tale #52

Author’s note:  Here’s the last tale.  Sorry for the delay in posting.  It turns out, endings are hard.

***********************************************************************

I am dreaming.  I am floating on my back in an emerald green ocean.  The water is warm and bits of moss and small fish brush softly against my skin.  I am wearing a t-shirt and a lava lava skirt.  The skirt is knotted at my hips, the knot made strong with the salt water.  The skirt flares out and is floating under me, but it does not weigh me down.  My hair fans out around me.  I bend my knees, allowing my feet to drop down into the murky warmth below.  Although my eyes are closed, the sun creates a wall of graduated orange and yellow color behind my lids.  I can feel the sun’s rays on my stomach and arms, as I float.  I am completely relaxed.

Overhead, I hear the engine of an airplane and dip my head further into the water to mute the sound.  The heat and light disappear as the plane momentarily blocks out the sun, and then reappear in a burst.  I open my eyes and lift my head slightly to view the expansive, clear sky and the horizon below.  In the distance is an island.  I can see palm trees lining a strip of white sand.  I realize with a start that I don’t know how long I’ve been floating.  I take a deep breath and flip over onto my stomach.  I begin swimming, with slow, easy strokes, towards the island.

************************************************************************

“Woohee,” Lisa said as she leaned against the doorframe to my office.  “I don’t believe this office has ever seen such order.  Or decoration.  It’s almost like a real girl works here.”

I turned from the file cabinet where I was placing my files by date and deadlines and looked around Jaycee’s former office.  I had moved the desk, after cleaning it thoroughly, brought in some new chairs, whitewashed the metal file cabinet and metal bookshelves, and covered an old side table with a tablecloth.  On the corner of the desk was a vase of flowers Steve had given me as an office-warming gift.  On top of the filing cabinet was a plant.  A framed photograph of Keats, Bronte and me sat on top of the book case.  Another of just Keats was next to it.  I smiled at Lisa.  “Almost,” I agreed.

Lisa came into the office and plopped down in one of the chairs.  “So, did you line up that studio for the new fella?” she asked.

“That studio?”  I admit, I was mocking her.  “You mean the place you lived until last week.”

Lisa nodded.  “Yup, that’s the place.”  She stretched her long legs out.

“I asked Seiko to make the arrangements.”  I shut the file cabinet and went to sit behind my new desk.  Jaycee had a very nice office chair.

“Did you check to see that she did?”  Lisa was a quick study.

“I checked to make sure his belongings are being shipped in a timely manner,” I said.  “That’s what really matters.”

Lisa looked disappointed.  “So you really don’t think he’s bringing the beer making stuff with him on the airplane?”

I shook my head firmly.  “I doubt it.”

Telly tapped on the open door and came in carrying a plastic Palm Terrace bag.  She opened it and pulled out a stunning cream and purple plumeria and ginger lei.  The office exploded with a sweet tropical scent.  “For the new guy,” she said. “My cousin made it.”

Lisa gave a low whistle of appreciation.

“Thank you, Telly,” I said.  “That’s beautiful.  Thank your cousin as well.”

Telly raised her eyebrows and lifted her head slightly, Pohnpeiian for agreement.  “I checked with the shipping company like you asked,” she said.  “The guy said they’ve received the shipping order.”   Telly looked at her watch and then at me.

I glanced at my computer.  3:30 p.m.  “We’d better go, the plane will be landing soon.”

Lisa stood and took the lei from Telly.  She placed it carefully back in the plastic bag.  I gathered my gear and we headed for the door.  Lake was pulling into the parking spot next to mine as we were getting into my car.

“Off to get the new guy?” he asked, unloading a cardboard box of papers from his car.

“Yup,” I said.  Curiosity got the better of me.  “What’s all that?”

Lake hoisted the box up by cut out handles on each side.  “This is your new case.”  He held up his knee and set the box on it momentarily while he dropped his keys into his pocket.  “Embezzlement from a government program in Chuuk.  I’m just going to drop it in your office.”

I unlocked the driver’s side door.  “Put it in my old office,” I said.

Lake raised an eyebrow at me. “You mean the new guys office?”

I smiled.  “That’s the one.”

Fifteen minutes later, Lisa and I were standing within sight of the entry door as passengers drifted into the terminal and through customs.  Lisa had the lei out of the bag.

“Do we know what he looks like?” she asked.

“We know he’s a menwei.”

