"Now, that's a real shame... I was hoping when you said you were here alone, I might get to see you with them off again."
I drew in a deep breath. "Do you still have your guitar?" I asked with a tilt of my head.
"You know I do. Why?"
"Then you must still know how to sing for your supper. You don't need an invitation, Michael. You know where I live."
"It's been a while, but if you can still cook, I can still play for you," he said with nod. "What time?"
"Seven?"
"You're on!" he said with a broad smile. "The minnows are on me!"
"I'll see you tonight then."
*****
Michael was right; it had been a long time. It had been precisely sixteen years, but it seemed like only yesterday. On the drive home, I began to think about how Michael and I met.
I was a beach baby, born and raised. Since the time I could walk, I spent virtually every summer on the beaches of Florida. My mother owned a summer home there and Florida was my port in any storm.
I was nineteen, pushing twenty when I landed at the beach house that summer. I was going through a difficult divorce at the time, so naturally, when the walls started closing in on me, I ran as hard as I could for those sugar-white dunes laced with sea-oats along their peaks.
When I called my mom to tell her I was headed down there, I had no idea how long I would stay. I needed the freedom and the carefree ambiance; perhaps, I need more than that. The separation had been
that
brutal.
My first afternoon there, I opened the house, went out for provisions, and by evening, I was sitting on the deck sipping margaritas and listening to the music that drifted over from the old landmark lounge across the highway. When I still couldn't fall asleep and it was past four in the morning, I decided to load up my car and drive over to the beach.
I donned my bikini and a cover-up, and along with a few accessory items, like a pail, a net, a flashlight, a couple of towels and some sunscreen, I made my way there in the dark. I knew that area of the beach like I knew the back of my hand and I also knew the beach would be abandoned at that hour of the morning.
The waxing moon was no help in tracking down my prey, but a strong flashlight beam guaranteed a successful harvest of the gulf's bounties. Blue crabs were running, and in no time, I managed to fill my pail to overflowing with the cantankerous crustaceans. Boiled and properly cleaned, they made an excellent gratuitous crab-meat salad which would serve as both dinner that evening, and lunch the following day.
I nursed them by changing the water in the pail often, a new supply of oxygen to keep them alive until I decided to head back home later. In the meantime, I frolicked about in the water's edge searching for natural treasures to keep as souvenirs from my vacation. When at last, the sun broke the eastern horizon, I was more than ready to shed my cover-up and go for a swim.
Before I dove in, I carefully scanned the horizon. As was common in the early mornings, I spotted a pod of dolphins trolling parallel to the beach, moving east to west. I watched them long enough to note the large male who dominated the pod. He was easily distinguishable by his size and a slight imperfection of his dorsal fin. The tip of his fin was twisted and lopped lazily to one side. I would recognize him if I saw him again.
For a while, as I swam, I trailed the pod, but kept them between myself and the deeper waters. They seemed impervious to my presence while they fed on schools of small fish ahead of me. Suddenly, the one I dubbed 'Neptune' made a sharp deviation and disappeared below the surface. His change of direction momentarily alarmed me as it was a signal that something had caught his attention, and whatever it was, it was very near me. I executed a quick change of direction myself and headed back towards the breakers.
It must have been around half-past six in the morning when I changed the water for my dinner again, and flopped face down on my beach towel to take a snooze in the morning sun. I didn't sleep long, awakened by the usual stressful dreams that always plagued me throughout my life, I yawned and stretched. If I hurried home, I could have my crabs cooked and cooled in time for an early dinner that evening.
As I stood to gather my belongings, I noticed an anomaly in the sand near where my towel was spread. Someone had scrolled, either with a stick or their finger, the quotation, '
When I looked at you, I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew
.'
I hesitated for a moment at the curious etching. I looked nervously about the desolate beach; there was no one in sight. I shrugged off the uneasy feeling as I knelt in the sand and scratched below it, 'Wm. S.'. I encapsulated the entire message with a heart before I headed home again.
