Island Life Sentence

by Carrie Jo Howe

Looks strange…

  Kind of…

  Like a…

  HAIRBALL.

  Voice Message from Peg to Clark

  “Hi! I can’t wait for you to come home. Call me when you get this. The phone didn’t ring when you called me and left a message. I don’t know why it did that. It was sitting right next to me. When I tried to listen to your voicemail, I couldn’t understand what you said… the connection was bad. Maybe it’s because there are too many bridges around here. I don’t know. That’s probably not a thing. Well, I really want to talk to you. Please, please try again soon. Love you.”

  Text message from Peg to Clark

  Hello? Maybe you can’t access voice message.

  Email from Peg to Clark

  Just in case you can’t get voice messages or text messages, I want to tell you how much I miss you and want you to come home. I had the weirdest dream last night. I might be going crazy – only kidding (but not really). Also, I wish you had gotten around to painting the front porch. I went to Mass the other day. Did you know that they pray for hurricane safety during Mass? I’m thinking that we should keep a pulse on the hurricane activity this year. I’ll probably buy some extra batteries. And maybe a seven-day supply of non-perishable food, hand-operated can opener, five gallons of drinking water and (the guide says) plastic plates…

  When does the together part start in Key West? OXOXOXOX

  Email from Clark to Peg

  Peg,

  I hope that you get this. It is impossible to communicate out of Cuba. That is why they need me so much here – to establish modern communication with the world. The negotiations are getting started and it looks like I’ll be here for at least another month or so. I know this isn’t what we planned, but think of it for the greater good! I’d say you could come here too, but the accommodations are very rough (no air conditioning or toilet paper) and I’m working all of the time. I’ll email you as often as I can. Thank you for being such a good sport (like you always are).

  My love to Nipper and you.

  Clark

  Email from Peg to Clark

  I’m thinking that NO TOILET PAPER is a strange reason for me not to come and see you. AND if Havana is so close – WHY DON’T YOU COME HOME? Totally NOT understanding this situation… AND had we not already spent ALL of our budgeted money to BUY A HOUSE (your idea), I’d be outta here (no idea how since I can’t drive across a bridge and Nipper can’t fly, but I’d figure it out). Either you get your ASS home so we can discuss this NEW development in our living situation, OR ELSE!!!

  Peg slammed the computer shut and marched to the kitchen counter to rip the coconut man calendar to shreds. Shaking with anger, she stomped around the room.

  “Or else what, sweetie?” The voice came from nowhere. The room fogged.

  Peg stopped in her tantrum tracks. “Who said that? Who’s there?” Her frizzy hair stood on end. Electricity in the house shut down, generating an eerie quiet.

  “I told you, madam, you’re being duped.”

  “You can’t say that we didn’t warn her,” purred a second voice.

  Peg crouched low and whispered, “Where are you? Nipper, come here.” The dog cocked his head sideways in perfect sphinx-like form.

  A booming voice resounded. “Madam, it’s time for the kidney punch.”

  And just like that, the lights resumed power, the oven blinked the wrong time and the air conditioning cranked its way back to a tired hum.

  Peg grabbed the garlic from the fridge and swung it around. “I don’t need your help. Go away.”

  Silence.

  Her sweaty palms activated the garlic cloves. The dog’s nose followed Peg as she clomped through every room.

  When there was no answer from her ethereal roommates, she went to the back door to continue the protection outside. Prepared for a fight with the stubborn door, she was thrown backward when, to her surprise, the door opened without argument.

  The sky was a brilliant blue. White puffy clouds, cartoonish in their perfection, floated by. The sun gleamed through the palm trees that swayed in the breeze. A blast of air carried some rare coolness from the Gulf of Mexico.

  Peg took it in.

  This is silly, I’m overwrought and hearing things.

  She collapsed in a chair. Her lip quivered. “Oh, Nipper, my friend. What am I going to do about all of this?”

  Nipper found a sunny spot next to her on the deck and stretched out with a sigh.

  Hot Again

  “So, tell me why you couldn’t stay in Chicago if he was gonna be gone anyway?” Trudy’s cheeks flushed red as she interrogated the PC screen.

