When we arrived on the east coast, Mark hailed a cab, and in Spanish that was lightly accented with Portuguese directed the driver to an out-of-the-way jetty. Once there, he waited only until the driver unlatched the trunk, then took our duffel bags himself.
“I’ll get this, Mark.”
“Nah, that’s okay.” He handed me my bag and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “I have colones from the last time I was here.” He handed the driver a number of colorful bills with toucans on them, and from the man’s reaction, he must have given him a very healthy tip as well.
“Gracias, señor! Muchas, muchas gracias!”
“Da nada. Thanks for a smooth ride.” Mark hoisted his duffel over his shoulder and murmured in English, “He was honest about the fare.”
That was one thing I’d noticed about my lover: if som
