Margarita Wednesdays: Making a New Life by the Mexican Sea by Deborah Rodriguez

heartbreaking story about her sister, who had a husband who would lock her in her room with the kids, taking the key so he could bring women to the house. She would watch them come and go each night through the keyhole. Other men over there would bring young boys and prostitutes to parties, or frequent the Chinese restaurants that were, in reality, fronts for brothels.
    I filled Polly’s litter box and poured her a meal, and realized that I hadn’t eaten all day. The room service menu offered all sorts of tempting snacks and drinks, so I went all out. Twenty minutes later a bell rang at my door, but in the seconds it took for me to answer, whoever had delivered my tray had already disappeared.
    I kind of liked this place, where things were so anonymous that I almost felt invisible to myself, which, I have to admit, was sort of a relief. Maybe the old Deb could simply disappear into the Sonoran Desert—only just not literally. In my mind that was way too much of a frightening possibility. But what if Mexico really could grant me a clean slate? What would that new Deb look like? Between bites, I began a list:
1. New Deb thinks ahead. She does not make rash decisions. She does not live her life as though it’s her own personal extreme-sporting event. She will no longer be known as “Crazy Deb.”
2. New Deb does not need a man. She might want a man, but if and when the opportunity arises she will be very, very selective. No more college sweethearts (too late for that), no more beach bums, no more closeted gays, no more abusers, no more wannabe warlords, and no more Mr. Nice Guys to make her feel like shit for not being able to be so nice herself. If there is another man, he will be the last man standing. Oh, and by the way? Marriage is not a mandatory thing.
3. New Deb does not wallow in her past. She will learn from her mistakes, not obsess over them to the point that she becomes a basket case who is constantly second-guessing herself and sobbing all over the place, eating too much, and making everyone around her crazy, and . . .
4. New Deb will be skinny! Well, maybe not skinny, but at least healthy and fit. She will cut out the junk food, she will ride a bike, she will not fall prey to the margaritas. She will, for once inher life, learn to feel good in her own skin. New Deb promises to love New Deb no matter what size she is.
    (Here, I have to admit, I paused to finish my tacos and drain my beer.)
5. New Deb will never pick up a cigarette again. Ever.
6. New Deb is not afraid. She is as strong as she once thought she was.
7. New Deb will be her own best friend, not her own worst enemy. She will keep herself from taking two steps back every time she takes one forward.
8. New Deb will never pack her life in boxes again. In Mexico, she will find a way to make her head content and her heart full. And that’s that.
    After a long, steamy shower I snuggled into bed, eager for the diversion of old reruns and cable news, courtesy of the remote that was bolted to the bedside table next to me. But as I surfed, it appeared as though the only things with even slightly visible reception were four porn channels and a soccer match, none of which was enough to keep my eyes open at that point. So I just drifted off all by myself, dreaming about the New Deb in my dark, quiet, safe, sex motel.
    T HE NEXT MORNING DIDN ’ T start off so great. I found myself on the road way too early, thanks to the plaguing doubts about my move that had boomeranged back into my head at 4 A.M. , and which were still running through my brain like hamsters on a wheel. Would I be able to make a living down here? Would I make friends? Was Carnaval Street a wise investment, or the biggest mistake I’d made in my life? Maybe things would seem clearer by daylight. It was still dark. Really, really dark. And I seemed to be the only person out at that ungodly hour.
    Suddenly the darkness was broken by three arcing beams of light about a hundred yards up