Sanibel Scribbles (26 page)

Nights passed swiftly, as fast as it took to tie a shoestring. Vicki wore cream-colored sandals for a date with Ben. He picked her up at her grandmother’s condominium, and they packed snacks and sandwiches, then continued on to catch a sunset near Blind Pass Bridge.

Once they found their spot in the sand, she slipped her sandals off and spread the blanket out close to the water. The waves looked like white-winged planes smoothly flying across the low, flat horizon, landing on shore one after the next. And small flocks of sanderlings were there to greet those waves and to pick up the colorful coquina clams. Every new rush of water brought more clams and they were as colorful as tourists wearing tropical shirts.

“I’ve come to a significant conclusion regarding my job, my life,” said Ben, as he picked up an Olive Shell and rubbed its smooth exterior. “I think I’m going to take time off. A year or two.”

Carefully packed sand and a few seashells into the shape of a building on the beach next to the blanket.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Well, what would you do with that time?” Vicki opened a package of wheat crackers and started spreading one with dip.

“A lot of significant things.”

“Like what?” She stared out at the sun. Only half of it left.

“My part in preserving this awesome world we live in,” he laughed,
popping a grape in his mouth. “Just things like that.”

“Ben, what are you talking about?”

“I’ve been researching save-the-planet-type organizations and projects. There are all kinds of interesting opportunities out there, and it’s something I feel compelled to do.”

“Compelled?”

“Sure. Did you know that in some countries people are required to put one year’s worth of time in the military?”

“One year is a long time.” There were only minutes left before the sun would be gone completely.

“One year is nothing. It’s nothing,” he said dryly.

“But you have so many career aspirations. You said you wanted to start your own firm and -”

“I know, and I will probably reach that goal, but life doesn’t start once you reach your goal. It starts now. Who knows what the future holds? We can set endless goals, then die before reaching them.”

“Thanks for the morbid reminder. You didn’t have to say that.”

“That is why we enjoy the process leading up to our goals. That is why we must enjoy the journey toward our goals as much as and perhaps more than the moment we reach them. More people die on the way down from the mountain than they do going up.”

As he leaned over and sweetly kissed her, she couldn’t help but think about the complexity of Ben and his newly revealed idea. Just as a good beer offers more flavors each time the glass is raised – one moment dry and the next sweet – Ben too continued to surprise her. And like a great beer, his kiss left a long, lingering aftertaste.

“So you’re not worried about taking a year off from your career?” she asked, pointing to the horizon and the descending sun.

“It’ll always be there, and who would dare
not
hire me simply because I took a year off to help preserve part of our planet?”

“Can you afford that much time off?” Only half of the sun was left, and before he answered, only a quarter was left.

“No, but these sorts of things are never convenient. If I go through life saying I can’t financially afford to help generate awareness over ozone depletion,
or I don’t have enough vacation days to help preserve the rain forest, I would go through life doing absolutely nothing for this world in which I live.”

They watched a green fringe appearing on the upper edge of the sun. “You sound like a commercial on public TV.”

He laughed. “Just call this my own little secret. I’ve been pondering it for a long time now.”

Just then, the last of the sun vanished and a brilliant, greenish light could be seen on the horizon.

“Did you see that?”

“I saw it. This planet is amazing!” exclaimed Ben.

“If you pursue your idea, where would you go?”

“There are projects I could do locally, in the Everglades. I could stay right here.”

It was a busy morning, and she had much to do before catching the staff boat back to Tarpon Key. She spent a couple of hours cleaning the condo, then rushing to the bank to cash her check, shopping for amenities, followed by dropping her dresses off at the dry cleaners before heading to the travel agent to pick up her round-trip plane tickets to Madrid. They cost twelve hundred dollars, and she paid with her own cash—her summer goal met.

Ben had tried getting together with her several times throughout the morning, but she kept telling him she would call him back once she finished her errands. Eventually he showed up at the condo, right as she was ready to leave for the marina. He offered to drive her there, and she accepted.

“Ben, you’re quiet. Is everything okay?” she asked as they waited under the bamboo hut for the boat to arrive.

“I’ve been thinking about you on that island. Are you okay living out there?”

“Ben, I love it out there. We’ve discussed this before.”

Just then, she could hear the distant sound of the boat’s motor making its way to dock. There were two bodies standing on it, probably leaving for their days off, but she couldn’t decipher who it was.

He took her in his arms and held her close. “The closer I get to you, the more I dread the horrible good-bye ahead of us,” he said. “Vicki, you’re living on a remote mangrove in the middle of nowhere. Wouldn’t you rather spend your evenings at the jazz club with me?”

“I love my nights with you.”

“Then how about tonight? You don’t have to get on that boat. You could leave with me now, and tonight you and I could watch another sunset, see another green flash.”

“That’s a once-in-a lifetime sight,” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes, and we saw it together,” he added, then kissed her. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, Ben, I can’t leave with you now. I’m working through a few things in my life, and this place is like therapy to me.” She waved at the approaching boat.

“C’mon. I’ve only got you for the summer, then you’re off to Spain.”

“And after Spain, I’ll be back to Holland for school. Who knows where I’ll go from there? There are so many places yet to see. We’ve gone over it again and again. I can’t let anything get in the way of my goals.”

“Yes, but remember, you have to enjoy the journey there.”

A little girl ran past them, skipping and hopping, and for a moment, they stopped and laughed. “Vicki, you’ve gotta hop, skip, and jump toward your goals, enjoying the process as much as the destination.”

“You’re right.” She wanted to tell him he was right for her, but the words just stopped. She kissed him passionately, convinced that loving an American man was much better than ever falling for a Spaniard.

