I say, as if it's perfectly normal to make coffee at 1:17 a.m.

“And you think that'll help you sleep?”

I smile. “Probably not. But this is what we do at my house when we have some late-night drama.”

“What kind of late-night drama?” he asks as he pulls out a bar-stool and sits across from me.

“Oh, you know,” I say as I measure coffee into the filter. “A calving. A foundered horse. Just regular farm stuff.”

“That must've been so cool to grow up like that,” he says in a way that sounds like real admiration. “I'll bet you're good in an emergency.”

“Sure, if it involves livestock,” I admit as I turn on the coffee maker. “But crises involving people are altogether different.”

“Not necessarily, Maddie.”

“What do you mean?” I ask as I sit on a stool across from him, leaning my chin on my hands. “I mean, here I am, all wigged out about Shelby.”

“Not wigged out,” he corrects me. “Just worried in a nice, sisterly way.”

“Oh.”

“And the way you were concerned about Francesca and wanted to help her. That's like an emergency. Really, I think you ve got a pretty cool head, Maddie. I like that.”

I smile. “Well, thanks.”

“And you've grown up a lot since Ireland. Did you know that?”

“Not actually. That was, what, like six months ago? I don't think I could've grown up too much.”

“Well, you just seem older to me.”

I sort of laugh. “Maybe it's because you've been hanging with Shelby.”

He makes a face. “Don't rub it in.”

Now I frown. “I still feel really worried, Ryan. I keep getting these horrible images, like we'll be hearing about her on the news. They'll be searching, and there will be stories, and no one will know.”

“You're probably just thinking about that Holloway girl again.”

“But Sid told me it happens more than we realize. She did a story on it. Things happen to kids our age when they come down to these tourist places and get crazy.”

“Things happen to kids like that back home too.”

“Well, yeah…”

“You know what we've totally forgotten to do, Maddie?”

“What?”

“To pray for her.”

I blink. “Oh yeah.”

“Want to?”

“Of course.”

So we bow our heads, and first Ryan prays, asking God to protect
Shelby and to get her back safely. And I agree with that, but then I also ask God to use tonight to show her that something is wrong with the way she's living. “Show her that she needs you, God. Show her that you're the only one who can fill the void within her heart. And help her to deal with whatever problems might be driving her to make such crazy choices in the first place.”

“And remind her that you love her, God,” prays Ryan. “She used to believe that…but for some reason I think she's forgotten. Bring her back to you, God.”

Then we both say
amen
, and I pour us each a cup of coffee.

“Have you talked to Shelby about her faith?” I ask as I stir some cream into my coffee.

“She usually brushes me off when I bring it up,” he says, then takes a sip.

“I haven't really said anything to her,” I admit. “But then I really haven't spent much time with her, either. I mean, it's been pretty quick and random.”

“I know.”

“It's hard to imagine Shelby the way you described her when we were on the beach. Like being a Christian, mature and stuff. She seems like such a party girl and—”

“Shallow?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

“Well, I was only sixteen when I thought I was in love with her, so I wasn't exactly mature myself. But at the time she seemed like she had it together.”

“I wonder why.”

“Me too. But other than her parents’ marital problems, which don't sound terribly serious, and her brother, who's sort of written off the family…well, I just can't figure it out.”

“And you've tried?”

He nods and takes another sip. “Yep, I've tried.”

The phone rings, and I nearly fall off my stool and actually spill my coffee. Ryan picks it up, then hands it to me.

“Hola,” I say, waiting, almost afraid to breathe. Then the same man I spoke to earlier tells me they've found a woman fitting the description I gave, who answers to the name Shelby. He informs me she was sleeping underneath a bush. I can't tell if he's aggravated or amused, but he says someone will bring her home. I thank him and hang up.

“What's going on?” asks Sid, blinking in the light as she enters the kitchen.

“They found Shelby!” I tell them. “Apparently she had fallen asleep under a bush.”

“You mean passed out,” says Ryan, but I can tell he's relieved.

“Thank God!” says Sid. “And good night.”

We tell Sid good night for the second time, and Ryan suddenly gets up. “You know, I'd just as soon not be here when she comes back,” he says. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“I think it would only complicate things.” He smiles at me. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Thanks for the moral support,” I say.

“Same back at you.” Then he slips out the door.

I rinse his cup and put it away. No reason to make Shelby wonder. About fifteen minutes later I hear someone at the door. I peek through the peephole and see Shelby with two uniformed men. She looks a little disheveled and loopy but still pretty. I open the door, thank the men, and tug her into the suite. Okay, I seriously want to shake her and yell at her and ask her if she knows how stupid she's been or how she's freaked us all out. But that would be so parental.

