Island Life Sentence

by Carrie Jo Howe

  “I’m coming, Nipper. Don’t worry. No need for both of us to be worried.”

  Deep breath. You can do this.

  In order to remove the possibility of a vertical bisection, she morphed her body into a Quasimodo shape, and wrangled the tenacious suit back down to the inner tube of five minutes ago. Composing herself, she unraveled the rubbery roll until the straps became visible and she could stretch the bra cups over the proper inhabitants. Snap. Success.

  Feeling triumphant, she looked into the mirror.

  Rashy, pasty, hairy in the wrong places.

  And she had to pee.

  The Sand is Always Whiter…

  Peg paused to observe the vibrant purples and reds of the bougainvillea as she made her way to the beach. The outlines of the palm trees along the blue horizon formed postcard splendor. The water in the Gulf of Mexico had so many variations of color it reminded her of a chart on a paint wheel: shades like Mermaid Net, Salty Tear and Phantom Mist.

  In stark contrast, the white sidewalk blended with the white road in the whiteness of the sunlight. The polarized sunglasses couldn’t prevent spots from forming in her vision. The laser beam rays of sun prickled her skin.

  And summer doesn’t officially start until next week.

  Peg’s new full-length cover-up clung to her inner thighs as the moisture built up. Tugging the dress away from her body as she moved, she wondered if the sausage-casing bathing suit would sizzle into her, forming a permanent second skin.

  Note to self – no more wearing long melty polyester dresses – no matter how cute.

  To top it off, the giant black hat that looked so stylish in the store trapped heat like an incinerator.

  Nipper walked on high alert while stalking roosters and chickens and baby chicks and pigeons and egrets and herons – bird-dog sensory overload. After a couple of blocks, the heat of the day overpowered instinct. Nipper gave up the quest, tongue panting and drooping.

  They stopped in front of the White Street Pier sign. She saw Clark’s towel on the beach next to the stairway entrance to the water. Two homeless men plugged in their smart phones in the outlets on the electric poles.

  Hmm – high-tech homeless – maybe I should ask them how to connect my printer to Wi-Fi.

  One of the men called out to her, “Hey, beautiful. You’re HOT.”

  You have no idea.

  She blushed through her hotness and quickened her step.

  Nipper pulled the leash, searching for shady spots. He stopped in his tracks when the tiniest white and brown chihuahua in a pink, fluffy tutu strutted by. The minuscule dog barked and growled. Nipper stood statue-still, unable to understand why a rodent would be wearing sequins.

  “Lulu. You leave that poor big dog alone. Pick on someone your own size.” The owner of the chihuahua giggled and scooped her up. Lulu snarled while attempting to bite him. “You little beast,” the man said in a sing-song voice and tossed her in a purple beaded shoulder pouch with rainbow fringe, crusted with gems – a blend of Dolce & Gabbana, Louis Vuitton and Chanel, but for dogs.

  “Sorry. She only acts like this when she likes you,” the man said. He zipped up the dog in the satchel and picked up his bicycle from the ground. As the two of them rode away, the sound of squeaky wheels and muffled yipping faded into the distance.

  “I can’t imagine what she’d be like if she didn’t like you,” Peg said as she leaned down to pet Nipper’s hot head.

  “Come on in,” Clark yelled from waist-high turquoise water. “What took you so long?” He splashed and rolled on his back. Peg could just make out his silhouette in the glistening water. A barrier of seaweed undulated with the tides in-between the shore’s edge and the frolicking swimmer.

  “The stairs look slippery.” Peg pointed to the green, algae-covered steps – swimming anxiety kicking in.

  “Look. It’s shallow all the way to the end of the pier. Jump in.” He porpoise-dove under the water, coming up 15 feet from the shore.

  Peg pulled off her sweaty cover-up and spread it out to dry on the pebbly sand. As she tugged the suit down over the problem areas in the front and back and sides, she thought she saw a couple next to her shade their eyes from the glare of sun off of her translucent skin.

  What? Have you never seen Chicago skin before?

  The dog sat on the sand, panting as Peg surveyed the situation. Beyond the stairs, slimy, seaweedy things floated in clumpy masses. She could see fish darting in and out.

