All in all, it wasn’t a great evening. She hadn’t remembered marinade for the chicken at the store, so she’d settled on a sandwich for dinner. It had balled up in her stomach something terrible. She’d tried to Skype Mack a couple of times before she went to bed, but he didn’t answer. She assumed he probably forgot to leave the computer on. The technology was new to both of them, but it made her mad he hadn’t made it a priority. She wrote him a long email before she went to bed, telling him about the flights, the desire to get here, the heat, and her relief in getting a shower. Roni described the house, the journey into town, and meeting Joe. She wondered if he would find the encounter as comical as she had. She’d stayed away from any emotional references and just signed it “R”. Then she’d had a fitful night’s sleep, tossing and turning, waking to the air conditioner: a new place, a different bed, new sounds, especially frogs—lots of them and loud.
“Ahh,” she’d yawned as she rolled over.
A cup of coffee and a run she knew would make her feel better. In the kitchen she rinsed the coffee pot and filled it with enough water for a couple of cups. The frogs were quiet now she noted as she looked out the window into the yard. Damn it, I didn’t remember coffee filters either!
“Start a list, Roni,” she mumbled to herself.
She searched the cabinets again and was able to find a small stack of filters. With coffee brewing, she looked and found a drawer with a notepad and pen and she wrote it up: marinade, coffee filters, vodka mix, bottled water. When the coffee finished, she poured herself a cup and sat down at the counter to check her email. She deleted the spam first and then went through the remaining emails. Jenny had sent her one, subject “can’t wait”, with a picture of somewhere in the Bahamas. Her daughter had sent one telling her to have a good time and be safe. And Mack had responded, “Glad you got there okay. How old is the tuna in our fridge? Mack”. Just like Mack. Never saying too much. His lack of emotion really pissed her off and asking her about left overs in the fridge. In their last fight, she’d screamed that he had no emotions. That she’d had to live the past twenty-two years dealing with his lack of them, the bastard. He’d acted shocked “well certainly I have emotions” he’d defended. She hadn’t meant that he had no emotions they were just so guarded. He’d never been gooshy about his feelings. Why does that bother me now?
Roni took her coffee and wandered out into the screened-in porch. She settled into a wicker chair with bright orange cushions and wondered about the frogs. She didn’t recall seeing a freshwater pond nearby, and she knew they didn’t come from the ocean. She wondered if they lived in the vegetation surrounding the house and came out at night, escaping the heat of day. She would have to ask Gloria about them. Her first cup of coffee almost finished, she went to get her running shoes. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she put on her socks and new running shoes. Roni strapped the plastic watch that monitored her heart rate and pace on and pulled her ponytail tight. It was about three miles to town and she knew the way, so she decided on a spot she figured was about halfway. It should make it a two- to three-mile round trip.
Roni walked out to the dirt road and stretched like a cat after waking from a nap, slowly raising her arms to one side and then the other, stretching around from side to side, elbows behind her, loosening up. Surprisingly, the humidity didn’t feel that bad; she hated it when it got humid in New York. She started out walking fast, worked into a steady run, and then picked up her pace until she hit her average pace. She loved to run it made her feel free; by herself she could get in her groove and clear her mind. She usually ran with her iPod listening to music on a treadmill, but this morning she left the iPod on her dresser, wanting to be open to the island sounds.
Running the road just past the house she felt like she was in a tunnel, the vegetation was so thick on the sides of the road. Every now and then a slight rustling noise came from them, a bird or a small creature she guessed. As she ran past the club she could hear peoples voices, an engine start, mixed with the clinking of sailboat rigging. As she ran further the landscape got less dense and she could see the ocean and feel the slight breeze on her skin. A cart passed her the occupants raising their hand in hello. When she got back to the house, she was drenched in sweat, her running clothes clung to her uncomfortably, and her new shoes were covered in dust from the road. She picked up the garden hose in front of the house and turned it on slightly, arcing the water so she could get a drink. She bent over, putting her mouth into the stream and took several big gulps.
“Good morning,” Gloria said from her front porch next door.
Roni hadn’t noticed her and was startled.
“Oh, hi, Gloria,” Roni said, putting down the hose and shutting the water off.
“You’re a runner, eh?”
“Yeah, it helps keep me sane.”
“It would make me insane,” Gloria said, laughing.
Gloria had a small frame up top that flared out at the waist with a rather large bottom that filled out her pear shape. Roni assumed by her comment and figure that exercise was not part of her routine.
“I understand that too,” Roni said. “Sometimes I don’t feel like it, but I do it anyway. At home, I run in the gym more than outside. I’m not too fond of running in the cold anymore. The summer months are okay. Central Park is a good place to run, but the decent months go quickly. I’ll like being able to run outside here.”
“Yes, if you enjoy running the island is flat and not so big that you’ll get lost. How was your first night?” Gloria asked.
“It was a little restless, a new place, a long day I suppose. I did manage to get to town and pick up a few things before everything closed. I’ll go in again today after I shower, do a little exploring.”
“It’s a quick explore,” Gloria said, “but all good.”
