Island Life Sentence

by Carrie Jo Howe

  Peg relaxed. “I went to the library and did research on how to catch a lobster.” She held on to her hat as a wind gust blew sideways through the golf cart.

  “The library? Who goes to the library?” Randolph slammed the brake to let the dregs of some late-night partiers cross the road. “The light is red, people,” he yelled as they continued to pay no attention.

  “My Internet was down–”

  Randolph cut her off. “Sweetie, you are lucky you didn’t catch something there. I mean, the bums have really taken it over.”

  Peg felt an imaginary something move in her scalp and scratched it.

  “Bernie says I need to be more compassionate. Ha. Easy for him to say since he carries a G-U-N.” He whispered the letters. “People don’t mess with you when you have a G-U-N. So, people don’t mess with him.” He shook his head and laughed. “How did I get on this subject? I apologize. I’m so charged up today.”

  Peg smiled. “I learned about the tickle stick, and the net and measuring, and don’t take the baby lobsters or pregnant lobsters.”

  “Right. Give a lobster mother a break. I mean really. When they are teenagers, she will be happy to have you catch them – or her for that matter. At least my mom would have.” He tee-heed at his own joke and waved to a passing scooter.

  Involuntarily following along, Peg raised her hand and waved.

  Randolph chatted away. “Did you know that people are so friendly here that if you wave to one person it starts a chain reaction of waving? It goes all the way up the Keys until Miami. Then it stops. People don’t wave in Miami.” He tsk-tsked the Miamians.

  Not knowing whether she should stop waving or not, Peg kept her hand held up in the Queen’s wave, not above the crown, though, just to be safe. “Where’s the boat? The same place as paddleboard yoga?” She winced at the memory.

  “No. Pierre keeps it at the Key West Bight. He’ll call ahead and they’ll have the boat gassed up and ready for him. I can’t wait for you to see this beauty,” Randolph shouted as he drove.

  Pierre is handsome… Wait… he’s talking about the boat…

  “Adventure time.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she felt queasy.

  Randolph maneuvered Betsy into a small space at the end of the crowded parking lot. People milled about, carrying coolers and nets. The captains yucked it up as their mates schlepped the provisions into the boats that lined up in formation as they waited to be boarded.

  Gathering her belongings from the prehistoric golf cart, Peg saw Pierre at a distance. His strapping thighs bulged as he walked in their direction. Her salivary glands ceased and her legs jellied.

  Really? What is wrong with you?

  “This way, doll. Looks like his boat is first in line.”

  Struggling to keep up behind Randolph’s big strides, Peg commanded her body to behave as they approached the boat.

  “Ello. Good morning. Eet eez a beautiful day for catching lobsters.” Pierre stood on the edge of the boat. His teeth were as white and gleaming as the boat itself.

  “Hi, Pierre. Yes, this is going to be a wonderful day. Thank you so much for inviting me. Us.” Randolph stood aside so that Peg came into view.

  “Thank you,” was all that Peg could squeak out from her dry mouth.

  “Peg, let me elp you into zee boat.” Pierre took Peg under the arm and guided her over the side. The build-up in her mind matching the electricity of his touch forced her to collapse onto the seat bench, still clutching her beach bag and towel. “Oh. Are you okay? Eet eez a bit wobbly.” Peg thought she saw an aura of light around him.

  “Thank you.” Her tongue grew too large for its space.

  That’s all that you can say?

  Randolph leapt in. “Peg, I’ll put our stuff in the storage locker in back. You all right, sweetie? You look pale. You’re not seasick already, are you?”

  Peg woke out of her state. “No. I’m fine. Thank you.” She handed over her beach bag and towel. “Can I help?” Her words were drowned out by the sound of the giant engines as they revved. She tried to stand but was off balance and flopped back down on the seat. She watched Pierre teach Randolph about the boat’s equipment, overhearing words like “depth finder” and “outboard engine” over the din.

  A woman approached the boat. Her long, thick, waist-length blonde hair moved naturally in rhythm with her tanned and toned legs. She sported a bikini top and cut-off shorts that were unzipped and folded over – a dazzling purple gem filling her belly button sparkled in the sun.

