Mango Crush

by Bill H Myers

  The second problem was the light poles themselves. Unlike the wooden one at the Walmart light, all the poles on US Forty-One were metal, designed to withstand the high winds of a hurricane. As such, there was no way to staple anything to them.

  The solution to both problems was easy. Instead of stopping at every light and holding up traffic, we'd pull into the parking lot of the closest business.

  The first was a CVS drug store. I handed the stack of flyers to Taylor and went inside the store and bought two rolls of clear packing tape.

  When I came back out, Taylor was standing by the passenger side of the Miata, ready to open the door for me. She was holding two flyers, ready to be posted on the nearby light pole.

  I fooled with the child-proof packaging around the first roll of tape, and when I finally got to the sticky part, I peeled off a strip and put it on one of the flyers. I handed it to Taylor and said, “See that pole out there by the light? See if you can get this to stick to it.”

  She nodded. “I'll try, boss, but it would probably work better if we put the tape on the top and bottom of the page. That way it won't blow or flutter in the wind.”

  She was right. I handed her the roll of tape and said, “Go for it.”

  She got out of the car, walked over to the pole and securely posted the flyer, using tape on the top, bottom and sides. While she was doing this, a car waiting at the light with three teenage boys inside honked to get her attention. Being an attractive blonde, she was probably used to that kind of thing.

  She ignored the boys and turned toward me, pointing over her shoulder toward the flyer. She raised her hands in a motion that I took for, “How does it look?”

  I gave her a thumbs up, and she headed back to the car. When she got in, she said, “Maybe I should be the one putting these up instead of you. It'll be quicker that way.”

  I was starting to get a headache, and I wasn't going to argue.

  From there on, I stayed in the passenger seat while Taylor hopscotched the Miata down US Forty-One, pulling over at every stoplight and posting one of our flyers.

  When we got back to Venice, we started seeing the older ones that Abby had posted earlier. They looked to be in good shape, and there was no need to double up, so we didn't bother to post over them.

  We had covered the main drag between Nokomis and Venice with our flyers. They would be seen by a lot of people. Hopefully, one of them would recognize Bob and give us a call.

  It was nearly noon, and I was starting to get hungry. Taylor suggested the Lucky Dog, across from the Venice Publix. It was an old-fashioned diner that looked like a railroad car. I'd eaten there before and knew the food was pretty good. Orders got out quickly.

  Around noon, the parking lot at the Dog would usually be full, but we were in a small car and didn't need much room. A car was pulling out just as we got there, and Taylor pulled into the empty space. We got out, went inside and placed our orders. All the booths were taken, so we went out and waited for our food at one of the tables under a sun umbrella.

  Taylor didn't say much while we waited. She just smiled and nodded her head like she was enjoying the day. I tried my best to smile, but the pain in my head was increasing.

  I was glad when our food came. I was hoping that eating and maybe drinking a Coke would do something for my headache.

  It didn't. The pain was getting worse by the minute.

  After eating, Taylor cleared our table and put the disposables in the trash. When she came back, I started to stand, but when I did, I felt dizzy and slightly nauseated.

  She saw me wobble and asked, “You okay, boss? You're looking kind of pale.”

  I wasn't sure whether I was okay or not. But I was sure I needed to get back in the car and sit down. I just hoped I could make it.

  Next thing I remembered was Taylor shaking me and saying, “Wake up, boss. Wake up!”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  She said my eyes had rolled back in my head and I had passed out. She thought I was having a stroke and she was scared. But she knew what to do.

  Venice Regional Hospital was just behind the Lucky Dog. Somehow, she was able to get me into the Miata and to the hospital.

  When I came to, she and one of the orderlies were trying to get me out of the car and into a wheelchair. I wasn't sure where I was, but I knew I had a killer headache and was too weak to get out on my own. I let the orderly pull me out of my seat and put me in a chair. He rolled me inside, where I was met by an emergency room nurse. She looked me over then asked, “Can you hear me?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. What's the problem?”

  Before I could answer, Taylor walked up and said, “He passed out. I think he had a seizure.”

  The nurse tapped something into the tablet she was carrying and asked, “Has he done this before? Passed out?”

  Taylor shook her head. “I don't know. I only met him yesterday.”

  The nurse saw my black eye, pointed to it and asked, “How did that happen?”

  Taylor knew the answer. “He got punched in the face. Yesterday, on the beach.”

  The nurse nodded. “Did you do it? Was it you who punched him?”

  “No, it wasn't me. It was a guy I know. He hit him from behind.”

  The nurse nodded again. “Anything else we should know? Any recent medical issues?”

  Taylor thought for a moment then said, “He was in a car accident. The one on YouTube with the motorhome. He told me he had a concussion and was here last week.”

  The nurse nodded again and told the orderly to wheel me into one of the triage rooms. Taylor followed and stayed by my side as we waited for a doctor.

  Ten minutes later, the same one who had treated my concussion a week earlier walked in. Without saying anything, he came over and shone a tiny flashlight into my eyes. First the left, then the right.

