Lurking On The Precipice

3 | Riverwalk

3 Riverwalk

Alejandra Vargas watches the mallard duck floating in the shallow, swelling water by the riverbank. His webbed feet paddle to maintain his position. Forces, indifferent to him, attempt to push him along. But he holds his place, despite the brisk current and the waves rushing to the shore from the propulsion of boats and jet skis.

Inaudibly, Alejandra leans her elbows down on the railing without disturbing him. The duck is unaware of her presence ten feet above him. She marvels at the plump curvature of his cheeks, the luminosity of his emerald head, and the graceful lines of his long beak. Why does he have a thin white ring around the base of his neck, she wonders. What is the evolutionary purpose of his perfect little white collar?

And why is he alone? She broods about his plight and isolation. He appears intent on remaining hidden behind a boat dock.

Alejandra wants to whisper to him. Fly away. Find a friend. Find a partner. Find a more peaceful body of water.

You are regal and angelic. Yet, you seem to hide, Alejandra concludes. Perhaps you are unaware that you are worthy.

Worthy of what? Alejandra reflects on this, without resolution. If you were aware of your magnificence, would you realize you are worthy of something different? Something better?

"Mango or papaya?"

Diego Vargas, her older brother, has rejoined her on the riverwalk. He is holding two large cones of flavored ice, one gold and one pink, each with a bright red maraschino cherry arranged on top.

Alejandra smiles and takes the pink cone.

"A piragua!" she says. "I haven't had one in years. Not since I left the island."

"Here, they call shaved ice desserts either snowballs or snow cones. They are essentially the same as what we had growing up, except that these are rounded on top instead of shaped like pyramids."

"Thank you, Diego. It's ideal for a breezy afternoon walk in the sunshine."

"You didn't hear me approach you," he observes. "You were a million miles away."

"No, just ten feet or so."

Alejandra points at the duck below. He is paddling in place and looks up at them for a moment.

"Why is he all alone?" Diego asks.

"I don't know."

"Maybe he is waiting for a lovely lady duck to swim out from underneath the boat dock and reunite with him," Diego suggests.

The siblings walk a mile toward the north end of the riverwalk. The robust Colorado River, powerfully released by the Davis Dam, charges southward on their right and the state of Arizona is on its opposite shore. To their left, a legendary gaming resort towers close to the Nevada riverbank. They walk inside the casino and make their way to the showroom museum on the second floor.

"Are you still willing to join me for this tour?" Diego asks.

"Sure, but I am curious why you are drawn to it. I don't remember you ever being particularly fond of cars, much less classic cars."

"I am just seeking some inspiration."

"For a project?" Alejandra asks.

"For everything. Anything."

"What?"

"I'll explain afterwards."

Both are surprised by the quantity of historic vehicles in mint condition displayed in agreeable lighting that enhances the sheen of the cars' frames. They wander by a Model T, several Studebakers, an Aston Martin, a Rolls-Royce, and dozens more automobiles from each era. Some are for sale and some are temporarily donated by collectors and celebrities to augment the resort's permanent collection.

Before making the ninety minute drive back to their homes, Alejandra and Diego find a diner with a river view on the way to their parking spot on the south end of the Laughlin Strip. Diego sits first, but his sister asks him to switch seats so she can face the front entrance.

"Thank you, Diego."

"It's the safety thing, right?" he asks. "You are trained to keep your attention on the entrance."

"Yeah, it's a necessary habit. There is nothing I can do about it."

"But you have only been a security guard in Las Vegas for two years."

"It feels like twenty years," Alejandra says.

"I thought you loved it."

"I do," Alejandra replies. "My vocation is not what I need to fix."

They order iced teas and a late lunch. When the waiter leaves their table, Diego grins and stretches back in his chair.

"So, what do you need to fix?" he asks.

Alejandra laughs and blushes. She takes a gulp of water before answering her brother.

"I didn't mean to say it like that," she says.

"But you did say it like that," Diego replies. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Not at all."

Diego waits for her to elaborate, but Alejandra changes the subject.

"Before we entered the museum," she says, "you mentioned seeking inspiration."

"You won't even tell your brother what is wrong?"

"You first," Alejandra insists.

"Okay," Diego says, sitting upright. "I am getting burnt out. My firm is doing great business. It's still exceeding all of my expectations. However, I am getting restless and distracted. Often. I used to always bound of bed in the mornings and head into the studio like a wild horse ready to gallop."

Alejandra idolizes her older brother and thinks about all that he has achieved on the mainland. There is great charm in his easy smile, and his heavy brow and shaved head add to his down-to-earth presence. She and her other family members have always thought he looked much more like a boxer or a singer than a designer.

"You need another vacation," she says.

"No, I just had one. My dilemma is bigger than that."

"What can I do to help?"

"Nothing," he chuckles. "But keep spending time with me so I know you are doing fine. My troubles are just all up here in my head."

"Why do you think you are burning out, Diego?"

"My design skills are fading. What used to be easy for me is becoming a chore. You know, I never had writer's block and I could not understand people who did. I could sit down at a workstation and my ideas flowed out naturally. I designed countless signs, charts, logos, letterheads, cards, menus, books, pamphlets. The list is endless. And I really enjoyed it."

"You're incredibly talented and you help many people," Alejandra reminds him.

"Thank you. I have no regrets."

"But something is missing, isn't it?"

"Yes, I am trying to envision other possibilities for myself," Diego responds. "I am stuck right now and I am not sure what to do. Creating designs for commercial use has been lucrative and allowed me to employ many other creative people and give them a livelihood too. I wonder, however, in the end, what my legacy is really going to be."

"The classic cars were truly extraordinary. Did seeing them ignite anything today?"

"We'll see," Diego shrugs.

"Maybe it is time to sell your graphic design firm? You can always return to Puerto Rico and be happy there. Mom and dad would love for you to come back home."

Diego holds his hands up in an expression that suggests to her that every possibility is an option.

Both stare out the window at the vigorous river for several minutes after finishing their meal. Diego is looking upstream, at the forces heading his way. Alejandra is aimed downstream, beholding the currents flowing farther away from her.

"Your turn," Diego reminds her.

Alejandra frowns and looks down at her empty plate.

"Come on," he says. "Please don't keep masking yourself from me."

Alejandra runs her hands through her pixie-style haircut, further messing up her dark hair. Though athletic and strong in spirit, she looks fragile to her brother. He could always see when she had pain, by the movement of her nimble eyes and the poignant expressions of her mouth. He thinks now, like he has thought so many times before, that her combination of strength and empathy can lead her to a tremendous career in law enforcement.

"Take your time," Diego urges her.

"Sometimes, I get lonely."

"That's normal. We all do, Alejandra."

"Gravely lonely."

"Okay," Diego replies. "What are you doing about it?"

"What do you mean?" Alejandra asks, tilting her head.

"Are you waiting for someone special to suddenly, magically appear from under a dock and swim out to you?"

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