In the third novel of this riveting series, a couple faces insurmountable odds, battling advancing Parkinson’s disease, access to medication, and other healthcare challenges in Mexico while the world is gripped by the coronavirus pandemic.
Jake and Lindsay fell in love with Sayulita, Mexico. As long-time partners, lovers, and best friends, they have endured Jake’s mental illness and Parkinson's disease over the past few years. But now, a new unpredictable catastrophe has turned their world upside down.
The coronavirus pandemic is spreading across the United States. If the Mexican border were to close, Jake would lose access to the medication he’d previously brought over from the States. Lindsay also suspects that Jake is developing dementia. Their simple, low-stress expat life provided many health benefits, but now she wonders if it’s enough.
As his illness takes over and his memory begins to deteriorate, Lindsay questions whether she and Jake made a mistake moving to Sayulita at all. With expats and tourists fleeing Mexico, Lindsay and Jake must make a difficult choice – stay in their little slice of paradise or return home to a country ravaged by the pandemic before Jake’s debilitating illness threatens to destroy everything they’ve held dear.
In the third novel of this riveting series, a couple faces insurmountable odds, battling advancing Parkinson’s disease, access to medication, and other healthcare challenges in Mexico while the world is gripped by the coronavirus pandemic.
Jake and Lindsay fell in love with Sayulita, Mexico. As long-time partners, lovers, and best friends, they have endured Jake’s mental illness and Parkinson's disease over the past few years. But now, a new unpredictable catastrophe has turned their world upside down.
The coronavirus pandemic is spreading across the United States. If the Mexican border were to close, Jake would lose access to the medication he’d previously brought over from the States. Lindsay also suspects that Jake is developing dementia. Their simple, low-stress expat life provided many health benefits, but now she wonders if it’s enough.
As his illness takes over and his memory begins to deteriorate, Lindsay questions whether she and Jake made a mistake moving to Sayulita at all. With expats and tourists fleeing Mexico, Lindsay and Jake must make a difficult choice – stay in their little slice of paradise or return home to a country ravaged by the pandemic before Jake’s debilitating illness threatens to destroy everything they’ve held dear.
February 2020
Jake and Lindsay sat companionably on their Equipale loveseat, watching the sky above the distant palms and parota trees dim from golds and pinks to the gray-blue of dusk. The two miniature, long-haired dachshunds, Cocoa and Rosa, lay quietly at the edge of the terracotta tile terrace sniffing for anoles—the little garden lizards that seemed to purposely tease the dogs as they darted out of the variegated purple and green Wandering Jew plants and up the hibiscus shrub out of reach.
It was quiet in the barrio. Lindsay and Jake enjoyed living in the Mexican neighborhood at the farthest fringe of Sayulita, their cobblestone road ending at the old mango orchard slowly being reclaimed by the jungle. There were no sounds of children playing in the street as it was Sunday, family day in México, and the neighbors were probably at the beach. Even the Mexican neighbor’s pack of five or six dogs was quiet—the number of dogs they left loose in the street as watchdogs and pets varied weekly.
Lindsay could hear the loco turkey and a sheep or two calling from their jungle pen, complaining because no one had come for their 5:00 feeding. Why Francisco, the patriarch of the three-generation family who lived in the compound across the lane, kept those animals was beyond her understanding. He never butchered any, though his family was poor and could have used the food. Francisco treated the animals as pets, holding and stroking them—when he thought no one was watching.
A donkey brayed a few blocks away. Their resident gecko that lived in the barrel tile ceiling let out a string of eight kissing sounds, its usual evening greeting. Lindsay returned the greeting, but her lips always stuck at kiss number six. She rarely saw him but knew he helped keep the mosquito population down because she had to clean up his little gecko poops in the morning. Thinking of them as digested mosquitos helped her cope with the little black and white droppings.
The neighbor’s chickens had settled in the tropical almond trees for the night. A flock of chachalacas, large pheasant-like birds, had soared over the roof, one by one, into a mango tree, then silently climbed to the higher branches to roost for the night. Lindsey couldn’t hear mariachi or party music in the neighborhood. The crickets and katydids in the jungle hadn’t even begun their evening songs. It was an unusually peaceful evening.
Lindsay was daydreaming as she sipped her Pinot Grigio, mentally counting off three things she was grateful for. She was thankful that she had been able to retire at age fifty-eight, that now at sixty-three, she was living in México, healthy and happy.
