by Les Goodrich
Harvey turned left and they descended suddenly down a pebbled path like a runaway sled. Harvey stood on the coaster brakes, Dolph held on for dear life and they slid all the way down. The boys, barely in control and followed by a shovel’s worth of gravel, rolled out onto a pitifully paved road that ran parallel to the right of the shore. They coasted for a moment then Harvey stood and peddled again striving to keep up their newly gained speed. A girl walked along the roadside coming toward them. She was an island girl wearing a hand-dyed dress, shoeless with flowers in her hand, dark skin and her hair bleached golden from sunlight fell around her shoulders in tight curls that swung with each step and brushed her cheeks as she looked down and walked. She wore an innocent beauty as comfortably as island silk and Dolph had a thought that she could probably fan embers into flames with one flirting turn of her stride. She looked up and waved as they passed.
“Who was that?” Dolph asked urgently trying to look back.
“Dat’s Sharon, Brotha. She live in dat house right dere,” Harvey looked then Dolph as they coasted past a yellow house with green shutters. An older woman leaned out from one of the windows under a roped open green shutter hinged at the top and talked to another older woman leaning from a similar window in the wall of the house across the low concrete wall between them. Both houses faced the ocean and children played on the beach in front of them but whether the children belonged to the houses or not was unclear to Dolph and he glanced back to glimpse Sharon again before the rambling bike curved away with the road.
“You in love already?” Harvey asked teasingly.
“Too soon to tell,” Dolph replied.
“Never!” Harvey yelled. “Never too soon to fall in love!” He yelled louder and the two of them laughed as loudly as they could.
They rode the beachside pass for a few more minutes and passed similar houses and a small hotel. Plant life became more frequent on their left until the ocean was just scattered glimpses of blue through the trees. Harvey slowed and turned left down a drive that wove back toward the water. “Dis is it,” he said and they slowed to a stop at the door of a small wooden cottage on low stilts that put the floor a level three feet above the ground. The wood was not painted but held the soft sheen of driftwood that looked a bleached or sanded pewter. It was situated under the edge of a tree line and thereby sheltered from the sun. The dunes it sat behind put the wind at face level. Steps led up to a narrow porch that ran the house’s width across the front elevation where a door separated two windows. Dolph went in after Harvey.
The inside was one open room with two beds and a bookshelf along the right wall, a gas stove, sink, refrigerator and countertop along the left. In the center was a square table with four chairs. The back wall had two windows and a door like the front. Across the back wall was a loft that ran the home’s width and extended maybe five feet toward the front and a ladder leaned against it on the right end but nothing appeared to be up there but the bare wood of the loft. Above that and in the building’s center Dolph noticed a cupola with a rigging of block and tackle that looked to open the four sides by the line tied to a cleat at the edge of the loft. As he looked up Harvey spoke.
“Open dat when you want and close it when you want but if a storm come it gotta be locked down from outside. I tink dat same ladder reach da roof from da one high side outdoors.”
“How do I know if a storm is coming?”
“Come here I’ll show you,” Harvey answered and walked outside with Dolph behind.
“You see that tree right there?” Harvey spoke in a more official manner.
“Yeah.”
“If it’s moving that means the wind blowing. If it moves a lot, more wind. If it’s wet it’s raining. If it’s all dat at once then a storm coming so climb up and lock dem door. Okay?”
“Very funny.”
“Haha yeah Mon. How da hell do I know. Ask da weather man or some shit. But seriously don’t worry now. If it’s gonna be rockin, you’ll know.”
“Alright.”
“Alright. I’ll come by tomorrow,” Harvey said. “Take you to town to buy some food. Maybe after dat we go fishin.”
Dolph nodded glad to have a new friend. “Do you have a boat?”
“You know how to row?”
“Yeah,” Dolph laughed and Harvey left him.
