Dating : Sea Snakes.

This happened at a resort, south of Saint Marc in Haiti, two months after Baby Doc Duvalier left the country for good. One morning, the Haitian staff went on strike, locking up the food and water. They wanted an increase in pay, despite making more than professors in Port-au-Prince.

Guests were asked to stay in their rooms until the army arrived, the army being Tonton Macoute, the brutal arm of the former Duvalier government. Nothing much came of it. By that evening, the guests were back eating dinner in the outdoor dining area.

Seated at a table of eight were two sisters, one twenty-four, pretty, tanned, long blonde hair, the other eighteen, also pretty, curly brown hair. They both wore linen dresses with bathing suits underneath.

It concerned a recent news report involving a Chilean protestor who was set on fire by the police.

As the evening progressed, the sisters started arguing with a couple of Chileans sitting across from them. It concerned a recent news report involving a Chilean protestor who was set on fire by the police.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read,” the younger Chilean was saying, lighting a cigar. His black hair shone in the candlelight and he had very white teeth. The other Chilean gazed off as if none of it mattered.

“Are you telling me you don’t torture people?” the older sister asked. Her name was Erin and her younger sister was Zoey. They were Mormons from Illinois. Erin had brought Zoey down to Haiti as a birthday present.

“Of course we don’t,” the younger Chilean said. “You’re misinformed.”

“No I’m not. A girl is dying because of you.”

“Because of me?” he asked. “I simply work for the government. You say very foolish things for someone so lovely.”

“No I don’t.”

“I’m afraid you do.”

“Come on, Zoey,” Erin said. “We’re leaving.”

Sitting next them was man who’d arrived after the others. He was in his late thirties, face red from too much sun. Erin didn’t know his name. The guests were seated without introductions. When Erin said they were leaving, he’d smiled at her. It was a nice smile. At least he didn’t think she was ridiculous. She was worried the Chileans might follow her and Zoey, so she decided to be bold. “Will you escort us to our room?” she asked the man.

“If you like,” he said. “Let me finish my coffee.”

The Chileans grinned, offering him a cigar.

“Don’t go” the younger Chilean said to Erin. “Let’s all have a brandy. We’re here on vacation. Don’t be angry with us.”

“I don’t want a brandy,” Erin said.

The tourists gathered, but the Haitians were too aggressive. The guards finally had to push them back to their boats.

Zoey picked up her straw bag from under the table. Erin carried a scarf she’d bought from one of the locals. Haitians were allowed on the beach once a week to sell crafts. They showed up in boats with tattered sails. The tourists gathered, but the Haitians were too aggressive. The guards finally had to push them back to their boats. The following morning, everything — including food and water — was locked up. The staff went and sat under some palms.

As soon as the man finished his coffee, he stood up, too.

“Surely, you can’t leave yet,” the younger Chilean said. “What have we settled? Are we sadists or not?”

“I didn’t say you were sadists,” Erin replied.

“Do you even know what a sadist is?”

“I know what your police did to that girl.”

“She was an agitator.”

“You burned her.”

“How can I convince her?” he asked the man. “You’re educated. Surely you have an opinion.”

“Leave me out of this,” the man said. “It’s too complicated.”

“But it’s not complicated,” the younger Chilean said. “The girl had a Molotov cocktail up her sleeve. It exploded when she fell. The police and military have been exonerated. This is well documented.”

“We don’t have anything to do with prisoners,” the older Chilean said.

“Why was she a prisoner?” Erin asked. “It was a peaceful protest.”

“Peaceful protest?” the younger Chilean said. “She had a bomb.”

“Be careful,” the younger Chilean said to him. “She bites.”

Erin shook her head and took the man’s arm.

“Be careful,” the younger Chilean said to him. “She bites.”

The man followed Erin and Zoey down the patio steps to the beach. The Chileans had been there earlier, playing chess and talking to women. When they sat down for dinner, they had been polite and courteous. They said they were on their way to a conference in Mexico. The economies of South America would soon influence the world. They mentioned land reforms and a rise in new technology, something the government was now encouraging.

Erin asked why farmers and trade unionists were set on fire.

“Set on fire?” the younger Chilean said. “Nobody was set on fire. How can you believe such a thing? You think we’re animals?”

“Why is a Chilean girl in a Montreal hospital?” Erin asked. “Why does she have third degree burns to three quarters of her body?”

“You think that was us?”

“The papers said she was set on fire.”

“They were misinformed.”

That was how the argument started.

Walking along the beach now, Zoey kept looking back. Her hand was looped through the man’s arm. Erin did the same with his other arm.

“They had mean eyes,” Zoey said.

