MONKEYS ON THE BEACH
Foam slid down the station wagon’s windshield, bubbles and whiteness, towards the black wipers.
Selena, holding the green hose by its neck, water gushing out, offered it to Geoffrey. “Do you want to spray the soap off?” Geoffrey glanced at Lisbeth. His older sister thought about it a moment, conscious of Selena waiting patiently. Nodded.
Geoffrey took the rushing water from his stepmother, fingers feeling the vibration in the hard green rubber. Sucked in breath. So many new adventures, when you’re young.
Don, tall and broad-shouldered, on his haunches at the rear tire of the station wagon, scrubbing the hubcaps but keeping an eye on the hose being switched from a delicate hand to a small hand, caught Selena’s eye. Smiled. Another little inroad into getting his kids to accept his new wife.
He felt great. Didn’t feel at all like he might pass out. Maybe it was the island air, all that healing salt from the ocean carried in the Caribbean breezes. Down by the rear tire, sandals wet, he could see past their rented villa to the beautiful green blueness of the bay. Never lived anywhere with such a view. Always wanted to.
He actually didn’t mind passing out. Had come to enjoy it. To be on your feet, and suddenly start losing consciousness, limbs falling off, that underwater confusion, mind muffled to where you can’t put a sentence together, and in sweeps the blackness.
Something magical about coming to on a floor, returned to your life, looking across the flatness at dust and forgotten paperclips. Where am I? And of course the pain. A body, falling, unconscious before it starts collapsing, doesn’t defend itself on the way down. So when you come to, an elbow aches, maybe a knee, fingers fumbling over your face, feeling.
Every time he passed out he had been by himself, in the garage, up in his study, out in the yard. Usually, it was easy to get back to normal before he returned to whatever room Selena was in. He never told her what had just happened. Not sure why. Didn’t want to worry her? Wanted to keep this part of his life to himself? Something secret, like drugs or an affair? Probably she had secrets too.
The station wagon was looking a lot better. After the four of them landed at the island’s one airport, about the size of a bus depot, descending onto the tarmac in Hawaiian shirts, sunglasses and straw hats, they had strolled through customs and out into the pink parking lot, heat and palm trees, and found the only rental available to them was this station wagon, so old it had wood trim along the sides. But the kids loved it, and Selena was game.
The rental agent hadn’t even had it washed. “You arrived on time! We expected you to be late. Would you and your family like to sit inside and listen to the radio while I find someone to wash it for you?”
Selena came up with the idea of them washing it themselves, the next morning, at their villa. “What do you think, guys? We’ll turn it into an adventure.” Joan would have pouted the rest of the vacation, her disapproval aped by the kids.
When you have something old, just wash it new.
She had made a lot of inroads with them. Geoffrey wasn’t a hard sell, he still took his cues from others, but Lisbeth, older and a woman herself, although only twelve, took more time. Don watching from his aisle seat, on the flight down, as Selena flirted with her.
She was a great flirt.
He took the hose from Geoffrey, used his thumb to eclipse most of the brass opening, turning the gush into a high-powered spray. Worked his way down the soapy length of the wagon, walking backwards.
Selena and Lisbeth were facing each other, Selena holding the length of Lisbeth’s pale hair in her fingers. “Mom said I shouldn’t cut it.”
Selena’s hands lifted Lisbeth’s hair on either side of her face, to just below her chin. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Maybe if we didn’t cut-cut it, but just had it trimmed? Maybe up to here? It’d really frame your face. And it would dry a lot faster after you washed it.”
“Dad?”
Don saw Geoffrey’s worried face. Turned around to see where his son was looking.
Parked across the entrance to the driveway, blocking it, a police cruiser.
Don raised his jaw, eyes watching the man dressed in a sheriff’s uniform headed towards him. “Good morning.”
The sheriff got closer, shaking his head. Seemed upset. “What are you doing?”
Don ambled forward, to meet him. “You mean washing this wagon?”
The sheriff gave Don an exasperated look. “Did you not see the signs at the airport, warning that there is a water shortage? This is an island, Sir!”
Geoffrey and Lisbeth both moved closer to Selena. She put a hand on each child’s shoulder.
Don shrugged. “I didn’t. In any event, we’re finished. I’ll be sure we’re more careful in the future.”
The sheriff thrust both hands at the rear of the driveway, where soapy water was sliding towards the lawn. “In the future! What about now? That is all wasted water. That is a crime.”