Dolph looked around at his new home. He sat on the bed and flipped through a book. He looked in his empty refrigerator (it reminded him of Colin’s). He turned on his stove and lit a cigarette from it. He walked out his back door and surveyed his small wooden porch. He sat in one of his two wooden patio chairs and put his feet up on the low table between them. A plane flew overhead by the sound of it but Dolph could not spot it through the trees and he realized that the plane probably could not see his house either and whether that was by design or not he was glad for it. He realized that the unpainted house was the color of the Australian Pine trunks and the pine needles that collected and covered a few spots on the roof probably blended with the piles here and there on the ground and he felt that all of it made the place hidden from above and the shaky road in added to the spot being isolated and he thought it was a good setup for all of those reasons.
He took off his shirt and jeans, ran down to the beach in his boxers and went for a swim in his ocean. He melted into it and he was the ocean and it held and swayed him as his feet barely touched then lifted from the soft white sand below. His eyes looked up as his head tilted back and the sky was like the blue water and he was more than surrounded by both of them: he was loved by them. He knew that he was a cell in the blood of the Earth and the Earth was a cell in the blood of space and he knew if he died right then that he would feel no pain because all things were alive and dead at once and for the first time in his life he had no thought in his mind and salt water tears ran from his eyes to become both utterly insignificant in the immense salt sea as they disappeared into it, and impossibly powerful as each became an undeniable part of that near-infinite body of water that covered the majority of the Earth and held suspended one of her children as safe as a child in the womb and as vulnerable as the naked foreigner he ultimately was, drifting among the unseen predators that called this sea home.
***
One week later to the day Dolph awoke at seven-thirty in the morning. The windows were open and a steady ocean breeze raced through his cottage. There was optimism about the island days and it caused him to celebrate each morning with simple hopes. He had only been there a short while but was quickly coming to terms with what his new life there might be. Harvey had taken him shopping at the waterfront markets where they haggled like brokers for pineapples and conch. They had not gone fishing but Harvey said they waited for the wind to leave and that the ocean was not going anywhere. They would fish soon. Dolph got out of bed and wondered if they might fish today but thought better of it as he felt the steady wind pass through his house. Maybe tomorrow. He washed his face and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt then walked down the dune path to a shore side bar at the hotel. The bar was small and he could see it for a good two minutes from a spot where the path straightened as he walked with some effort through the loose sand and gave a glance every so many steps up to the bar to see if anyone was around yet. As he drew closer he looked up once more and studied the little building made mostly of driftwood or bleached and weathered lumber and the windows on all four sides were like the wooden hatches of his cupola, held open by ropes and pulleys and tied off at cleats here and there. A local woman in a blue flowered dress was washing glasses left from the night before. She and Dolph seemed to be the only people awake at the hotel and Dolph thought maybe on the whole island.
“What’s for breakfast?” Dolph asked.
“Fish’n rice,” she said in her exquisite accent. “And they makin’ Johnny Cakes wit dat I believe.”
Dolph beamed and knew he was in Heaven. “And a rum Bloody Mary with that if you would be so kind.”
“And a gentleman has landed on this island,
” she smiled and began to make the drink.
Dolph smiled back and thought about the girl he had seen walking on his first day one week ago. He wondered about Colin and pondered the possibility that he had been caught. He tried to imagine where Colin was and if he had gotten in over his head dealing with Sonzo or if some other calamity had befallen him and then he cleared his mind and pictured his friend there with him and somehow he knew that to have more truth in it. Dolph reflected on all that they had gone through and considered the insanity and the reactions and solutions and close calls and in light of their summary he reveled in the fact that he was still alive. He recognized that feeling as a newborn child in the life of his mind and he understood, for the first time, what it meant to be grateful. How miniscule a speck on the Earth’s surface was his little island, yet to him it was infinite. Boundless. He had arrived at a new locus. He hoped his friend could join him. He hoped he was not in some jailhouse waiting for a lawyer.
