Mayhem in Myrtle Beach

by T. Lynn Ocean

  The urn was a beautiful piece of sculpture, beyond a simple holding place for ashes. It rested on a pedestal located on the ship’s bow, held down by some fancy rope knots. Similar to a sculpture, it was made of cast bronze with an aqua blue overlay. Three solid brass dolphins playfully encircled the sculpture in various stages of a jump. The lid’s handle was molded in the shape of spongy coral and was overlaid with a shiny orange enamel. An understated gold nameplate at the base of the piece was engraved simply, ‘Willie’.

  The seniors forgot about their typical cliques of familiars and made a point to mingle and speak with everyone aboard. They reminded Sherwood of a bevy of popular socialites, trying to outscore each other at a luncheon. The pervading mood was celebrant—not depressed mourning. It was more like acceptance and peace. And friendship.

  Sherwood and Freddy stood basting in the early morning sunshine on the ship’s bow. Despite their plans to make love all night, they’d made love just once after Freddy sneaked into her room. Afterward, like two contented cats with long limbs entwined, they fell into a deep sleep almost instantly. They awakened early, went for a sunrise walk on the beach, and now couldn’t keep the happiness off their faces. Or keep their hands off each other, despite the fact that they were at a memorial service.

  Though the youngest passengers in the group, they felt like proud parents. Not caring if anyone saw them, Freddy put an arm around Sherwood and pulled her tightly to him. She smiled, silently grateful that he was there with her through the entire past week. She wasn’t sure she could have handled things without him. Not to mention the lightning bolt of awareness that had shocked her out of her self-induced pity party.

  On the deck below caterers were preparing a buffet of stuffed mushrooms, lobster in a sherry cream sauce, spinach quiche, cheese crepes, beef Wellington, crisp steamed vegetables in a dill lemon glaze, and fresh fruits including kiwi, strawberries, and an assortment of melons. A champagne fountain rested on another table, surrounded by long-stemmed crystal flutes. On another table, a bartender had set up the necessary liquors and mixers to serve bloody marys, screwdrivers, and mimosas. Next to the makeshift bar, a round dessert table held chocolate-dipped, Amaretto-filled strawberries, rum balls, and a giant caramel cheesecake.

  Although it was only ten o’clock in the morning, Smith and Mrs. Storrey headed to the deck below and returned with bloody marys. The etiquette ice broken, several seniors quickly followed to retrieve drinks. By ten-forty-five, the ship had reached the deep coastal waters of the Atlantic Ocean and most everyone, including Sherwood and Freddy, held a drink in one hand. Jovial, the atmosphere was approaching that of a New Orleans style wake.

  “I’m so glad to have finally met you, even if it took an out of town bus trip and Willie’s tragedy to do it,” Mrs. Storrey said to two of her new friends, Maxine and Rose. “We are going to have to go shopping when we get back. And, Maxine, you will look fabulous in that blue suit of mine. I can’t wait to see it on you!”

  Mrs. Storrey had promised a newly bought suit to Maxine. It didn’t fit her properly and she hated to just let it hang in her closet. In return, Maxine had promised some cuttings from her beloved rubber tree. She planned to teach Mrs. Storrey how to root them so they would grow into beautiful ten-foot tall plants. Rose interjected that they should plan a paperback book swap party when they returned to Great Wings. Mrs. Storrey and Maxine agreed that it sounded like a great plan.

  Jack was at the bar talking to his new friend, Ralph. When Ralph discovered that Jack enjoyed to bass fish, he told him about the bass boat that he had in storage and asked if Jack would be interested in helping him to repair it. Jack wholeheartedly agreed and soon the two men had set a date to go fishing in the yet-to-be-repaired boat.

