Joshua consoled her. “Look at it this way. Even if we crash, it’ll only hurt for a second.”
Mrs. Mackey turned pale.
The plane landed at Benito Juarez Airport at four o’clock in the afternoon, and an hour later the three of them arrived at Las Brisas. The hotel was eight miles outside of Acapulco, and consisted of a series of beautiful pink bungalows built on a hill, each with its private patio. Jennifer’s bungalow, like several of the others, had its own swimming pool. Reservations had been difficult to get, for there were half a dozen other conventions and Acapulco was overcrowded, but Jennifer had made a telephone call to one of her corporate clients, and an hour later she had been informed that Las Brisas was eagerly expecting her.
When they had unpacked, Joshua said, “Can we go into town and hear them talk? I’ve never been to a country where nobody speaks English.” He thought a moment and added, “Unless you count England.”
They went into the city and wandered along the Zocalo, the frenetic center of downtown, but to Joshua’s disappointment the only language to be heard was English. Acapulco was crowded with American tourists.
They strolled along the colorful market on the main pier opposite Sanborn’s in the old part of town, where there were hundreds of stalls selling a bewildering variety of merchandise.
In the late afternoon, they took a calandria, a horse-drawn carriage, to Pie de la Cuesta, the sunset beach, and then returned to town.
They had dinner at Armando’s Le Club, and it was excellent.
“I love Mexican food,” Joshua declared.
“I’m glad,” Jennifer said. “Only this is French.”
“Well, it has a Mexican flavor.”
Saturday was a full day. They went shopping in the morning at the Quebrada, where the nicer stores were, and then stopped for a Mexican lunch at Coyuca 22. Joshua said “I suppose you’re going to tell me this is French, too.”
“No, this is the real thing, gringo.”
“What’s a gringo?”
“You are, amigo.”
They walked by the fronton building near the Plaza Caleta, and Joshua saw the billboards advertising jai alai inside.
He stood there, wide-eyed, and Jennifer asked, “Would you like to see the jai alai games?”
Joshua nodded. “If it’s not too expensive. If we run out of money we won’t be able to get home.”
“I think we can manage.”
They went inside and watched the furious play of the teams. Jennifer placed a bet for Joshua and his team won.
When Jennifer suggested returning to the hotel, Joshua said, “Gosh, Mom, can’t we see the divers first?”
The hotel manager had mentioned them that morning.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to rest, Joshua?”
“Oh, if you’re too tired, sure. I keep forgettin’ about your age.”
That did it. “Never mind my age.” Jennifer turned to Mrs. Mackey. “Are you up to it?”
“Certainly,” Mrs. Mackey groaned.
The diving act was at La Quebrada cliffs. Jennifer, Joshua and Mrs. Mackey stood on a public viewing platform while divers carrying lighted torches plunged one hundred and fifty feet into a narrow, rock-lined cove, timing their descent to coincide with the arrival of incoming breakers. The slightest miscalculation would have meant instant death.
When the exhibition was over, a boy came around to collect a donation for the divers.
“Uno peso, por favor.”
Jennifer gave him five pesos.
She dreamed about the divers that night.
Las Brisas had its own beach, La Concha, and early Sunday morning Jennifer, Joshua and Mrs. Mackey drove down in one of the pink canopied jeeps that the hotel supplied to its guests. The weather was perfect. The harbor was a sparkling blue canvas dotted with speedboats and sailboats.
Joshua stood at the edge of the terrace, watching the water skiers race by.
“Did you know water skiing was invented in Acapulco, Mom?”
“No. Where did you hear that?”
“I either read it in a book or I made it up.”
“I vote for ‘made it up.’”
“Does that mean I can’t go water skiing?”
“Those speedboats are pretty fast. Aren’t you afraid?”
Joshua looked out at the skiers skimming over the water. “That man said, ‘I’m going to send you home to Jesus.’ And then he put a nail in my hand.”