Jake suddenly set his wine glass on a coaster protecting the rustic leather-topped coffee table. His words jarred Lindsay out of her reflections. “Lindsay, your Temporary Resident Visa is about to expire, isn’t it?”
Lindsay thought he sounded worried, a little too concerned. “Well, yeah, at the end of February.”
“I read an article today that said you are required to apply for your Permanent Resident Visa before your Temporary Visa expires, or you won’t be eligible. If it expires, you have to start all over with the process, beginning at a Mexican consulate in the United States.”
Lindsay took a slow breath, trying to stay calm. Jake seemed agitated. She waited another beat and replied, “You’ve been worrying about this for months. I’ll email Vilma at The Book Store tomorrow and tell her we want to meet with her to start the application process.”
“But here’s the thing. We have to drive the motorhome out of México before your Temporary Visa expires! If the police stop you while driving the motorhome with a U.S. license plate once you have a Permanent Resident Visa, they could confiscate the vehicle!”
“Oh, crap! I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I think we should leave as soon as we can get the casita ready to leave. We can drive to Arizona, leave the motorhome, and fly back to start your Permanent Resident’s Visa application process.”
“You mean we would leave in two or three days?” Lindsay could feel her calmness disappear as her stomach clenched. The thought of packing, going to the vet to obtain the dogs’ health certificates in case the U.S. border officials requested them, taking an Uber to the Puerto Vallarta Trailer Park where they stored the motorhome, and driving the RV over 1000 miles to Tucson on such short notice was almost more than she could cope with. But fortunately, Jake had kept track of her upcoming visa expiration. That was important.
He replied, “Yes. Today is Sunday. On Wednesday, let’s leave Puerto Vallarta in the RV to head north.”
Lindsay’s head was spinning, thinking of everything they needed to do in the next few days. She took another calming breath and said, “Okay, you’re right. We need one day to unload the motorhome of things we want to keep—let’s do that tomorrow.”
Living in México was generally relaxing, but it wasn’t for everyone. Keeping up with the ever-changing laws that concerned foreigners was critical. The quick dash to Arizona in the motorhome was entirely due to two convoluted and intertwined Mexican laws directed at foreigners who chose to live in México for more than six months each year.
The first law, enforced by INM, the National Institute of Immigration, allowed two types of residency visas. The first was a four-year temporary residency permit, visa de residente temporal. The second and more challenging to receive was a permanent residency permit, visa de residencia permanente. Jake had applied for his Permanent Resident’s Visa four years previously, shortly after they had moved to México. He was receiving Social Security and could show the Mexican government that he could financially support himself, so he received his visa.
But Lindsay, not yet eligible for Social Security, had retained her Temporary Resident Visa, a decision that worked to their benefit. The reason involved the second Mexican law for foreigners that required all vehicles owned by permanent residents to be registered and licensed in México. If Lindsay kept her Temporary Resident Visa, she could legally bring a foreign-plated vehicle into México. All it required was an inexpensive Mexican temporary vehicle permit. Even better, they had a vehicle permit on the motorhome that allowed it to remain in the country for ten years before being driven back to the United States.
Jake and Lindsay discussed another option—registering and licensing the motorhome in México. But it was a long and expensive ordeal involving attorneys and government agencies. Not worth it. They had to get the motorhome to Arizona quickly, turn it over to a consignment company to sell, and return home to submit Lindsay’s application to the Mexican immigration department before the end of February.
Lindsay understood that there was no choice. INM was one government agency you didn’t want to mess with. She sighed heavily and said, “Well, on that note, how about one more short snort, as my father would have said? After a little more wine, I’ll serve the pot roast. Mañana, you can print our packing list, and I’ll have everything ready to go to the motorhome by Tuesday afternoon. We’ll drive from Puerto Vallarta early enough Wednesday morning to get to Mazatlán before dark that day.”
♥♥
Lindsay bagged food from the refrigerator, freezer, and cupboards for the trip. She stuffed the reusable shopping bags of food into the fridge and freezer, ready to grab on their way out the door the next day. As she worked, she thought about how much she had enjoyed their RVing days. For over twenty years, they had been nomads exploring México and the United States for months each year. She was sad to be giving it up but knew Jake was ready to be finished with the repairs and maintenance required while on the road.