A man looking tired and disoriented approached the customs counter.  He was in his early forties, 5’10” with brown hair and a medium build.  Unlike most of the passengers, he was wearing jeans and a polo shirt, carrying a rolling duffel and a briefcase.

Lisa elbowed me and pointed to him.  “Betcha that’s our boy.”

We watched as the customs officer chatted with him for a moment and then waived him through without opening his luggage.  He picked up the handle to his duffle with a confused look on his face.

Lisa raised her arm and waived.  “Yoohoo.  Over here,” she called.

The man walked towards us tentatively.  I smiled as he reached us.  “Patrick Carr?” I asked.

Patrick nodded.  Lisa threw the lei over his head like a ring toss at a carnival.  “Welcome to Pohnpei,” we said in unison.

“Thank you,” Patrick said.  He adjusted the lei back, off his neck.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Lisa looked at the single duffle near Patrick and then at me.  “You were right,” she said sadly.  “I guess the beer making stuff is on the boat.”  She turned to Patrick.  “Don’t worry, we’re on top of this.  Your equipment won’t be sittin’ on some dock rustin.”

Patrick looked taken aback.  “My equipment?”

“Your beer makin’ stuff,” Lisa clarified.

“Oh,” Patrick said.  “I didn’t ship that.  I didn’t think I’d use it here.”

Lisa put her hands on her hips and stood squarely in front of Patrick.  “Didn’t ship it?  Well, son, you’re just going to have to turn yourself around and go back and fix that oversight.”

I nudged Lisa with my elbow.  “Don’t be silly, Lisa.”  I shook my head at her.  “I’m sure Patrick has friends or family in the U.S. that can send whatever’s needed.” I smiled at Patrick.  “I apologize for our lack of manners.  After months and months of Bud and Fosters, the thought of home brew can make you a bit unhinged.  You understand.”

“Sure,” Patrick said, although he didn’t sound at all certain.

“You must be exhausted,” I said.  I took Patrick’s duffle from him and started walking.

“Shouldn’t there be a wall here?” Patrick asked as we moved from the terminal to the parking lot.

We reached my car.  I opened the trunk.  “First, we’ll give you a quick tour of Kolonia.  It might not look like much from the outside, but really.”  I stopped and thought.  “Well, that would be correct.  There’s just not that much to it.”  I laughed and lifted his duffle into the trunk.

“Thank you for all of your e-mails.” Patrick said.  “Were you able to rent the studio you mentioned?”

I nodded.  “I’ll run you by there first.  You can unload your luggage and grab a shower before we head out to the Village for dinner.  Lake, Jane and some of the Steves will meet us there.”

“Some of the Steves?”  Patrick adjusted the lei again.  “Are there many?”

“Oodles,” Lisa said, climbing into the back seat, leaving the front for Patrick.  He closed his door and automatically reached for his seatbelt, which, for reasons I had never properly understood, had been glued into the slider by a mechanic at PCR auto repair a few months earlier.

“The seatbelt’s broken,” I told him as he tugged gently on it.

“Broken?”  He began to examine the belt in the sliding mechanism.

I started the engine.  “Glued into place,” I explained.  “It’s alright,” I assured him.  Nobody goes over twenty miles per hour here.”  Rain began splashing against the windshield.

Patrick ran his hands over his face and gave a sigh.  “What have I done” I thought I heard him say softly, to himself.

I stopped at the airport exit, turned and gently touched his elbow.  “It’s Micronesia.  Don’t worry.  You’ll get used to it.”  I smiled at him and then pulled the car out onto the empty causeway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

tale #51

“I guess organizing wasn’t Jaycee’s strong point,” Lisa and I stood in the middle of Jaycee and Kelly’s living room, surveying the chaotic remains of their departure.  Lisa sighed.  “We best get some more boxes if we’re really sending all this stuff along to them.”

More boxes, indeed.  Jaycee had left me instructions to ship back to the U.S. the “important items” that she and Kelly had not had time to deal with.  The rest could be sold or given away.

“How will I know what the important items are?” I had protested.

“Oh, you’ll know,” Jaycee had assured me.

I had looked to Kelly for some guidance.  “Anything you send will be fine,” Kelly had said.

Now I looked at the array of furniture, half packed boxes and scattered knick knacks.  The couch and coffee table remained where it had been since the first time I’d driven Jaycee home.  On it were various tools, plastic cups, a wine glass, stray paperwork a small wooden carving of a dolphin and a pair of cheap sunglasses.  In one corner was a bicycle pump, in another was a kayak paddle.  The dining room table and four matching chairs were there.  On the table were several stacks of books.  “Did they take anything besides clothes with them?” I asked.  I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

“Looks like Jaycee took her fishin’ gear,” Lisa commented, pointing to the empty nails along one wall where Jaycee used to hang her assorted hooks and flies.