“You didn’t think so yesterday,” Erin said.

“I wasn’t the one who thought they were handsome.”

“I didn’t know they were jerks.”

They’d been at the nude beach the previous afternoon. The Chileans were coming onto women. They offered Erin and Zoey a drink. Erin thought the younger one called himself Marco or maybe Mario. “He looks like a Marco,” Erin said. “He kept staring at our breasts.”

“Your breasts,” Zoey said. “I barely have any.”

“Why didn’t anybody else say anything back there?” Erin asked the man.

“You seemed to be handling yourself okay,” he said.

“Nobody even introduced themselves,” she said. “You notice that? I don’t even know your name. I’m Erin, by the way, and this is Zoey.”

“Scott,” he said.

“What do you do, Scott?”

“I’m with an advertising agency in Montreal.”

Erin stopped and looked at him.

“Then you must have heard about that Chilean girl.”

“Of course I heard about it.”

“They’re agricultural attachés,” he replied. “That’s not exactly Pinochet’s death squad. They probably weren’t even in the country.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“They’re agricultural attachés,” he replied. “That’s not exactly Pinochet’s death squad. They probably weren’t even in the country.”

Zoey kept looking back over her shoulder. The breeze off the water was blowing her curly hair up at the ends.

“They’re not following us, Zoey,” Erin said.

She gathered up the bottom of her linen dress and walked into the water. “It’s really warm,” she said. “Feel it, Zoey.”

Zoey gathered up her dress and stood next to Erin in the water.

Erin started twirling around.

“Come in the water, Scott,” she said. “It’s amazing.”

Scott was lighting a cigarette.

“Forget your cigarette,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Let’s stop talking about those stupid Chileans. We’re on vacation. We should be having fun.”

She pulled off her dress, showing a light blue bikini. Then she ran further into the water. “Come on, Scott.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Then we’ll skinny dip. Nobody’s watching.”

“You guys go,” Zoey said.

“She’s shy,” Erin said to Scott.

She waded into deeper water and took off her bikini. Then she threw it up on the beach and laughed. Scott shrugged, took off his shirt and pants, and joined her. Zoey sat cross-legged on the sand. She kept looking back at the dining pavilion about a hundred yards down the beach.

“It’s so warm,” Erin said. “Zoey, tell us if you see sharks.”

Erin and Scott went further out. She put her arms around his neck. “Tell me if Zoey’s watching,” she said. “I’ll kiss you if she’s not. What’s she doing?”

“You’ll probably see them before I do,” Zoey said.

Erin and Scott went further out. She put her arms around his neck. “Tell me if Zoey’s watching,” she said. “I’ll kiss you if she’s not. What’s she doing?”

“She’s just sitting there,” he said.

They kissed, then Erin looked back, seeing shadows moved in the palms behind the beach chairs. She thought she saw fireflies, too.

“What are all those little lights?” Erin asked.

“The guard’s cigarettes,” Scott said.

“They’ve been standing there the whole time?”

“I wasn’t really watching.”

Erin called to Zoey, telling her to throw her the bikini. Zoey tossed it to her, and then tossed Scott his shirt. When they came out of the water, Erin said, “I didn’t know those guards were there.”

“They always patrol the beach at night,” Scott said.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Erin asked, putting on her dress. “Did you see them, Zoey? My god, they saw us naked.”

“I wasn’t naked,” Zoey said.

“Let’s go,” Erin said.

“Do you like sea snakes?” he asked.

They walked up the stone path leading to the pool. A Haitian guard was standing with one foot on a cement balustrade, a gun was across his knee. He smiled as they walked past.

“Do you like sea snakes?” he asked.

“What sea snakes?” Erin said. “Are there sea snakes?”

“They come out at night,” he said.

“Yuck! I hate snakes.”

On the other side of the pool, the Chileans were sitting in deck chairs with a bottle of champagne. They raised their glasses.

“Hello again,” the one they thought was Marco said. “Are you ready to discuss political affairs? Now that you’ve cooled off.”

Both men laughed.

“Let’s get out of here,” Zoey said.

“Come and have some champagne,” Marco said.

“I don’t want your champagne,” Erin said.

“Señor?” Marco said to Scott. “A glass of champagne for you?”

“Let’s go to the bar at the dance pavilion,” Erin said.

“Come back, señorita,” they said. “What’s champagne without a beautiful woman like you?”

The dance pavilion was further down the beach with a long wharf stretching into the Bay of Gonaives. Erin and Zoey took Scott’s arm again and started to walk away. The Chileans called after them.

“Come back, señorita,” they said. “What’s champagne without a beautiful woman like you?”