  “I don’t know… I don’t get it. If only I could talk to him… straighten this out…” Peg’s voice trailed off.

  “No. Tell him you’re leaving. Tell him this was not part of the deal–” She stopped short. “Let me see your face.”

  “No.” Peg angled the PC camera at the sleeping dog.

  “I want to see if you’ve been crying. Let me see your face.”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m trying to understand. He’s setting up communications for a country that has been out of touch for half a century. This was unexpected.”

  “No shit. Everything seems conveniently unexpected.”

  “Trudy, it’s simply a business trip.” Peg trembled when she remembered the recent similar ghostly interrogation.

  “I’m coming there. I can’t get away right now. But I’m coming. In a few weeks. Doesn’t sound like he’ll be back by then, which suits me fine.” Mid-sentence, Trudy pushed her glasses down below her nose, resting them on her upper lip. As she talked, the glasses bobbed and steamed with hot nostril fog. “I’m not abandoning you.”

  “He’s not abandoning me… and it’s really hot here and I know how you hate the humidity – but I would love to see you.” Peg turned the PC upward for a brief drive-by close-up of a face that had most definitely been crying. Tears gurgled to the surface. Not wanting Trudy to see the blubbering, Peg turned sideways to look out of the window. “Oops – the yard guy is here. I need to talk to him.”

  “You don’t have a yard guy.”

  “I didn’t say my yard guy, I said the yard guy.”

  “I can tell that you’ve been crying. Let me see you.”

  Peg faced the camera again. “I’m trying not to cry, honestly. But when you yell at me it makes me miss you even more. You really do know me.” Before Trudy could respond she added, “The yard guy is the one who saved Nipper’s life from the Bufo Toad. The iguanas are hanging out in the sapodilla tree in the backyard – pooping on everything. He said he could help if I needed it… like an iguana hit-man.”

  “I don’t even know what you are talking about. Iguanas? Sapodillas? Are you living on planet Earth?”

  “I know, right?” Peg’s mood improved with the change of topic. “These iguanas are something out of Jurassic Park – the size of dinosaurs. Their poop is a combination of all the disgustingness in the universe, splattering in every texture, color and vile scent imaginable.”

  “My God.”

  “In general, I’m against killing, but I’m seriously reconsidering my philosophy when it comes to them. They eat the sapodilla fruit which is made of chickle… you know… like chicklets – the gum? Try getting that out of your hair.”

  “Did I just say that I was coming to visit you? Changed my mind.”

  Peg smiled. “Only kidding about it getting in my hair. Although, my hair couldn’t look much worse than it already does.”

  Trudy added, “Iguana shit shampoo. I’ll get the trademark. We’ll be rich. By the way, what does not-your-yard-guy look like?”

  “Pierre? He’s very muscly and very tan. Why are you asking me that?”

  “French? Très romantique. Just curious.”

  “Canadian actually. Curious, huh? I know you better than that.”

  “I’m thinking maybe he could be a big masculine shoulder you could lean on – in times of drought. Just sayin’.”<
br />
  “Hush. I mean it. Stop talking right now.” Peg shook her head and pointed a finger at the screen.

  “At least Pierre is there. Hey – rhymes too.”

  “Closing my computer now. Can’t hear you. Go research tickets before you really change your mind about coming. Bye.”

  “I want a full report after you see–” Snap. Trudy’s voice cut off under the PC cover.

  Peg saw Pierre’s truck across the street and felt the blood pool in her face and neck, making her ears hot.

  What the heck? Why am I blushing? That is crazy. He’s just a nice man who helped me. Stop blushing… not kidding. I’m pretty sure that’s a sin. At least a lower category one… CATEGORY ONE? Stop thinking about hurricanes… grotto was old… not my fault.

  Willing herself out of her own head, she turned to the sleeping dog. “Nipper, we haven’t walked yet today. Wanna go?” She picked up his leash and shook it, attempting to rouse him. Nipper lifted his head when he heard the leash clinking. He eyeballed the moisture dripping down the glass door, calculated the outside air was 98 percent liquid then plunked his head back on the couch.