*****
The following morning, it was sunrise when I made the long trek over the dunes to the water. Armed only with a towel, sunshades, cocoa butter, and a thermos filled with tequila and orange juice, I set up a small spot for myself on the sand. I slipped off my sandals and shed my t-shirt before I scanned the water for Neptune and his harem. They were nowhere in sight.
I waded into the water despite their absence and began my morning swim. It wasn't long before I spotted my odd friend making a return trip from west to east. I was late arriving and had missed their first pass along the shoreline. It took them a few short minutes to overtake me, swimming past in deeper water.
Once again, Neptune seemed to do a double-take as he swam past, suddenly turning my way and diving below the surface. A few seconds later, I shrieked loudly when something "bumped" past me, brushing me with enough force to knock me aside. It crossed my mind that there were sharks of all species even in the shallows, and in my panic, I began to flail helplessly about, going nowhere in a hurry. Within seconds, I saw that familiar lopsided fin appear merely two or three yards ahead of me and I knew, Neptune was responsible for the collision.
Even knowing it wasn't a shark didn't calm me as much as it should have. I made a hasty retreat to the knee-deep breakers where I stood unsteadily with my hands on my hips, watching him and his harem swimming in circles as if he was inviting, or challenging, my return. I slapped the water's surface with my hand and shouted a sound admonishment for his rather ungentlemanly behavior.
I'd been swimming with wild bottle-nosed dolphins most of my life and never had one been so aggressive as to deliberately run into me before. I pondered what might have caused him to do such a thing, but I remained bewildered by his unusual behavior. I made my way to my towel on the sand, limping with each step as I realized a deep aching in my thigh. I sat down and poured myself a drink from the thermos while I examined the extent of my injury.
I wasn't visibly bruised, except for my ego perhaps, but the muscle was knotted from the blow. I used the cocoa butter to massage the soreness for a while before I drained my cup and stretched out in the sun. Already, early risers were drifting down from nearby condos and hotels, invading the area I liked to think of as my own private domain. I was determined to ignore their presence and I closed my eyes to shut them out. I must have fallen asleep again.
It was nearing lunch when I woke with a start. The sound of a child's voice, shrill and excited, made me flinch awake. I raised my head and looked about. There were children playing in the surf. The sun overhead was blazing, and I could feel the heat beginning to burn my skin. It was time to seek refuge from the sun.
As I sat upright, I was astonished to find another note scribbled in the sand at my feet. I stood up and carefully skirted it so not to damage the scrolled message. It was the first and last lines of Shakespeare's eighteenth sonnet. It was framed by small bits of seaweed, driftwood and shells. It was no coincidence that the second message appeared where and how it did.
I decided to answer with a cryptic message of my own. I swept the granular page clean with the palm of my hand and quoted Dickens. '
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times
'... I left it scrawled within the framework along with the initials C.D. which also happened to be my own.
I stood and scanned the beach for any hint as to the identity of my admirer. Finding none, I studied the pattern of indentations in the sand. Footprints approached from the west, paused at the message, then followed a path over the dunes in precisely the direction of my home. My eyes followed the path taken to the top of the dunes, and there, I could make out a distinctly male figure. He was shirtless, wearing jeans and sunglasses with a towel draped around his neck. When he saw me looking at him, he quickly disappeared behind the dune.
In a rush, and for the sake of curiosity, I gathered my things and dug into the sand, powering my way to the crest only to find that whoever he was, all traces of him were lost in a multitude of similar tracks heading in different directions. I was breathless from the effort when I made the descent to my car and I headed home with thoughts of the oddity of people and dolphins alike.
*****
On the morning of the third day, I found a response waiting for me despite my early arrival. As I gazed down at it, I wondered how he could have such a depth of perception. His third message, in answer to Dickens, was brief. '
Love is so short, forgetting so long
'. In the cool morning darkness, a red rose, still fresh, not wilted and fragrant, was an accompanying gift to his insight. I was mesmerized.
And so, it began and it continued over the course of days; an exchange of messages written in the sand. It was a mystery to me how this person could know or predict the days when I would come late or early, and the times when I would remain alert, searching the faces of those people I encountered, looking for the one responsible for the messages I looked forward to with such hope and eagerness.