  He stepped back and said, “It doesn't look like you've had a stroke. That's the good news. The bad news is we need to find out why you have a headache and why you blacked out.”

  He looked at his tablet and said, “I've ordered an MRI. The orderly should be here in a minute to take you there.”

  He paused then asked, “How's your head? Does it hurt?”

  “Yes, it hurts. Real bad.”

  The doctor put his hand on my forehead and said, “Doesn't feel like you have a fever. You were in here last week with a concussion, weren't you? I wrote you a prescription for pain meds. Have you been taking them?”

  I hadn't been in much pain, so I hadn't taken the meds. I didn't know if the doctor wanted to hear this, so I just shook my head and said, “No, I haven't.”

  He frowned. “That might be part of the problem. Those pills keep you from having blinding headaches. They give your brain a chance to heal. You need to start taking them as prescribed. Even if you don't think you need them.”

  He handed his tablet to the nurse standing behind him and said, “I'll come back after the MRI.”

  He left the room, and an orderly with a wheelchair came in. He was a middle-aged man a little on the heavy side. He smiled and asked, “You ready for a ride?”

  An hour later, after I'd had the MRI and was back in my bed in the triage area, the doctor came back in. He said, “Your MRI looked good. We compared it to the one we did last week, and it shows the swelling in your brain has gone down. That's good news. That's what we were hoping for.

  “I don't think you had a seizure. I think the punch you took, along with the extreme headaches you were having, caused the blackout. The pain pills would have prevented that.

  “Take the pills. Take it easy. And no more getting hit in the head. No driving, no alcohol, and no sex. It's important to give your brain time to heal.”

  He'd told me the same thing the last time I was there. For the most part, I had followed his advice, except for the part about getting punched in the head.

  He patted me on the arm and said, “If you like, we can keep you overnight, but I don't think it's necessary
.”

  He looked into my eyes again and then asked, “Do you still have a headache?”

  I didn't. They'd given me a pill after the MRI, and it had worked wonders. My head felt normal.

  “No, no headache. In fact, I feel pretty good.”

  The doctor smiled. “That's a side effect of the pills. They make you feel better than you really are. But you're still healing, so take one of those pills twice a day for a week, even if you don't feel any pain. They're not addictive, but they're powerful, so don't take more than two a day. Promise me you'll take them.”

  I told him I would, and I meant it. If taking the pills would keep me from getting pounding headaches and passing out, I'd take them as long as he wanted me to, whether I needed them or not.

  He looked at his chart and said, “It looks like you're running a tab with the hospital. They've added this visit to your bill.

  “If you have a seizure or if the headaches come back, even when you are on the meds, come in and see me. Don't wait.”

  He smiled and left the room.

  The nurse that had been standing behind the doctor stepped up and asked, “Are you ready to go home?”

  I was.

  She called an orderly who came in with a wheelchair, and even though I told him I could walk on my own, he wouldn't let me.

  He said, “Boss, it's hospital policy. We wheel all patients to the door. Even the healthy ones.”

  I wasn't going to argue.

  He wheeled me through the halls and through the glass doors at patient pickup, the same as the last time I was there. I waited until Taylor rolled up in her little car. She got out and opened the passenger door for me, and this time, I let her help me get in.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  After leaving the hospital parking lot, Taylor turned south on US Forty-One and headed back to my temporary home on Manasota Key. Even though there were several places on my list we hadn't gotten to, she was set on getting me back home.

  At the first light, she said, “I thought you were dying. I was really scared.”

  She started to tear up, so I said, “Don't worry. I'm not planning on dying anytime soon. The doctor said I was okay. I just needed to take my meds. You can be sure I'll be doing that from now on.”

  She looked at me, fighting back tears. “You better not die on me. I don't want to lose two jobs this week.”

  I had to smile. It was the funniest thing I had heard all day. I laughed and said, “Just take me home. I'll be fine.”

  She got me back to the house in record time. But not by speeding. There was too much traffic for that, and her car was too small to risk getting run over by a distracted driver. Instead of staying on Forty-One, she took a short cut through South Venice.

  Driving the narrow streets through older neighborhoods, she'd made good time, but I was lost after the second turn. I'd not driven through that part of town, and the maze of streets along with the turns she took had me wondering where we were.

  I was surprised when, just a few minutes after turning off Forty-One, we'd reached the drawbridge over the Intracoastal. That meant we were just minutes from home.

  When we pulled up to the house, Taylor got out and opened the door for me. I was feeling a lot better and could have opened it myself, but she seemed eager to help, so I let her.

  She stayed with me as I walked to the front door. I pulled the keys out of my pocket and handed them to her. “Will you unlock it, please?”

  She unlocked the door and I waved her in, I followed her to the living room where I plopped down on the couch. I was thinking she would sit in the chair across from me, but she didn't. She just stood looking at me and shaking her head.

  “What?” I asked.

  She pointed to the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a glass of water?”

  I said yes, and while she was getting water, I went to my bedroom and took three hundred dollars out of my safe. I put the money in my front pocket and went back to the couch.