Don gave the older, shorter man a quick up and down. Open collar, probably because of the heat. Sheriff’s badge pinned to his beige shirt. Unusually wide black belt with a pair of handcuffs dangling by one hip, side arm by the other hip.
“Look, I apologize. The car rental gave us a dirty car. We rinsed it off.”
The other man snorted. “I think it’s more than a rinse! Look at how many liters of our water you have wasted. Did you ever think that perhaps there’s a reason why they gave you an unwashed car? Why nobody washes their car on this island?”
The fact the sheriff said “liters” rather than “gallons” reminded Don he was in a foreign country, where he didn’t know much about the culture. He bobbed his head. “You’re right. I’m very sorry. I didn’t see the sign at the airport. I have custody of my kids for the next two weeks, and I wanted to show them a good time. You have my word we’ll be extra careful about using water the rest of our stay in your country. I appreciate you letting me know.”
“Well, you appreciate me letting you know. I hope you can appreciate me writing you a ticket, a fine, for what you have done.”
Don said nothing for a moment, then smiled. Raised his black eyebrows. “Of course. Only fair.”
Watched as the shorter man fussily made entries in the thick pad of forms he had pulled out of a back pocket. Glanced back at Selena and the kids. She stood relaxed, hip cocked. Gave him a wry smile.
“Just because we are a small island does not mean we can be pushed around, Sir.”
“Of course not. This was my mistake. I assure you it won’t happen again.”
“You are American, right?”
Don spread his big hands apart. “I am.”
“You have a lot of water in your country. The Great Lakes. Five of them, correct? We don’t have that down here.” He tore the top sheet off his pad. Handed it to Don.
Don glanced at the fluttering paper. He hadn’t learned what the conversion rate was on the local currency, but it seemed like a large amount. Read the rest of the form. “Thank you, Sheriff Axonil. I’ll take care of this right away.”
Don took up the rear as the hostess wound his family past the small tables, the lamp-lit faces, to a large table by the side window.
As he followed behind his group, he saw different men at the tables notice Selena, do that double take where they stare longer. Trying to hide their interest from their dates, mumbling distracted responses to the conversation, which never works. Don used to get angry when other men noticed Joan, but with Selena, who was younger and prettier, he had gotten more relaxed. Maybe because being as attractive as she was, she was more used to male attention, and was less flattered by it. Better at ignoring it, rather than being grateful. He remembered that moment in bed when he first saw her face for exactly what it was, how it actually looked. Which always happens. Without makeup, without a pose. Just a naked face, bony features and excited eyes. And it still looked good. Not as attractive as he originally thought, that day in the bookstore, rain outside, faces never are, but a face that even at this most vulnerable moment was still young and confident.
Once everyone was seated, menus passed over their heads to the family, he ordered a Manhattan for himself, Cosmopolitan for her. The waiter bowed, went away.
Lisbeth was sitting up straight in her chair, still getting used to her new hairstyle, trying to act more sophisticated. Selena had lent her one of her necklaces. Pearls around a kid’s throat. She took on an affected air. “I’ve always wanted to try steamed clams.”
Selena laid her hand on the little girl’s wrist. “Your dad loves clams.”
“That sounds like what I’ll have for my appetizer, then. Are you having clams?”
“You know? I think I will! Thanks for the idea, sweetie.”
Lisbeth’s eyes read left to right as she considered the entrees, but her mind was obviously elsewhere. Still staring at the different entries, their fancy fonts, she made a too-casual shrug. “So how did you and my dad meet, anyway?”
Don sipped his Manhattan. Lit a cigarette. Sat back in his chair. “Your stepmother and I met in Manhattan. It was a rainy day. Like in a movie. We talked for a while, like adults do, then I asked her to have a drink with me after work.”
“So did you know you really liked her?”
Selena answered for him, winking at Lisbeth, which caused the little girl to blush. “He did. Know how I could tell? He started courting my hand.” Selena held up her slim left hand in the candlelight. “He’d kiss its knuckles, hold it, pat it. Gave it lots of treats. Food, clothes, jewels. Eventually, it let him slip a heavy ring on its finger. Kind of like a saddle. But I like saddles.”
Don shifted in his seat.
“And you guys are going to stay married, like, forever?”
Don leaned towards his daughter. “Absolutely. And the four of us are always going to have adventures like this.”
A commotion at a nearby table.
The man at the head of the table spoke in a loud voice meant to be heard throughout the immediate neighborhood of tables. “Do you not know how to open a bottle of wine?”
