by Winton, Tom
“I got this round,” Jackie told Pa as he tossed a twenty on the bar. Pa left it there for the time being and then went on. “Bottom line was Topper just had to pay a fifteen-hundred-dollar fine and then only for the lot that the one guy complained about. There was no further action taken on the dozens of others he’d cleared.”
“Yupper,” I said, “the grand-and-a-half he had to pay was just a little overhead, an operating expense.”
Still looking at me, Pa then managed a small smile and said, “You know son, I think you’re gonna fit in just fine here.” Then he paused for a second and held up a thick index finger. He shook it a few times, as he said in a kind, good-natured tone, “Just don’t be callin’ me Mister Bell anymore. Okay? Call me Pa.”
I stayed for one more beer and listened as the guys continued to discuss what action they might take at the August 19th hearing. There weren’t many options. The best they could come up with was to march into the meeting and put up as much resistance as possible. They all knew the prognosis for Flagler’s Key was not favorable. They also knew they’d be listened to in Key West, but not heard. The businessmen would get to the courthouse early, with their entourage of friends, and take up most of the seats. The handful of folks from Wrecker’s Key would be made to look like nothing more than a handful of disgruntled misfits.
As I sat at the bar with these men I couldn’t help but feel myself bonding to them and to their cause. Pa and Jackie may not have been overly educated men but, like Fred Sampson, they were very insightful and had a strong sense of integrity. They weren’t about to let wrong trample all over right, not without putting up some kind of a fight anyway. But as much as I’d taken a liking to them and to Wrecker’s Key, I had no plans on getting involved with their efforts to prevent Flagler’s Key from being developed. Sure, I was all for their cause, but I already had more than enough on my plate. And as the conversation wore on, my mind eventually went off on its own – stopping at a helping on my plate that I knew all too well was going to take a long, long time to digest.
Crystal clear images of Wendy’s face again started rolling through my mind. And as I studied each one closely, they were all shrouded with dark doubts. I doubted I would ever truly fit in on the small island or, for that matter, anywhere else. Sitting there on that barstool, thinking about my estranged wife, the home we had, and the life we’d once shared hurt me deeply. And as if that wasn’t enough, I seriously began to doubt that I would ever be capable of loving again. After the way Wendy had betrayed me, how could I? How was I ever going to trust another woman again, let alone love her? Ever since our breakup, my past, present, and future problems had churned over and over again in my mind – abrading my spirit like so many grains of sand in a roiling surf. Oh sure, there had been other times since my previous birthday that I’d been at ease. Times like the first hour I’d spent in Barnacle Bell’s that afternoon and the day before, when I’d walked through Ernest Hemingway’s house. But those moments of contentment were always short-lived. They never lasted. For the most part, ever since that first moment when I realized my wife had been unfaithful, I had steadily felt my mind eating away at itself. There was no way I could stop it.
Chapter 9
As the magenta Florida sun rose from the far edge of the Atlantic the next morning, I prepared to go jogging. And the very first thought I had when I stepped outside was how fortunate I was that Julie’s place was on the other side of my trailer. She very well could be out on her porch, drinking coffee. With what had taken place between us, and with everything else I had on my mind, the last thing I wanted to do so early in the morning was to make small talk. Loping along slowly at first, I headed in the opposite direction.
Just a few trailers down, I waved hello to an elderly couple who’d been tending their small garden. I didn’t know them from Adam, but they waved back to me and smiled. Being the new kid on the block so to speak, I was certain they’d already heard all about me. At the time I didn’t know their names were Ethel and Mordecai Cromarty nor that they were from Golden, Colorado, and had been married fifty-nine years. Short as they both were, when I passed by I couldn’t help thinking how they looked like two happy little leprechauns.
