The Falling Woman by Pat Murphy Page A

was a quick trip to town."
    He nodded and grinned. He was tanned and handsome, and he knew it. He wore white shorts and an air of confidence. He pushed his chair back away from the table and propped his feet up on another chair.
    "Just long enough to do laundry and have an argument."
    "An argument? What about?"
    He seemed at ease, sleek and content as a well-fed cat. "I got myself in trouble with Maggie by commenting on how pretty you are."
    "Barbara mentioned that you liked trouble," I said.
    He glanced at me, then threw back his head and laughed. "I suppose I do," he said. "I seem to find it often enough."
    "Are you sure you don't go looking for it?" I asked.
    He shrugged, still grinning. "Could be. You are pretty, though. You're from Los Angeles, aren't you?"
    "That's right."
    "I spent about five years in Los Angeles. I'm from Mexico originally, Mexico City. L.A.'s a nice town.
    Why the hell did you decide to spend your vacation in this godforsaken spot?"
    I did not look at his face; I considered the condensation on the beer bottle. One drop traced a path through the other drops and reached the table. I shrugged. "I really just wanted to spend time with my mother."
    "I see." He turned the book, which I had set down on the table, and read the title. "I would have thought you knew all this already. Being Liz's daughter."
    "I don't know much at all," I said. "This is my first dig." On the wall by the kitchen, a small blue lizard marked with yellow stripes was sunning itself. The black pig shifted its position, sighed, and continued its nap. I could still hear the little girl singing softly. The chickens were scratching in the dirt. I watched the chickens and regretted having accepted the beer. I did not want to talk about my reasons for coming here.
    "Why don't you tell me something interesting about the ancient Maya?" I asked.
    I could see him weighing possible comments. "Your eyes are the most beautiful shade of green I've ever seen," he said at last.
    I raised my eyebrows. "That has nothing to do with the ancient Maya."
    "That's true." He paused, and when he spoke again, he spoke slowly, as if choosing each word with care.
    "The ancient Maya carved elaborate ornaments of jade using nothing but stone tools. The jade that they carved was just the color of your eyes."
    I couldn't help smiling a little. "A little better. Try one more time, and leave my eyes out of it."
    He tapped a cigarette from his pack and lit it, studying my face as he did so. Then he said, "The people who have put their minds to translating the Mayan hieroglyphics have come to the conclusion that many of the symbols are puns and puzzles. 'Xoc,' for example, means 'to count.' It is also the name of a mythical fish that lives in the heavens. So the Maya used the head of the fish to represent counting. But since the fish was difficult to carve, they substituted the symbol for water, since that's where fish live. The symbol for water is a jade bead, since both are green and precious. So jade means water means fish means to count." Carlos paused, took a drag on his cigarette, and blew out a cloud of smoke. "And as confusing as all that sounds, it is simplicity itself compared to the mind of a woman." He tapped the ash from his cigarette and looked at my face. "Is that better?"
    "I don't think so," I said, but I couldn't help smiling. He worked so hard at being charming. "Somehow, I think that I'll learn more about the Maya by reading a book."
    "Could be. But I'm much more amusing than a book. You did smile there for a minute."
    "You got me there." I studied his smiling face. Clever and dishonest and charming. "How many times have you used that line before?"
    He shrugged. "I never use the same line twice."
    "Was all that about the hieroglyphics true?"
    "It may not be true, but I didn't make it up. I leave that to the professors. When I get to those exalted ranks, I'll make up my own outlandish theories." He leaned back in his chair, his arms locked behind his