He tried to think of something else and he smiled when he asked himself if Colin would be able to find a girl in paradise. He pictured his friend years ahead, with a wife who loved him and beautiful island-born children who would grow up with the same truthfulness and self-worth that Harvey seemed to have. Dolph spun his barstool seat around to watch the Sun rise from the sea. The fierce edge of that burning globe arrived silently at the horizon like an alien craft on fire and it dyed the glassy water orange and gold and the violet sky melted into it. The water reflected the blazing atmosphere in streaking warm colors too otherworldly to imagine or believe and the wind was crimson and looked as if you could stand and touch it, which he did. He stepped upon the glowing sand with reverence and breathed deep the burning amber morning under tangerine clouds.
“Here mon,” the barmaid’s voice pulled him back to the ground and he turned to watch her glowing sunrise-streaked smiling face slide his drink and wooden bowl of food across the blue mosaic tiled bar top. “You want some sour wit dat?”
“I’m sorry, what was that you said?”
“Lemon boy. You want some lemon?”
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.
She turned to cut a lemon into slices and with her back to him said, “Your name is Lowell.”
“Yes,” he said, a bit curious but not worried.
Although he suffered no delusions about the degree to which he blended he had never felt safer or more at home and then he recalled crashing a dirtbike as a kid seconds after feeling in control of that damn thing for the first time so he instantly thought deeper of her comment and found himself looking around at the path to the bar and the beach behind him and the sunrise colors were suddenly gone and he did wonder how she knew his name, small island or not.
“Dis come from a friend,” she said handing him a clear glass plate with the cut lemons and an envelope on it. She wiped her hands on a towel and left to carry a tray of empty bottles up to the hotel. The envelope was addressed simply to Lowell Forester and Dolph quickly tore it open and read the typed paragraphs.
Dear Mr. Forester:
Knowing you to be someone who likes to keep abreast of current events, and finding yourself in an area remote of many modern news sources, I thought you might enjoy some news from home. I thought you would like to know that no evidence exists lo link anyone to a missing Carl J. Marcus. I am confident that nothing will happen to change that. Also the local police no longer have any leads concerning the men who robbed those boats in Fort Lauderdale some time ago. What a story that was! They are equally lacking information on the two men who beat a charter boat captain to his subsequent death in Miami a few weeks ago. Nor do the Federal agents have any information on the two men who fled the scene of some unfortunate counterfeit-deal-gone-bad as the papers put it. So those are the major headlines around here and on a lighter note Danny Campbell who is an eighteen year old kid from your same high school earned his PGA card and will begin playing professional golf before going to college which has everyone in an uproar around here because they see it going the way of basketball.
I hope your new home is satisfactory. In time you will set up a travel agency and move into a more suitable home. I am sure you are financially secure for now. I am also sure that you will meet my pilot at five in the morning tomorrow. Bring passport and clothes for four days. When Mr. Flint arrives please inform him as well as he is to accompany you. I’m sure you would agree that a true friend is an asset.
You will land in Cartagena tomorrow afternoon. There will be a vehicle waiting. Follow the directions in the glove compartment to the Hotel De Colombia. There you will meet with a man named Antonio Sanchez. He will ask you to drive him to his home in the country to finalize a prearranged business transaction. You will drive, Mr. Sanchez will ride in the front passenger seat and your friend Mr. Flint shall ride in the back. You are my guests there and, as such, have nothing to fear. Follow his directions for precisely two hours of drive time then from the back seat and with the hardware behind the armrest, Mr. Flint is to fire two shots into the head of your passenger. Stop the vehicle at that point and instruct Mr. Flint to fire a third round into the chest of the passenger. Leave the vehicle in the road and walk back the way you came until you come to a side road. Follow that road to a barn where a second identical vehicle awaits for your drive back to the hotel. Stay in the hotel for two days, go fishing like tourists then fly back to Barbados.
You have my confidence and I trust your judgment. Beyond friendship is a greater commitment and bond that lasts forever. Family. Burn this letter on the bar wood grill smoldering around back and if you try to leave without doing so this will be your last day alive. That aside I wish you the best and look forward to seeing you soon.