  She pinched her nose to close out the hot-summer-day-garbage-truck smell wafting up from the water.

  Clark laughed. “It’s low tide. That’s why there’s so much seaweed. It’s beautiful out here once you get past it.” He spat a fountain of salt water into the air.

  That might be, but it didn’t necessarily make her feel any better about the stink. She put one foot down on the top step, slipped a couple of inches and cringed as the sludge enveloped her toes. With a high-pitched screech she jumped over the steps directly into the sea grass. The bottom was rocky and shallow, forcing her to either stand on the sharp-edged coral or dog paddle through the weeds. Lifting her feet and thrashing her arms she attempted to carve her way. The long brown pods tangled in her curly hair and wrapped around her neck and armpits. Constricting tighter and tighter, they pulled her down. Gasping for breath, she stood up in the hip-deep water. A shawl of muck and weeds outfitted her in the most impressive swamp-monster fashion. Her feet instinctively set course for the stairway, sacrificing their soles along the way.

  The stairs were unclimbable in their sliminess. She was forced to go up backward – hands, butt, feet, hands, butt, feet – scraping and amassing goo along the way. The previously unmovable swimsuit slid easily in its new greasy coating, forming an impressive mass of material between her newly exposed blotchy, muddy buttocks.

  Nipper waited for her, alternately chewing on his footpad and pacing back and forth. Once Peg made it to the top, Nipper licked the green grime off of her back while she released the stranglehold of sea-tangle from her shoulders, neck and face. Realizing that she had forgotten a towel, she wiped off the guck with her hands.

  Avoiding the steps, Clark hopped up the sea wall, using his upper body strength in a gymnastics move. “You’ll get the hang of it. The water’s warm. Not like Lake Michigan, is it?” He wiped his face with his towel.

  Peg plucked the sea grass out of her hair with grubby, stained fingers.

  Nope. It’s not like Lake Michigan.

  Together by Herself

  Sprawled diagonally across the bed, Peg watched the ceiling fan whirl off-kilter. The long stem of the fan wobbled.

  This doesn’t look safe. If it falls, it will kill me. Who would know? No one will miss me for days.

  On the chair next to the bed, Nipper watched her watch the fan. “Why should we get up?” She lifted her knees and shoved her feet back under the sheets. “This is luxury, lounging in bed. No early-morning walk to jam in before the job. No alarm. No reason to make a pot of coffee – just for me. Unless you would like some? No, don’t get started, it’s an addiction.” The dog cocked his head sideways as she spoke.

  “I wonder how they are doing at the old office. I gave them my number in case they had any questions. Maybe I should call them to check in.” She lifted the blanket and sat up. Anticipating some action, Nipper sat up too. “No, they would have called if they needed help. It went fine during the transition.” She plopped back down on the bed. The dog slumped over his paws. Peg looked at the clock.

  Nine thirty here… so eight thirty in Chicago. Trudy’ll be back from their walk before work.

  She reached for the computer.

  “He’s gone where?” The computer screen showed the empty chair, where Trudy’s face should have been.

  “Cuba. But only for a week or so.” Peg analyzed the video image of herself that split the screen. She took the rubber band from her wrist and pulled her frizzy hair back in a ponytail. Changing her mind, she shook her hair out of the band
and fluffed it with her fingers. Not satisfied, she gathered it into a bun on the top of her head.Ugh. She hit the key to disable her videoconferencing camera. Problem solved. “Can you hear me? What are you doing?”

  “I’m putting my socks on.” Trudy’s head popped up and her face appeared on the screen. “Why can’t I see you?”

  “I turned off my camera. It’s for your own good.”

  “Yes. I have very high fashion standards, as you know.” Trudy pushed her nose up in the air with her pointer finger and crossed her eyes. “What a wad. He’s left you by yourself already? What about I’ll work from home. We’ll be together? BS. What is he doing in Cuba? Fraternizing with Fidel?”

  “Fidel is dead, Trudy.”

  “Whatever.”

  “He’s consulting for a start-up. I’m sure that this is a one-time thing. It’s only for a week or so.”

  “He moved you there and now you’re alone. Jesus, I’ve had bad perms that lasted longer than that.”

  “It’s okay. I have stuff to do.”

