Eleven months of the year it’s rain free.

“We have a lot of rain here in June.”

“Oh dear,” I replied, “I came here with the intention of seeing if this was a place to move to and according to everything I read, it doesn’t rain a lot during the year.”

“That’s correct,” continued the real estate agent as we walked around the large house with seven bedrooms, eight bathrooms, 2 half bathrooms and a beautifully large kitchen, fully equipped with an AGA stove and other such high quality appliances, situated in the side of a mountain overlooking the bright blue Pacific Ocean.

“It doesn’t rain at any other time of the year, just in June.” I felt somewhat relieved.

“So, when you say it rains a lot, what exactly is a lot?” He looked at me quizzically. I think he was trying to come up with a quantitative amount.

“Well,” he continued not wanting to annoy me believing that I might walk away from the deal and he would lose out on a large commission. “Well to be honest, it rains so much that most people in the village below go away for the month.”

“That much!” I exclaimed still not quite sure what a lot meant. “But it must be a lot if the villagers all leave the village and go away somewhere else for the month. Does that mean I would have to leave as well?” It seemed like the most obvious question to ask.

“You don’t have to because where the house is located, it’s up pretty high, so the rain will run off into the village.”

“Oh, I see.” I felt a little relived but also slightly guilty. “Does that mean if the house wasn’t located here then the rain wouldn’t run off and flood the village?”

“It’s possible,” he replied and I noted a slight tinge of panic in his voice as he was trying his best not to lose the sale. After all, I found out later he was thinking of taking his entire family to Italy, which I presumed was his home country, for the month of June on the commission he would make on the sale of the house. But we were actually going in two different directions. He was counting the dollars he would make on the sale and I was counting the dollars it would cost me to buy the house. Neither of us were trying to lose the sale, but just didn’t know it.

He relaxed slightly when he saw a smile on my face. “Yes, I feel badly about the village down there but if the house weren’t here the rain would still runoff and flood the village wouldn’t it?” Relief, he could breathe again. He was onboard the plane with his wife and ten little children, no I made that up I have no idea how many children he has, and they were ordering dinner just after the plane had taken off.

“Yes, it would,” he replied, “oh I’m sorry if I made you feel that it would be your fault that the village flooded.”

“Well,” I said, “for a moment I did believe that.” I took a deep breath. “But it still rains a lot in June.”

“Yes, that’s something I can’t stop.”

“Can I look around the house again?” I asked and I could see his heart beating fast through his ‘I love Costa Rica’ adorned T shirt. I’m sure he wore it just for that occasion.

“Yes, let’s,” he replied stepping forward and opening the door for me. I smiled and walked in the front door from the large wrap around deck that overlooked the mountains on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other. It was actually a brand new construction. One could still smell the paint. It hadn’t completely dried and all the appliances were sparkling.

The large AGA stove was crying out to me, ‘light me, light me, light me,’ as the Braun dishwasher winked at me and the sub zero fridge hummed in unison. He needed to ask the question, but every time he tried, a lump filled his throat. I knew this because the couple of times he was going to say something he opened his mouth only to close it and clear his throat. Should I make him suffer longer I wondered. The sadistic part of my brain was urging me to do so. But those days were gone. Gone were the days when I enjoyed making people suffer. No more. That was it.

I leaned back against the kitchen island and folded my arms. I smiled at him. He was standing facing me a few feet away. He had his hands in front of him and I noticed his fingers fighting each other to keep quiet. “Sold!” I said abruptly and then added, “on one condition.” At the sound of the first word he looked like he wanted to scream for joy, but as soon as I uttered the last three words his face dropped. “The one condition being that it only rains in June.” His face lit up again. He could guarantee that.

“Yea, absolutely,” he replied trying desperately to keep a straight face.

“Then we have a deal,” I said walking towards him with my hand extended. He grabbed it and then in a moment of pure exhilaration he pulled me towards him and wrapped his arms around me. I was a little startled but amused. “Yes, Jose, you can take your wife and ten kids back to the home country of Italy.”

He stood back from me, “Italy?” he asked. “I don’t come from Italy.”

“Oh,” I replied trying to make the best of my mistake. “I was just kidding. Actually, I was being a little obnoxious. I thought with the commission you’ll make on this house that you will take your family on a vacation to your home country.”

“No Senõr,” he answered looking a little confused, “I don’t come from Italy. I grew up in Brooklyn New York, and I would never return there.”

“I don’t blame you,” I laughed.” It rains there a lot more than just June.”

“Exactly,” he began to smile again. “Why do you think I came down here?”

I slapped him on his back, “let’s go and have a drink,” and with that we both walked out of the house and made our way down to the village. “By the way, do you have ten children?” I don’t think he heard me.