The waiter, much smaller, tilted his head to one side, trying to screw the corkscrew into the cork. “I am opening it for you, Sir. It will only take a moment.” More furious twisting, base of the bottle clamped between the elbow and ribs of his white waiter’s jacket.
The customer spread his hands apart, shoulders lifted, with a Can you believe this shit? look of disbelief played to the other tables. Held out a paw. “Do you know who I am? You ever hear the name Oslov? That’s me. Here. Hand me the bottle. Let me give you a lesson in how to uncork a wine.”
“I am doing it, Sir.”
A waitress brought Don’s table their soup. Brown, flecked with green. He stubbed out his cigarette. “Smells fantastic. Thank you.”
She nodded, left.
“Hand me the bottle! I’m paying for it. Hand it to me.”
“Sir, if you will be so kind as to allow me—”
Oslov yanked the bottle from the waiter. The corkscrew fell to the carpet. “Get me a new corkscrew.” Shook his head wearily at the waiter’s incompetence. Shot his eyes up at the waiter. “No, I don’t want that corkscrew! You picked it up off the dirty carpet! Fetch me a new corkscrew. A clean one. What is wrong with you? Are you a waiter, or a bus boy?”
The soup really was quite good. Deep, complex flavor. It reminded Don of some of the gumbos he had had in New Orleans over the years, on one of his many business trips. As he sipped, head bent, he saw Lisbeth struggle with trying to decide if she liked it or not, casting glances at Selena’s elegant face for clues. Geoffrey was using his spoon like an oar, floating the ingredients around, trying to figure out what he had been served. Fussy eater. Which dismayed Don.
“What were you doing over there?”
“I have your corkscrew, Sir.”
“Yeah, but before you brought it to me, you brought salads to that other table. You were waiting on us. You help us first, then you help them. Now watch as I open this bottle. You need to learn how to do this if you’re going to be a waiter.”
The rest of the men at the table leaned back in their captain’s chairs, relaxing, laughing, looking at the waiter with contempt.
Oslov worked the point of the screw into the soft top of the cork, screwing down the steel spirals. “See what I’m doing? Don’t look over there. Look here. Pay attention!”
After a few more twists, the corkscrew snapped off.
“The fuck?”
The waitress returned to take their empty soup bowls. “Was it to your satisfaction, Sir?”
Don lit a fresh cigarette. “It had a unique taste. I really enjoyed it.”
“They season it with the little ones. It is an island specialty.”
“The . . . what? What do they season it with?”
“The little ones, Sir. An island specialty. The cooks grind them, and add them to the soup, sprinkling them across the surface. They sink down, of course.”
“You brought me a defective corkscrew!”
“I did not, Sir.”
“On purpose! You filthy, worthless piece of shit! I want to speak to your manager! Fetch him!”
“Sir, I can remedy this situation.”
“Fetch your God damn manager, boy!” Thumb and middle finger raised. Snap, snap.
“Allow me to clear your soup course.”
“Clear our soup course? We haven’t even tasted it, due to your stupid incompetence.”
The waiter reached down, curled his fingers under the white rim of the far side of Oslov’s soup bowl. Tilted the rim up until the hot soup slid over the opposite rim, onto Oslov’s lap.
Oslov shot up out of his chair, slapping at his crotch.
“Sorry, Sir. Accident.”
“You fucking—”
“I am so sorry, Sir.”
“Manager! Where’s the fucking manager?”
A bald headed man who was older and even shorter than the waiter rushed over.
The waitress brought the next course to Don’s table. Fat white shrimp with orange streaks across their plumpness, lying in a shallow pool of golden butter. Intoxicating aroma of garlic.
Don glanced at his kids. “Don’t behave like that when you grow up. Especially don’t behave like that in a restaurant. The waiter will spit in your food before he serves it to you.”
As they were finishing the course, the police arrived. Oslov at this point, still standing, front of his pants wet, arguing at the top of his lungs with the manager. The waiter had his hands on his hips.
Everyone pulled back a little in front of the police. Don recognized Sheriff Axonil, from earlier.
As the cheese course arrived, wrapped in wet green leaves, the sheriff grabbed the waiter by his shoulders, twisted him around. Bent him over a vacant table. Handcuffed him. Had one of his deputies lead the waiter out of the dining room by his shirt collar, seated people pretending not to watch, forks held in mid-air. Just before he himself left, Sheriff Axonil swept his eyes around the different tables. Saw Don. Glared at him.
Selena looked at her fingernails. “I always thought island life was supposed to be relaxing.”
As they left through the restaurant’s entrance, a little boy ran up to Don’s family. Frightened look in his eyes. “Are you hungry?”