“I hope your stupid champagne and it explodes.”

“Stop talking to them, Erin,” Zoey said. “They’ll follow us.”

A light breeze shook the trellis lights hanging from tall poles around the pavilion. People danced on the parquet floor while others sat at a long tiki bar. Everyone seemed in a good mood after the strike that morning. Things hadn’t gone so well in other places. According to one of the staff, two priests were hacked to death up in Cap-Haïtien. Mustafa, the resort’s manager, said the situation here had been resolved. “Everything’s fine,” he said, telling staff the guests could drink without beads, the resort’s currency.

Erin wanted Scott to dance with her. He wanted a drink first and stood at the bar with some people he knew. Zoey sat down in one of the rattan chairs.

“Well, I’m dancing,” Erin said.

She talked to one of the male staff.

“Are you allowed to dance?”

The man said he’d dance with her. Zoey watched her sister dance. After a few songs, Erin came back and ordered a drink. The two Chileans walked into the pavilion on the other side.

“We meet again, señorita,” Marco called over.

“You want to learn to samba?” he asked Erin. Erin sipped her drink. She didn’t say anything.

They ordered drinks and did the samba with different girls. The Chileans were excellent dancers. Marco came over after the song ended. “You want to learn to samba?” he asked Erin. Erin sipped her drink. She didn’t say anything. Marco shrugged and danced with an older woman wearing a sarong.

“Stop staring at him,” Zoey said to Erin.

Marco kept looking over. He was sweating through his shirt. He came back again and lifted the drink out of Erin’s hand.

“One samba,” he said. “You will like it. Please, to make amends.”

Erin stood up.

“Erin — “ Zoey said.

“I want to learn to samba,” Erin said.

Marcos moved Erin expertly across the floor. With the samba, she had to listen to the rhythm. They danced and then Erin came back to the table. She said to Zoey, “Go dance with him. He used to dance professionally.”

Zoey got up and danced with Marco.

“You see?” Erin said to when Marco brought Zoey back.

“Let’s have drinks,” he said. “Eduardo is just as good a dancer as me.”

Eduardo had just finished dancing and came over.

“We’ll get them to play a tango,” Marco said. “Eduardo and I will teach you. Tango is difficult but we are experts. It is a very good dance to learn.”

Marco had the DJ play some tango music. They danced and drank until the pavilion cleared. Erin looked around for Scott. He’d left. When the bar closed, Marco and Eduardo asked the girls back to their room to dance.

“I’m not going,” Zoey said.

Erin was a bit tipsy.

“Come on, Zoey,” Erin said. “We’re on vacation. I want to dance.”

“Come with us, Zoey,” he said. “It won’t be fun without you. We’ll rumba.” He put one hand on his chest and did a few steps.

She twirled around until Marco had to catch her.

“Come with us, Zoey,” he said. “It won’t be fun without you. We’ll rumba.” He put one hand on his chest and did a few steps. “Please,” he said. “We’re all good friends now, aren’t we? Eduardo needs a partner.”

So they went to the Chilean’s room and danced and drank tequila. Erin got very drunk. When Marco and Eduardo brought them back to their room, Erin stood in the hallway, dancing away.

“I’m still not tired,” she said. “I want to keep dancing.”

“Come to bed, Erin,” Zoey said.

“I don’t want to sleep.”

Zoey went in the room, washed her face, then got into bed. She heard Erin laughing in the hall. When she woke up later, it was quiet. Erin wasn’t in her bed. Zoey got up and opened the door. Nobody was outside.

She went downstairs, walked around the pool, then came back and waited by the window. Shadows appeared along the path. A few minutes later, Erin came in the room. She was still drunk. She went in the washroom and started crying. Zoey listened at the washroom door.

“Erin?” she said.

Erin didn’t answer.

The toilet flushed, Erin came out, took off her clothes, and got into bed.

“Are you okay?” Zoey asked.

“No,” Erin said.

Zoey stared out the window at the moon, imagining it was one of those all-seeing eyes.

“Did you go back with them?”

“Go to sleep, Zoey. I don’t want to talk.”

She cried some more, her face pressed into the pillow. Zoey stared out the window at the moon, imagining it was one of those all-seeing eyes. Her birthday had come and gone. Erin had given her a bracelet and a card. It said, “To my best friend in the whole world!” Now her sister was crying herself to sleep. Zoey felt like crying, too. It seemed like there was a lot to cry about.

Robert Cormack is a satirist, novelist, and blogger. His first novel “You Can Lead a Horse to Water (But You Can’t Make It Scuba Dive)” is available online and at most major bookstores. Check out Skyhorse Press or Simon and Schuster for more details.