Jake’s Parkinson’s disease interfered with his driving, so they agreed it was time to stop RVing. Their feelings were mixed. On the one hand, they had enjoyed driving their motorhome back and forth between México and the United States each year. But in the last year, Jake was often tired. Fatigue was a symptom of Parkinson’s.
Additionally, several of his medications had the side effect of drowsiness. He tried to stay alert while driving by drinking Diet Coke, but that increased the frequency of their bathroom stops. Sometimes in México, there was nowhere to pull the rig off the road, and Jake would become desperate.
Lindsay felt it was no longer safe for him to drive. Jake had reluctantly agreed, deferring to her knowledge from years as a pharmacist. She knew it would be unsafe to do all the driving without Jake giving her breaks. When they wanted to travel in the future, it would be a relief to fly or hire a driver. They didn’t own a car and had no desire to purchase one.
Lindsay hated that they had to leave Sayulita during the winter when the weather was at its best. In the four and a half years they had lived here, they’d never left Sayulita in February other than for a day of shopping in Puerto Vallarta. But this year was different.
Jake and Lindsay would typically be spending their days like the other expats in Sayulita, living a tranquil life, walking to yoga classes downtown, stopping on the way home to pick up a few groceries, strolling on the beach with the dogs, boogie-boarding, and dining in their favorite restaurants. Life was good in this little surfing town. They agreed that they had chosen the best town to move to for their retirement years.
Lindsay and Jake had packed suitcases with shorts and sleeveless shirts for the warmth of México and long pants and jackets for the cool Arizona weather. Tucson’s nighttime temperatures sometimes drop to below freezing this time of year. When Jake checked the weather, it had been 24°F the night before. That day, the temperature reached the high 40s. Lindsay tossed in her winter gloves, stocking cap, and long underwear, clothing she kept just in case of winter visits to the U.S. She could no longer tolerate the cold and never wanted to live north of the border again. It was interesting how quickly they had acclimated to the tropical warmth and humidity.
While they packed, Lindsay and Jake were oblivious to the changes going on in the world. They were unaware that the coronavirus was spreading through China and Europe. It had not yet been labeled a worldwide pandemic, and like many others, they were unaware of the coming changes.
In Sayulita, México, life continued as always during the busy winter months. This little Pueblo Mágico was a popular tourist town, the beaches crowded with locals, expats, international visitors, and norteamericanos who spent five or six winter months each year enjoying the laid-back atmosphere and comfortable sunny weather.
Jake and Lindsay were so busy preparing for the spur-of-the-moment trip that they hadn’t kept up with the world news. They were unaware that the coronavirus was spreading quickly. They were oblivious that the virus had already reached this area when a cruise ship had docked in four Mexican cities during mid-February, including Puerto Vallarta, just twenty-five miles from their home. If they had known, they might have been worried. México health authorities had kept the information quiet. The typical approach in this country was, what purpose would it serve to spread the news of the first COVID-19 cases in México? That might hamper tourism which was too important to the country’s income.
♥♥
After three days of the marathon drive from Puerto Vallarta to Tucson, they signed the paperwork with a consignment company to sell the RV. The following day they were on a flight back to Puerto Vallarta.
Two days after they returned home, they took a taxi to Paradise Plaza in Nuevo Vallarta, the mall where The Book Store and the INM office were. Their first stop would be The Book Store, where Lindsay would pick up her completed application. She and Jake were both excited, ready to begin this new phase of their lives, to call México their permanent home.
Jesús, the bilingual associate at The Book Store, was invaluable in completing the necessary application documents in Spanish. His office at Paradise Plaza was convenient for the many gringos who needed help with their Mexican immigration documents. When she arrived at his office, Lindsay did her best to greet Jesús with the appropriate phrases in Spanish, though her accent was still poor. “Buenas tardes. Cómo estás?” she said, meaning, “Good afternoon. How are you?” Having grown up in Peru, Jake knew that speaking Spanish as much as possible was important when talking to the locals, and had taught Lindsay to do the same.
As she sat down in the metal folded chair, Jesús returned her greeting in a businesslike manner. He immediately slid her application across the desk, the invoice for his services sitting atop the papers. Lindsay paid Jesus’ fee, collected her application, and thanked him for his help.
Lindsay headed around the corner to the INM office. She found it was fully staffed and busy as usual. México didn’t have a coronavirus issue. The Mexican government wouldn’t announce the COVID-19 pandemic for weeks.
