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were careless, or lazy, and didn’t use a condom. She wondered later, when she was alone, if she wanted something that she wasn’t even aware of.
    O NE Sunday he invited her to ride down the coast with him to Tecojate. A few of the doctors were going there for the day, to swim and eat lunch and enjoy the water. She said that she didn’t know how to swim. He said that it wasn’t necessary. He wanted her there. She agreed, and so they rode down through San Lucas Tolimán and past the large fincas into the heat of Patulul and towards the coast. She had been to Tecojate only once, as a child, and she discovered that it had not changed. You parked and walked over to the river and crossed the river on a small boat, which cost five quetzales for a round trip, and then you walked past a few tiendas and settled into one of the comedores. The ocean with its large waves was one hundred yards beyond, and on Sundays it was full of those who were seeking reprieve from the heat. Three other doctors who worked at the clinic rode up by van and joined them. Hanna was from Germany, and Hans and Betje, a married couple, were from Holland. Íso had met all three doctors at the clinic, and so she knew them and they knew her, but they paid little attention to her, just as they did at the clinic, other than to ask about her plans and her mother, and so it turned out that the questions were always the same, and the answers the same as well, and soon they ran out of things to say . She would have been pleased to have a larger conversation, but it wasn’t her place to ask them questions.
    And of course, there was the issue of bathing suits. Hanna and Betje wore bikinis, and though this didn’t bother Íso, she was aware of her own modesty, of the shorts and large T-shirt she had changed into. This was her swimming outfit—it was what she and her friends had always worn at the beach, though Illya, being Illya, wore a bikini when swimming. When they all walked down to the beach Íso was aware of Hanna and Betje’s beauty, and their freedom with their bodies, and of her own attire, especially when she got wet and the T-shirt clung to her skin. She kept pulling at her T-shirt in order to hide her shape, but no one seemed to notice, and so she gave up and walked out into the waves with Eric and when a large wave crashed over them, she gasped and Eric took her hand. She pushed him out into the surf. Go, she said, and he did, diving into the waves, following the others, and she went back to the shore and watched them catch the large waves, their arms and bodies and hair all the same colour, except for Hanna, whose hair was dark and long. And then Hanna was sitting on Eric’s shoulders and she was laughing, her head thrown back, and her body was shining in the sun. Íso walked back through the hot sand and lay in a hammock beneath the roof of the comedor, and she closed her eyes, and she must have slept, because she now heard Hanna talking, and she opened her eyes and saw that the four doctors were sitting at the table, and they were smoking a joint. Eric saw that she was awake, and he said, Come, join us. And so she did, and Eric offered her the joint, but she shook her head no.
    Hanna was talking about the women in the village. She said it was an utter tragedy. They wanted to have their tubes tied, but they needed the signature of the husband, which rarely happened, and even when they did get the signature, the father would intervene and say no. She said the other day she’d done a C-section and tied the woman’s tubes without the husband or father knowing. The girl had requested it, whispered in Hanna’s ear before she went under. Nineteen years old, Hanna said, and already a mother of three.
    Betje said that the women in the villages amazed her. So solid. So capable. Yet trapped beneath this rock of patriarchy. And then the husband runs off and takes a lover and spends all his money on his mistress.