The Key to Paradise (3 page)

“Landon!” Nana cawed waving her hand in the air.

“No, no, no!” I whispered desperately trying to claw her hand out of the air.

“Landon!” She called again oblivious to the way my face was burning bright red.

“I didn’t realize the Metamucil Mafia would be here tonight.” I heard his familiar voice growl behind me. Ellen was practically simpering. Even Lois who couldn’t have seen more than a vague man-shaped blur was batting her eyelashes furiously.

“I want you to meet my granddaughter, Olivia.” I turned and gave him my most disinterested face.
Let him know that I don’t want this any more than he does, I thought to myself.

“I see you made it ok.” He said with that same infuriatingly smug smile as before.

“Yes, I had a grand tour of every back road on the island.” I answered icily.

“Do you two know each other?” Nana asked with her eyes wide.

Landon just shrugged his shoulders. “That’s why we like Captain Joe’s. It’s too hard to find. The tourists stay away.”

“I’m surprised they don’t come for the friendly, welcoming locals alone.” My voice was dripping with sarcasm. Nana’s bingo club were eyeing each other in confusion.

“As long as they’re not here, we’re happy.”

“How’s your boat doing, Landon?” Nana asked sensing the tension and trying to ease it some.

“I should have her back out on the water tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! You know, Liv has never been on a boat.”

“Yes, I have!” Ok, maybe once when I was five. And
sure
it was a rowboat. But that still counted!

“I’m sure she didn’t much care for it.” He answered shooting me a disdainful look.

I wasn’t sure what part about this interaction was more infuriating: Nana trying to push me into the arms of a man I couldn’t stand or the fact that he wanted to make it perfectly clear how much he couldn’t stand me in turn!

“Well, she’s never been fishing. You should take her out.”

“You have to actually touch the bait you know.” Landon said passing his condescension off as jovial ribbing for Nana and her friends.

“I’ve had enough of slimy things since I’ve arrived but thanks anyway.” I shot back. The evil voice in my head was cheering but she was also imagining certain things that were strictly R rated. I pushed her down as best as I could.

“Well, I should go get a drink. I’m meeting Jack here in a little bit.”

“Oh, what a shame. Well, it was wonderful to see you Landon.” Nana said kicking me in the shin under the table.

With a nod to the table Landon Fitzpatrick turned and disappeared into the crowd.

“What was that all about?” Nana rounded on me so quickly it made me jump in my seat.

“I asked him for directions. He was condescending and rude because I’m not from around here.”

“Well, that’s understandable considering what happened with the Fitzpatrick land.” Lily said finishing her margarita in a single gulp.

“What happened to the Fitzpatrick land?”

“Not my story to tell. Wouldn’t want to get a reputation as a gossip.” Lily nodded sagely. I had a hard time believing that anyone in my Nana’s crew didn’t already have that well-deserved reputation.

“I don’t care if he has the most tragic history in all of the Keys. He’s an ass and there is no way I would touch him with a ten foot pole. Or vice versa! Besides, I don’t want another man. I’m done with love.”

“Oh honey,” Ellen said reaching over to pat my hand. “We’re not talking about love. We’re talking about sex.”

Chapter Three

Joan

I knew the moment I saw her walk in to Capt. Joe’s that she was in a bad way. My beautiful granddaughter—always full of life and quick with a smile that could light up a room—was pale and wan. Even her hair which was normally an uncontrollable swirl of black curls hung limply around her face. I wanted nothing more than to kiss it and make it better as I had when she was a little girl but the heart is so much harder to touch than a scraped knee.

No parent or grandparent will openly admit to having a favorite child. It’s the ultimate taboo. And it’s true that you love each new little light that comes into your life with a fierceness that would startle your younger self. All of a sudden, a warm soft bundle is placed in your arms and your heart roars to life like there was a tiger you never knew lurking inside your chest, sleeping until this moment.

But as those little bundles begin to grow and toddle uncertainly around their new world on unsteady legs they become more than unformed potential. They become an actual human being. Slowly, their own individual personality begins to color their actions and you can see a hint of the person they will grow into. Some you recognize.
Well, she has her grandfather’s stubbornness.
Or
she’s a little peacemaker already like her mother.
But they’re always just a little bit different. Shaped not only by their environment but by some hidden creative spark deep in their soul.