When Lindsay’s number was called, she approached the counter. A young, professionally dressed woman took Lindsay’s application and Temporary Resident Visa. She carefully studied them and then told Lindsay to return in two weeks for the fingerprinting step of the application process.
Lindsay left the office to find Jake relaxing in the lobby, reading his Kindle. She exclaimed excitedly, “I’m done! Let’s go have breakfast to celebrate.”
“Really?” Jake said. “How long before you get your card?”
“They said I’d be notified in two weeks to come back to be fingerprinted, and then the card would be ready two weeks after that.”
“That would be two Mexican weeks, so who knows how long it will really be,” he replied skeptically. “But all that matters is that you applied for your new card before the old one expired.”
“That’s true, but it makes me nervous that I’ll be without a residency visa. They took my Temporary Resident card with my application. They said if I need to travel out of the country before my permanent card is ready, I’ll have to apply to INM for a special letter permitting it. Who knows how long it would take to obtain a special permission letter?”
“It’s a good thing we drove the motorhome up to the U.S. and returned before your visa expired. I don’t want to think about the hassle if we had let your visa expire before applying for a new one!”
Lindsay agreed, “You’re right. How could I have lost track of the expiration date on my visa? How many people do that and get themselves into trouble by being in this country without an in-date visa?”
“Well, you did it—you got your application in before the expiration date. I’m ready to eat. Let’s go to that restaurant here in the mall. They make a good American breakfast.” Sometimes they needed a break from Mexican food.
A few days later, Lindsay caught a cold. It started with a slight sore throat, like any winter cold. It always seemed strange to her that, even living in warm, sunny México, she usually caught a cold about once a year. She knew a cough would be next, and then it would settle in her chest, bronchitis affecting her lungs for a week or so, as always.
She found Jake outside washing the golf cart in preparation for their planned afternoon trip to centro. Even though they kept it under their new carport roof inside the garden wall, the dust from the cobblestone roads around their corner lot drifted over and settled on everything. She said, “Babe, I’m catching a cold and don’t feel like going to town. Do you mind taking the laundry to the lavandería without me?”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll bring sandwiches back for lunch.”
“Thank you. I don’t want you to catch this cold, so let’s not share glasses when we take our vitamins, okay?”
“Okay. Are you feeling bad?”
“Not really. My throat is slightly sore, so I took some Emergen-C and a Cold-Eeze lozenge. It’s especially frustrating because we were so careful when we flew down from Tucson last week. Sitting on a plane full of people for five hours is a sure way to pick up a bug. We took Emergen-C three times on the day we traveled to avoid getting sick, but I guess we should have taken it two or three days beforehand, too, to build up our immune systems. If you have a sore throat, I recommend you take some Emergen-C and Cold-Eeze right away.”
“Okay, Dr. Lindsay, I will,” Jake replied with a smirk. Lindsay’s experience as a retail pharmacist in the United States had provided her with thirty years of practical knowledge, giving free advice to patients who walked in off the street with a range of symptoms including diarrhea and vomiting, cough and sore throat, rashes and insect bites, fungus infections on their toenails or fingernails, and any number of ailments that could not be treated with over-the-counter medications. As much as Jake trusted her recommendations, he couldn’t resist teasing her about trying to diagnose and treat their illnesses herself. She was their “doctor” until she was out of options, at which point she would insist on making an appointment to see a physician.
“I’m too tired to laugh at your silly jokes today. I’m going to bed for a nap. And no kisses for a week.”
“I’ll kiss you if I want to. I’m too tough to get sick!”
“Oh, is that right?” she replied sarcastically. “Okay, I’ll see you when you get home. Thank you, babe.”
By the following day, Lindsay had developed a cough, as expected. She found the Vicks Formula 44 in the medicine drawer and started taking the maximum dose every six hours, but it only provided minimal relief from the hacking cough. After preparing and eating some ramen noodles with chicken broth and chopped carrots for lunch, Lindsay told Jake she was going back to bed. She climbed under two blankets but couldn’t get warm. It’s 75°F in here. Why am I cold? she thought as she got up to get the afghan from the couch in the office. Maybe I have the flu. That doesn’t seem likely since I got a flu shot in the fall.
Feeling achy, Lindsay took an ibuprofen 400 mg capsule and crawled beneath the sheet, plus two blankets and the afghan. She was still chilled, shivering like she was camping in a tent on a winter night in Oregon. A half-hour later, she was shaking, and her cough was worse.