Two trailers up from the Cromarty’s place the Moon family was also outside. Horatio Moon was a quiet, fragile man, with shoulder-length, gun-metal hair. His wife, Eunice, put me in mind of the female half of the duet who’d sung at Barnacle Bell’s two nights earlier. Eunice also parted her long hair in the middle, but she was very fond of ankle-length, paisley skirts and dresses. To see the Moons was like flashing back to 1969 Woodstock, whether you were old enough to be there or not. They lived with their six-year-old son, Joshua, in an aging, one-bedroom travel trailer with rainbow murals painted in a vivid spectrum of colors of each side of it. My hunch would later be substantiated when Pa tells me that Horatio had done the artwork himself. When I passed, the amiable couple also waved at me just before climbing into their old van.
I soon picked up my pace, jogged up the sandy road, made a left onto the narrow highway, and crossed over the Wrecker’s Key Bridge. When I got to the other side I glanced back at that yellow sign down by the water then went about another mile before pushing the whole way back to the trailer. Once there, I was just about to grab the doorknob and go inside when I heard a voice. It was Sissy’s. She was on the porch next door talking to Julie. I had left the small air conditioner running in my bedroom when I’d left, and low as they were speaking they surely must have thought I couldn’t hear them. Not with the steady hum of the AC between my bedroom and Julie’s porch. But they were wrong. I couldn’t quite make out what Sissy was saying, but I did hear her say my name. Then, like the lowest form of eavesdropper I was being, I slowly stepped around to the front of my trailer. Once there, I froze with my back to the aluminum structure like a deer in a headlight.
“What a creep he turned out to be,” I heard Sissy say. “And to think I thought he seemed like a nice guy!”
Then, with absolutely no malice in her tone, Julie said, “Don’t jump to conclusions and pass judgment so quickly, Sissy. Like I said before, you don’t know what happened. And, really, it wasn’t anything major.”
“I know you Julie, and I know somethin’s botherin’ you. Plus, I know he spent the night here. I saw him leaving yesterday mornin’, when I was goin’ to open up the store.”
“Certain things are personal, Sissy, and private things should remain that way. I’m not going to talk about it. But I will tell you this – it means an awful lot to me that you’re so concerned.”
There was a short pause at that point in the conversation. Still motionless, with the hot sun beating down me I figured they were looking at each other. Then Julie broke the silence saying, “And don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
“Well, I still don’t like him anymore.”
“Don’t say that. I know that deep inside he’s a decent and sensitive person. He’s just got things troubling him right now.”
“A lot of us had problems when we came down here,” Sissy came back. “I never told you this, but the day I left Indiana two years ago I was in my nightgown, bendin’ over, scopin’ out the refrigerator to see what I could get for breakfast. Well anyway, when I reached inside for the milk is when it happened. My father came up behind me and leaned up against my ass ... ”
“Oh my God, Sissy! No!”
“Yeah he did. He grabbed a hold of my breasts too.”
“What the hell did you do?”
“I let out a long, loud scream, turned around, and gave him an elbow, hard as I could right in the face. He let go then ... put his hand to his nose then saw blood all over his fingers. I was still a screamin’ and started to run for my room. My ma still was still in bed with one of her hangovers but when she heard all the hollerin’ she got up and came down the stairs. I didn’t make it that far. My sonofabitchin’ father dove and tackled me before I could even make it out of the kitchen. Well ... I went down hard, face fir
st on the floor. Put a dimple in the linoleum when I broke my tooth.”
“That bastard!”
“He sure is, but that wasn’t the end of it, Julie. Before I could get up he was on top a me – poundin’ away with both his fists. ’Bout that time my mother finally comes into the room. What do you think she says?”
“I don’t know. What?”
“She says, ‘What’s she done this time?’ Then my old man lies, ‘She told me to fuck myself when I said good mornin’ to ’er.’ He then gave me a couple more body shots, but he was all winded. They didn’t hurt all that much.”
“I am so, so sorry, Sissy. You told everybody here that you had to leave an abusive home, but I had no idea ....”
“Yeah, I know. I just never wanted to talk about it. Anyhow, once I broke away from his grip I ran up to my room, locked the door, jimmied a chair beneath the knob, dressed real quick like then climbed out the window with two pillowcases fulla clothes. I don’t think they called the cops or anything. They were probably afraid they’d get in trouble. Anyways, I beat heels down the road, hitchhiked to I-65 and headed straight to Florida. I coulda gone anywhere. But I wanted to be where it was warm.”