Olivia’s spark had always shined the brightest of all my grandchildren. When I used to watch her crawl around my living room as a baby she did it with such fierceness. Those wide coffee brown eyes would fix on some distant point: maybe the recliner or a toy carelessly dropped near the couch. She would draw herself up onto her hands and knees, lower her head and plow forward until she reached her goal. A part of me locked deeply away called out in recognition to that determined little soul.

Now sitting across from me I searched those same wide shining eyes for a memory of who she used to be but the aching raw hopelessness staring back at me took my breath away.

If there is one good thing about my friends it is that they never let the conversation lapse into an awkward silence. Now, they hounded her with questions and suggestions for dates while I struggled to find my words. While I struggled to see my Liv in the girl in front of me.

More than anything it frightened me to see her so lost and alone. To see such unhappiness seared across her face like a scar. I was searching and lost when Landon caught my eye across the bar.

I had known Landon since he was a teenager—it’s hard not to know everyone on this island within two months of moving here—and he was always a polite boy with a stubborn streak a mile wide. He had reminded me of my Olivia. Whenever Liv’s mother had asked her to do something—or more often, to
not
do something—Liv would nod politely then turn around and decide for herself. Some people you can push and push, while they quietly take it, until one day you realize there was no pushing them at all. They were so alike in that way.

What happened next between them is something I should have expected. Landon and Liv got along just as well as cats and water. The girls and I sat around stunned while they exchanged verbal barbs back and forth, every word dripping with disdain. What my friends didn’t see was the way a hint of red rose to color Olivia’s cheeks. The way her eyes flashed and shone as that limp helplessness left her and she stirred back to life to fight Landon insult for insult. For the first time that night I saw the hint of the girl I had once known. 

Chapter Four

Olivia

Standing in Nana’s front yard with the newspaper in hand, I finally understood why the sun was an object of worship to our ancestors. From the ancient Egyptians in their sun bleached, bone white markets to the Mayans atop their pyramids rising from the steaming jungle, each turned their eyes to that blazing ball of fire and found a god staring back at them.

With my feet in the coarse Bahia grass the sun beat down on my bare shoulders with an intensity I couldn’t have dreamed of in Boston. I tried to imagine it was the eye of a baleful god seeking to immolate me where I stood. I could feel the heat prickling across my skin. I closed my eyes and imagined each of those points slowly beginning to smolder and smoke until I was consumed completely in a flash. A five foot four tower of fire and all my pieces floating away as ash on the trade winds.

“Honey, come inside before my neighbors start to think you’re special.” Nana’s voice called from behind the screen door snapping me out of my self-destructive reverie. “What were you wool gathering about anyway?”

“Fire.” I answered softly handing her the newspaper.

“Well, I don’t usually condone arson but if you want to burn down that bastard’s house I’ll help you carry the gasoline.” Nana took the paper into the kitchen, the epicenter of the delicious smell of bacon and pancakes radiating through the small house. I took my seat at the table and leafed disinterestedly through the
Life and Styles
section.

“I think we should go out today. We’ve spent enough time wallowing and moping. It’s time to go out and have some fun.”

“Nana, I just got here last night and I spent half of it at a dive bar with your bingo buddies. I have not yet even begun to wallow.”

“Well, that’s even better then.” She answered brightly sliding a heaping pile of golden brown pancakes onto my plate. “We’ll nip it in the bud before it even begins.”

I couldn’t explain to her how much energy and effort it took to drag myself out of bed this morning. How merely pulling the covers off had felt like a task worthy of Herculean strength. She would never understand that the pile of pancakes in front of me made my stomach clamp down in protest. Although to be fair—that might have been the wine’s fault more than Chris’.

“Let’s go to the beach.”

“The beach?” I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly. It was the first week of March for God’s sake. Up in Boston the daffodils hadn’t even started pushing their pale spears through the recently frozen ground. Jesus, there was still a chance for snow!

“Sure, why not?”

“I don’t think I even have a bathing suit.” I said rifling through my memory. “Besides Nana, I don’t think I’m up for that today.”