I heard a low whistle at the front door and turned around.  “My oh my,” Lake said as he came in, leaving the screen door open.

“Close the screen, would you,” Lisa directed.  “I don’t want the cat out to get out.”

Lake laughed and then realized that Lisa was serious.  “I don’t think that’s a problem,” he said.  He looked around.  “Where is little Susie?”  Susie, the ginger coloured house cat, had bolted up the stairs as soon as we opened the screen door.  I pointed to the top of the stairs where she was now perched, watching us.

“Poor thing,” Lisa said, “she must be traumatized, bein’ left behind and all.”  Lisa mounted the stairs and stopped near the top, leaning over to pet Susie.  The fur on Susie’s hackles went up, she hissed and spat and showed her claws.  Lisa pulled her hand back before Susie had a chance to make contact.  She turned with a surprised look on her face.  “Not as friendly as I thought,” Lisa said down to us.

I shook my head.  “Lake, close the screen door, would you please.”

Lake reached behind him and pulled the screen door shut.  The latch caught with a distinct click.  Susie retracted her claws and put her fur down.  She stood and wound herself around Lisa’s legs, purring loudly.

“Susie is outdoor averse,” I explained.

“You don’t say,” Lisa said.  She bent down and cautiously scratched the top of Susie’s head.  Susie upped the ante on the purring.  “She sounds a bit like a tractor rolling over a corn field,” Lisa observed.  “Is she always that loud?”

“Only when the screen door is closed,” Lake answered.

Lisa came back down the stairs.  “Y’all didn’t think to mention any of this before Jaycee left the island?”  She gave us a disappointed look and slowly shook her head.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Lake said.  “Susie comes with the house.”  He looked around.  “So, what are we doing here?  What’s the plan of attack?”  Lake addressed the question to me.

I gazed at a wooden carving on the coffee table while I thought.  The day before, during a teary-eyed farewell at the airport, Jaycee had pulled me aside after she and Kelly dragged their luggage into a huge mound at the end of the line that was forming.  “Listen,” she said in a low voice, “I meant what I said yesterday.”

“You said a lot of things yesterday.”  I grinned at her.  “Some alcohol induced.”

Jaycee remained serious.  “About change.  The thing I said about change.”

At one of the many rest stops on our ride around the island, we stood on a bluff admiring the ocean.  Jaycee had surprised me by saying, “I won’t be here to remind you, but you have to remember to change.”

I had looked down at the dirty shorts and cotton top I was wearing.

“No,” Jaycee barked.  She turned and faced me, tapping my temples with both hands.  “Here.  This is your center of change.  It all starts here and then trickles down.”  She spoke with intensity, even for Jaycee.

I had thought about that for a moment before responding.  I put my hand over my heart.  “Father Steve says it all starts here and then spreads out.”

Jaycee shook her head.  “Not for you.  For some people, but not you.  You have to actively think about changing.”

The overhead speaker squawked and announced the flight.  “I meant that,” Jaycee reiterated.  I nodded and we moved back over to where Lisa was standing with Kelly.  Jaycee handed me the keys to her office.  “Don’t dawdle,” she instructed “or there won’t be anything left in the office.  And don’t be afraid to fight for what’s yours.”

Jaycee surprised me again by dragging me into a fierce hug.  “Thank you for teaching me to drive, “ she whispered into my ear, then quickly released me.

Kelly shook her head and put her arm around Jaycee’s shoulder.  “Come on my little warrior, our flight is boarding.”  The line was moving slowly forward.  Jaycee inched some of the luggage forward and then turned to us.  “Didn’t I tell you not to dawdle?”  She looked at the office key in my hand.  “What are you still doing here?”

Now, I looked at the mess spread out in the living room, and then at Lisa, and back at the mess.  What would Jaycee do?  I smiled inwardly and turned to Lisa.  “It’s your house,” I said.  “What would you like Lake and I to do?”

“Oh,” Lisa said, startled.  Her blue eyes opened wide and her ponytail swung a little.  “Well…” she trailed off.  She began moving around the living room, into the open kitchen area.  She opened a cupboard loaded with pots and pans.  Another had mugs and plates in it.  “I suppose we should sort this stuff into two piles, what stays and what gets shipped.”