  “Like what? Walk the dog. Then what? Thanks to Clark, you don’t have a job anymore, remember? You’ve unpacked that tiny house. You don’t have any friends there… Are you still in bed?”

  Peg checked to make sure the camera icon on the screen was still crossed off. She hustled out of bed.

  “No!”

  “Well, what are you going to do?”

  “Catch up on reading.”

  “Then what?”

  “Clean the house. Do yard work.”

  “Every day?”

  “Walk the dog again… I don’t know. I’m figuring it out.”

  “It seems to me you shoulda done that before you moved.” Trudy paused. Her voice quieted. “I miss you and Nipper. I cry every day when we drive past your house. I’m never going to get over this.”

  “I miss you and Tucker too.” Peg’s eyes watered.

  “Okay. I gotta go to work. Let’s talk later.” Trudy looked away from the camera.

  “Okay. Bye.”

  Trudy disconnected the signal. Peg looked at the frozen screenshot of Trudy’s profile.

  “Not the same as playing with them in person, is it?”

  Nipper agreed.

  Email from Clark to Peg

  Hi. I’ve tried to call, but there is absolutely no cell phone reception for international calls. The Internet is a joke too. They need so much help getting this set up. Right now I’m standing on a street corner with hundreds of other people trying to get a signal. I’ve attached a picture of where I am. Check it out. It’s crazy. It’s like New Year’s Eve at Times Square. The people here are very nice and ready to learn but I underestimated how much work it will be to set this up. It’s like caveman times. Looks like I’ll have to stay here for at least a couple of weeks, maybe more. I hope you get this. I’ve been dropped three times already. I’ll try to email again as soon as I can. Email me back with news. Love you and Nipper.

  Peg opened the attachment with a picture of Clark in a crowd of dark-skinned, young Cubans huddled in masses around their phones. He had a “see, I told you” smile on his face with his palms held up, as if the crowd was on display. She clicked off the computer screen and began to pace the room.

  Two weeks? Maybe longer? No communication? Oh, stop being such a wimp. Do you think anyone will feel sorry for you in your house in Key West? I know, but this doesn’t feel like a second honeymoon by myself. Stop.

  Peg picked up the calendar propped up on the desk. Above the month of June there was a picture of a smiling man stranded on an island, drinking out of a coconut. The message under the photo read, “Life is 10% of what happens to you and 90% of how you react to it.”

  Right, smile now, Mr. Man. Do you know that coconuts can kill you in a storm? I’m 100% sure you’re not gonna react too well to an 80-mile-per-hour coconut to the head.

  She happy-faced the day on the calendar when Clark would return and looked past the condensation on the kitchen windows.

  Getting dark. More rain soon.

  Her phone buzzed. Her heart leapt. She swiped the device. “Do you want to consolidate your credit?”

  Ugh.

  Peg tossed her cell phone onto the couch. “I guess I don’t need to carry this around with me.”

  Nipper lifted his head at the possibility of something being thrown for him.

  “Okay, let’s go for a walk.”

  Saturday: Peg and Nipper stood next to the sticky door waiting for the rain to stop.

  Sunday: Peg and Nipper sat next to the swollen door waiting for the rain to stop.

  Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday: Peg and Nipper lay on the floor next to the stuck door waiting for the rain to stop.

  Saturday Again

  On the first clear morning of this rainiest of rainy seasons, Peg boinged open the sodden door.

  Nipper twirled out of the house. They danced around the deck with new-found enthusiasm and cheerfulness. Even though her sunglasses remained stubbornly fogged, she saw the day in a new light – sunlight. “I think we’re gonna be okay.” She took in a deep belly breath and the dog wagged his tail.

  Hands on hips, she observed the stacks of leaves and giant palm fronds strewn about. “Not enough to do? Hah, this yard looks like a war zone.” The dog sniffed around, concentrating his efforts on the back corner of the fence. “My God, look at the size of these. Glad we were not under there when they fell. They’re huge.” Peg chatted with the dog as she dragged one of the 14-foot fronds out of the gate. She warily observed the coconut trees across the street, swaying innocuously in the breeze.