  “Hi.” The Barbie doll’s voice was high-pitched and she gestured a rainbow-shaped wave.

  Pierre looked up from the boat’s controls and smiled a broad, handsome grin. “Ello, cherie.” He walked over to her and, in one swift move, she vaulted over the side of the boat into his strong arms. “How are you, amour?” She nuzzled his neck and kissed him passionately on the lips.

  Peg blushed.

  Pierre placed her down, while keeping his hand on her young and sculpted buttocks. “Everyone, zis eez Lisa Nevins. She will be coming with us to catch lobsters. Lisa, zis eez Peg and Randolph.” Pierre pointed to each of them.

  “Nice to meet you, Lisa.” Randolph yelled over the engine noise and shook her hand politely.

  Peg made the tiniest attempt to move, then fell back, still unable to stand due to lack of balance and due to the new feeling of being socked in the gut.

  What? He’s got Miss Universe as a girlfriend? Actually… Miss TEENAGE Universe? Seeing that Peg was stuck in her seat, Lisa fluttered to the front of the boat and held out her slim, brown hand. Peg felt the cool, flawless fingers in her own greasy, clammy palm.

  “Nice to meet you,” Peg lied. “Sorry my husband couldn’t be here too. I have a husband he’s just not here right now. He’s in Cuba… improving the world… making a difference. But he’s coming back soon.”

  Peg avoided Randolph’s stare.

  “That’s cool.” Lisa’s golden tresses left traces of lavender in the air as she moved about the boat.

  “Shall we get going?” Pierre sat in the tall seat under the bimini. Lisa lifted the ropes from the dock then stood behind Pierre, hugging him with her lean arms, as he steered the boat away from the marina. Pierre smiled and waved at Peg as they gained speed past the channel markers.

  Peg returned the smile and took off her hat and shook her hair in the wind, going for that “don’t hate me because I’m beautiful” look. Unfortunately, her straight hair was at the perfect length to blow directly into her eyes, causing a sharp pain as each chemically treated strand whipped her corneas with knife-like precision. Turning her head to face the wind, her eyeballs watered, leaving a trail of crusty tears on her cheeks.

  The ocean was crowded, from large yachts and fishing boats to kayaks and surfers with coolers. Pierre expertly piloted around all of them. The clear water reflected the colors of the sun rising through billowy clouds overhead. Peg took a minute from her troubles to admire the view.

  “It’s the most beautiful mixture of colors,” she yelled over to Randolph as she held her hat back on her head.

  “It’s magical. It’s why people come to the Keys,” Randolph yelled back. “The water is warm and clear year round. Can’t find that anywhere else in the US.” His dimples strained from joyfulness.

  After 15 minutes on the water, Pierre slowed the boat and studied the GPS. “I think zat zere will be good lobsters in zees area.” When he cut the engines, he pushed a button and the anchor clanked its way down. Lisa watched over the front of the boat and gave him two perfect thumbs up when the anchor caught. Many other boats skulked around in close proximity. When they saw Pierre decide on the best location, they followed suit. It didn’t take long for the boating neighbors to move in, turning open sea into open season.

  Peg looked over the side of the boat. “It’s pretty deep. We won’t be able to catch any lobsters here,” she said to Randolph, who was removing a mask and snorkel from a dive bag.

  “Wha
t do you mean too deep? It’s only eight or nine feet.” He leaned over Peg’s side of the boat to see what she was talking about. “It’s clear. Hey, I see one. I’m going in. He’s mine.” Randolph pumped his fist. Pierre pumped his fist back.

  Peg grabbed Randolph by the arm. “I mean, it’s too deep to stand on the bottom and catch the lobsters… you know… tickle them… and scoop them up with a net… and be in the water while measuring them.”

  Randolph laughed and slowed his speech to preschool-teacher speed. “Peg, we are going to swim to the bottom – and catch them. With dive masks and snorkels. We use the nets and ticklers while swimming underwater.”

  “What? My research didn’t say I had to swim underwater to catch them. I thought I would be wading in the water. It’s not possible to do all of that upside down, underwater, not breathing. Are you listening?” Peg talked to an already geared-up Randolph as he jumped in the water, his flippers making a giant splash upon entry.