Lake nodded.  “Good plan.  We’d better make our selections now.  Before the rest of the island shows up.”

“Selections?” Lisa sounded doubtful.

“Selections,” I affirmed.  “We’re not doing all this work for free.  We get first pick.”

 

tale #50

Katherine and I heard the splash at the same time.  We turned to look down the dock as two Steves emerged from the shallow mucky water and pulled themselves back up onto the wooden landing.  I turned back to Katherine.

“It’s not a real party until someone goes into the water,” I said.

Katherine nodded.  “If that doesn’t cheer Jaycee up, nothing will.”

I looked around and saw Jaycee walking down the dock with her back to the commotion.  She walked by Lisa and Jane.  Jane said something but Jaycee kept moving.  In one hand she held a container of Pringles with a bow on it, a going away gift from one of the now soggy Steves.

Sam came up to the bar and set his empty can of Fosters down with a bang.  “Bar maid, another beer please,” he called.  He looked at Katherine and I both standing behind the bar.  “Bar maids,” he corrected.

Katherine had taken over the bartending duties shortly after midnight, when Manual had announced that we were out of beer and he was leaving.  “Don’t leave,” I pleaded.  “There’s still other alcohol to pour.”  I pointed to the crude shelf behind him holding an impressive array of gin, vodka and whiskey.

Manual inclined his head towards the one hundred or so large, loud, beer guzzling menwei crowding the Rumor’s dock and shook his head.  “Sorry lady, I’m not telling those guys there is no more beer.”  He poured a vodka and tonic into a plastic cup and disappeared into the fray.  Oh for goodness sake, it was bad enough that Jaycee was leaving, but to run out of beer at her party.  I took a deep breath and plunged into the crowd.

I had found Katherine and Steve standing near the make shift stage.  “Nice job on the speech,” Katherine said as I approached.  Ordinarily, I would have appreciated the compliment.  I had been nervous about being the emcee for such a momentous send off.  In fact, I had been nervous about Jaycee leaving altogether.

“When she leave’s, I’ll have to be the Jaycee.  I’m not ready for that,” I had confided to my Steve a few nights earlier.

“Don’t worry, you’re up to the task.  You’ll make a brilliant Jaycee,” Steve had assured me.

“There are many books of Oz,” Father Steve had said.  “The departure of the Tin Man and the Wizard isn’t the end of the story.”

I gestured to Katherine and Steve to lean in close.  “We’re out of beer,” I said in a low tone.  I hoped they were able to hear me over the music and boisterous voices.

Katherine looked alarmed.  Steve looked at me doubtfully.  “Did you just say that we’re…” he started.  Katherine grabbed his arm and shook her head.  Steve stopped himself from finishing his sentence.

I nodded.  The three of us huddled in close.  “Well, this isn’t good,” Steve said, as a roar went up from behind us.  We turned and saw two Steves arm wrestling with Mountain Mike.

“Alright,” Katherine said.  “Let’s not panic.”

“Who has beer?” I asked.

“Right,” Steve said.  “I’ll get house keys from Sam and the Steves.  You get them from Lake and Jane.”

“We can take my truck.” I nodded towards the parking lot.  Steve and I looked at Katherine.  “You’ll have to bartend until we get back,” I said.  Another roar arose from the crowd.  “It’s probably best not to mention the no beer situation,” I added.

It was Katherine’s turn to look doubtful.  “Exactly how am I supposed to do that?”

“Turn the music up,” Steve suggested.  “And when someone asks for a beer, pretend you can’t hear them.  Just hand them something else.  Everyone here is far enough along, they’ll drink what you give them.”

An hour later, Steve and I had raided the beer stock of what seemed like most of the menwei on island.  We had scored a large supply of Bud and Fosters, and a smattering of  Corona.  It was odd routing around in people’s houses when they weren’t there, even with permission.  You learned a lot about people that way.  At one house, in the very back of the refrigerator, we had found a hoard of Fat Tire ale.  “Would you look at that,” Steve had commented.  “I was here a few days ago and these weren’t on offer.  Selfish bastard.”

“We can’t take them,” I had objected when Steve started to pull a six-pack out.

Steve looked at me and sighed regretfully.  “Ah, yahh.  You’re right.”  He set the six-pack back on the shelf and then brightened.  “We can take one,” he said as he popped the cap off of a bottle.

We returned with enough brew to prevent rioting, if not last to the end of the party.  Lake was waiting for us as we came down Rumour’s steep drive.  “Good thing we didn’t panic,” Lake had said as he helped us unload our haul, “we could have all been killed.”