  Ethyl rested in a lounge chair next to her newly-discovered neighbor, Evonne. Evonne’s hobby was needlepoint and as it turned out, she lived only two buildings up from Ethyl. Ethyl could crochet and knit, but had never tried her hand at needlepoint. The women decided to trade skills. Happy to make a new friend, Evonne thought that Ethyl Froogin probably wasn’t as bad as everyone said. She just had a strong personality, was all. Ethyl adjusted her magnetic wristbands, flipped the clip-on shade lenses down over her glasses and popped another Dramamine just to be sure she wouldn’t get motion sickness. As an afterthought, she offered one to Evonne.

  Mabel, Gretta, and Eunice sat at a table in the ship’s dining area. The three women swapped recipes and drank orange juice spiked with champagne between bites of fresh fruit. All three felt stylish in oversized sunglasses.

  “Now what’s in it again?” Mabel asked Eunice.

  “Oh, it’s so simple!” Eunice declared. “Cream cheese, but it has to be the Philadelphia Cream cheese brand. Chopped up green olives with pimentos, sliced ham, pineapple, and fresh parsley. That’s it. Then you spread in on flour tortillas, roll them up, and slice them. Put a pineapple piece on a toothpick and spear each piece with it. I swear, at parties, they are always the first thing to go!”

  “My daughter-in-law is a great cook.” Gretta swiped her phone screen a few times. “She keeps You want to see a picture of my grandson?”

  “What a handsome young man,” Eunice said.

  “Gets his looks from my son,” Gretta bragged.

  “Speaking of handsome, have I got the man for you,” Eunice declared. “He lost his wife about two years ago and it’s time for him to start dating. He’s healthy and still has his hair. Most of it. He knows how to square dance. Plus he drives a brand new Cadillac. What more could you want?”

  “Why don’t you go after him?” Mabel asked her new friend.

  “He’s my brother.”

  “So, what’s his favorite dish?” Gretta asked coyly peering up through low-hung bifocals. She had gained a family yesterday in Charleston. Maybe it was time for a boyfriend, too.

  ***

  Smith caught Sylvia’s attention from across the ship and motioned for her to follow him. He was unusually happy. The past two days with the vivacious woman were a dream and he wondered if he had fallen in love. Impossible, he thought. I’m too old. Upon reflection, he’d enjoyed Sylvia’s company ever since they’d met at Great Wings, even though he always acted as though she were an annoyance rather than an attractive, sexy woman. With whom he could fall for. Hard.

  “Hi there, Handsome,” Mrs. Storrey said when she caught up with him on the upper deck.

  “I, uh, just wanted to see you, Sylvia. I mean, I needed... to be with you. Oh, God, I’m stuttering. Do you realize I haven’t stuttered since I first fell in love with my wife some forty years ago?”

  “How flattering, Smith.” Mrs. Storrey stretched her arms around his neck and hugged him. “You can stutter to me anytime.”

  “This feels good. You feel good. Christ, I feel good.”

  They embraced for a moment then stood watching two small boys playing on the other side of the deck. The boys were about three years old and identical twins. Each was dressed in plaid shorts, a long sleeve shirt, and a lifejacket. The boat captain kept a steady watch on them with the protective eye of a watchful father. Upon closer examination, Mrs. Storrey noted that the boys were miniature versions of their father with golden blond hair, deep olive skin, and blue eyes.

  “Aren’t they cute, Smith?” Mrs. Storrey said.

  “Yeah, about as cute as loud, dirty, snotty-nosed kids can get,” he said.

  The boys appeared to be arguing about something. Pretending not to pay attention to them, Smith and Mrs. Storrey strained to hear their conversation.

  “You ask him,” one boy demanded.

  “No, you ask him,” his twin replied.

  “Let’s both go,” they agreed in unison and coyly approached Smith. They stared at him with wide eyes for several long seconds.

  “Yes?” smith growled.

  One of the twins took a step backward, but the braver of the two boldly squinted up at Smith. “Are you the man that died?”

  A giggle escaped from Mrs. S
torrey as she tried to suppress the laughter that welled up in her. The twin boys understood their daddy was taking the boat out because someone had died. They just didn’t know who.

  “No, son,” Smith managed. “I just look dead.”

  Mrs. Storrey doubled over with silent laughing.