Instead, I make her drink a cup of coffee, then direct her to her bed, and tell her good night. Just to be safe, I close her bedroom door and even use an ottoman to block the front door. In case she decides to go in search of a bougainvillea plant to sleep under, the racket of her escape should wake me up. Then I lie in bed just listening for a while. I want to be certain she's really asleep and going nowhere. I wonder if this is how parents feel, and it makes me seriously reconsider whether I'll ever want to have kids of my own.

veryone sleeps in fairly late on New Years Eve. I think last night wore us all out. I make a pot of coffee, noticing it's nearly ten, and already I wonder if I'll want to stay up late enough to see the new year in tonight. I've never been much of a night owl anyway.

“Bless you, my child,” says Sid as I hand her a cup of hot coffee. She still has on her robe, and her eyes aren't totally open yet.

“The newspaper is in the living room,” I add, knowing how she likes to stay on top of things with the complimentary daily edition of
USA Today
down here.

She waves her hand. “Not yet. Let me wake up first.”

“Shelby still sleeping it off?”

“It'sounded quiet in there.”

“Good.” I don't mention that at least the ottoman was still in place in front of the door this morning. I moved it before Sid got up. I don't want my aunt to think I'm totally paranoid.

“I've been wondering if Shelby's parents are aware of her problem,” says Sid quietly.

“I don't know.”

“Sometimes parents are the last to know.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, I was thinking if I were her mom, I'd want to know. I'd want to get her into some kind of rehab program.”

“But doesn't Shelby have to want to do that sort ofthing herself?” I ask.

She nods and takes a sip. “You're right. The first step in recovery is to admit you have a problem.”

“But maybe we could attempt a little intervention,” I suggest.

“That's not a bad idea.”

“I mean, we're not her family, but we're her friends, and we've seen up close and personal that this girl has a problem.”

“That's for sure.”

“I'm not sure exactly how to do it,” I admit. “When I've seen it on TV, they've usually had some professionals around ready to whisk the person off into some prearranged rehab place.”

“Well, we can't do that.” Sid considers this. “But at least we can point out to her that she has a serious problem and that it's obvious to people around her. And we can encourage her to talk to her parents.”

“Sounds good.”

“We'll tell Ian and Ryan our idea. Maybe we can try to do it sometime today.”

“Before she starts drinking again?”

“Exactly.”

“And this is New Year's Eve,” I remind her.

She groans. “That's right.”

“Does this mean we have to baby-sit her tonight?” I ask.

Sid just shrugs. “I have no idea.”

“So, what are you doing today?” I ask.

“Well, I told Ian that after our busy day of fishing yesterday, I want to just hang out at the resort today. This is our last day here, you know. And I don't want to go home from my vacation feeling exhausted. I might even see if I can get into the spa for a massage or a facial or something.”

“Oh, that sounds scrumptious.”

“Want to join me?”

“Oh, I don't know.

“Come on,” she urges. “My treat. It'll be more fun with a friend along.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Sid reaches for the phone book. “Hopefully we can get in.”

“Get into what?” asks Shelby, who emerges looking a little worse for wear. For some reason I find this reassuring. I mean, anyone who lives as hard as this girl has got to show some signs of stress eventually.

Sid explains her spa idea, and Shelby immediately decides she wants to join us. Not that we invited her. But as Sid calls to see what's available, I'm thinking this might be a good idea. We should try to keep an eye on Shelby today, try to make sure she doesn't get wasted and scare us all again tonight.

“Maddie,” calls Sid, handing me the phone. “Translate, please.”

“Hola?” I say as Sid sticks the glossy spa brochure into my hand, pointing to the hot rock massage, then the herbal wrap, and finally the full facial. So I do my best to inquire about these procedures, telling the woman there are three of us. And by the time I'm done, I'm not totally sure, but I think I've booked all three of us for all three treatments. “Our appointments are at one thirty,” I tell them.

“Terrific,” says Sid.

“And its my treat,” says Shelby.

“But I planned to—”

“No arguing!” Shelby cuts Sid off. “It's the least I can do for disturbing you guys last night.” She gives us a sheepish yet surprisingly winning smile. “I dont remember everything that happened, but I do recall this good-looking security guy telling me my family had called and they were very worried. At first I didn't know what he meant, but then I figured it must've been you guys. Then I thought how it was really sweet that you called about me and that they thought you guys were my family.”