Now, Sam pulled himself up to see over the bar to the ice chests at our feet.  He surveyed the remaining beer, mostly Bud with a few Coronas tucked in, no Fosters left.  “I’ll have a gin and tonic,” he said.  Katherine pulled a clear plastic cup from the stack hidden behind the bar and poured a generous amount of gin into it.  She added a splash of the remaining tonic and a few cubes from the ice chest.  She finished it with a squirt of juice from a green plastic lime, also procured in our foraging.

“Cheers,” Sam said as Katherine handed it to him.

I looked around for the guests of honor and saw Jaycee now sitting next to Kelly in one of the side nahs.  “You okay here?” I asked Katherine.

Katherine nodded as she waved to Lisa and her husband Steve on their way to the parking lot.  Steve was weaving slightly as Lisa steered him with his elbow.  “The natives are getting tired.”  Katherine looked at her watch.  “It’s 3:00 a.m.”

“Leaving already?” I called out to Lisa.

“Makin’ an early night if it,” Lisa called back.  I picked up two bottles of water and walked around the bar and down the dock.  Jaycee was sitting with her feet up on another chair, slumped down with her eyes closed.  Kelly was next to her, watching the bobbing lights of a boat in the harbour.  I set a bottle down in front of Jaycee and one in front of Kelly.  “How we doing?” I asked, pulling out a chair.

Jaycee opened her eyes.  “Ten more hours.”  The weekly flight to Hawaii left at 1:00 p.m.  She shut her eyes again.  I glanced down at her bare arm and didn’t see a watch.  How did she know the time?

Someone shut the music off and there was a moment of silence.  A low murmur from the thinning crowd started up.  Kelly smiled at me.  “We should start cleaning up,” she said.  “Manual can’t go home until we leave.”  I followed her gaze down the dock to the next nah, where Manual was curled up sleeping under the table.

“In a moment,” I said, “he looks comfortable enough for now.”

I didn’t think Jaycee was paying attention, but she opened her eyes again.  “I’ve taught you well, grasshopper.”

“Grasshopper?  I thought I was Dorothy.”

Jaycee waived away my comment.  “We all start out Dorothy,” she said.  She grinned at me, a quintessential Jaycee grin.  “But only some of us grow into the Wizard.”  She closed her eyes again.  “Nine hours, fifty minutes.”

 

 

tale #49

“We need to get back soon and shower,” I nagged Jaycee for the third time.  I couldn’t believe I had let her talk me into this.

“It’ll be fun,” she had said when I suggested that a bicycle ride around the island might be too strenuous.  “It’s not that far,” she had countered to my objection that circling the entire island might be too ambitious.  When I pointed out that the road around the island wasn’t completely paved, she shrugged and played the “last day on island” card, similar in nature and power to the “it’s my birthday” card.

“Don’t worry so much,” Jaycee called over her shoulder.  “The party can’t start without me.  Not only am I the guest of honor, but I’m always the most fun person in the room.”

I pulled the water bottle from the cage and drank.  It was hot and humid.  Of course, it was always hot and humid, but I wasn’t usually exercising like this.  Not on dry land.  “Yes, well, I’m not the guest of honor.  I’m the hostess.  I need to be there.”  I took another swig from my water bottle as sweat ran down the side of my face.  “And it would be polite if I showered first.”

“Oh look,” Jaycee exclaimed, pointing directly ahead.  “A bluff overlooking the ocean.  Let’s stop.”

“Noooo.  No more stopping.”  We had started out early in the morning, both on borrowed mountain bikes.  We had covered the paved terrain fairly easily.  But the road turned to packed dirt around the time the sun climbed directly overhead.  We had stopped in the shade to have a snack.  We had stopped at the Pohnpei Agriculture and Technical School to fill our water bottles and have a snack.  We had stopped at Telly’s house to fill our water bottles.  Since leaving Telly’s, we had stopped every ten minutes to look over a bluff and admire the ocean.  “We are never going to get back,” I said, exasperated.

“Would that be so bad?” Jaycee asked as she brought her bike to a stop and climbed off.  Father Steve said that someone’s annoying conduct could be attributed to one of two reasons. Either they were annoying you to get your attention, or they were acting that way for another reason and you just happen to find the conduct annoying.  Until now, I had thought Jaycee was just needling me.