“Tell me this,” she said as she picked her bag up and started walking toward the boat. “Do you still want to travel?”

“At this point in my life, I don’t want to go far. I want to stay put in my comfortable world, where I’ve already established close friends. That happens after one spends their growing-up years living with tribes in South America,” he said, and laughed. “I’ve had my share of adventure. Believe me, I was content when my parents decided to settle back in Mississippi. They reached a point in life where they needed to find a home. We’ve all left enough friends and family, moving from one place to the next.”

As she stepped onto the boat, a woman with a huge sword only half hidden in her partially open suitcase stepped off the boat.

“Evelyn, I didn’t think it was time for your days off just yet,” Vicki said. “It is, babe” replied Evelyn. “I’ve got swimming lessons.”

“You’re going to learn how to swim?”

“Something like that. You know the window in my room? The one that totally spooked me?”

“Yeah, the west window, the one facing the water,” said Vicki.

“Yep, that’s the one. I walked right up to it and dared myself to look out.”

“And?”

“I saw something new, something I never noticed before.”

“What?”

“Opportunity and desire.”

“So you’re going to learn to swim.”

“Sort of, babe. I saw a bunch of water, and now I’m ready to do something with it. I don’t have the time to stand here chatting. I gotta get going. Bye.” She rushed off.

“Bye.”

Vicki took her seat on the boat and blew a kiss to Ben. He waved, then turned and started walking toward his car. He didn’t wait for the boat to leave.

The Mississippi steamboat left. Every time it picked up a load of passengers in life and got to know them, it would have to drop them off again. She felt tempted to stay with it, to become the longest-lasting passenger it had ever had, but she knew she couldn’t. Soon she would be leaving for Spain, and the steamboat couldn’t make it to the Mediterranean Sea. Sure, steam-powered vessels do indeed cross the ocean, but the operating costs were high. The owner of this steamboat wasn’t willing to pay those costs. Only the submarine could go this time, and it would go solo. It needed to go much further than the rivers at this stage in its life.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CONNIE REPLACED EVELYN, WHO
never returned after her days off. The others said she spent her last day on the island staring out her tiny attic window at the water for hours. The new waitress arrived on the island carrying an enormous, pale blue suitcase, the shade women wore on their eyes in the sixties. Denver was busy unloading new kitchen plates off the staff boat so Vicki showed the new woman to her room.

As Connie opened the trunk before her, Vicki paused in the doorway and stared at the contents. There was a condensed stack of T-shirts, each shirt identical but for its color, twelve pairs of rainbow socks tucked and rolled into balls, like cookie dough carefully placed on a pan, first aid supplies, including a box of smiley face Band-Aids, as well as perfectly folded dresses. It looked as if the woman spent days—perhaps months—planning, preparing, and packing the suitcase, as if drafting a will.

“I have never seen underwear folded that neatly,” Vicki said in awe. “It looks like you’ve brought nearly forty pairs.”

“Can’t go anywhere without clean undies.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what my mom used to tell me.”

“Then just call me Mom,” Connie answered as she unfolded navy-striped sheets and began tucking them into the mattress on her floor.

“Is that your teddy bear?” asked Vicki in amusement, as a worn, torn, stuffed animal fell from the folded sheet. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’ve got a tiger.”

The woman quickly picked the bear up off the floor, brushed sand off its nose, then held it close to her face, smelling it and rubbing its head. “Snuffy, oh Snuffy!! How did you get in here?”

“Either he felt left out when you were busy packing, so he hopped in when you weren’t looking, or you put him in there yourself but are in complete denial,” teased Vicki.

“Bedtime without Snuffy is awful,” Connie admitted.

“Well, it doesn’t matter, because you won’t get much sleep around here with or without Snuffy.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You are presently looking at the world’s most sleep-deprived woman. Believe me, I bet I’ll get more sleep out here than I’ve had in the last ten years combined,” Connie said, pulling a torn flannel nightgown from her suitcase and placing it under her pillow. “I’d love to talk more, but I better get myself to the restaurant. Ruth wants me to get started right away.”

It didn’t matter that Connie’s hips and behind carried a good fifteen pounds of extra weight and that she wore no make-up except for lip gloss. As she ran from table to table, she had every male customer falling in love with her the moment she laughed, and almost anything triggered her laugh. She had the resonant sort of sound that echoes across a room, making everyone wish they were over chatting with her. Her laughs exploded as uninhibited outbursts from the gut, and they were contagious. A single laugh ranged from high to low tones and came out sounding so friendly that it made Vicki re-evaluate her own laughing style.

Goodness, if only I could laugh that boldly, that boisterously
, she thought. Every bit of stress shot right out Connie’s body every time she laughed. She used her forefinger to delicately wipe tears from her eyes, tears of laughter. Men laughed with her, even if they were sitting across the room.

“I can’t believe I’m out here,” she would tell every table. “I can’t believe I’m actually waiting tables on an island. Pinch me, someone. Am I really here?”

“Either you’re here, or there’s a ghost carrying that tray with our burgers,” one man joked.

“You pinch me first, and I’ll pinch you,” teased another.

“I like you. You’re certainly not taking paradise for granted,” noted another. “My rich, spoiled girlfriend went to the bathroom to powder her nose
again
. How about we leave her there, and you and I take off in my yacht? Something tells me you’d appreciate the beauty out there more than she does.”

Connie didn’t mind getting dirty and wore more food on her T-shirt than she carried on her trays. It didn’t matter. She had fifteen more shirts just like it, all primary dark colors. In the course of the day and into the evening she helped the cooks, several times, smelling the potato salad for spoilage and tasting the lemonade for sweetness.