“Oh? And what did you have planned instead?”

I didn’t want to admit to her that after breakfast I had planned on crawling back into bed and crying myself to sleep for the rest of the day. Maybe I would multi-task and cry in my sleep.

“You’ll borrow one of my suits and we’re going.” She said with finality after my silence stretched out. Even the fierce voice in my head knew it was no good arguing with her.

As I stood in front of the bedroom mirror I wished I had put up slightly more of a fight. My borrowed bathing suit was exactly what you would expect an octogenarian to wear. A garishly bright floral pattern crawled across the front and it featured a pleated skirt that hung almost to my knees. It would have been considered prudish in the 1940’s. In the 21
st
century it was downright frumpy.

I pulled on a long pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt vowing not to take off either and expose unwitting passersby to the horrors of this bathing suit. Nana was in the kitchen pouring the ice tray into an open cooler.

“Be a dear and take those chairs out to the carport. We’re just about ready to leave.” She motioned to two aluminum folding beach chairs with a nod of her head. I picked them up and made my way outside back into that searing sun.

The carport was around the side of the bungalow, a small rickety structure more function than form. It only had room for one car so I had parked on the street last night when I came home from Captain Joe’s. I leaned the chairs up against the fender of Nana’s aging Chevy and went to help her with the cooler.

“I’ve got this,” she said lifting the cooler with a little bit of a struggle. “Just grab the helmets from the hall closet and we’ll be on our way.”

“Helmets?”

“Hall closet, Liv.” She called back over her shoulder. Sure enough, two helmets were hanging from hooks in the closet. One was a bright teal and the other a shocking pink. I blinked at them slowly like a lizard wondering what I was missing. Are you supposed to wear helmets at the beach to ward off falling coconuts? I had read somewhere that they killed more people every year than shark attacks.

I grabbed the two helmets and walked back outside thinking I should offer to drive. I could hear the car running and it sounded like it was in pretty bad shape. I should have figured things out a lot quicker but my brain was dulled from the deadly combination of heart break and a hangover. As soon as I made my way back over to the carport it all became painfully clear.

“Absolutely not.” I said digging my heels into the lawn.

Nana was sitting astride a huge teal scooter that looked like it had come right out of
Roman Holiday
. I was not riding on a Vespa.

“We’ll take my car.”

“Can’t. Car won’t get where we’re going. Quit whining and hop on,” Nana answered beaming from ear to ear. I started running mental calculations on my chances of dying in a scooter crash with an eighty year old woman behind the handlebars. As it turns out, I needn’t have worried at all. The scooter barely topped out at twenty miles an hour. If we spilled the worst thing I could have expected was a skinned knee.

We puttered along the winding empty roads at an easy pace while I tried to remember to keep my mouth shut in case of mosquitos. It was my first time really seeing the island and I was shocked at its natural beauty. Here there would be a flash of turquoise water so blue it seemed unreal. There would be a grove of trees that looked like they had bled out of the Paleozoic era. It was all new and unfamiliar like I had been transported into another world and somehow that gave me some peace.

I could imagine for the twenty minute ride that I was not even in the same world that Chris inhabited. Instead I was living in some lush Amazonian alternate universe that the feral voice inside of my head would be comfortable in. I didn’t need to feel sad because there was nothing to feel sad about. There was no Chris in this world and there never had been. Maybe I would move here permanently and take up drinking and painting with a fervor that Gauguin would envy. I should probably learn to paint first—and avoid the syphilis part.

The road ended suddenly in a thick line of mangroves and a huge chain link fence dotted with fading yellow signs reading “CONDEMNED.”

“Nana? Where are we?”

“It’s an old hotel. It closed down about thirty years back,” she answered lowering her feet to the ground and steadying the scooter. “Now hop down and pull the fence open.”

“That sounds like trespassing.”

“That’s because it
is
trespassing. Now be a dear and open the gate.”

There was no arguing with her unassailable logic. I slid off the scooter and made my way over to the fence seeing immediately what she was talking about. The gate was held shut with a thick rusting chain and an ancient padlock but whoever had locked it last had left enough give in the chain that the gate could be opened a few feet before it caught. I pulled on the chain link trying to remember the last time I had a tetanus shot while Nana eased the scooter through the opening.

