Plastic is the most prevalent type of marine debris found in our oceans and Great Lakes. Plastic debris comes in all shapes and sizes, but those that are less than five millimeters in length (or about the size of a sesame seed) are called microplastics.
MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND was one of the year’s busiest on the islands. In the morning, visitors poured onto the beach, stuck in the bumper-to-bumper traffic on the Connector to Isle of Palms and the Sullivan’s Island Bridge.
Each of the islands outside of Charleston had its own unique flavor. Folly was home to the surfing community and, despite growth, maintained an aura of free-spirited fun. Sullivan’s Island was Isle of Palms’s older sister in terms of history. Sullivan’s had been established in the seventeenth century as both a location for the pesthouses during the slave trade, and a place for Charleston’s elite to have summer houses to escape to in the heat of a southern summer. Like Folly, it still maintained a vintage authenticity. Isle of Palms was a popular vacation spot in the late nineteenth century. Its northern end had been a maritime forest until it was sold for a resort in the 1970s. All the islands shared the struggle with the heavy influx of tourists and traffic during peak season.
The tourists remained in a jovial mood, however, as the sun shone in a brilliant blue sky. The public lots quickly filled, and the legal parking spaces were snatched. Cars circled, looking for an empty spot. Many would find expensive tickets on their windshields at the day’s end. Still, there was little honking. In the South, honking was considered the highest form of rudeness.
Out on the beaches, colorful towels spread across the sand. Blue and red rental umbrellas and chairs lined the shoreline. On Isle of Palms, Front Beach was overflowing with tourists buying food and drinks, playing volleyball, and hanging out. On Sullivan’s, there wasn’t a seat to be had at any of the island restaurants.
The weekend passed without serious incident, just the few arrests for DUI and disorderly conduct. On Monday evening, the day tourists packed up and joined the long train of cars headed back to the mainland. Summer had begun on the southeastern coast.
Linnea was relieved to see the beaches quiet again, though the litter left in their wake filled her with dismay. Grabbing a large black garbage bag and donning thin reusable garden gloves, she began walking along the shoreline, picking up empty plastic cups, plastic water bottles, food containers, straws, and cigarette butts by the score, even the occasional lost sandal. There were garbage containers at the end of each beach path, she thought, exasperated. Couldn’t people carry their litter that far?
Only a few die-hard sunbathers remained on the beach. By five o’clock, most people were eager to get home to dinner. She spotted one young woman under an enormous, fashionable black sun hat, her impossibly long, lean legs stretched out from a low-slung beach chair. As Linnea drew nearer, she saw the toes were painted a bright cherry red and the woman’s black and white bikini bore the emblem of Chanel. She was reading a book and didn’t look up until Linnea’s shadow hovered over her.
The head lifted to reveal large black sunglasses. Then a slow smile eased across the woman’s face.
“So now you’re a garbage collector?” Pandora asked.
“Yep,” Linnea replied, then laughed. “I’m just walking the beach and decided I’d pick up trash along the way. It’s a small effort to help the ocean.”
Pandora set the book down on the sand and lowered her sunglasses, revealing her brilliant blue eyes. “Well, good on you,” she said. “Who knew you were such a do-gooder?”
“Not really. I saw another girl do it, and I was inspired.” She lifted her bag higher. “Am I inspiring you?”
Pandora smirked and laughed. “Hardly.”
“Come on. Make a difference, Pandora,” Linnea chided.
“Please, just tell me where to send my check.”
Linnea shook her head. “Hopeless.”
“If you’re finished with your rounds, come by my house. We can have a cuppa. It’s not far.”
Linnea thought that was the nicest invitation she’d had in days. “Love to.”
Pandora rose in a graceful swoop. Her figure was slender, her body tamed with the polish it took money and care to create. With a few firm shakes, she shook the sand from her pink Spartina 449 towel and tucked it into her pink and green Tory Burch canvas bag. Linnea noticed that her sunglasses were Prada. She held back her smile. It was clear her new friend was a connoisseur of brand names.
