Mango Bob (20 page)

From outside I heard footsteps, “Walker? You awake?”

“Yeah, I'm awake, just checking my email.”

The sound of Sarah's voice woke Bob. He jumped down from the bed, and came over to me and said, "Murrfph?”

Sarah was standing outside my open window. “Let's go. You don't want to keep me waiting when I'm hungry.”

Bob hopped up on the chair nearest the window, trying to peek at Sarah. “Murrph?”

Sarah heard him. “Bob, is that you? Is that my Mango Bob?”

I went to the door and said, “You might as well come in and see Bob. He wants to tell you his story.”

Sarah came in and headed for Bob. She reached down and let him smell her hand. He sniffed cautiously, then arched his back and leaned into her. Wanting to be rubbed.

Sarah sat down on the floor beside him and started petting his head and rubbing his ears, “Bob, I've missed you so much. You're such a brave kitty. Such a long trip.”

Sarah stroked Bob's back. Rubbed his ears. Bob meowed every time she said his name. It wasn't long before he was belly up on the floor, purring to beat the band.

Eventually, Bob had enough. It was time for his evening nap. He stood, stretched, and trotted back to the bedroom.

Sarah looked at me, tears in her eyes, “I've missed Bob so much. Thanks for bringing him back to me.”

I shrugged, “He wasn't much trouble. He kept me company, showed me his tricks, and kept me informed of his litter box habits.”

Sarah frowned, “My loser ex-boyfriend hated cats. And Bob didn't like him. But you and Bob seem to get along pretty well.”

“Yeah, me and Bob get along pretty well. I talk to him, he tells me things. We're tight.

“Right now, it looks like Bob wants to sleep. Maybe it's a good time for me to take you out for that home cooked meal.”

Sarah stood, “Yeah, lets go eat.”

She went out the door first and I followed. I locked the door behind us, and made sure I had my wallet so I could pay for dinner.

Sarah looked at me, “So what's for dinner?”

I shrugged, “It's your town, you know all the places, you decide.”

“OK, but you'll have to help. What do you like?”

I thought about it. “I've been driving toward Florida for three days now, and have yet to see the ocean or the beach. If you can think of a place where we can see the water, I'll be happy.”

Sarah said, “I know just the place. Hop in the truck.”

51

Sarah was driving.

We headed up Dearborn Street and stopped at the light. Then we crossed the intersection and turned left into the Publix grocery store parking lot.

“We're eating at a grocery store?” I asked.

Ignoring my question, Sarah stepped out of the truck and said, “Grab a basket and try to keep up.”

I followed as she went through the sliding doors and headed to the back of the store where she stopped at the seafood counter.

The man behind the counter said, “Hi Sarah. What's it going to be this evening?”

“Hey Ed. How's the shrimp?”

“Fresh Florida shrimp just came in today. How much you want?”

“Give me a pound and steam it for me, okay?”

“Sure, you want Old Bay on that?”

“Yes a little.”

“Will do. It'll be ready in seven minutes.”

Sarah turned, “Follow me.”

She picked up a plastic container of shrimp cocktail sauce and dropped it in the basket I was carrying.

Over the next few minutes, she picked up a roll of paper towels, a stack of large plastic drinking cups, a fresh lemon, and a box of saltine crackers.

In the liquor aisle, she pointed to the shelves, “You prefer beer or wine?”

Hoping this wasn't a trick question, I answered, “I'm not much of a beer drinker. But I do drink a little wine now and then.”

Sarah smiled, “Good. My old boyfriend was a heavy beer drinker. Kind of turned me off to the smell. So wine it is.”

She picked out a bottle of inexpensive pino grigio and carefully placed it in the basket.

Leaving the wine section, Sarah headed to the dairy counter, where she picked out a block of extra sharp cheddar cheese. Then over to the seafood counter where our shrimp was ready.

“Okay, this should do it.” She turned and headed to the 'ten items or less' checkout line and removed the items from the basket. When the cashier greeted us, Sarah pointed at me and said, “He's paying.”

The cashier rang us up. I paid.

Sarah was already out the door as I grabbed the two grocery bags and followed her like a well-trained puppy.

After I placed the groceries in the back seat of the truck, Sarah said, “Buckle up and hold on.” And off we went.

From the parking lot, we turned left, then turned right at the second stop light which took us across a draw bridge overlooking a large body of water.

Sarah pointed out the window, “This is Lemon Bay. Where I do most of my kayak tours.”

We continued across the bridge and it was like driving into a different town. Instead of the sleepy feeling of Old Englewood, we were now in a beach town.

Both sides of the road were lined with jet ski and boat rentals, fishing guides, souvenir stores selling sea shells, t-shirts and beach attire.

A half mile further, Sarah pulled into a parking lot and announced, “We're here. Manasota Beach. Grab the food and follow me.”

She exited the truck and headed toward wooden stairs leading to a covered boardwalk.

With the two grocery bags I followed. And as I reached the top of the steps, I was amazed at what lay before me.

A picture post card sugar white sand beach with the deep blue water of the gulf of Mexico stretching to the horizon.

The sound of the surf mixed in with the calls of sea gulls and the smell of salt water filled the air.

I was in heaven. This was what I expected Florida to be like.

Sarah called out, “Quit gawking like a tourist, and bring the food over here!”

As instructed, I took the grocery bags to the picnic table where Sarah was sitting. She removed the bottle of wine from the largest bag, unscrewed the top and filled two of the cups.

As she handed me a plastic cup filled with wine, she said, “Welcome to Florida!”