Don stepped between the boy and his children. “Who are you?”
“I am so hungry! Will you feed me?”
Lisbeth reached out for Selena’s hand. “Dad? Can we feed him?”
“Can I come to your home?”
“No. Sorry. Where are your parents?”
“My father was arrested.”
“Was your father the waiter the police took away?”
He grew excited. “Yes! I don’t have any food.”
“Dad? Please?”
“Your father was an employee of the restaurant. Go inside and speak to the manager. Tell him your situation. I’m sure he’ll take care of you.”
The boy tagged along at the periphery of Don’s family as they made their way across the parking lot to their rental station wagon. “Please feed me?”
Don got everyone into the wagon. Turned around at the opened driver’s door. “What’s your name, son?”
“Pooko.”
“Pooko, you need to go back to the restaurant and speak to the manager. I’m sure he’ll help you.”
Don folded himself into the wagon, started it up. Backed up carefully, Pooko just outside, arms at his sides.
“He looked hungry, Dad.”
“I don’t doubt he is. But we’re not going to get involved in it. Not in a foreign country. You’ve got to watch out for yourself. Nobody else will.”
Don exited the parking lot. Glanced in the rear view mirror. Pooko was running behind the wagon, knees and elbows lifting.
Their rented villa wasn’t far from the restaurant. By the time they pulled up into the driveway, and everyone got out of the car, Don could hear the echoes of shoes running on pavement, approaching from the street’s shadows.
“Everyone get inside.”
Pooko’s running body emerged out of the darkness, bouncing under the moonlit palm trees, towards them.
“Dad?”
Don looked at Selena, who was standing behind Lisbeth, hands draped over the little girl’s shoulders. She squeezed the tops of Lisbeth’s shoulders.
“We don’t know anything about him, Sweetie.”
But by now Pooko had almost reached the driveway. His eyes looked frightened. Bent over, like he was going to vomit. Palms on his knees. Out of breath. “I, I have, have, nowhere. To go.”
“Dad, please?”
Don made an F sound with his lips.
“He doesn’t have anybody! And he’s hungry!”
Inside the well-lit villa, Don poured himself a whiskey. Lisbeth was introducing herself and Geoffrey to the little boy. Don sat on one of the bar stools. “What do you normally eat?”
Pooko swung his anxious face towards Don, trying to please. “My older brothers? They allow me to drink all the pig juice. Because I am more . . .” Head down, trying to translate. “Vulnerable?”
“And what exactly is pig juice?”
“It is when the pig is activated? Activated?”
“Do you mean the pig’s blood?”
“Oh, no, no! I would not want to drink blood. Diseases. But pig’s juice, it is not the best part, like the head, but it is very nourishing.”
“So is it like the melted fat from the pig?”
“No! We do not eat that. Not even my brothers.”
“Do you mean the drippings from the pig? As it cooks?”
“Oh, no. That is for my older brothers. Only they get the bread to sop it up with. I just get the pig juice. It is very nourishing.”
Selena, fetching in her bare-armed island dress, looked at her new husband. “We have some leftover chicken in the fridge.”
Don raised himself up in his chaise lounge, shielding his eyes from the sun with a right-handed salute, watching Selena sashay over in a blue and red bikini.
“Here’s your drink, Sir.” She perched on the edge of his chaise lounge, facing him, drawing up one foot so he could see down the length of her leg. “The kids seem to be having fun.”
Lisbeth and Pooko were splashing at each other in the pool, laughing and twisting their faces to one side, Geoffrey contributing feeble sprays of water the other two didn’t notice.
She rubbed Don’s forearm. “I think in another minute he’s going to start feeling left out. Why don’t you play a game with him?”
Don sipped his drink. “What, like Monopoly?”
Raising her eyebrows to herself, shy. “No, but it may be a good opportunity for some father-son bonding.”
“Let me enjoy this drink first. It’s not going to kill him to have to learn how to deal with disappointment.”
She play-punched his bicep. “Some fathers are so stern.”
“I’m just not that touchy-feely.” Was that noise an airplane? “Whenever I told my dad I was sorry, he’d say, ‘It’s too late to be sorry.’ I’d cry in my bedroom, but eventually I got over it.” He looked up at the sky.
“Probably something his dad used to say to him.”
A line of smoke was spiraling down from the sky, louder and louder.
Don, distracted. “That never occurred to me.”
Selena looked over her bare shoulder. “What is that?” Looked up.