“That was awfully dangerous, Sissy – hitchhiking all the way down here.”
“Not as dangerous as stayin’ there was. Anyway, four days later, I rode into Key West in the back of a truck. I musta been somethin’ ta see – sitting up there real high on top of a load of watermelons.”
After a brief pause in their conversation, Sissy changed the subject by saying, “Come on Julie, you’ve gotta stay away from him.”
“Oh ... I think I will be staying away from him. I’m afraid I won’t be having any choice.”
“Whaddaya mean?”
“Let’s just say the reason he left so abruptly this morning was ... well, a physical thing.”
“Wait a minute! Do you mean he split because of your ....”
“Yes, my hand, Sissy. He left because of my ... my missing fingers.”
“So that’s why he’s avoiding you! What the hell makes him think he’s so perfect? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’re too damn good for him.”
“Sometimes things aren’t exactly as they seem, Sissy. Let’s just relax and take things as they come.”
Sissy then said, “I’ve gotta go. Gotta open the store in ten minutes. I’ll stop back over this afternoon.”
Quickly, I tiptoed back around the trailer and ducked inside – gently closing the door behind me. I was disgusted with myself. I knew better than ever that Julie was a very special person. And I was still deeply attracted to her. Despite what I had thought up to that point, I was now beginning to believe there just might be one more woman in the world who I could trust. For the rest of the morning and all that afternoon, I wrestled with that possibility. I also kept questioning whether or not I could ever accept Julie’s two flaws. Emotionally sapped by the time I went to bed, I was still grappling with myself. I turned and tossed and must have flipped that pillow over a dozen times before finally falling off to sleep. Even then I wasn’t at peace.
I dreamed it was my previous birthday again. Everything seemed so real. I had driven home through the snow after quitting my job, but there was no black Lexus parked in front of my house. When I went inside, Wendy was still in bed, fast asleep. I woke her and told her what had happened at Searcy’s. Seeing the concern tightening up my face she sat up in bed, patted the mattress, and said, “Sit down, Sonny.” I did. And she put her arms around my head. Pulling it next to hers – cheek to cheek, she whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll get through this. We always do.” She then reached beneath her pillow and pulled out two airline tickets to a tropical island. A short time later, after packing, we backed the van out of the driveway and headed slowly through the slush toward Kennedy Airport. We were only two houses past our place when I looked in the rearview mirror. Only then did Steve Silverman’s Lexus pulling up in front our house. I could see his face behind his windshield. He looked angry as all hell. I said nothing to Wendy. I just smiled.
Chapter 10
The days flashed by and before I realized it I’d been living in the Keys for almost a full month. The job at Big Time Bait and Tackle was going well and, as cheaply as I was living, I only had to dip into the money I’d come to Florida with a couple of times. Once time I had to buy extra gas for a trip up to Key Largo, the other time when I’d bought a set of secondhand weights at a flea market in Big Pine. It felt good to be working out once again. Three days a week I lifted alongside the trailer – and not the side facing Julie’s porch.
I only saw Julie a handful of times, always when she was coming or going in her VW. I well knew that she, too, was intentionally keeping plenty of distance between us. The few times we had seen each other we always put on the same forced smiles, gave a wave then went back about our business. Nevertheless, every time I saw that woman she still looked more stunning than the last. But isn’t that how it always works? When you’re deeply attracted to someone that you know you can’t have it always seems to add to their allure. Often I thought about our affair, and how I reacted to what I’d seen that morning. I still felt terrible about it, but I didn’t know what to do.
On one particular day I’d gotten a late start and had to work out in the afternoon. Never again would I do that. It was god-awful hot. By the time I finished I was all pumped-up alright, but sweating like a broiled chicken. I couldn’t wait to get back inside to the air conditioning but first I wanted to take a peek at myself in the side window of my van. After stacking the weights neatly and sliding them under the trailer, I walked around and took a quick glance at my reflection in the dark glass. Reasonably satisfied with what I saw, I was just about to turn around when I noticed Julie’s blue bug coming up the road. I couldn’t very well high-tail it back inside the trailer. Julie would know for sure what I was doing. Instead I just fooled with the luggage rack on top of the van until she pulled in next to her place.
