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            “Thank you so much for everything, Antonio. I don’t have any better friends in the world than you and Christel.”

            And with that, I closed the taxi door and we took off.

            “Where to, señor?” asked the taxi driver.

            “The airport,” I answered.

            As we were driving to the airport, thoughts of Christel danced throughout my head. We first met when I was living in Campeche, nine months previous to my visit to Monterrey. I went to Campeche to further my non-existent Spanish skills at the university there, while Christel, originally from Michigan, had moved there to live with her fiancé and his family.  To pass the time away, she also enrolled herself at the university, also to improve her already impeccable language skills. Despite the fact we were enrolled in the same program, it’s not how we first met face-to-face.

            During one of my first days in Campeche, in order to pass the time during the days when the mercury would soar so high that it was uncomfortable to even lie in bed, I went for a walk to the market. Ignorant of the world around me as I strolled past the various stalls, something caught my attention- somebody was calling my voice.

            “¡Oye, Doug!”

            I was surprized to hear my name for two reasons. One, I was in a market in Campeche, a place where the only person I knew was my host-mother, and two, the name “Doug” is one of those magical words that no native Spanish-speaker seems to be able to pronounce. Living in Mexico, I quickly learned to respond to anything from Duk to Dough; as long as it was in the ballpark, I would respond.

            Anxious yet suspicious, I turned to see exactly who was calling my name. Looking up at the bus in front of me, I scanned the windows, coming across only one white face.

            “It must be her,” I thought to myself. “Nobody else here can pronounce my name that well.”

            I got on the bus and sat down, greeting her with a poorly pronounced “Hola.”

            “¿Cómo estás?” -how are you? she asked.

            “Bueno,” -good, I replied, struggling with my very basic level of Spanish. I used to respond to that question with “Estoy bueno,” although I later learned, embarrassingly, that that particular phrase means one thinks they are sexy. Oops.

            “¿Me recuerdas?” -do you remember me? she asked.

            “Sí... ¿podemos hablar en inglés?” I finally broke, asking her if we could continue in Spanish.

            The truth, as I later admitted to her, was that I didn’t have a clue as to who she was. But I always instinctively lie when presented with a question as such, in order not to seem stupid. Conversely, it’s when you get caught in that lie that you look the stupidest of all.

            Since there were no classes on that Friday, neither of us had anything to do, so we wandered the city together, sharing our histories and experiences; basically getting to know each other better. She told me about how she came to Monterry with her father about a year ago after attending one year of university in the States, as which time she started working in an English school in the city.  Her father eventually left, but she had already fell in love with the lifestyle and decided to stay on her own, living with a few girls she had befriended in the city. She said that working in the English school was quite easy, and suggested that I try it. I scoffed at the notion; I barely have the patience to teach myself anything, let alone others. The only drawback to being a teacher, she said, was one student in particular, a young male would ask her out to dinner every day, even though she consistently declined.

            The funny thing is that Christel is very conservative, as she demonstrated in an embarrassing story she once related to me about her first dance in middle school. She explained that at the end of the dance when her date kissed her, she felt dirty, as if she had lost her virginity. She thought that the persistent student was just like the boy so many years ago; that he only wanted her body.

            But that student didn’t give up. He asked her out for dinner every single day until she finally ran out of excuses and had to agree to go out on a date. The end result was a foregone conclusion- she told me many times that this was the single best decision of her life; she fell in love with the student, Antonio, immediately, and later decided to move with him back to Campeche after he finished his education.

            Antonio eventually found work at a grocery store in a managerial position, and while he was able to pay all of the bills, his life became consumed by his job. Christel did not know many people in Campeche, and found herself in a similar position to me, an outsider looking in. When we met each other on that hot September day and hit it off so immediately, we found something in each other that we so desperately needed at the time- a good friend. We would usually start the day by walking to school together, talking about anything and everything, just enjoying each other’s company. The one hour morning walk along the Gulf of Mexico was magnificent; the early morning rays of light danced on the water, appearing almost as happy as Christel and I. We spent most of our days like this, just walking, talking, sharing and confiding. It truly was the best time of my life.

            One of the recurring themes that Christel would talk about was her intense desire to start a family. Though she was only 20 years old, she desperately wanted children. She was prepared to forgo everything to achieve that goal, even if it meant sacrificing an education that she once held so dear.