Don put his drink on the side table. Sat up all the way, feet coming down onto the patio.
Selena stood. “Kids! Come over here!”
The smoke spiraled closer, its oncoming rush blowing over an umbrella, outdoor grill.
Lisbeth, Pooko, Geoffrey standing still in the pool, looking up, motionless.
The roar was deafening.
The diving board burst up into the air, somersaulting.
Split tiles rained down on Don. He ducked his head instinctively.
Selena had jumped into the pool. Was herding the three screaming kids to the shallow end.
Don ran alongside the edge of the pool to its shallow end. Selena had everyone out by then. All three ran into her arms, sobbing.
Billows of white steam erupting off the blue surface of their pool. Just beyond the villa’s low wall, a palm tree fell over.
Selena, on her knees in her bikini, hugging all three kids. Looked up. “What the f was that?”
Her left forearm was red. Must have burned it in the steam, pulling out the kids.
“I . . .” He walked cautiously to the edge of the pool. Most of the steam had risen into the air, leaving a blur of mist just above the water. As the blur cleared, he saw something dark at the bottom of their pool. “Fuck.”
It started to register with him that the diving board was missing, huge gouge down the pool’s tiled walls on that side. Three walls of the pool, in fact, were split apart. The level of the pool was lowering, water escaping through the ruptured tile walls.
Looking around, trying to make sense out of everything.
Oh. The diving board, what was left of it, was on the roof of their villa.
“Don? Don?”
Turned around again.
Selena, like a wounded animal, was looking at the burn on her forearm. “It really hurts.”
Sheriff Axonil came striding into their back terrace, gun drawn. “What has happened?”
Don lifted a hand, couldn’t think of what to say.
The sheriff stalked over to the smoldering ruins where the diving board had been. “You destroyed this man’s pool!”
Selena held the children closer. “Something fell out of the sky. It wasn’t our fault.”
“You say it wasn’t your fault, but look at this!”
Don patted the air in front of him. “An object fell out of the sky. We had nothing to do with it.”
“Sheriff, may I ask you to please put your gun away? You’re frightening the children.”
Axonil looked at Selena’s pleading face. Rolled his eyes to himself. Holstered his gun.
Don approached Axonil, aware the sheriff’s eyes were jumping. “We really had nothing to do with this. You can see for yourself. Just look in the pool.”
A black object, made out of some kind of metal.
Selena took a look herself, kids shuffling with her. “That printing on the side. That’s Cyrillic.”
The sheriff studied her, but clearly wasn’t going to ask what Cyrillic meant.
“It’s Russian. Whatever fell out of the sky must have been part of a Russian satellite.”
He flared his nostrils. “I have to once again write you a ticket. The man’s swimming pool is destroyed.”
Don controlled his anger. “We did not destroy the pool. This object did. Over which we had no control.”
“Well then, you can argue that in court. That’s what our courts are for. Who is that child?”
Pooko was clinging to Selena.
“He wasn’t here yesterday. He doesn’t look like your offspring.”
“We . . . this is Pooko. We were in a restaurant last night, the Happy Go Lucky? You were there too. His father, the waiter, was arrested. Pooko is his son. He followed us here. We took him in, rather than just having him wander around in the streets after dark.”
“Did you not think to call the sheriff’s department?”
Selena looked up from nursing the burn on her forearm. “We called the sheriff’s department, but no one answered.” Stared straight at the sheriff, blinking, hoping he’d believe the lie.
The sheriff wavered. “How late did you call?”
“Quite late.”
Sheriff Axonil conceded the point. “Well. His father will be in jail for the next few days.” Hesitated, looking at Selena. “I will let him know you are taking care of his son for him. He is not a trouble?”
Selena’s happy face, tears of relief. “No trouble at all!”
“But I do have to write you a ticket for this destruction. You can argue it in court.”
For the second time in two days, Don waited for the sheriff to rip a citation off the top of his thick pad. “I’ll see that it’s taken care of.”
Sheriff Axonil nodded. Glanced back at Selena. Squinted up at the sky. Left.
By the next morning, the burn on Selena’s forearm was still red, but according to her, it no longer hurt.
She suggested they take a day off, pack a picnic lunch, go to the beach and just relax.
Don, sipping his coffee, agreed. “I want to get something out of this vacation.”
It was a beautiful day. Blue sky, white sand, green waves breaking on the shore.
Selena spread a wide, red blanket for everyone. Don stabbed the large beach umbrella into the sand, so they’d have some shade.