I stepped around the back of the van and said, “Hi.” as she got out. Again she gave me the standard wave, with her right hand, and said, “Hello, Sonny. How are you?”
“I’m okay. Hot out isn’t it.”
“Sure is,” Julie came back. Then she turned and opened up the car’s trunk. I could see it was full of grocery bags. As she reached in and started grabbing at the plastic bags I approached her tentatively.
“Can I give you a hand?” I asked, unsure of what kind of response the friendly gesture would generate, hoping she wouldn’t just tell me to get lost.
“No thanks. I think I’m fine,” her voice came from inside the trunk. Standing alongside her by then I noticed her carefully curl the fingers of her left hand underneath one of the bags before straightening back up. Once she did, she tossed her head back in an unsuccessfully attempt to whisk away a long lock of raven hair that had fallen over her eyes. Small droplets of perspiration had risen from her forehead, and I thought she looked a bit jittery, maybe even perturbed.
“Please, Julie, I’d really like to help,” I said in a low, sincere voice.
She didn’t answer me right away. Instead she looked at my face and searched it – as if looking for clues. Then her eyes rested on mine, and I detected a hint of wariness when she said, “Well ... sure, if you want to.”
I hoisted the rest of the bags from the trunk, closed it then stepped ahead quickly to open the porch door for her. This wasn’t the first time I’d felt clumsy around Julie.
Over the previous few weeks I’d of course been thinking about Wendy a lot. But I’d just recently admitted to myself that what we had for so long was finally over. I knew I’d always have sentimental memories, that I’d take them to my grave. I also knew that, for the rest of my life, I’d continue to hurt from time to time. I had loved Wendy and loved her hard, but I could feel myself healing a little more each day. I knew my pain would never go away completely – that there would always be a void in my heart
and inside my soul. But the worst of it was now behind me.
After Julie unlocked the trailer door, I followed her inside. Her window-mounted air conditioner was laboriously humming and a welcome burst of arctic-like air greeted us both.
“You can put them over there, on the table,” Julie said, “How about a cold drink ... maybe a Gatorade?”
“Sure. That would really hit the spot”
“Let me just put these refrigerated things away. You might want to wait on the porch,” she said, turning away to put a small chicken in the freezer. “Perspiring the way you are you’ll catch a death of a cold in here. You get a Florida cold it’ll take forever to shake.”
During the long relentless throes of a tropical summer, the sun scorches, the air is dense and humid, and even the rain comes down hot. But when I went out on the porch like I was told to, it was actually comfortable out there. Sitting in the shade with a gentle new breeze coming in off the Gulfstream, I was just fine. Well, not really fine. I was nervous as hell again. Having a few moments to think about where a conversation with Julie might go certainly didn’t help. Would she bring up what had happened between us? Would I have to wiggle and make up lame excuses like I did the morning I left her alone in her bed? Suddenly I felt like kicking myself. I shouldn’t have agreed to come in and have a drink with her.
With Julie taking what seemed like an extra-long time inside, and me trying not to think about what was to come, I looked around at the panoramic view before me. Way off to the left, where the Gulf of Mexico met the sky, an enormous dark thunderhead looked as though it was boiling on the horizon. Gunmetal gray in color, laced pink by the late afternoon sun, I could hear the swelling cloud rumble in the distance. Not close enough to be of any concern, I then turned my attention across the aqua channel. A bumpy green line of mangrove trees bordered the entire shoreline of Flagler’s Key. Beyond them the island was dense with tall palms, some of their long spindly trunks bent in different directions. As I rolled my eyes along the wide stretch of land, I imagined it to be much like the place where Robinson Crusoe had been marooned. But when the Wrecker’s Key Bridge came into view my eyes stopped moving. Again, I tried to focus on the area where that yellow sign was planted.
