At first light the next morning, Webb rolls Legion into the water and drags his sputtering limp body to shore. While they doze stretched on the sand, Legion glimpses (or dreams) Lily Ana, hands on her hips, watching from the front door of the café. Her image fades back into sleep and then she suddenly reappears standing over him pouring a bucket of ice water in his face.
His squawking wakes Webb, who turns to his side laughing convulsively.
“Ting cocktails made us wise,” Legion sputters to Webb while using his finger to squeegee water from his eyes, “but now, we’re dumb as usual.”
Lily Ana doesn’t laugh. “I prefer you dumb.”
After staggering to his feet, he is adrift inside a thick fog. Lily Ana has disappeared.
“Are you coming?”
He tries to follow her voice but stumbles into the water. An unseen wave growls and froth runs up to his knees. The receding water erodes the sand beneath his feet. With the slant of the beach and no horizon, his arms flail to retain balance. “Lily?” The next wave crashes, coaxing him farther into the ocean.
Lily Ana grabs his hand. “Come on, before you drown.” She orients him toward the far end of the beach and pulls him along.
Legion looks back. Webb and the boat are already lost in the fog. “Next Sunday. Pick me up here. We’ll settle up then.”
There is no reply.
“I don’t know where your son is. He was asleep on the couch when I came in last night, but was gone when I woke this morning. His clothes are still strung around the cabin, so I guess he’s still here somewhere.”
The sand mutes Betty’s approach from behind and she passes Legion with her quick purposeful strides before he can get a good look at her profile.
“Beautiful morning,” Betty says glancing back with her confident smile.
“Getting prettier by the minute. Welcome back,” Legion says as she fades into the mist ahead of them. Legion’s pace quickens as he tries to keep her in view.
Lily Ana jerks back on his hand like he’s a dog tugging at a leash. “Stop it!” she hisses under her breath.
“Look at how it moves in every direction all at once. Watching that girl’s ass is like watching a dogfight; a guy shouldn’t look but he has to.”
“She’s a Jezebel, Legion. Yesterday she had Bella massaging her feet—right there on the beach for everybody to watch. There’s no end to the humiliation she’ll put that poor woman through just to show off.”
Legion smiles at how easily Lily Ana fits people into neat categories.
Bella, a hefty deaf-mute black woman, strolls Orient Beach barefoot in her flowery print muumuu selling straw hats and shell necklaces to the tourists. She holds up fingers to indicate the number of euros or dollars when someone points at the merchandise draped about her body. She raised her grandson André, the beachboy, doing this.
Every trip Betty buys crap she’ll never use. Her cabin must be full of the stuff. It seems she has found a better way to give Bella money without the proud Negress thinking it charity.
Lily Ana walks stiffly ahead, still fuming about Betty. Legion follows a few steps behind not wanting to get too close until her fury subsides. She might turn her sharp tongue on him next.
Out in the bay, he hears the throb of Webb’s boat motor at idle. He squints into the swirling fog. It would be chancy navigating through the reef with visibility so low. Webb could do it and not get a scratch on the hull.
In the bay, shadowy silhouettes of chartered catamarans at anchor lazily twitch with the wave action. These glorified houseboats of the jet set hardly resemble real sailboats. It is obvious they have no soul. There is nothing intrinsically sexy about a fiberglass box. Sailing a catamaran would be like sex with a whore; you could appreciate their efficiency, but could never fall in love with one.
≈≈≈
Paul jogs along the waterline where the waves rush up and melt into the sand. His footprints and those of a dog stretch behind intermittently, the surf having washed away long sections of their trail.
The dog lopes effortlessly beside him, tongue lolling to the side, head turned to Paul enjoying their camaraderie. Its short hair is burnt orange except for a peppering of black mixed into the muzzle, eyebrows, and the tip of the tail. The ears are turned down at the ends, giving its face a dull, houndish look. Paul, dressed in his new jogging outfit and matching sneakers, finds it annoying to be seen with such a mongrel.
Ahead, mixed in with other flotsam, Paul spots a stick. When he stops to pick it up, the dog gives a gleeful yelp as it dances, anticipating the throw.
“Get out of here…shoo!” Paul’s face distorts into a scowl as he slashes menacingly at the dog.