  “It’s fun.” He swam on his back otter-style. “Watch me.” He snorkeled to the side of the boat. “Hand me the tickler and gloves. This guy looks enormous.”

  Peg did as she was told and watched him hover in the water over his prey. As soon as he was in position, his butt went straight up followed by his flippers. He dove vertically to the crustacean and wedged the tickler behind his shell. When the lobster tried to make a getaway, Randolph trapped him in the net and brought him to the surface, holding the top of the net tightly.

  He whooped and hollered, “First catch of the day.” Randolph treaded water as he pried the catch out of the net and measured it with the other end of the tickler. “Meets the guidelines. People, we’re eating well tonight.” He tossed the lobster into the boat and it click-clacked around Peg’s feet.

  She jumped. “What are you doing? Doesn’t it go in a bucket or something?”

  “No time for buckets. We got hunting to do.” Randolph put the snorkel in his mouth and swam in the other direction.

  Before Peg could voice additional concerns about the creature crawling next to her, another lobster came flying over the side and landed at her feet. Lisa had slipped into the ocean like a mermaid, and, with no snorkel or fins, had caught the lobster with her bare hands. Pierre flashed his good-looking grin. “Peg, do you want to try eet? I have a mask and a snorkel and some feens eef you like.”

  Since doggy-paddling was not an option and remembering the disastrous paddleboard yoga experience, Peg declined, saying, “I’m enjoying myself on the boat, just watching.” She stifled a scream as another lobster whizzed past her, landing with a thud.

  “Glad you can enjoy.” Pierre dove into the water close to Lisa, who executed a porpoise dive under him. They frolicked and kissed as they rolled around each other.

  My God, they can breathe under water. They are fish people.

  Alone on the boat while the whoops of hunting success surrounded her, not to mention a growing number of very bummed lobsters, Peg journeyed to the cooler without stepping on anyone’s dinner and opened the lid.

  Champagne.

  Towel in hand she scooped up the shiny bottle, covered up the top with the towel, and, using her well-trained champagne-opening thumbs, she popped the cork and poured herself a big plastic cup full of bubbles. Sitting on the bench among the scampering shellfish, she put her feet up – and drank. And drank. And drank. As each additional lobster hurtled by, she refilled her cup.

  This isn’t so bad… except for the impending doom of my creepy-crawly friends… they don’t look that happy…

  Randolph swam up. “Come on in, doll. You should try it.”

  Bolstered by the bubbly, she took off her cover-up, placed her feet wide for ballast and stood up to yank the bottom of her suit back down over the exposed parts. “I’ll do it.” She located a mask and snorkel. “I need something to hang on to. I’m not a great shwim… swimmer.” The empty champagne bottle clinked across the boat.

  Randolph’s eyeballs rolled.

  She pulled the rubber strap of the mask on her head, feeling her hair leave her scalp in hunks.

  “Take the seat cushion. It floats,” instructed Randolph.

  “In case of a water landing, I get it.” Peg giggled and threw the bright green seat cushion overboard, its fluorescent straps dangling spider-like in the water.

  Cautiously sitting on the side of the boat, she plopped her body in. “Ooo. The water’s so warm. Makes me have to pee.” More giggling while she placed the floatation device under her.

  Randolph moved away. “Stay behind me.” He dove under water out to the open sea.

  The sun’s glare on the surface made it difficult to see anything. Peg decided not to follow Randolph and hung close to the boat. She saw Lisa and Pierre romping in the distance.

  They probably have gills.

  Gaining a bit of confidence, Peg ventured out and stuck her head in the water. One arm wrapped around the cushion allowed the other arm to paddle. After swallowing a considerable amount of salt water, she sort of got the hang of the snorkel and could breathe a few breaths without choking or burping.

  Clark was right about the Keys… don’t think about him. But he was right – this is something everyone should see…

  Floating peacefully in a drunken dream, she observed the hidden world of ocean life. She laughed as a school of tiny striped fish darted around her. The coral blooms swayed with the tide, hypnotizing Peg with the motion. She closed her eyes and drifted, hearing nothing but the sound of the water whooshing around her.