“Hey, what’s with the frogs?” Roni asked.
She lifted up a corner of her shirt and bent down, wiping the sweat from her face.
“They were pretty loud last night.”
“The frogs get in the cisterns,” Gloria answered with a smile. “Until recently, when they put in the pipeline from Treasure Cay, everyone had to rely on rainwater, so most houses have a cistern. It’s usually an underground storage tank, although some are above ground. The frogs like the above ground ones, and the tank tends to amplify their sound. It’s our nighttime medley.”
Roni thought about the water she’d just drank from the hose.
“I assume it’s filtered, when it comes out of the cistern. I mean, it’s okay to drink?” Roni asked with a cringe.
Gloria laughed.
“It hasn’t killed anyone yet, that I know of.”
Roni bit the inside of her lip slightly, something she did unconsciously when she was thinking. Frogs in the drinking water…
“Guess a little frog pee can’t be too toxic,” Roni joked.
A rooster sounded somewhere in the distance, then another. Roni looked down the road in both directions, but didn’t see them. Wondered if that had been some of the rustling in the bushes.
“There’s a lot of those running around the island too,” Gloria said.
“Rooster’s?”
“And chickens.”
“Interesting wild life you have here,” Roni chuckled as she unhooked her plastic watch. “On that note, I’m going to excuse myself and head for the shower.”
“If I can help with anything, just let me know,” Gloria said. “Chuck, my husband is usually in and out too.”
“Thanks, I will.”
––––––––––––
She entered her bedroom and shivered. The contrast after getting so hot running made the room seem so much colder. She reached up and turned the air conditioner temperature higher, and the machine shut off. The shower felt good, but Roni couldn’t help but think of the frogs. If they swam in the house’s water supply, who knew what else got into it. Frog poop did for sure. Even if it was filtered, which she doubted, she decided that bottled water was probably a good idea. Grabbing fresh shorts and a tank top, she dressed and put on sunscreen, picked up her sunglasses and backpack, and headed out the door. Time to explore. She sat on the golf cart seat and lept off it immediately, feeling the burn on the back of her legs. Damn, that was hot! She went back in the house to grab a towel. Not laminating my thighs to the seat.
Roni drove first to the Green Turtle Bay Club and walked the grounds. It was exactly as Gloria described. A cool-looking bar, The Dollar Bar, a nice restaurant, the gift shop she would need more time in, and the tiny but close convenience store. She noticed a few Bahamian men sitting on the bench outside the store. They watched her poke around and nodded at her politely. Again, Roni was struck by the quiet and the lack of people. Roni stared out into the turquoise water and she put the cart in reverse. Another golf cart whipped into the space next to her.
“Morning,” the woman said.
“Morning.”
“You must be Roni.”
Roni’s head snapped back as she didn’t know this woman.
“You local?” Roni asked.
“Sort of, have a place here,” the woman said. “Ft. Lauderdale’s home.”
“New York,” Roni said. “Here for a month.”
“That’s what I hear. Welcome,” she said hopping from her cart. “I’m Lindy. Nice to meet you.”
“How did you know my name?”
“Oh, honey this is a very small island. News travels fast.”
Not the blonde woman from New York, but Roni from New York.
“I guess,” Roni said with a chuckle.
“See you around,” Lindy said with a wave.
Pineapples was Roni’s primary goal today. Then she planned on hitting town for a few more staples. She would spend more time at the club another day. She drove the golf cart toward town, feeling the air push her hair back from her shoulders. The sense of freedom she felt overwhelming her. She went down the small incline into town and took her first right in order to double back to the Wrecking Tree restaurant. The ferry captain, as well as Gloria, had given her pretty detailed directions. The street was short: three houses on the left, a ball field on the right, and a single white house on the right hand corner.
At the intersection, Roni slowed to check for any traffic. The Wrecking Tree sat across the road on the right, a partial tree nestled into the front of the structure. She smiled. It was nothing special. A dark brown building, which looked like it had a screened-in porch on one end. Even the tree wasn’t a big deal. Roni would have to ask about the Wrecking Tree story. She wondered if it was because it was on a corner and people wrecked there, although it didn’t seem possible as it was a one-way in a very small town. It looked more like the restaurant had wrecked into the tree. Roni turned right and then took a quick left towards Pineapples. There were a number of grounded boats on the waterside across from the Wrecking Tree, which obviously had been sitting that way for a long time. Angled on one side of their hull or the other they looked rather sad. She was sure each one had plenty of stories to tell if they could. She caught a whiff of something sweet in the air, like cake. Oh, that aroma! It had to be coming from the restaurant. I’ll have to check on that later.
The harbor inlet on her left was filled with mangrove trees, which got thicker and thicker the further she went, occasionally bleeding far into the bay. Breaks in the trees allowed her to catch glimpses of the ocean, blue and expansive in the distance beyond. The road, like most in town, was not very good, and the golf cart bounced, alternating between sections that were all dirt and then sudden, random patches of asphalt. She noticed the small houses to her right up on the hill. Most of them were fairly rundown, but all were cheerfully painted to varying degrees in bright colors. Several had laundry hanging on a line.