Even better, the beach was not crowded. A few families or couples in sight, fairly far down on either side of them. Behind them, where the edge of the beach met the jungle, tall palm trees, wild ferns, bright green fronds swaying in the breeze off the ocean.
Selena put some sunscreen on her forearm, revolving it as she rubbed.
“Does it hurt?”
She shrugged. “Just a little.” Up from under look. “You could try to distract me from it later on tonight, after the kids are tucked in.”
“We could swing by the emergency room on the way back to the villa.”
She squeezed her husband’s wrist. “I’ll be okay. I hate emergency rooms.”
The three kids were down by the wet shoreline, building a sand castle. Dumping their plastic buckets of sand, decorated with big, colorful flowers, upside down on the dry part of the sand. Geoffrey was staring down at something that had arrived on a wave, bending over in his baggy swimming trunks. The little scientist.
Once the sun was high up in the sky, Don kissed his wife and took a swim out in the ocean, going arm over arm out past the humped waves, until he was just a little pale blot in the distant, undulating green, swimming lateral to the shoreline about half a mile down the beach. Selena and the kids watched from shore. She squeezed Lisbeth’s shoulder. “Your dad’s a strong swimmer.”
When Don emerged hunch-backed from the water, tired, the five of them made their way to the blanket.
Selena, sitting with legs folded by the large wicker picnic basket she had packed hours earlier, glanced prettily at her family. “You guys ready to eat?”
Her delicate hands lifted out all sorts of treasures. Some squarish white ice bags first, to keep all the food inside cool.
Ham sandwiches. Fried chicken. Hard-boiled eggs. Salads, in plastic bins, dressing in a separate container, so the greens wouldn’t get soggy. Irregularly-cut cubes of moist fruit, all different colors. Cheese! Crackers. A baggie heavy with wet pickle spears. And for the two adults, a tall bottle of white wine, two glasses, and a corkscrew.
Pooko had to be shown how a sandwich worked.
They ate together, on the red blanket, in a small circle facing inwards.
Lisbeth was cutting up one of the larger fruit chunks for Geoffrey when her eyes widened, staring past Selena and Don’s shoulders. “Look! Look!”
She stood up on the blanket in her bathing suit.
Twenty feet away, a group of three monkeys were cautiously approaching across the sand on their knuckles and feet, black noses lifted, sniffing. Selena swung her hair away from her face. “Oh, my goodness!”
“Can we feed them?”
Don drained his latest glass of wine. “They’re wild animals, Sweetie.”
“People probably feed them all the time, Dad! It’s like when we go to McDonalds and drop French fries out the windows for the pigeons.”
The lead monkey sat up, brown hindquarters setting down in the sand. He raised his front paws, as if begging, big lips pulling back, exposing his fangs, chattering.
“He’s hungry!”
“I don’t know. They’re wild animals.”
Lisbeth, still standing, got in a pitcher’s stance, eyes closed. Hurled a wet chunk of fruit at the front monkey, as if she were trying to hit it. It plopped into the sand a yard in front of it.
As they all watched, the monkey, larger than the other two, crawled forward. Rump held higher than its head, worried eyes checking and rechecking the humans’ distance. Scrabbled up the orange chunk. Amazingly, with a daintiness, dusted off the sand with its black paw. So intelligent!
“He’s eating it, Dad! Can I give him more? Do you think I could feed him out of my hand?”
“I don’t know about that, Sweetie.”
Lisbeth held up a triangle of ham sandwich. Walked towards the monkey without fear, wagging the sandwich up and down. “Here monkey! Here.”
Selena pulled her long hair behind her ear. “Lisbeth? Maybe you shouldn’t do that.”
The monkey crawled closer across the sand, baring its fangs.
Selena stood up. “Lisbeth? Please come back.”
Don stood. “Sweetie?”
“Here monkey!”
The monkey scuttled over, snatching the sandwich, shoulders hunching.
Lisbeth squealed.
The monkey jumped on her head, long brown tail whipping left, right.
Lisbeth’s blind arms rising.
Selena dashed across the sand.
The monkey’s black paw dug into the front of Lisbeth’s screaming face, pulling out a blue eye.
Scuttled back down the beach, with the other two, hopping back into the jungle.
Don, Selena, Geoffrey, and Pooko sat together in the waiting area of the emergency room. A very small emergency room, about the size of a doctor’s office back in the states. And according to the paper sign taped to the front glass door, it wasn’t a twenty-four hour service. Ten in the morning to eight in the evening.
Eventually, a doctor made his way over to them. “The Holts?”