  Had she opened her eyes she would have seen the giant manatee lumbering below searching for sea grass.

  Had she not been so lulled into a trance, she would have noticed the curious elephantine creature approaching the dangling green seat cushion straps.

  Had she felt the strong tug on the cushion, she would have sensed the beast’s prehistoric teeth clamped to the cushion strap.

  And he was underneath her. Skin to hide.

  Peg screamed and flailed, clutching the seat cushion, but the manatee refused to give up its lunch. Off they went on a Key West sleigh ride at a speed that would have impressed the most discerning audience at Sea World. Peg on its back, the spooked manatee darted and weaved and dived under the water.

  … can’t breathe…

  The two-headed monster resurfaced with an unnatural, guttural wail: “HELP…”

  … under the water…

  The sound cut off as they submerged yet again.

  “MEEEE…”

  … gonna die…

  After some distance, the manatee decided to find less noisy greener pastures and let go, plunking Peg right into the side of the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission boat – State Law Enforcement written in bold letters on the side.

  Gasping for breath, Peg looked up at the uniformed men in the boat.

  “Thank God. You saved me. I almost died.” She had lost the mask and snorkel somewhere along the way.

  An imposing man in khaki said, “Ma’am, we’re gonna need you to get out of the water. Per the laws that protect Florida’s wildlife, you’re under arrest for the molestation of a sea creature.” He put down the ladder for her to climb up.

  “What? Molestation? It molested me.” Peg thrashed her way to the ladder and clung to it.

  “Ma’am, we’re gonna need your cooperation here.” He offered his big, hairy arm.

  Peg observed the gun in the holster as she took his hand. “I am cooperating. I am a cooperative person. I would never molest anything.”

  One of the other officers whispered to another, “Yeah, right, lady. As far as we know that manatee is smoking a cigarette 50 yards from here.” They snickered.

  He hoisted her dripping butt out of the water. The effort made her belch in very close proximity to the officer’s face.

  “Have you been drinking, ma’am?”

  “Um no… I mean yes… if you count champagne as drinking… I’m old enough though… you can probably tell…”

  “We’
re gonna take you in. It is a federal offence to touch a manatee. Could be six months jail sentence. Hefty fines too.” The officer showed her where to sit in the boat.

  “Six MONTHS? Don’t drug runners get less than that?”

  “It’s harassment, ma’am.”

  “I didn’t touch it. I mean I touched it after it dragged me… I can’t go with you, my friends are over in that boat.” She could see Randolph standing with his hands in the air. He looked annoyed.

  Before she knew it, the FWC boat kicked into high gear. “Not my fault,” she screamed to no avail. The engines blocked out all conversation. Her hair whipped around her head flinging remnants of seawater and hot-caramel-auburn throughout the boat. Tears flowed, adding to the liquids jettisoning around her. “I can’t go to jail. I have a dog… he needs me. I’ve never even had a speeding ticket. I would never be mean to an animal. Sure, I eat meat… I know that’s pretty mean… but I feel guilty about it… and it’s not illegal or anything,” she cried.

  The officers ignored her. Steering the boat toward the marina, they talked among themselves in their earpieces.

  Five uniformed Fish and Wildlife officers lined up at the dock. With crossed arms and polarized sunglasses, they made for a formidable group. One towering officer in the middle had his phone to his ear.

  Observing her welcome committee as the boat slowed, Peg shook with fear. “I’m not a drug runner. I’m very anti-drugs for that matter.” She sobbed her words through more sobbing. Pulling up to the dock she wailed, “I have a dog. He’s expecting me home. He’ll be worried.”

  The phone-to-ear-officer stepped forward, then snapped his phone into its belt holster. He leaned over the side of the boat and stretched out his arm. “Give me your hand, ma’am.”

  “My hands are gross. I’ve been wiping my nose. I didn’t have a tissue.” Peg could see herself in the officer’s sunglasses.

  “Give me your hand, ma’am.”

  Peg gave him her hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m all by myself… I don’t mean right now… I have friends… but my husband brought me here… I’m not from here.”