The dog’s tail stiffens; the hairs above its shoulders bristle. When Paul tries to run again, the dog rushes at him, nipping at his legs. Paul backs into the water to get away. The dog continues to bark threats as it paces back and forth at the water’s edge.
Paul looks up and down the beach for help. In the haze that hangs above the thrashing breakers, a splotch of color bounces. It floats closer and a nude angel steps out of the fog.
“Stop! Careful of the dog. It’ll bite you.”
“He’s not after me.”
“It wasn’t after me either—at first, but now it wants to kill me.”
She stops in front of Paul, beside the dog that sits innocently on its rump looking up at her. She smiles patently a moment before wading in with her hand extended. “Better give me that.” She throws the stick and the dog bounds away. “He’ll let you out if you stay with me, if he thinks you’re my friend.” They wade to shore before it returns. “Hold my hand.” The dog drops the stick at her feet. Paul stiffens as the dog circles sniffing at his heels. “Relax,” she says as she leads Paul up the beach.
“It’s your dog?”
“No, he’s an Island Dog.”
“So, why does it mind you?”
“He doesn’t mind anybody.” The dog prances ahead of them, its tail swishing back and forth. “We walk together in the mornings.”
They stroll toward the granite cliff seen above the haze at the end of the beach. Paul sneaks a peek as his eyes follow the dog frisking around her. She turns her face away from the wind shaking her head, allowing the wind to fluff her short black hair around her puckish face. Turning back, she sweeps the hair aside with her hands into a part above her left eye. Her short stature makes her figure all the more voluptuous. When he thinks she is looking ahead at the cliff, a surreptitious glimpse turns into a stare. He can’t make himself turn away.
Her cheeks lift into a coy smile before a quick sideways glance lets him know she is aware. “Don’t do anything quickly because of the dog.”
“You’re warning me not to try anything? You’ll sic it on me?”
“Not at all. That’s not what I meant.” She laughs, the cluck of a dove. “It’s just that Beau might try to protect me.”
“I thought it wasn’t yours.”
“He doesn’t belong to anybody. We’re just friends that walk together.”
“What kind did you say it is?
“An Island Dog.”
“Is that a breed, like a Poodle?”
“I guess that’s right. But you won’t find it in any dog book. People have been bringing dogs to the islands for centuries, different breeds, from all over. They’ve run loose, and so all the different breeds are mixed together. That’s what an Island Dog is, all breeds mixed together.”
“If you average all dogs together, this is what you get?”
“That’s it. They don’t need humans to take care of them. They eat food scraps thrown out by the restaurants, and with the warm climate, there’s no need for shelter. But they still like the company of people.”
“It looks like a mutt.”
“I think he’s handsome.” She chuckles at his frown of disbelief. “It’s sort of selective breeding in reverse. Island Dogs are what dogs were before people started tinkering. They’re like the original dog, I guess. And they’re smarter than most purebreds.”
They walk easily now, still holding hands. They reach the tumble of blue boulders spilled into the water beneath the cliff and start back. The dog is still out ahead. Other walkers emerge from the haze in front of them.
“So, you live here?” he asks.
“No, no. I’m from Chicago. But I come down at least twice a year, with my boyfriend.”
“Bonjour, Betty,” Lily Ana hails as she walks out of the fog. Legion is trailing behind. The dog races up to Lily Ana, sniffs her legs, then on to greet Legion.
“Bonjour, Lily Ana.”
“I see you’ve met Paul.”
“So, this is Paul. I didn’t know his name.”
“It looks like you’ve known each other for years,” Lily Ana says with a disparaging grin.
Startled, Paul drops Betty’s hand.
“I had to rescue him from Beau.”
“From Beau?” Lily Ana looks back at the dog getting his ears scratched.
“It attacked, tried to bite me,” Paul explains.
“Who knows what goes through Beau’s mind? The guards will pick him up if he bites somebody,” Lily Ana warns Betty.
“They should do it now, before it bites. It should be put down,” Paul says emphatically.
All three look at Paul for a moment before the two couples continue their walks in opposite directions. Beau follows beside Legion.
“Like Legion,” Betty says. “Beau is handsome like Legion.”
“You think Dad’s handsome?”
“Of course. The way older men can be handsome, but not pretty.”