I took a sip. Not bad.

Sarah did the same, then said, “We're not supposed to have glass on the beach, so if you'll put this bottle back in the truck, I'll have the food laid out when you get back.”

She tossed me the truck keys, “Be sure to lock it.”

When I got back from the truck, Sarah had spread out our feast. Steamed shrimp, horse radish cocktail sauce, sliced cheddar cheese, fresh lemon halves, and wine.

“I probably should have asked you this back at the store. Are you allergic to shellfish?”

I laughed, “No, I'm not. In fact, I love 'peel and eat um' shrimp.”

“Good. I guess that means you know how to eat them. I dated a guy once who didn't know you're supposed to peel the shrimp before you ate them. He crunched through the shells of several shrimp before I explained the process.

“He was pretty embarrassed. Then got mad at me, said I wasn't his type. Claimed I was too bossy.”

I smiled, but didn't say anything.

“What are you smiling about? You think I'm bossy?”

I tried to change the subject, “This is an amazing place. You come here often?”

It didn't work.

“So you do think I'm bossy!”

I carefully thought out my reply, “Sarah, I just met you, and you seem like a person who knows what she wants. Likes to lead the way. Those are excellent traits.”

She smiled, “Good save. Now eat.”

We piled freshly steamed shrimps onto our paper plates and started our meal.

Sarah was methodical. She would peel several shrimp, then eat them one by one. While peeling, she could carry on a conversation.

I instead, would peel a single shrimp and eat it. Then peel another and eat it. That limited my replies to Sarah's comments and questions.

As we ate our meal, I took it all in. The sandy beach. The sounds of the surf. The salty breeze off the gulf. The setting sun in the distance.

“This was a good idea. Fresh shrimp on the beach. No crowds, no smoky or noisy bars, and no dishes to clean.

“Thanks for doing this Sarah.”

She smiled, “This is the first time I've brought anyone out here for shrimp. You just seemed like a person who might enjoy a picnic at the beach.”

“I am, and I could get used to this. Eating fresh shrimp at the beach. Hanging out with a bossy woman.”

Sarah looked up, smiled, and threw a shrimp at me.

Then she laughed.

52

After we'd finished our meal, Sarah put the left over cheese and crackers and unused plastic cups, in a grocery bag and asked me to take them back to the truck.

Everything else she put in the nearest waste bin.

When I returned, Sarah asked, “Are you up for a walk on the beach?”

“You bet. Ready whenever you are.”

Sarah took off down the boardwalk, then down a set of wooden stairs leading to the beach. I followed.

On the beach, Sarah reached out and took my hand in hers, and we walked to the water's edge. We stood there, hand in hand for a few moments looking out over the surf.

I said, “This is nice.”

Sarah gave my hand a squeeze and then let go and started walking along the shoreline. I quickly followed, occasionally stopping to pick up sea shells.

We walked in silence for what seemed like ten minutes. Maybe more.

Sarah finally turned toward me and said, “Let's sit and talk.”

Without waiting for my response, she walked up the beach and sat down at the heel of a dune.

I sat beside her. Saying nothing. Just looking at the beach and setting sun. To me this was paradise.

Sarah spoke, “You probably think I'm bossy. And I am.

“But I'm bossy because I have to be. I take out four to six kayak tours a week, and most of the people in these tours have never seen a real kayak. Some can't even swim.

“I learned the hard way. They want me to be their leader, to tell them what to do when we're out there. By being bossy, I protect those people. I keep them out of trouble. I make sure they don't drown. I give orders and they follow them.

“So I'm in the habit of telling people what to do. Sometimes it spills over into my personal life. I give instructions and expect people to follow them.

“And I think I've been doing that ever since we met this afternoon. I apologize. I'm sorry.”

Sarah was being serious.

I didn't know how to respond, but I knew I had to say something. “Sarah, I've enjoyed every minute of your company. And yes, I can see you are a 'take charge' kind of person. But that doesn't bother me. In fact, it makes life easier.”

“It means I don't have to guess what I should be doing. I just do what you tell me. Up to a point.”

Sarah smiled at me and playfully said, “Hey, when I give an order, I expect you to follow.” And then she punched me lightly on the shoulder, jumped up and ran toward the water.

She looked back at me and shouted, “Come on, you're going to miss the sunset.”

I got up and walked to where she was standing, facing the setting sun. I thought about reaching down and taking her hand, but decided to await for further instructions.

53

After the sun had fallen below the horizon, we walked back to the dunes near the back of the beach and sat down.

“Sarah, I know you and your sister Molly grew up in Arkansas. So how did you end up in Florida?”

She laughed, “I met a guy. We dated for a few months. Neither one of us had a job, and we were struggling.

“His parents lived in Florida. Offered us jobs and a place to live if we moved down here to be close to them.

“I hated leaving Molly, but I was young and in love, and Florida seemed like an adventure.

“We moved down to Bradenton where Kevin's parents lived. They had an apartment above their garage, and we lived there.

“Kevin's father was a boat captain. He took tourists deep sea fishing five days a week.

“He offered us jobs on his boat as deck hands. Basically we were wait-staff for the tourists. We baited their hooks, removed and cleaned the fish they caught. Whatever they needed.

“Kevin couldn't handle it. Got seasick just about every time we went out on the boat.

“He quit, but I stayed on. I liked being out on the water, and I liked dealing with people.

“After two months, Kevin and I broke up. I had to move out of the garage apartment, but I kept working for Kevin's father for two more years.

“Then he sold his boat to Captain Bob in Englewood.