  “I told you it wasn’t him!” The twins darted off.

  Unable to contain it, she burst out laughing. Smith tried his best to look horribly offended.

  “Darling,” she said slyly, “I can personally attest to the fact that you are far from dead!

  “Snotty little tikes,” Smith mumbled to the boys’ retreating backs.

  “Better get used to them, Smith. If we’re going to live together when we get back to Virginia, you’ll have to put up with lots of loud, dirty, snotty-nosed kids. I’ve got a whole clan of great-grandchildren!”

  Smith’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Had he heard correctly? Live with Sylvia?

  He eyed her, running a hand through his hair.

  “Several husbands will do that for you,” she explained. “Lots of extended family.”

  The thought of living with the neighbor he’d disliked for years was absurd. He couldn’t help but to smile. He was pleased. Immensely pleased. After all, tomorrow was promised to no one. Smith could already envision Sylvia’s lingerie hanging in their bathroom and the scent of her fragrance on their sheets. He’d bitch like hell about all her girly stuff. But really, he wouldn’t mind a bit.

  ***

  At eleven-thirty, Pastor Mullings asked Freddy to gather everyone for the service. He and Sherwood set about their task and within ten minutes had the group gathered on the ship’s bow. The Great Wingers had respectfully left their drinks behind. Celebrating one’s passing into the afterlife was one thing, but to drink during the service was another. They had to draw the line somewhere.

  Brad, the Great Wings maintenance man, had flown to Myrtle Beach on the same flight as Willie’s attorney. They’d chatted during the short flight, and although Brad was nervous about speaking in front of a group, Wilson Lloyd had convinced him that it would be the right thing to do.

  Surprised that he was so calm, Brad stepped behind the podium to speak first.

  “Um, you all know me, of course. And, I’d like to speak to you briefly because I got to know Willie quite well since he moved into Great Wings. The first thing I remember about him,” Brad said with a grin, “is that he told me I didn’t have to call him Mr. Candler, that Willie would do just fine. Then, he crawled under the sink right along with me to help replace the faucet. After that we drank a few beers together and I’ve never felt so comfortable with a resident. It was almost like… I was sitting there with my dad. And since then, I knew that I could always go to Willie if I needed advice on something. Which I did. Several times, in fact.”

  A balloon of positive murmurs floated up from the ship and whisked away with the offshore winds.

  Brad shuffled his feet, uncomfortable in front of a crowd, but thinking of Willie. “I’m going to terribly miss a man whom I considered to be a role model. And—this may sound odd—but I want you all to know that Willie moved to Great Wings because of you guys. All the retirees that were good people… people he wanted to become friends with. That’s what he told me. He said he was way better with business deals than with personal relationships, and that his wife used to handle all the social stuff. But then she was gone, and he didn’t know what to do, other than work.”

  The Ocean Annie hit a soft swell and everyone braced for the slight jolt. Several arms moved out to steady each other.

  Brad paused for a minute and shuffled his weight again. “He thought he’d meet some cool people here—or I mean, at Great Wings. Anyhow, I talked him into signing up for the bus trip and I think he was actually looking forward to it. He even dipped into his savings to buy some new shirts.”

  That brought a collective chuckle.

  “I guess that’s about it. Just please remember Mister Willie for the man that you have discovered him to be, even though you didn’t know him before he died. Thank you.” With a sigh of relief from his first ever public speaking endeavor, Brad stepped aside to make way for the doctor.

  Doctor Stanford Norman had flown in from Raleigh with his wife. He tried not to think about how much he was going to miss his best friend and wanted to say something that would benefit Willie’s neighbors. With damp eyes but a strong voice, he spoke next.

  “As you may know, I have been asked to speak to you not as Willie’s doctor, but as his best friend. And knowing Willie, I will keep this very short, as he was not one for long dialogues. We first met in the service. We quickly became buddies. I was the best man at his wedding… it was an incredible morning with a vivid sunrise when he was married on the beach by our army chaplain.