“Women are strange.”
She giggles but does not respond.
“So, you’re Betty?”
“Yep, Betty Boop.”
Paul stops and looks at her unabashedly for the first time. She also stops and does a Betty Boop pose, standing on one leg with the opposite knee turned in, her eyelids fluttering seductively. If he could imagine a slinky black dress, the cartoon character would be complete.
“Amazing,” Paul says as he takes her hand and they continue to walk. “Is your name really Betty Boop?”
“My name’s really Betty, but I add the Boop when I come down here.”
They follow an erratic line of sea grass that has accumulated where the surf plays out. The sun has burnt away the haze. Flames spiking above clouds that fringe the horizon give her body a pinkish glow.
“So where’s your boyfriend? Doesn’t he like to walk?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes he likes to walk, but he can’t keep up with you?”
“No, some of my boyfriends like to walk and some don’t.” She looks sideways to get Paul’s reaction. “And none of them can keep up with me.”
Ahead, a beachboy arranges lounge chairs into pairs facing the water and screws umbrellas into the sand between them. He wears surfer pants and a yellow T-shirt with the name of the resort across the front and back. The yellow contrasts with his amber skin. His black kinky hair seems incompatible with his narrow delicate nose.
“I suppose he’s handsome too?”
“André? André lives here. He’s worked at the resort ever since I’ve been coming. And no, he’s not handsome yet, but he’s pretty.”
Betty giggles at Paul’s puzzled expression.
“He’s black,” Paul says.
She waves and André waves back.
“You think he’s black?”
“Well, he’s not white.”
“He’d be offended by either term, I think.” She squeezes Paul’s hand and smiles up at him. “I’d introduce you, but I don’t think you two would like each other. He’s an Island Man.”
≈≈≈
When Lily Ana looks back, the ghostly form of Legion is barely discernible. She stops and waits. “Legion, can you not keep up?”
He continues to amble along the beach at the same pace without answering. As he comes closer, she sees his gaze is toward the ocean, lost in some daydream, and hadn’t heard her. Legion is startled when he bumps into her.
She takes his hand before continuing. “Where were you just now?”
“Fishing. I was out there with Webb.”
Lily Ana doesn't believe him, but won’t press him further. He had tried to explain when they first met the blasphemous things that go through his head. She had tried to save his soul, but he only seemed bemused. He won’t discuss it with her anymore because she can’t help getting upset. The Devil plagues his mind and tortures his body—or maybe God is testing him like Job.
She turns her head away so he can’t see her bleary eyes. “I love you, Legion—Lord only knows why.” She is confident God has put them together for a purpose. Legion had been sent by God to rescue her and now it is her turn to save Legion for God.
The café is just ahead where their days will begin, she tending bar and Legion the only steady customer.
“What do you think of Paul?” Legion asks.
“He is not you.”
“That’s good.”
“Not in my opinion. He’s such a boor. As bad as you are sometimes, you could never be so snobbish. Was he always that way?”
“Maybe not always, not as a little kid. I think the thing with his mother and me damaged him some. There’s some history I haven’t told you.”
Lily Ana gives him a questioning glance, wanting more, but his eyes stare down at the swirl of the water.
“So his bad manners are your fault? I don’t buy that,” she says.
“Is he so bad? I mean, I don’t really like him myself, but he’s the only family I have. I’ll put him up somewhere else if he bothers you.”
“No, it’s not that I hate him or anything. I feel sorry for him actually. I’ll try to make him feel welcome for your sake. You’d do the same for me, I know. But what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. What should I do? If he’s getting on your nerves, I’ll run him off.”
“He’s your son. Surely, you two can patch things up. He seems to need his father right now.”
Sandpipers skittered on the beach a few yards ahead of them, sprinting on little stilted legs before again dipping their heads to browse on sand fleas washed up by the surf. Legion feints a rush at them, interrupting their well-ordered routine by making them fly. He’s feeling mean.
“He was an accident this woman and I had twenty years ago. I’ve paid the price and he’s on his own. The only thing he needs is for me to feel guilty.”
Lily Ana strides ahead on the way to the café and then turns and walks backward. “Think about it, Legion. He needs you whether he wants you or not—and maybe you need him.”
≈≈≈