Roy turned around startled.
“Yes, as you see.” He answered.
“What, can’t you sleep, either? Many people have trouble sleeping. I tried valerian root and chamomile tea. Nothing helps. They say the best way to get a good night`s sleep is a stroll by the ocean and washing your hands and feet in the water. Let’s try it.” An evident Spanish accent sounded in her English.
Roy`s eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, to the moonlight. He saw how she went into the water, having rolled her sweatpants up to her knees. After another step or two, her outline grew vaguer. It looked like she was bending over, lowering her hands into the water.
“Well, I took a bath in the ocean. Let’s see if it has a curative effect.” She sat next to him on the log and took a cigarette out of the pack.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” she asked.
The flare of the lighter flame brightly illuminated her even nose, her lips holding the clenched cigarette, and the squint of her left eye with its long lashes.
“What’s your name?” She asked.
“Roy. And yours?”
“Carmen. Why are you here alone? Where is your wife? Sleeping?”
“Yes, she is a deep sleeper, even without valerian root.”
“You have a good wife, faithful.” Carmen let out a puff of smoke and Roy caught a whiff of the menthol cigarette.
“How do you know she’s faithful? Maybe she’s just the opposite,” he joked.