  “Really, Nipper, just because we missed our tiny window of coolness today and the ‘feels like’ index has risen to 106, it doesn’t mean we can lie around all day and watch movies, drink wine and eat chips.” Peg stared at the immobile animal, then her shoulders slumped. “Or does it?” She tossed the leash to the ground, hit the power button on the remote, and sat down next to him. When his soft brown head nestled in her lap, he heaved a big sigh.

  “Okay, you win.” The weight of the dog’s head and his complete napping contentment kept Peg from the Beringer and Doritos. Talking herself into it NOT being five o’clock anywhere, she surfed through the channels.

  Gilligan’s Island (NO)

  Click

  Cubs’ home game at Wrigley Field (heavy sigh)

  Click

  Reality TV Cheating Husb–

  Click

  TV OFF

  Peg leaned her neck over the back of the couch, mesmerized by the blades of the ceiling fan as they twirled. She closed her eyes to hear the droning of the rusty air-conditioning unit as it labored valiantly, taking on the whole of high-noon heat with a mere 115 volts.

  I am so homesick. I miss my old life… STOP.

  With no warning, Nipper sprang off of Peg’s stomach, leaping from the couch and onto the floor. Hackles up, barking frantically, he bolted toward the door.

  “Ugh, wow.” Peg’s eyes opened wide. Suspicious of imaginary haint houseguests, she stood up and surveyed the room.

  Seeing nothing but a manic dog, she located the leash. “All right. All right. Hold still. Good grief. There – gotcha.”

  She tripped into her flip-flops as the dog pulled her outside to the sweltering hotness. In the mad rush to leave the house, she realized she had forgotten to put on her hat. Her hair curled to a layer of protective frizz, but that was no match for the sun’s rays lasering through to the skin on her head like she was a plucked chicken.

  The dog continued his crazed behavior. “Nipper, what in the world is wrong with you? Is it a killer frog?” He dragged her close to a large shrub on the outside of the fence. He army-crawled, pawed at the bush, then kangaroo-hopped backward.

  “Nipper, really. All this fuss for some old junk left by the… hey what’s this?” Peg leaned down to see two mismatched shoes sticking out of the bottom of the bush. She removed the branches to reveal feet, attached to legs, attached to a body – which wasn’t moving.

  Peg jerked up. “Ahhh… someone HELP.” The dog froze, fixated and on-point, his bird-dog instincts indicating that this was an excellent find.

  “What eez it?” Pierre ran to them from the neighbor’s backyard, the knight in shining, sinewy armor, glistening as he approached.

  “A person’s feet… and body too… not moving… looks dead. Do you have a phone? We should call 911. Or I’ll go and get mine in the house.” Peg covered the sides of her face with her hands.

  “Let me see.” Pierre knelt on one knee. When he separated the greenery, a human form appeared along with a horrendous stench.

  “Oouf.” Pierre stood up and waved the smell away with his hand. “Eet eez a man.” He pushed Nipper back who was sniffing the area in big sharp inhales.

  “Is he alive? Doesn’t smell like it. This is horrible.” Peg pinched her nose with thumb and forefinger while also trying to keep ahold of the insanely curious dog.

  Pierre kicked at the mismatched shoes with his own large work boot. Nothing. He kicked again. Nothing. With the third kick, the branches moaned and cursed. The shoes moved.

  “I have seen zees before. I’ll get eem out of zere.” He put on his work gloves and leaned over the body while holding his breath. Pierre clutched the man’s ankles and dragged him out from under the landscaping.

  The man’s shoes fell off revealing filthy feet with long, moldy nails curled over blackened toes. Coughing and wheezing, covered in dirt, he emerged to the sound of glass bottles clinking around him. He lay face up, bearded and toothless with pockmarked skin showing through his grimy tattoos. His pants were unzipped.

  Peg turned her face to gag, then coughed away the urge. “He’s alive, at least mostly alive, I think. Should I call an ambulance? Or the police? Nipper, get away.” She caught the dog as he lifted his leg to relieve himself over the most enticing of all fragrances – eau de bum. “Nipper, no.” The dog complied, lowering his leg halfway, but keeping it on the ready, just in case there was another window of opportunity.