“How long have you been here?” she asked Pandora.
“About a hour.” Linnea laughed.
“No, I mean in the US.”
“Oh,” Pandora replied, hoisting her beach bag and taking a step forward. “Not long. I left England when the term was up. Came straightaway. I needed a change.”
“What are you studying?”
“Engineering. I’m seeking my master’s at Oxford.”
Linnea almost missed her step. She glanced at the woman walking beside her. This tall, lean, sexy woman in brand clothing was studying engineering? She would have guessed perhaps fashion design. “You’re an engineer?”
Pandora cast her a glance. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those.”
“One of what?”
“Those boring people who pigeonhole women.”
“No!” Linnea replied, stunned that she’d think that. “Of course not. It’s just…”
“What?”
“You don’t look like an engineer.”
“I didn’t realize an engineer looked like anything.”
Linnea hoped her cheeks weren’t flaming. “Most engineers I’ve met look more like Thomas Edison than Cara Delevingne.”
Pandora tossed her head back and laughed. “You think I look like her?”
“Dead ringer.”
“You’re forgiven,” Pandora said with faux haughtiness.
“What area are you studying?”
Pandora blew out a plume of air. “Good question. I need time to figure out what area I want to focus on. Thus, the break. Generally, I’m interested in energy systems.”
“Energy? As in, propulsion?”
“No. I’m more interested in natural systems, especially in this era of climate change. Particularly how science informs the societal and political aspects of energy.”
Linnea was trying to understand. “So then, you’re in politics?”
“No… and yes. I’d be more a liaison between politics and science. So in that way, yes, I’m involved in politics. But the program is designed to guide individuals who can help shape governmental positions. I believe it’s going to be critical at an international level in the future.”
Linnea didn’t respond. She was still trying to reconcile that this woman was kind of an engineer.
“But I’m still a student,” Pandora continued. “And at the point where I must adjust course requirements. To be honest, I’m here for more than a break. I’m looking at programs in wind and marine energy.”
This startled her. “Then you’re in environmental science. Like me.”
“Well, yes, but in a broad way. As I said, I’m more into energy solutions. I’m not as hands-on as you are. As in, I don’t pick up garbage.” She bumped her shoulder, jovially.
“I don’t think it’s all that different. You think globally, I think locally.” She hoisted her bag into view. “Light one candle and all.”
Pandora looked doubtfully at the garbage bag. “I suppose.… Except I’m definitely more global.”
“So, does that make you a nerd or a power broker?”
Pandora laughed again. “Nerd. Definitely a nerd. With dreams of being a power broker. But please,” she said with a groan, “don’t let it get around. It’s an absolute killer for any hopes for a social life. I’m dying for a good shag.”
Linnea laughed, liking her more. “I’m sworn to secrecy. But I have to say, you don’t look like a nerd. You had me fooled.”
“That’s what I hope people think. Like my favorite line in my favorite movie, Work
ing Girl—‘I have a head for business and a bod for sin.’ ”
“I never saw it.”
Pandora stopped dead in her tracks. “What? It’s an American film and only the most brilliant movie ever made. The ultimate women’s lib film.” She perused Linnea with one brow raised. “We’re about the same age, I suppose. I’m twenty-eight.”
“Twenty-five here.”
“Then we’re both millennials. This movie’s about the eighties. Women were duking it out in every field.” She shrugged. “We still are. This simply will not stand. I’ll get it, and you and I are going to pop popcorn and watch it together.”
They walked a bit farther. Linnea felt a bit intimidated by Pandora’s academic prowess. She and Pandora were no longer on an even playing field. She picked up a stray plastic bottle and added it to the garbage bag.
“What about you?” Pandora asked. “What’s your gig?”
There it was. The question she most hated to answer.