Don stood up, still in his bathing suit. “Were you able to save the eye?”
The doctor did a double-take. “There was no eye. From what you said, the monkey took it.”
Selena’s face scrunched. “She doesn’t have a left eye anymore?”
“But her right eye is unharmed. Not even scratched. Let me take you to her.”
Once through the door separating the waiting room from the emergency care ward, they saw Lisbeth right away, sitting up in a white bed. There was only one other bed in the ward. No privacy curtains. A sandwich, half-eaten, on a small desk against one wall.
Lisbeth had white gauze over her left eye, criss-crossed white tape holding the gauze in place.
Her little lips trembled, arms lifting. “Daddy!”
Don held her to his bare chest, careful not to touch the bandage.
“She can go home with you. There is nothing more we can do.”
Selena, tears down her face. “What do we do next? Do we get a glass eye, or . . .”
The doctor shook his head. “The socket must heal first. You can get the glass eye back in the states.”
A black nurse showed up behind them. “Mr. Holt, will you be paying with traveler’s checks?”
He instinctively touched the sides of his bathing suit. “Let me get my pants.”
The nurse accompanied him back out to the emergency room waiting area. The family had left all their belongings on the seats of the empty chairs. Thankfully, no one had stolen them. Don yanked out his wallet. He followed the nurse into a back room.
As he pulled out his wad of traveler’s checks, she raised her black eyebrows. “A wealthy American! Come on down to the islands more often!”
Her eyes were so brown they were almost black.
He peeled off blue-green traveler’s checks. His handsome face managed a smile. “I’d love to go down on the islands.”
Rejoined his family a few minutes later, putting a slip of paper into his wallet.
Lisbeth sat in Selena’s lap on the drive back to the villa.
No one spoke.
A little before eight, Don got up out of his chair. “I’m going to buy some whiskey.”
“Tonight?”
“I’ve been through a lot. And I still have to call Joan to tell her what happened. Will you watch the kids?”
Selena moved her head around on her neck, somewhere between a nod and a shake. “Sure.”
“It may take me a while to find a place that’s open. I’ll take the front door key with me. All of you probably need a good night’s sleep.”
“Where’s Daddy going?”
“I’ll be back. I’m just going out for a little while.”
Selena, looking up at Don, beckoned to Lisbeth to join her on her chair. “Daddy won’t be long, Sweetie.”
He got home around eleven.
The kids were asleep. Lisbeth in the bed with Selena.
“Why’d it take so long?”
“I ended up going to a bar instead. So I didn’t bring a whole bottle of whiskey home.”
In the dark, she gave him a kiss goodnight, Lisbeth exhaling by her side. Reared her head back at the minty taste. “Did you brush your teeth?”
“I had one too many. Threw up in the parking lot. Sorry.”
Selena fixed a special breakfast, Quiche Lorraine, to cheer up Lisbeth. “And when we get back to the states, you and I are going to get complete makeovers! It’ll be girl’s day out.”
But Lisbeth, ignoring the slice of quiche put with a flourish in front of her, looked up at her dad. “I want to see my mom. My real mom.”
Selena’s smile faded, came back, but frozen.
Don swallowed some more quiche, wiped his mouth. “You will. But aren’t you having fun with Selena?”
Her one eye started crying. “I want my real mom. Can we go back today?”
Using the side of his fork to cut off another chunk of quiche. “Honey, you’re being rude.”
Selena grinned extra-wide, shook her head. “No, it makes sense, Don. I can call the airline. See if we can get our tickets converted. I’ll make sure you see your real mom, Sweetie.” She picked up her orange juice, even though it was still full, went over by herself to the sink. Stayed with her back to the Holt family for a while, looking down at the sink.
Don, still sitting with his kids at the kitchen table. “Are you okay?”
Selena stayed standing with her back to the others. “Yeah. That’s fine. It really is. I understand.”
They decided since this was to be their last day on the island, they’d have a cookout on the patio, over on the side of the patio least damaged by the Russian space junk falling out of the sky.
Selena went into town by herself. Brought back jumbo shrimp fresh from the ocean, wooden skewers, a bag of coals with French writing on the side, and individual tubs of greens, fruits, and garden vegetables for a salad.
Through the sliding glass door, she saw Don out on the terrace, having a drink, talking on his phone. Pooko and Geoffrey playing together in the fronds on the far side of the destroyed pool.
Where was Lisbeth?
A murmur deep within the villa. Selena followed its rise and fall, having to choose which hallways to tiptoe down based on the murmur’s increase or decrease in volume. Getting colder. Getting warmer.