Pineapples parking lot was not clearly distinguishable. There was a small, open dirt spot to the left, a grass strip to the right, and a road that seemed to run through the property. Figuring that the dirt spot was the most likely, Roni parked turning the cart off. She could see the dock where the ferry had stopped when she’d come over; the wooden arch above announcing the destination. She wasn’t quite sure which way to go as nothing was clearly marked and cement paths ran in a number of directions. Just explore. Starting off she walked under the trees, choosing the path towards the dock. A short ways down, another path veered to the right, and she could see the pool that she had spotted from the ferry. It felt like she was on private property, intruding into someone’s personal space. It certainly did not feel like a bar. When she came out from under the trees onto the pool deck, she could see a couple sitting on a picnic bench on the other side of the pool.
The rectangular and deep pool was painted turquoise blue with a white trim, about a foot wide, running around the top. The picnic tables scattered around the pool were painted different colors, bright colors, like the houses. The bar was a small, yellow shack with a metal roof slanted toward the pool with three sides open. Seven empty barstools lined the front of the bar with a few more around the corner on the left side. The right side was an open, framed doorway for entry. The pool edge was surprisingly close to the structure, and there was no railing to prevent anything or anyone from going in. Roni could certainly see people getting pushed in on a rowdy night. The place felt charming even if it was a bit antiquated.
A tall, big-boned Bahamian woman was behind the bar tidying up as Roni pulled out a stool and sat down. Her back was to Roni and she noticed her black hair was smoothed back tightly against her head ending in a ponytail which had obviously been straightened. When she turned around, Roni was startled by the bright green eyeshadow that rose to meet her eyebrows. It was almost as startling as realizing the color matched the woman’s tight green T-shirt that showcased her large breasts. She had on almost purple lipstick that she’d outlined in a lighter color. Roni almost missed the warm smile she bestowed on her.
“Wha’ kin I git fer ya?” she asked in the same thick accent that Devin had.
“Hmm, I don’t know…what’s your specialty?” Roni asked, still feeling a bit like she was intruding.
“Goombay Smash or a frozen somethin’,” she said, pointing to the chalkboard on the wall.
Roni looked at it and read the various drink concoction ingredients. There was also a very limited menu of food items including conch fritters, a pulled pork sandwich, and a hamburger with fries being offered today.
“I think I’ll try one of your frozen margaritas,” Roni said.
“Okay, den.”
As she put the ingredients into a blender behind her, Roni checked out the back wall of the bar. A few wooden shelves had been installed to hold the very limited selection of liquor and the wall itself was covered with stickers, signs, pictures of folks at the bar, men with their catch, various boats, and people on their boats. Most of the faces in the pictures were white. All were random, it didn’t appear that they were from one family, various patrons she guessed had donated them. The bartendress set a glass down in front of Roni, poured the frozen liquid into the glass, and then stuck a very thick straw right in the middle. Roni watched as she poured tequila into the straw, letting it fill up and overflow onto the frozen mass.
“Wow, that looks good,” Roni said with delight.
“Cool ya off on dis hot day,” she replied, grinning as she pushed the drink towards Roni.
Roni noticed that she had very long, extravagantly painted nails, obviously applied in a salon, and lots of gold rings on her fingers.
“Look at your nails,” Roni said, “they’re beautiful.”
The woman smiled obviously proud of them. Roni stirred the frozen drink with the straw, mixing in the tequila, and took a sip.
“It tastes good too,” Roni said.
The couple that she’d seen by the pool came to the bar and asked for their tab. They paid in cash and then wandered down the path out of sight. Roni relized she was the only patron in the place now. Sipping on the margarita she examined the pictures more closely.
“Vere ya come from?” the bartender asked.
Roni had noticed many of the Bahamians made their W’s sound like a V.
“I’m staying in a house by the Bay Club,” Roni answered.
“I know dat. I mean, where ya live?”
“Oh, I live in New York City, I just got in yesterday,” Roni said as her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “How would you know where I’m staying?”
“Erryone know. Gloria tell us a white lady rentin’ da doctor’s house fo’ a lon’ stay. Ya not news ta us, gal,” she said, laughing heartily.
Roni smiled. Very small island. Her laugh was one of those that came from deep down and made her whole body shake.
“I’m Lashanda. Wha’ ya name?” she asked.
Roni took a pull of the frozen liquid through the straw and eyed Lashanda over her glass. Lashanda spent time on herself, it was apparent she liked to look as pretty as she could. The makeup and nails were over the top as far as Roni was concerned, but Lashanda thought they made her look beautiful.
“You mean you don’t know already?” Roni teased.
Lashanda burst into another bout of laughter. As Roni watched her shake, it made her laugh too. She figured Lashanda was just being polite and probably did know her name.
“Ya funny.”
“I’m Roni, the white lady staying at the doctor’s house,” Roni said, still laughing.
“Knew I met ya soon enough,” Lashanda said. “Dis islan’ too small nat to run in ta peoples once dey here.”