  “Are you okay?” Peg breathed through her mouth as she spoke. The man rolled to one side, then onto all fours. The back of his pants were dark and suspiciously stained, creating olfactory overload for the salivating dog. The stinky street person stood up. Weebling one way and wobbling the other, his exposed bare butt cheek confirmed speculation about the chemistry of the stain. Peg gagged for real this time.

  “Hell no. Leave m’alone,” the man growled. “Git yur damn dog away from me.” Nipper sidled his way next to the man and was balancing on three legs.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. Nipper, no.” Peg pulled the dog and he reluctantly resumed his four-legged stance.

  “You can’t stay ere meester. Eets trespassing.”

  The man bobbed and weaved while steadying himself back into his mismatched shoes. “I kin stay wherever I want,” he mumbled under his bad breath, then stumbled away from the group. His pants barely kept a PG-13 rating as he held them up with one hand.

  “Hey, what about your garbage too, meester?” Pierre pointed to several empty liquor bottles, beer cans and cigarette packs.

  Ignoring Pierre, the man zigzagged across the street.

  “Zere is a homeless shelter in town,” Pierre yelled into the vagrant’s back.

  The man turned and shouted back in a raspy, gravelly voice, “I ain’t goin’ there – won’t let me drink. Treat me like a baby. I’m an a-dult… old enuff to drink. Can’t make me shower… bastards.” His shout fell to a mutter as he shuffled away with his Nike and Florsheim alternately shushing and clopping.

  “Will he be okay?”

  Pierre shrugged. “Zis eez a big problem. I try to elp as much as I can.”

  The dog continued to strain against the leash, his canine nose moist and flared in an attempt to catch every last molecule of the delectable shrub-squatter stench.

  “Every day I go to the beach and see eef any of zem want to work.” Pierre glanced over at Charles who had started to clean up the garbage from under the bush. “Charles eez different. Ee wanted to change. Most of zem don’t. Zey want to drink.” Pierre handed Charles a Hefty bag.

  Those are very blue eyes. He’s a nice man… with strong, rippling muscles. What are you doing? The heat is getting to me. Stop looking! He’s probably married. What are you talking about? You are married. You have a husband with muscles. I miss my husband with muscles. I would like to touch those muscles. Oh, I’m so hot… but not in a good
way.

  Peg’s reverie was prematurely terminated by a new commotion.

  “Nipper Zee Dog – eez running away.” Pierre took off after the dog who had backed out of his collar and made a beeline for the corner of the street.

  “Nipper, come here,” Peg yelled, frantically flip-flopping behind Pierre’s work boots. “Why are you acting all crazy?” She stopped to catch her breath when she saw Randolph turn the corner holding Lulu on his hip. Nipper sat at his side, licking the little dog’s dangling feet.

  Pierre got there first and held the vizsla around the shoulders until Peg could fasten the now-tightened collar on the dog’s neck.

  “Ello, Randolph. Ello, Lulu.”

  Peg was shocked to see the chihuahua accept a friendly behind-the-ear scratch from Pierre.

  “So you guys know each other?” Peg wheezed, making a mental note that she should get more exercise.

  “Yes, of course. Good to see you, Pierre,” Randolph replied.

  “You too.” Pierre wiped the sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve.

  Randolph added, “I see there is true animal magnetism going on here.”

  Peg blurted, “Well, I mean my husband is coming back soon… or pretty soon… I think… so crazy… Cuba and technology… and…”

  Randolph gave her a sideways glance. “I meant with the dogs.”

  “Oh, yes. Yes. Of course. What else would you… of course…” Peg stammered.

  “So, how do you two know each other?” Randolph made a kissy face at Lulu who lifted her top lip and bared her teeth.

  “I… um… There was just a bum. I thought he was dead. Pierre has saved me many times… well… not many… But for sure a couple… I mean… we’ve always been outside of the house… because… where else would we be? But you are always welcome to come in the house… both of you… whenever you want… ’cause it’s hot out here. Right?” Peg fanned herself with her hand.

  “I work for zee neighbor next door,” Pierre said, unflustered.