Found Lisbeth in a rear bedroom, back to the open doorway, sitting on the edge of the room’s bed, little shoulders hunched around the phone in her hand.
Teary-voiced. “I want to live with you. I don’t like it here.”
Reared her head around suddenly, with the new hairstyle Selena had got for her, look of betrayal on her bandaged face.
Selena backed up, embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were on the phone.”
Flapped her hands by her hips, helpless. Left.
She was sniffling by the kitchen sink, cold water on, deveining the shrimp, when Lisbeth showed up.
“Hey, Sweetie.” She put down the long, thin knife. Smiled.
“How come you don’t have any kids?”
“Well, I like to think of you and Geoffrey as my kids, now.”
That little face, with that big, cumbersome bandage. “If my real mom was here, she would have protected me. I don’t have an eye anymore.”
“Sweetie, we are going to have the best plastic surgeon in Manhattan take a look at you, and he’s going to fix you up to where nobody will ever see that you’re missing an eye.”
“I don’t like shrimp.”
“You liked it at the restaurant the other night.”
Lisbeth headed towards the sliding doors.
“Sweetie?”
Lisbeth stopped, rolling her eye at the imposition.
Selena started trembling. Tilted her face to one side. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m just really sorry, I’m . . .” She burst into tears. Shoulders shaking. Squeezed her eyes shut.
Selena came through the sliding doors carrying a plate of skewered raw shrimp, a big bowl of the cut-up colors of the family’s salad.
She posed with the plate, smiling brightly. “Okay, everybody! Who wants some grub?”
Don said a few more words, got off the phone.
Lisbeth, sitting by herself in one of the green and yellow patio chairs, mouth sickled, ignored her, staring up at the sky.
Geoffrey and Pooko stayed on the far side of the wrecked pool, thrashing about in the fronds.
The black coals were red hot, tiny flames flickering around them, like demons. White ash across their rounded tops.
Selena lay the skewered shrimp on the grill. “Anyone want to watch?”
Sizzle and smoke.
No takers.
It’s not easy. Sometimes, it’s hard to keep believing. But you keep believing.
Pooko came running around the side of the pool. “Danger!”
Don got up out of the chaise lounge, bringing his drink with him.
Selena, watching the shrimp turn white and orange, getting ready to flip them. “What?”
“Danger!” He flattened his right hand, swam it through the air.
“Smells great!”
Geoffrey, still in the fronds on the far side of the pool, leaning over.
Pooko swimming his flattened hand through the air again, trying to find the English word.
The shrimp were getting too done on one side.
Selena, watching Pooko’s flattened hand swim laterally through the air.
Jerked her head up, finding where Geoffrey was. “Geoffrey! Come here!”
She dropped her tongs on the patio, went running around the pool to the far side of the property.
Geoffrey rearing his head back, scared.
She snatched him up in her arms, flew him backwards. Spanked his bottom. “Run to your dad!”
Peered down at the criss-crossed fronds.
The top of one shook. The top of the next one.
There, down on the ground.
Not a big snake. Maybe a foot long.
This is going to stop. This is not going to keep happening.
Lifting her foot, she stomped her sneaker down on the snake.
Which just pushed it into the soft ground between the fern bases.
Snarling like a protective mother, she reached down, grabbed the snake by its wriggling middle, flung it at the stone wall at the property line.
Its writhings bounced it off the wall, flopping onto the ground.
She shot a look at the others on the far side of the pool. Gave a thumbs up, to Lisbeth, with an exaggerated athleticism.
Selena marched through the ferns to the wall. Found a rock on the ground.
As her family watched, the little snake rose up off the dirt.
Struck the front of its face against Selena’s thigh.
She yanked it off her leg. Threw it at the wall.
It curved back towards her.
She went towards it, but stumbled.
Looked down at her bitten thigh, where blood was flowing.
Moved forward again, but slower.
Don started running around the side of the pool to reach Selena.
The little snake sprang up in the air again.
Selena put up a hand to defend herself, but her hand rose slowly.
Too slowly.
The snake bit her again, in her waist.
Her hand swatted at it. Listlessly. Like a wounded animal.
Lisbeth started running around the pool.
Selena fell.
The snake twisted up her body, hitting its head against her here, there. One final strike, small face raised on its coils, against Selena’s neck.
Two pink punctures.
It slithered off.
Selena lay in the dirt. One arm stretched out. Not moving.
Don stopped running.
But Lisbeth kept running around the side of the ruined pool.