  “Her name was Jenna Louise and she was the kind of wife that was all-encompassing to Willie. Best friend, business partner, lover. He told me that they were soul mates.” The doctor paused to collect his thoughts and make eye contact with the assembly of faces studying him. Several couples glanced at each other, thinking simultaneously that they were also soul mates.

  “After Jenna Louise was killed in an accident, Willie devoted himself to work. He didn’t know how to develop friendships. Business contacts, sure. People wanting to associate with him because of his money, of course. But no real friends – and the irony of this is that Willie had so much to offer in the way of a friendship. He would have given anyone his time, his help, or the shirt off his back.”

  Doctor Norman smiled at all the strange faces. “After retirement, being a man of action, he bought some properties to divide his time. The real estate agents convinced him they were active communities. But, still, it didn’t happen—the social life, I mean. I loved that man, but I’ll the first to admit that he was a reclusive, stubborn ass. Yet, still all it would have taken to break down that wall would have been a little effort on the part of his neighbors. All of you.” There were a few raised eyebrows, and faces that revealed a mixture of understanding and indignity. A few tried to figure out if they’d just been insulted.

  “Please don’t take my message in the wrong way. I’m not a master of words but I’m telling you this so that perhaps Willie can accomplish in his death what he was unable to do during his life. Develop friendships.” The doctor looked from face to face, outlined by gentle swells of ocean. “If we all think about it – myself included—I’m sure everyone can come up with at least one person who lives nearby but never participates.” Several heads nodded in agreement.

  “Maybe these people are like Willie was. Maybe they just need a little prodding. A little concentrated effort at inclusion. A phone call once in a while. An invitation to serve on a committee. One of those awful fruit cakes at Christmas time.” There were a few chuckles.

  Doc Norman referenced a small index card before pocketing it. “I’d like to leave you with two thoughts today. One, Willie was unquestionably one of the most successful businessmen on the entire coast. But more importantly he was the most kind-hearted and generous man I’ve ever known. And two, Willie could negotiate multi-million dollar real estate transactions in his sleep. But he had trouble making friends. So it is my request, in Willie’s memory, that those of you who are blessed with outgoing personalities take the initiative to seek out those less fortunate in that regard.”

  “Right on!” somebody said.

  “Absolutely,” another voiced.

  The doctor wrapped it up by thanking his audience for their participation.

  In the quiet after Stanford Norman’s eulogy, Sherwood wanted to clap her hands. Just as she decided it wouldn’t be appropriate to clap at a memorial service, Gus loudly clapped his hands, Maggie followed, and soon fifty pairs of hands were clapping.

  Deciding that it was going to be a most unusual day, Pastor Mullins stepped up to the podium. The pastor was of the Charismatic faith and had dressed in a suit and tie rather than the typical clergyman’s collar and
robe. He radiated an aura of peaceful energy and spoke with a deep baritone voice that could have belonged to a television anchorman.

  “We are gathered here today, on the Ocean Annie, to carry out a man’s wishes upon his unexpected passing. A man who left behind no immediate family, but many friends of the Great Wings community. It is clear that Willie’s goodness was reflected in his earthly nature. How often does a wealthy man consciously choose to live in a modest dwelling rather than a mansion? And how often does a man think of giving something beautiful to other men—men who have only seen violence, hate, and filth? Those are a few examples. I’ve been told that your neighbor gave away approximately thirty-two million dollars. Thirty-two million dollars.” The pastor’s hands rose, palms spread outward and time stood still. Even the seagulls were momentarily quiet.

  “Yes, Willie’s goodness was reflected in his earthly nature. And now, you can be comforted by the fact that he is enjoying the goodness of the Lord in God’s presence. Perhaps we were not fully aware of Willie’s nature during his life, but that goodness is well understood now and will be passed on to many others in Willie’s memory.

  “Folks, I read from Corinthians, 5:8. We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord. And in reading Corinthians, 4:18 we come to realize that what a man is and believes in is more potent than what others see in him. While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.”