“I don’t have one at the moment,” she said, trying to sound breezy. “My degree is in environmental science. That’s why I was excited by all that you’re studying. At some fundamental level, we’re both interested in facilitating information—you in politics, me for individuals. You may study the planet on a big scale, but me? It’s all about the small and personal. Take sea turtles. I’ve been involved with them my whole life. My grandmother was the original turtle lady on these islands, and I was her trusty sidekick. Eventually I got my degree, but my field training was right here on these beaches. Then two years ago I got a position with a startup company in San Francisco.”
“Ooh, I adore that city.”
“The company had a patent on a means to eliminate plastic from the oceans. But…” She took a few steps. “They ran out of funding. Shut down. I was out of a job.”
“Too bad. God knows we need new ideas. But funding is always critical.”
“We also need government support of science and innovative ideas.” Linnea paused. “Jobs are scarce in my field here. I’m looking everywhere, but the market is tight. So, that’s a long-winded answer to your question. I have no gig at the moment.” She laughed shortly. “At least I’m back on the turtle team.”
“Those sweet little turtles. I’ve seen them in documentaries.”
“Big turtles are on the beach now. The mature females are laying nests. The little hatchlings start to come in July.”
“I’ve always wanted to see that. I’ve been to beaches all around the world yet never have.”
“You’ll never forget it.”
“Will you let me know when a nest hatches?”
“We’re not supposed to bring people to hatchings. The SCDNR doesn’t even want team members there. If there are a lot of people, it might cause disruption of a boil. That’s what we call it when all the turtles come out at once in a scrambling frenzy. A larger number of hatchlings emerging at the same time helps their chance of survival. They’re reptiles, don’t forget. Their biological model is predator glut. The more that pour out into the sea, the more chance for some survivors.”
“Please, you must call me.”
“I can’t.”
Pandora made a face. “I thought we were friends.”
Linnea shook her head. “Sorry.”
“Oh, rubbish.”
“Unless…”
Pandora swung her head to look at her expectantly.
“… you’re on the turtle team and get involved.”
“I can’t.”
“Okay.”
They walked a few steps. “What would I have to do?”
Linnea was enjoying this. “Walk the beach with me in the morning to look for tracks. And pick up trash.”
Pandora closed her eyes. “Must I?”
“It’s up to you.”
They continued walking as Pandora stewed.
“What’s your problem, Pandora? It seems to me that if you’re studying marine and wind energy, you might want to know a little bit about what species you’re directly affecting, up close and personal. And, uh, that would include turtles.”
“A sound argument… but hardly convincing. I’m thinking on a bigger scale. Like the planet. Climate change. Government policy. I’m not really into field work. And keep in mind, I might change my mind and go into fashion or some such.” She gave Linnea a teasing glance.
But Linnea didn’t want to make a joke of this. She pressed on. “Does it matter? We all share the planet. Whether you’re an engineer or a fashion model, you still must breathe the air, drink the water, and exist. We all live under the same sun and moon. One either cares or doesn’t. Which side are you on?”
“When you put it like that, of course I care. But do I want to get up early in the morning and look for tracks or pick up garbage?” She shook her head. “Not really. We all have to find ways to help in our own way.”
“Excuses…”
“I’ll tell you what,” Pandora said. “I’ll pick up trash a few times a week. Later in the morning. At a reasonable hour.” When she saw Linnea’s doubtful face she said, “I promise I’ll do it. I really do hate to see garbage strewn about on the beach that ends up in the ocean. It shocks me how people can be such bloody pigs. That and not picking up after their dogs.” She scrunched up her nose. “I’ve been known to shout to an offender, ‘Pick that shit up!’ ”
“And you say you’re studying politics?”
Pandora laughed loudly. “Touché! You see why I need a break. Seriously, Linnea, if I help you with trash, will you call me for a hatching? Just once?”
Linnea nodded. “Just once.”
“Excellent!” She raised her arm to point. “This way. That is my beach path.”
Pandora began winding her way up a narrow path, and an enormous, modern house came into view. It was the one Linnea had always thought was an eyesore on Sullivan’s Island.