It was a short jaunt down a washed out dirt road before the hulking shape of the old hotel broke through the trees. It was larger than I expected and must have been beautiful once. Now, the stucco was peeling and several roof tiles lay shattered on the cracked and heaving pavement. Broken windows stood out like missing teeth in a beautiful woman’s smile.

Nana negotiated the scooter carefully around potholes and debris while I sat staring in awe as more of the hotel came into view. It was in an ornate Spanish style. I could see sweeping porches and hanging wrought iron gates. It must have been a very exclusive resort back in its day. It had the perfect mixture of romance and luxury.

The scooter finally came to halt and Nana lowered the kickstand. We hopped over a small crumbling sea wall and I found myself on one of the most beautiful beaches I had ever seen. It was narrow and deserted but the sand was white sugar beneath my feet and the water the color of gin. A few palms bent low by decades beneath the trade winds dotted the sand.

Nana flipped the chairs open in the shade of one of the palms and pulled off her beach cover up. Her bathing suit was the twin to the one I was wearing only in shades of blue instead of red and yellow. I had planned on remaining covered up but there was not a single person on the beach and the water was shimmering so invitingly in the sun.

“Mimosa or Bloody Mary?” Nana asked as I pulled my tee shirt up over my head.

“None for me thanks. I’m still drying out from last night.”

“This is the Keys, honey. Hair of the dog is always required.” She said pouring Bloody Mary mix into two red solo cups and splashing the vodka in liberally. I wasn’t surprised to see that the cooler was brimming with different liquors but there wasn’t any sign of food other than olives, celery and limes. All garnishes for cocktails.

“Don’t forget to put some sun screen on. You’re as pale as a ghost.”

“Well it was winter last week where I’m from.” I grumbled as I applied zinc oxide to my nose and pulled Nana’s spare sun hat down over my curls. Paired with my borrowed swim suit I’m sure I was a sight to see.

The spicy tang of the Bloody Mary was actually settling on my stomach. Maybe it was the thick tomato juice; maybe it was the hair of the dog effect. Either way I was happy. Nana and I sat in peaceable silence watching the water lap against the shore. I was used to rough north eastern breakers but here the ocean was almost as placid as a lake.

“This is so beautiful.” I sighed taking another long sip.

“Why do you think I moved down here the first chance I got? It’s the closest I’ve ever come to paradise.” Nana paused with her mouth still open, she seemed to be gathering her thoughts. “Liv, honey?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you going to do now?”

It was something I had been avoiding thinking about. I couldn’t even imagine facing reality when I felt as brittle as old glass. The thought of making plans, finding a job and choosing where to live was as overwhelming as a tidal wave. I couldn’t stop the parade of little red shoes running through my mind—how could I concentrate on anything concrete?

“I have some money saved up. Chris and I were going to buy a house. I thought maybe I’d turn into a hermit and adopt seventeen cats instead.”

“Don’t kid.”

“I wouldn’t mind being a sad old cat lady if I could have a view like this.” It was so tranquil on the beach that it took some of the sting out of the conversation.

“What did you want to do when you were a little girl?”

“Well, after I saw Indiana Jones I wanted to be an archaeologist. After I saw Jurassic Park I wanted to be a paleontologist. For a little while I wanted to be an oversized turtle skilled in martial arts. The only constant was I wanted to get married and have kids. Isn’t that horrible? My highest ambition is one of the basic functions of life.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a family.”

“No, but it shouldn’t be everything should it? Maybe that’s why Chris cheated on me. Maybe I’m just pathetic and boring and unambitious.” I had nursed secret anxieties my whole life. Even in grade school I would lay awake at night under my She-Ra blanket and imagine Mrs. Kingsdorf’s fourth grade class laughing at me behind my back. Chris cheating on me seemed like confirmation that all my worst fears were true. I
was
pathetic and everyone
was
actually laughing at me behind my back.

“Chris cheated on you because he’s a selfish little piece of shit,” Nana said with venom. “You’re not pathetic and you’re not boring and now is the time to do you.”