She dragged herself out of bed again and dug in the drawer that held their prescription medications. She found a new package of Ventolin, an albuterol inhaler that Jake occasionally used when he had an asthma attack. She tore the foil wrapper off and took two puffs, waiting two minutes between. She’d only used an albuterol inhaler once before, but she knew the proper technique from years of counseling asthma patients in the pharmacy. Soon after taking the second puff, her cough subsided, and her breathing eased.
Lindsay placed the inhaler on her nightstand next to the roll of toilet paper she was using to mop up her runny nose and went to the living room. Jake was sitting in his recliner with his thighs splayed like frog legs, his new approach to easing the sensitivity to pressure on his ankles and calves while reading. His Parkinson’s symptoms seemed to be worsening, especially his restless legs.
Lindsay said, “Babe, can I interrupt your reading for a minute?”
“You may,” he replied jokingly, enjoying a chance to correct her grammar. “How are you feeling?”
“Crappy. I wanted to let you know that I’m using one of your Ventolin inhalers for my cough, but I’ll buy you a new one at the pharmacy next time we walk to town.” One of the benefits of living in México was that they could buy most medications that required prescriptions in the U.S. by simply asking for them in the local pharmacy—no doctor visit or prescription was required. It was a huge savings, both in money and time.
“That’s fine. Why are you using Ventolin?”
“I’ve been taking Vicks Formula 44 cough syrup around the clock for a day, and it isn’t helping this nasty cough much. Ventolin relaxes the bronchial tubes, decreasing spasms that cause coughing. It’s working better than the cough syrup.”
“Yeah, I think you told me that before, but I’d forgotten. I hope you feel better soon. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Will you WhatsApp Maria to tell her not to come in to clean the house Wednesday? Just pay her the usual amount but have her sweep the street in front of our house. I don’t want her to catch whatever I have. I already sent Nancy a Facebook message that I won’t make it to Zumba class this week because I’m sick.”
“Nancy isn’t going to be happy that you won’t be there to lead the first half of the class, especially after we already missed two weeks taking the motorhome to the U.S. She needs the break from leading a full hour-long class.”
“I know, but I can’t go to class when I’m sick.”
“I’m not going to Zumba if you aren’t going.”
“That’s fine. Will you order dinner to be delivered from Alas Blancas? I’m too tired to cook. And I hope you don’t catch this cold or whatever it is. I feel like I might have a fever, but our digital thermometer is so old it isn’t working. We’ll need to buy a thermometer at the pharmacy, too. Later,” Lindsay said and returned to the bedroom to climb under the mountain of blankets.
That cough lasted for weeks, even after the other symptoms had disappeared, but the albuterol inhaler kept it mellowed and her breathing easy. Jake and Lindsay eventually returned to Zumba and yoga classes, getting their four days of exercise each week.
By the end of February, Jake had caught a cold, too. His cough wasn’t as severe as Lindsay’s, and he didn’t have chills. The pharmacies were out of thermometers, and Amazon Mexico was charging an exorbitant price for them, so they hadn’t purchased one yet. What is up with that? Lindsay thought. Does everyone have this nasty cold?
But Jake bounced back quickly. After half a day in bed and a bowl of Lindsay’s Mexican version of chicken noodle soup, he was ready to start a woodworking project. Jake cut, sanded, and installed three new shelves in his armoire despite his persistent hacking cough. Whenever he opened the upper doors of his dresser next to his desk in their home office, he would sigh and say, “I love the smell of that pine. It reminds me of the construction I did in Oregon.”
Lindsay commented from her desk, “I can’t believe you have the energy to work on projects while you’re sick with that cold, babe. Don’t forget that you can use your Ventolin inhaler every four to six hours for the cough. Are you getting hungry? I’ll fix chicken quesadillas when you’re ready for dinner.”
“Sure. What can I do to help?”
“You can grate the cheese. I know you like that job because you can sneak bites of cheese,” Lindsay said and chuckled as she got up from her desk.
“Yep, you can ask me to grate the cheese anytime. That’s my favorite job in the kitchen,” Jake said and laughed. “I’ll be sure to leave enough for the quesadillas.”