I stopped behind her and watched as she set the bike down and walked over to the edge of the road.  Beyond two palm trees, the ocean lay a tranquil and sparkling blue.  It was a stunning view.  I realized with a start that I had been here long enough to take this type of scenery for granted.  I thought about seeing it for the last time.  From where I stood, I could see Jaycee in profile.  There was a sadness to her face I had not seen before.  And something else, worry.

“You must be excited about going back to the real world,” I said as I swung my leg over the center bar of the bike.  I unzipped the front handle bar bag and pulled out a baggie with gooey, crumbling oatmeal cookies.  I laid the bike down and went to stand next to Jaycee.  “Just think,” I said as I opened the baggie and held it out to her, “bagels and latte on the way to work, supermarkets open on Sunday, actual movie theaters, fresh vegetables, paved roads.”

Jaycee reached for a cookie piece.  “Traffic, noise, pollution, crowds, my family” she said.  She turned and looked at me.  “Pantyhose,” she added in a horrified voice.

I nodded with sympathy.  “I know,” I said.  We ate cookies and stood watching the ocean in silence for awhile.

I heard the sound of a car engine and looked over as my truck pulled to a stop in front of Jaycee’s bicycle.  Lake opened the driver’s door and climbed out.  He walked over to us and stood on the other side of Jaycee.  The three of us looked out at the ocean.  “So,” Lake asked after a minute, “what are we doing?”

Jaycee didn’t answer, so I said, “We’re delaying the inevitable.  What are you doing?”

“I’ve been sent to check on your welfare.”  Lake took the almost empty cookie baggie from me.  “The clan was getting nervous.”

Jaycee looked over at him. “Tell Kelly I’m fine.”

Lake nodded.  “I’m also supposed to remind you that you haven’t finished packing yet.”  He pulled some cookie crumbs out of the bottom of the baggie and ate them.  “We can toss the bikes into the truck.”

Jaycee shook her head.  “We’re not done with our ride,”

Lake looked over at me.  I shrugged at him.  I heard another car engine and Katherine’s car came around the bend and pulled in behind my truck.  Katherine and Lisa got out.  “Y’all alright?” Lisa asked as they walked over to us.

“Fine,” I said.  “Just taking our time and enjoying the scenery.”

Katherine looked over at Jaycee, who was doing her best to ignore the growing crowd, and then at me.  I gave her the same shrug I had given Lake.  Katherine nodded.  “We have water, if you need it,” she said.

“And bandages,” Lisa added.  “And sunscreen, and Aloe, and protein bars and bananas and a bicycle pump.”

“Protein bars?” Lake asked with interest.

“We could use some water,” I said.

Jane pulled up as Lake was fetching the water from Katherine’s car.  “What a lovely gathering,” Jane greeted us.  She turned to Lake as he came up with a container of water.  “I need the key to Austen’s place so I can run things over to Rumours and begin setting up.”

Lake handed Lisa the water and reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a key, which he handed to Jane.  Jane turned to me.  “Steve wants to know if he should wait for you.”

I looked over at Jaycee.  She looked in need of rescuing.  I walked over to Jaycee’s bicycle, picked it up and wheeled it over to her.  “Jane,” I said turning to the group.  “Tell Steve that he shouldn’t wait, I’ll meet him there.”  I took the water bottle from Jaycee’s bike and handed it to Lisa to fill.  “Lisa, would you please go with Jane and help her clear out my refrigerator and haul everything to Rumours?”  I walked over to my bicycle and picked it up.  “Katherine, would you please go over to Jaycee’s and help Kelly with any remaining packing.”

I wheeled my bike over to Lake who was standing near Jaycee.  I held out my hand to him and he placed two Cliff sports bars in it.  “Thank you,” I said.  “Thank you all.”  Jaycee swung her leg over her bicycle and I followed suit.  “We won’t be too long,” I said over my shoulder as we pushed off.  “Feel free to start the party without us.”

tale #48

“J. E. T.  Jet,” Father Steve sang out as he placed the letters on the scrabble board.  “And note, my dear,” he said with a triumphant grin, “the “j” is on a triple letter square.”

I sighed and added the numbers to his already ridiculously high score.  “You know, your respite from alcohol is giving you a mean streak.”  I studied the board and then looked sadly at the letters in front of me.

We were in our usual Sunday afternoon location, at the end of the dock of a quiet and closed Rumors.  The sky was gray and heavy but the rain had not yet started.  In deference to an annual visit from the Monsignor, Father Steve had temporarily abandoned his beloved tequila.  A bottle of vitamin water sat in front of him.  “Nasty tasting stuff,” he said with a curled lip each time he drank it.

