The Patio

 

She woke from an uneasy dream brought on by too many beers the night before. She was still on the patio bench in her evening clothes, but had fallen sideways. Someone had placed her light shawl over her bare legs. It was already hot, and would be even hotter later on. She vaguely remembered the young couple she’d met at the bar and had invited back to her patio to have more beer. The couple were gone, of course, but had left something under the ashtray on the table. It was a few American dollars and a note. It thanked her for an enjoyable evening and the money was to pay her back for some of the beer. It also had their email address.

 

After a cold shower she felt better. She still couldn’t remember the names of the couple. She thought maybe the man’s name was Barry, but couldn’t even guess at the woman’s name. The email address didn’t give much clue. It was Jampot27Z@gmail.com. By now she couldn’t even clearly remember what they looked like. Maybe she’d go back to the bar in the evening and see if she could find them. Maybe drink less this time. Maybe even think about going home. This wasn’t the vacation she thought it would be. Four days and all she’d done was sweat through the day and drink through the night.

 

She woke the next morning in the patio again, but this time she was on the floor. At least the tiles were nice and cool. She had zero recollection of the evening. No clue as to how many beers she’d had. No memory of meeting anyone, let along the young couple. As she lay there trying to muster the energy to get up, she watched a scorpion walk across her hand. When it was on the other side of the patio, she got up, showered, and started to pack.