  She waved hello to the sweaty workman in the neighbor’s yard. The bandana around his head worked with dam-like precision to keep moisture out of his eyes. Shovel in hand, his muscles bulged as he dug a hole in the crusty coral earth. Short and stocky, he looked like the kind of guy who could wrestle an alligator and win. He moved with purpose, but took the time to say “ehlow” back to Peg.

  His helper pushed a wheelbarrow with a medium-sized flowery shrub tipping precariously to one side, the root ball unraveling as it bumped about.

  “Bee carefool wiz zat,” the do-ragged boss said to the pusher. The rail-thin, shirtless man nodded his head then stood silently next to the hole, waiting further instructions. His vacant stare had the look of the possible “undead” that were most likely wandering around the island.

  Peg gathered the behemoth palms one at a time and hauled them out into the street.

  “Nipper, what are you doing over there?”

  The dog refused to be distracted while he dug and sniffed the corner of the yard. Peg crouched next to him, inspecting the mysterious patch of garden. When she lifted up a rotting two-by-four from under a blanket of moldy leaves, the dog hopped left and right around her.

  “Okay, good grief. I don’t see any–” No sooner were the words out of her mouth, than a toad the size of a bowling ball jumped out at her. “Ahhhhh,” she screamed and lurched back. The dog barked excitedly and readied himself for the attack pounce.

  “Nipper, come here.” Peg grabbed his collar. “No. No.” She was no match for the superhuman strength of the dog. She fell backward, gripping the empty collar as her hindquarters hit the ground with considerable force. The dog flew through the air in direct pursuit of the humongous prehistoric creature.

  “What eez going on?” The do-ragged yard guy ran over to see about the commotion.

  “A giant frog… it jumped out at me. My dog has it. He won’t let go.” Peg crawled toward the dog who had latched onto the slimy, camouflaged toad.

  “Get zee shovel,” the man screamed to his emaciated worker who had joined the group. The thin man ran to the truck and grabbed the large metal shovel from the flatbed and threw it to the boss. “Get out of zee way. Get your dog away from zee frog. Zee frog can kill heem.”

  “KILL? Did you say KILL?” Peg scrambled in an effort to seize Nipper by the back legs, but he was too fast. The dog jumped sideways then up
in the air, then back the other way – a whirling dervish, unable to be restrained. The gaunt man planted himself in the middle of the fray. Leaping like a gazelle, the man leg-locked the dog with his scrawny limbs, while catching hold of the dog’s head. Like a lion tamer, he pried open the dog’s mouth, forcing the behemoth frog to plunk on the ground. As soon as the frog hit the dirt, the boss raised the shovel above his head. With the precision of a master executioner – eyes focused and muscles taut – the weapon fell with deadly intent. Squash.

  “Ahhh. I’m gonna be sick.” Peg was sure she saw detached frog eyes stuck to the side of the white picket fence. She shook her hands, thinking that toad goop might have landed on her.

  “No time for zat now. Get zee hose,” the boss barked as he picked up the dog with one arm, carrying the 50-pound animal to the spigot. The skinny guy uncoiled the hose, turned on the water and, without any instruction at all, shoved the end of the hose into the dog’s mouth. The boss man gripped the dog’s head as the water squirted around Nipper’s lips, teeth and tongue. The dog gagged and gurgled while struggling to escape but the boss’s grip was too tight.

  “What are you doing? You’re drowning my dog.” Peg grabbed the hose and yanked it. The hose slipped through the skinny man’s fingers, but he grabbed it back just in time to commence a wet and wild tug of war with Peg. The spurting rubber tube seemed to take on a life of its own as it back-and-forthed between the two rivals.

  “Zee frog was poisonous. We’re saving your dog.” With one arm controlling the frantic pet, the boss used the other arm to take back the hose and shove it into the dog’s mouth. The helper, who was soaked to his bonyness, gave Peg a dirty look and helped his boss continue to flush out the dog’s mouth.

  “Poisonous frog? Oh my God. Nipper, are you okay?” Peg pet the dog as the water shot out of his mouth, showering the group as they stood close.

  “Ee will be fine. You just need to watch eem. We caught eet in time.” The boss put down the stunned dog. Peg placed the collar around the dog’s neck, tightened it and held it fast while the dog flapped his ears, spraying yet more water in Peg’s face.