“How’s the party planning going?” Father Steve asked.

I gave another sigh.  “Fine.  We’re having a pot luck here at Rumours.”  I fiddled with a tile and then set it back where it had been on my tray.  “We were going to have a lovely catered event out at the Village.  But Jaycee insisted that she was spending her last night on island at Rumours.  So, it’s pretty much a case of the mountain following Mohammad.”  I brightened as I spotted a word worth more than four points.  I added an “e” “s” “t” to Father Steve’s “j”.

Father Steve nodded.  “Sometimes less formal is appropriate.  How’s Lake handling their leaving?”  He studied his letters.

“He’s worried.”  I had come home from work yesterday and found Lake stretched out in the happy hammock, a beer balanced on his stomach, looking like the stuffing had been taken out of him.

“Hey Scarecrow, are you pining already?” I greeted him.  “They haven’t even left yet.”

“It won’t be Oz without the Tin Man,” he said.

I dropped my bag on the kitchen counter and opened the refrigerator door.  “We’re all going to miss Kelly,” I agreed.

“Whose going to explain women to me?”  Lake swung his legs onto the floor and took a swallow of beer.

That’s what he was fretting about?  I looked over the refrigerator door at him.  “Hello, female here.  I could help you with that.”

He looked at me with a thoughtful expression on his face.  Finally, he said, “Maybe Katherine.  She’s much more approachable these days.”
Father Steve rearranged his tiles.  “And you?” he asked.  “Are you worried?”

“I’m always worried.”

Father Steve nodded.  “True enough.  Are you sleeping any better yet?”

I watched the harbor water gently striking the pier while I thought about that.  I was sleeping, which was better than not sleeping.  And I hadn’t dreamt about the sawed off shotgun in awhile.  Still, my dreams were a jumble of colours and shapes that did not make sense and often left me with a sense of uneasiness upon waking.  “It’s not the sleeping, it’s the dreaming,” I said.

Father Steve laid down the word “amends.”  I added up his points while he drew more tiles from the box lid.  I watched as he arranged his tiles on the tray in front of him.

“Some people think dreams are your mind trying to communicate with you.”  Father Steve tapped the board.  “It’s your move.”

Using the “d” from his word, I put down five more tiles and spelled “sinned.”

Father Steve smiled.  “Do you know my favorite definition of sin?”

I shook my head.  “Is there more than one?”

“Certainly,” Father Steve looked down toward the leg of his chair, where his tequila bottle usually sat.  “I hope the Monsignor doesn’t make a long visit this year.”  He adjusted his seat.  “Many religions define sin as ‘without God.’  And that’s a decent definition.  But I like the one Father Greg on Majuro uses, ‘if you know what is right and don’t do it, that’s a sin.’”  Father Steve looked directly at me.  “Pretty good, don’t you think?”

The lawyer in me objected.  “That’s pretty broad.  Under that definition, everybody sins.”

Father Steve chuckled.  “Well you know how the song goes, you’ve gotta sin to get saved.”

“So when does it happen?” I blurted out.

Father Steve looked up.  “When does what happen?”

“Forgiveness.  Or redemption.  Or whatever it is you call it.  When does the past become the past?”  I studied the board while Father Steve studied me.

He reached over and touched my hand.  “It’s a journey,” he said softly.  He moved his hand back.  “A process.  That’s the new jargon.  Everything’s a process.”  He took a drink of his vitamin water and made a face.  “Nasty tasting stuff.”  He set the bottle down.  “Redemption is not a single event.  Neither is sinning.  We are continually sinning and redeeming ourselves.  It’s ongoing, like laundry.”  He chuckled again.  “Like laundry.  Oh, I like that.  I’m going to have to remember that one.”  Father Steve used the “s” from “sinned” to spell “sang” on a double word score.

Which reminded me, “there will be music,” I said.

Father Steve looked confused.  “Excuse me?”

“At the going away party,” I explained.  “Henri is going to bring his saxophone and Lisa’s husband Steve arrived a few days ago.  Apparently, he plays guitar.  So he and Henri are going to play together.”  I considered my word options, which were limited.  All my tiles had a vowel on them.

“Do you have the parting gift yet?” Father Steve asked.

I stopped looking for a word choice with more than three points.  “Telly and I are going to that wood carving village tomorrow.  We’re thinking about getting them one of those model mangrove outriggers.  Some of them are pretty intricate.”  I laid down an “o” and then another “o” after the “g” for the word “goo.”  I added the four points to my score.