  Taylor was still in the kitchen, banging around, probably looking for a glass. She finally found one, filled it with water and brought it out to me. I thanked her and pointed to the chair across from me. “Please, have a seat.”

  She sat and watched as I took a sip from the glass then said, “I don't think you should be here alone tonight. If something happens to you, there won't be anyone around to call for help.”

  She paused then said, “That's why I think I should spend the night. To be here in case something goes wrong.”

  She waited to see what I would say.

  The truth was blacking out had scared me too. I'd never had that happen before. The thought of doing it again or having a seizure was even scarier.

  While I was pretty sure the doctor was right about me being okay if I took the pills, I still worried about what might happen if things went south when no one was around.

  That's why I considered Taylor's offer. It would be nice to have her see me through the night. But I didn't want to impose, so I asked, “What do you normally do at night? When you're not taking care of strangers?”

  She smiled and said, “Not much. I live a pretty boring life. When I'm not working, I'm either out dirt fishing or back home reading sci-fi novels.”

  I knew what she meant about sci-fi, but I had no idea what the other thing was. “Dirt fishing? What's that?”

  She smiled and said, “That's my hobby. I dirt fish. I go to places where people hang out and use a metal detector to see what I can find. It probably sounds like I'm nutty, but I like doing it. Sometimes I find cool things. Everything from old coins and rings to cell phones.”

  “Rings? You find rings?”

  “Yeah, especially at the beach. People go out there and lather up with suntan oil. Their fingers get slick and the rings slide right off when they get in the water. Or they take off their rings and put them on their beach towel. When they get ready to leave, they shake the sand out of the towel, forgetting about the rings. They get buried in the sand and stay there until I come by with my metal detector.

  “It probably sounds weird, but dirt fishing gives me plenty of exercise and an excuse to walk on the beach.”

  I didn't think it was weird at all. Back before it was destroyed in the wreck, I kept a metal detector in my motorhome and had used it on the beach on Florida's Treasure Coast. I spent three days there swinging the detector, looking for buried treasure. After many hours of searching, I got lucky and found three gold coins and a gold ring, all from the Spanish Treasure Fleet of 1715.

  Taylor was only the second woman I'd ever met who was interested in metal detecting. I wanted to know more. So I asked, “What's the most interesting thing you've found?”

  She smiled. Dirt fishing was obviously something she liked talking about. She didn't hesitate with her answer. “So far it's been the wedding ring I found for an older couple.

  “I was detecting late one evening on Manasota Beach, and these people came over to talk to me. A lot of people do that. They'll come over and ask to see what I’ve found.

  “Usually I say, 'Not much,' and I'll show them a few pennies. Even if I've found a diamond ring, I won't show it to strangers. You never know what they might do.

  “Anyway, this older couple came over, and instead of asking what I'd found, they asked me if I would help them find something they’d lost.

  “The woman, who looked to be at least seventy, told me she had lost her wedding band in the sand near where they had been sitting. She said it was silver and had their wedding date engraved on it.

  “She said it had no monetary value, but she'd worn it for fifty years, and it meant a lot to her.

  “She offered to pay me to search, but there was no way I was going to take her money. We went over to where she thought they had been sitting, and I started detecting a grid pattern. I swung the detector back and forth in a straight line going twenty feet away from where I started. Then I'd turn and repeat the search pattern going twenty feet in the other directio
n.

  “It took almost an hour to cover the forty-by-forty grid, but I hadn't come up with anything other than a few coins.

  “I could tell the woman was getting discouraged, so I told her, ‘Don’t worry, I'll find it.’

  “I asked them how long it had been since they'd realized the ring was gone, and if they were sure I was searching the right place.

  “The woman thought for a moment and said, 'We were here about two hours ago. We left to go to the car, and that's when I realized the ring was gone. I'm sure we were sitting about ten feet from the water. Right where you've been searching.”

  “When she told me it had been an hour since the ring was lost, I knew what I was doing wrong. In the time that had passed, the tide had come in. Where they had been sitting earlier was about three feet underwater when they came to me.

  “The water was cold, and the waves were coming in pretty hard. I didn't really want to get wet, but I wanted to find her ring. I waded into the shallow water and started searching. Ten minutes later, I found it.

  “When I showed it to the woman she started crying. But before I gave it to her, I asked if she remembered the date that was engraved on it.

  “She said of course she did. It was her wedding date. She told me the date, and when I checked the ring, it was a match.

  “I gave it to her, and she slid it on her finger. She kissed her husband and hugged me. Then she offered me a reward. Any amount I wanted.

  “By that time, I'd spent almost two hours searching for it; time that I could have been detecting other parts of the beach. No telling what I might have found.

  “But finding that woman's ring was the best two hours I'd spent in a long time. She and her husband were happy, I was happy, and I didn't want a reward. When I told her, 'No reward,' she took my hand and said, 'You'll be blessed for your good deed.'

  “She invited me to her home for dinner, but I declined. I was wet from my waist down. My shoes were full of sand. All I wanted to do was go home and shower off.