A week later, Lindsay sat on her gardening stool, repotting her miniature roses. Digging in the dirt was her favorite therapy. When scrolling through Facebook posts started to irritate her, she knew it was time to work in the garden for an hour or two. Today, her goal was to relocate her new terracotta pot to a sunny spot, fill it with fresh soil rich in compost, and move her four little roses into it. They had struggled in the shallow pot that only got morning sun, dropping leaves and refusing to put on new buds. Her mind wandered as she worked, Sayulita might be too humid for roses, but I’m determined to grow them here if I can get the conditions right. If these plants die, I’ll buy a different variety at Home Depot. They sell roses in Puerto Vallarta nurseries, so they must grow around here.
She dug a half-bucket of compost from her homemade composter, a mixture of decomposed vegetable and fruit scraps, coffee grounds, and dried bougainvillea bracts. She felt proud that she was utilizing the organics rather than throwing them into the trash. Composting their non-meat, non-dairy food waste kept the fruit flies out of the house and helped minimize their contribution to the landfill. The neighborhood recycling program she and Jake had started three years before was a source of satisfaction, as well.
Lindsey used a trowel to mix soil into the compost, turning the mixture as though blending flour and cocoa for brownie batter. The small hand tool had been her mother’s before she passed away, so she had special memories of helping Mom in her garden when she used it. This simple rhythmic mixing process reminded her how much she missed her mom. The last time they had gardened together, pruning Mom’s roses had been the day’s task. At 80 years old, Mom had rested in the shade more often than Lindsay but kept up the friendly gossip for the entire two hours they worked. How lucky she felt to have shared the love of gardening with her mother in the months before her passing.
Lindsay’s mind wandered to Jake and his Parkinson’s disease. He’s riding the bus to Home Depot in Puerto Vallarta today—he loves shopping at that store and would go once a week if he could. I think that he was glad I told him I didn’t want to go with him this time. He was trying to hide how excited he was about going alone. But should I have gone with him? He’s getting to be so forgetful.
I was stunned into acknowledging his memory loss the other day when we walked to town to buy some electrical supplies from the local ferretería. Lindsay mentally reviewed the outing. We got to Jake’s favorite sandwich shop to find they were closed, and he motioned for me to turn around and head toward home. When I said, ‘I thought we were going to the hardware store,’ he replied, ‘Oh yeah, I forgot.’ I was shocked. Going to the hardware store had been his primary purpose for our walk to town. I had suggested grabbing a sandwich after the hardware store errand. Somehow, the sandwich was all he remembered.
I hope everything goes okay on the bus rides to Home Depot and back. I hope everything goes fine while he’s shopping. The last time he went to Home Depot alone, he was gone all day and forgot to eat. I reminded him that he has to eat lunch today—he can’t afford to lose any more weight. I also reminded him to take a bottle of water, mostly so he can take his carbidopa/levodopa tablet when his phone alarm goes off at 3:00—he won’t drink water otherwise. He groaned and growled about taking the water like it was a punishment. I reminded him to take his phone, but did he?
Lindsay got up from her stool and went into the house in search of Jake’s phone. It wasn’t on his desk or nightstand, so he probably slipped it into his pocket. She dialed his number on her cell phone and listened—no ringing phone in the house.
Jake answered after about ten rings. “Bueno?”—the customary method of answering a cell phone in México. It started by meaning, “Is the reception good? Can you hear me?” Now it was the way most people answered the phone here.
“Are you having fun?”
“I am! I found everything on my list, plus a few other things I remembered we need. I found the perfect sheet of plywood to replace the two rotted drawer bottoms in your desk.”
“Oh, good. Did you eat lunch?”
“Yes, I did, Mommy,” Jake replied jokingly and laughed. “I ate at the palapa restaurant a block from the store. Their fish tacos were great.”
“You sound like you’re having a grand adventure.”
“I am. I’ll be home in a couple of hours. I think I’ll be able to carry everything on the bus, so I won’t have to pay for an Uber.”
“You think you can carry a sheet of plywood and electrical conduit on the bus?” Lindsay’s tone was one of surprise. “It doesn’t cost much to take Uber, and it would be much easier for you.”
“If Mexican guys can carry forty-inch TVs on the bus around here, I can carry this much stuff. It’ll be fine.”
“Okay, have fun. You can always take a taxi home from the bus station in Sayulita so you don’t have to carry everything while you walk. It would probably only cost fifty pesos, about two or three US dollars.”
“Yeah, I might do that. Okay, see you later.”
I hope all goes well today. We’ll see.