“Look at that house,” she told Pandora. “It looks like it should be on the Jersey Shore. Or in the Hamptons. It doesn’t fit in next to all the other lowcountry designs. Ugh, who would build such a thing?”
An older woman appeared on the long deck of the blocky-looking house before a long row of sliding glass doors. She leaned over the sleek metal railing and waved her arm in an arc over her head.
“Yoo-hoo! Pandora!” The woman waved her in.
Linnea looked at Pandora, wide-eyed.
“Yeah, that beast is Granny James’s house.”
“Uh… your grandmother’s house?”
Now it was Pandora’s chance to smirk. “She’s technically my great aunt, but I call her Granny James. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
* * *
INSIDE THE IMPRESSIVE house, everything was white. White marble floors, white walls, white pillars, white furniture. Splashes of brilliant blue in curtains and pillows made Linnea think of pictures she’d seen of Santorini, Greece. It was stunning against the wall of plate-glass windows that revealed the bright blue of the ocean beyond.
Two elderly women were sitting at a small table in front of the windows, playing cards. Each wore a flowing caftan. One woman sat taller in her chair. Her white hair was pulled back in a chignon. The smaller woman was petite and birdlike, with red hair far too bright to be natural.
“My darling Pandora,” the small woman called out in singsong. She waved her closer. “You’re just in time for tea. And you brought a friend. How lovely.”
Linnea knew protocol. Leaving her plastic bag and sand-crusted sandals at the door, she followed Pandora toward the table, tucking her wayward hair back behind her ears. She looked a fright next to Pandora’s chic cover-up and bag.
“Granny James, this is my new friend, Linnea.” She glanced at Linnea with a troubled brow. “Well, this is bonkers. I don’t know your last name.”
“Rutledge,” Linnea said, reaching out to accept Granny’s hand with practiced grace. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Granny James’s pale-blue eyes swept over Linnea in a shrewd perusal tha
t left Linnea feeling that she’d come out wanting. Granny James extended her arm to indicate the woman beside her, her several bangles clanging.
“And this is my friend, Mrs. Marietta Muir.”
Mrs. Muir extended her hand. This woman’s eyes were as bright and blue as the sea on a sunny day. “Rutledge…” Marietta said to Linnea as they shook hands. “I know several Rutledges. Which branch of the family are you connected to?”
Linnea lifted her chin a tad higher with pride. “My father is Palmer Rutledge. He’s the son of Stratton and Olivia Rutledge, of Tradd Street?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Muir’s smile brightened with recognition. “Your father was a friend of my son, Parker. If I recall, your father was one of Parker’s surfing buddies back in the day. Your daddy used to come to Sea Breeze all the time.” Her smile slipped. “The islands haven’t been the same since dear Olivia passed.”
“Thank you. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of her, especially now that I’m back.”
“Your grandmother and I spent many a summer afternoon together when we were young mothers. Olivia was involved in turtles, wasn’t she?”
“Yes, ma’am. She started the first team here.”
“And your father? Palmer? How is he doing?”
“My daddy just sold the house on Tradd Street and moved to Sullivan’s permanently. He’s building a house.”
“I understand that temptation. My husband and I left the city decades ago when he retired. I have never regretted a moment of that decision. Goodness, that was a long time ago. Tempus fugit,” Mrs. Muir said.
“Do sit down, girls,” Granny James said, easing the impasse.
“I’m parched. Ladies, can I get you something?” asked Pandora. Then, glancing at the table, she smiled knowingly. “Or perhaps refresh your beverages?”
Granny James turned to her friend. “What about you, old girl,” she said in a teasing tone. “Want some tea?”
Marietta wrinkled her nose. “I thought you said a beverage.” She picked up her tall glass and jiggled the ice. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of a fresher-upper.”
“What’s your poison?” asked Pandora.
“Gin and tonic, please.”
On Ocean Boulevard Page 11