            It’s always struck me as amazing that even somebody like Christel, who seemed completely ready to have children, is still taken aback when they find out that they actually are pregnant. I’ll never forget the night when we were both sitting at the kitchen table at her house and she turned to me.

            “I think I’m pregnant.” she said, a look of panic overcoming her.

            “You always say that you’re pregnant, but you never are,” I laughed.

            “No, this time I’m serious. I really think that I’m pregnant.”

            I still held my doubts, but in order to reassure her, we went to the pharmacy to buy a test. It revealed, as I had suspected, that she was not with child. Antonio of course, was oblivious to all of this; in order to keep him that way, we decided to take a walk to the nearby park to dispose of the test there. With the test securely in the garbage can, we laid down on the park benches and looked towards the sky.

            The night was gorgeous. The strong wind coming in off the gulf had swept away all of the clouds, leaving a universe full of stars and a deep moon that illuminated the earth below. I was a night made for thinking.

            “Christel,” where will you be in a year?” I asked.

            “I have no idea,” she responded. “A year ago I could never had imagined that I would be here right now. I hadn’t even met Antonio at that time. He totally changed my life- for the better. I never thought that I could love a man so much, but now I know that I can. Where will you be in a year?”

            “I want to say that I’ll be doing something really fun or creative,” I sighed. “I want to say that I’ll be off saving the world somewhere, living on pure adrenalin, but I know differently. Honestly, I’ll be back home, working the same job I hate and studying at a university I don’t like.”

            “Did coming here change you?”

            “It did, a lot. I’ve met so many people, but most of all, I got to know you.”

            “Promise me something, Doug.”

            “Sure.”

            “Promise me that after you go and we can’t be in contact everyday, that you’ll never forget me. Come back and see me.”

            “I could never forget you, Christel. I’ll come back, you’ll see.”

            “I’ve said goodbye to so many people in my life and I don’t know if I can do it anymore. You’re my best friend and this is so hard for me. You’re leaving in five days and I’m scared that I’ll never see you again.”

            “Don’t worry about that, Christel. Saying goodbye is just a part of life, I’ve done it a lot too. But I know that I’ll be back to see you again,” I said as I wiped a tear from my eye. “This is really hard for me too. These last three months have been the first time in years that I’ve felt alive and it’s all thanks to you. I could never forget that.”

            Saying goodbye was the hardest part, and even though I promised Christel that I would return, I wasn’t sure that I could. I completely lost my composure when I said my final goodbye to her, breaking down in her arms. It was very rare that I displayed such emotion, but I secretly knew that that could be our last time ever seeing each other.

            Fortunately, it wasn’t. Four months later I collected enough money to buy another plain ticket, but this time to Monterrey. Two months after I left, she and Antonio moved back to the city to find better jobs, which is important when you have a baby on the way. Yes, Christel was pregnant, actually pregnant, and living happily in Monterrey with Antonio.

            For the two weeks that I stayed with there, she seemed so happy.

            “Look at my belly,” she laughed more than a few times. “I’m getting so huge!”

            And I was happy for her.

            “Sofia Isabella will be a beautiful child,” I said.

            As I boarded the airplane in Monterrey, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The next time I see, I thought to myself, she will be a mother. She will have a child.      

            When she asked if I would come and see her, I instinctively implied “yes, as soon as I can.”

            But this time, instead of going overflowing with a sense of anticipation and happiness, my heart will be filled with sadness and pain.

            All of the times that we spent together, all of the times that we walked to classes and shared everything with each other, all of the times we simply sat together; none of it means anything now. In the last few days, I’ve realized that while friendships are made in good times, they are tested in bad times. Any friendship will thrive through laughter, but only the strongest will be made even stronger through tears. And in the end, it is the strength gained through tears that makes the laughter possible once again.

            I hope that when I’m there by her side, there will come a clear night, a night where everything is alive by the light of the moon. We will walk to the park and stretch out on benches, looking up at the sky. A million stars will be afloat overhead, a strong wind having swept the clouds away. It will be a night made for thinking.

            “Where will you be in a year?” I’ll ask her.

            “Happy,” she’ll answer. “I hope that I’ll be happy.”

            I’ll embrace her and wipe her tears away, but inside I’ll know that I can’t do anything to help. Completely powerless, I’ll just sit there and hug her, staring at the stars and watching the moon slowly sink beyond the sea.