Jake arrived home by taxi later that afternoon. Cocoa and Rosa furiously barked when they heard the car pull up to the front gate as though they were ready to attack the incoming invader. Lindsay appreciated that the dachshunds were great watchdogs—or at least good doorbells. When Jake unlocked the gate, their yapping changed to excited whines, knowing Dad was finally home.
Jake was grinning from ear to ear when he carried his load of six-foot lengths of electrical conduit, a three-foot square sheet of thin plywood, and three shopping bags into the yard. He set everything down on the tiled terrace and called out, “I’m home, babe!” Cocoa immediately stuck her head into each shopping back in search of food.
Lindsay came out of the office and said, “Hi. I’m glad you’re home. Did you take a taxi home with all that stuff?”
“Yeah, from the Sayulita bus station. But I rode the bus from Home Depot. I hauled everything onto the bus just like the locals. No problema,” he replied and laughed. “I found everything I need for my projects this week. It’s easier for me to shop there when you aren’t with me because I can take my time to think everything through and find all the parts I need. I don’t feel like I have to hurry because I know you don’t like being there. It was great! I had so much fun!” He sounded as excited as a kid who had been to the candy store with his weekly allowance.
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I was much happier staying home, working in the garden.” Lindsay waited for Jake to kick off his flip-flops, finish roughing up each dog with his real guy petting, and then went to kiss him.
“You are such a silly boy,” she murmured, one of her favorite loving comments when he was goofy-happy. “I love your silliness.”
He just grinned back and kissed her again. “I love you, too. Oh, I was wondering if you heard from INM yet about getting fingerprinted.”
“No, I haven’t. I’m starting to worry. I’ll email Jesús to find out what’s happening.”
In the compelling third installment of this series, the narrative dives into the gripping saga of Jake and Lindsay, a couple entangled in an emotional and physical rollercoaster. Set against the backdrop of Sayulita, Mexico, their once idyllic haven, the story takes a poignant turn as they confront an array of formidable challenges.
Having weathered Jake's mental health struggles and Parkinson's disease, their world is further disrupted by the unforeseen upheaval of the coronavirus pandemic. The couple's tranquility is shattered as the pandemic threatens to sever Jake's access to vital medication upon potential border closures.
Lindsay, grappling not just with the looming health crisis but also suspicions of Jake's dementia, faces a heartrending dilemma. Their expat life, once a sanctuary, now stands on shaky ground, prompting Lindsay to question the very foundation of their choices.
As Jake's illness tightens its grip, eroding his memories and capabilities, Lindsay finds herself torn between holding onto their cherished paradise and the stark reality of a crumbling future. The narrative deftly explores the intricate nuances of love, resilience, and sacrifice as the couple navigates the painful decision of whether to stay in a dwindling sanctuary or return to a pandemic-stricken homeland.
This emotionally charged and thought-provoking tale by seamlessly intertwining personal struggles with global crises resonates deeply, evoking a range of emotions while highlighting the fragile nature of human existence and the relentless power of love in the face of adversity.
The author's writing style in this poignant narrative is a testament to their skill in crafting deeply emotional and immersive storytelling. Through eloquent prose and vivid descriptions, the reader is seamlessly transported into the intricate web of emotions that Jake and Lindsay grapple with. The author employs a delicate balance between heart-wrenching introspection and the vivid depiction of the idyllic Mexican setting, painting a vivid canvas of both emotional turmoil and the picturesque backdrop of Sayulita. The evocative descriptions not only capture the physical essence of the location but also serve as a poignant parallel to the unraveling of Jake's health and Lindsay's internal conflict. The narrative's pacing, alternating between moments of tranquility and intense emotional turmoil, further accentuates the poignant journey, keeping readers engaged and emotionally invested until the very last page.
In its powerful portrayal of love, loss, and the unyielding resilience of the human spirit, this third installment stands as a testament to the author's prowess in weaving an emotionally charged narrative. The book, a poignant symphony of personal struggles against a backdrop of global turmoil, leaves an indelible mark on the reader's heart and mind. Through the intricate layers of Jake and Lindsay's journey, the novel transcends its themes of illness, uncertainty, and sacrifice, ultimately delivering a profound message about the enduring strength found within the bonds of love and the profound choices one must make in the face of adversity. This captivating and emotive tale lingers, leaving readers contemplating life's complexities long after the final page is turned.