***
Dolph picked up the spoon and tapped it on the wooden bowl a few times then took a big bite of the fish and rice. He tasted it completely and looked around but saw no one. He squeezed some lemon onto the concoction and took another bite. Perfect, he thought and got up, walked around to the back of the building and held the letter up to sort of show it around. To whom he did not know but he showed it clearly nonetheless, then burned it on the smoking coals. He watched the paper brown, curl, then erupt into fire and he thought about the Sun that had given its burning energy to grow the trees for that paper. As the page burned he knew that its flame was a relic of sunfire and that he was seeing the very Sun being reborn from the tree and paper it had died into and he felt that he too had been reborn but to how authentic of a life he did not know. What he did know was that he was relentless and crafty beyond what any gangster might imagine and that it might take a year and it might take a lifetime but that one bright morning he would be free from this indenture and he smiled knowing it to be a perfectly true fact.
He was, however, a bit surprised at himself for not seeing this coming. After all Sonzo was in a perfect position to blackmail them. He knew everything about them that no one else could ever find out. All they really knew about him was that he owned a vacant warehouse, some apartment buildings and a fish restaurant. One word to Colin, Dolph thought, and they would be on a plane to go kill someone alright but it would not be some Antonio Sanchez in Colombia.
Dolph looked up to watch a man walking down the path from the hotel to the bar. His shirt was the same blue flowered print material as the barmaid’s dress and it was obvious that he worked there too.
“Morning,” Dolph called to him as he came within hearing distance.
“Morning Mon. Whatcha doin ‘ere eatin already? Who gave you dat food?”
“The big lady who was just here. She had a blue dress the same like your shirt and short hair. Smiley.” Dolph continued eating.
“Dere is no woman like dat working ‘ere Mon.”
“Well, that figures,” Dolph said nearly to himself then took a big sip of his drink.”
“And you paid her for da food?”
“No.”
“No harm done then. Look like dis mystery woman covered my bein’ late and I think she washed some di
shes to boot,” the barman said looking around.
“She did.”
“Well I’ll drink to that,” the man said and looked at Dolph’s drink and began making a shaker of two of what he was having. “A Bloody Mary right My Man?”
“With rum though,” Dolph injected between bites and the bartender laughed and said, “Now you are speakin’ my language!” and he followed through mixing and pouring two drinks.
Dolph noticed a familiar figure walking with that soft sand effort along the dune path toward the bar. He knew it was Colin and he was as grateful as he had ever been to see him. Dolph laughed at how out of place Colin looked as he shuffled along in a white polo shirt and yellow shorts. Colin held a tan duffel bag in one hand and the hand of a girl in the other. By contrast the girl’s steps seemed to glide her easily along the sandy path. An island girl already Dolph thought.
“Hey Mon!” Colin yelled in the worst island accent. Dolph laughed and the bartender shook his head but smiled and just said, “Yanks,” then sipped his drink. Dolph watched the pair walk up to the bar. Colin came to hug Dolph and said, “Lowell,” out loud and whispered “Victor,” as they embraced.
“Victor old pal,” Dolph said studying the girl. “How are you old boy?”
“Peachy,” Colin said and he pushed the bag into Dolph’s chest breaking his attention from the girl who stood apart from them with her white dress swinging in the breeze that had stirred up.
“This is from Sonzo,” Colin said quietly, “for your help with Carl.”
Dolph felt the weight of the bag and nodded; he knew it was full of hundreds. He also knew it was less payment and more reminder. He thought immediately that if was enough to pay off Sonzo’s pilot they might get out of this yet, or at least make one last jump for it. Then he looked questioningly at Colin about the girl. He would normally be curious about his buddy with such a beautiful girl but after Sonzo’s letter and the vanishing barmaid he was downright suspicious. He turned his eyes to hers and she smiled shyly and turned away to stare out at the ocean.