“That’ll make a lovely gift.”  Father Steve looked over at the score sheet and rubbed his hands together.  “So, who’s ahead?”

I glared at him.  “Isn’t it considered unpriestly to gloat?”

Father Steve laughed.  “Indeed.”  He twinkled his eyes at me.  “Whatever shall I do to redeem myself?”

tale #47

“Sandpaper won’t wipe the grin off of that boy’s face,” Lisa said as we stood watching my Steve haul the five foot long sail fish from Sam’s boat to the teak landing of the Tchoomy Tchoomy.  Katherine stood next to me, water pooling around her feet, with her fins dangling from her hand.

“Very impressive,” she said.  Something in her voice made me turn and look at her.  Even dripping wet, Katherine was elegant.  That hadn’t changed.  Her posture was relaxed and a smile played at the corners of her mouth.  She was enjoying the moment without her usual distance.  I shifted my weight and leaned towards her, my shoulder almost touching hers.  She did not step away.

Henri was helping Sam unload the smaller, less flamboyant fish.  Jaycee was standing nearby, supervising.  Kelly had removed herself to the beach chairs on the lower  deck.  Katherine and I joined her just as Lake came out of the boat cabin with an array of knives, none of which were gutting knives.  “This should be interesting,” Katherine said, as we settled ourselves on either side of Kelly.

One of the other Steves and Lisa carried the cooler over with the drinks in it.  “Seemed a might far away,” Lisa said as she nodded towards the cabin door where the cooler had been located.  They set the cooler near Katherine’s chair.

I nodded.  “Good thinking.  That must be at least ten feet.”

Lisa opened the chest and removed a beer.  She looked over at the landing where there was now a lively discussion going on about the best way to gut the fish and which fish to use for sashimi and which to cut into steaks.  “Y’all think they know what they’re doing?” Lisa asked as she popped the top off the Corona bottle.

“Nah” Steve said.

Forty minutes later, Henri was seated next to me.

“You’re giving up?” I had asked him when he sat down in the chair Kelly had vacated.

He wrinkled his nose.  “Too much blood.”

“I didn’t know fish bled that much.”

He shook his head.  “Not from the fish.”

Now, Jaycee, Jane, Lake and Kelly were coaxing flames from the coals in the hibachi on the upper level of the deck.  Katherine was on the landing, slicing the fish into edible parts with chilling efficiency while Sam and my Steve stood guard.  I had lost track of Lisa and the two other Steves.  My Steve looked over and caught my eye.  I raised my plastic cup of mostly tonic with a little gin for flavor and he smiled.

“You two are close?” Henri asked.  I glanced over at him.  He was gazing at Katherine.

“We are,” I said.

“You have known each other a long time?”

I turned in my chair to face him.  “Not that long.  We met on island.”  Henri nodded without taking his eyes off of Katherine.

I turned back and together we continued to watch Katherine.  Her arms were lean and muscled.  She was wielding the knife with sure, swift strokes.  Her hair had lightened in the sun and was held off of her face with water and drying salt.  She really was beautiful.  Had she always been that way?  “She’s still healing,” I said.  “She’s not ready.”

“Yes,” Henri said.  “I wait.”

“It could be a long time.”

Henri nodded.  “I think so.”

Lake came over and plopped himself down in the chair on the other side of me.  “I tell you, stay out of the way of lesbians with matches.”  He reached over to the cooler and pulled out a Fosters.

“You left Jane there to fend for herself?” I asked sternly.

Lake shrugged.  “She’s Australian.  She’s tough.”

I turned back and saw Jaycee, Kelly and Jane huddled around the little barbeque.  Jane had the box of matches in her hand and appeared to be explaining something to Jaycee and Kelly.  They were both watching Jane intently and nodding.  I turned back to Lake.  “I haven’t seen Sky for awhile.  What’s he up to?”

Lake tipped his beer into his mouth.  “He’s been working.  He’s getting ready to head back to the real world.”

“Is he ready?”  I worried about Sky.  He was still vulnerable.

“If we wait until he’s ready he’d never leave.”  Lake looked around.  “Are there snacks?”

I reached behind his chair and pulled out an open container of Pringles and handed it to him.

“How do you eat those things?” Henri asked with a sour expression on his face.  Henri leaned past me and said to Lake, “Sky must go back to finish his book, yes?”

“Yes,” Lake crunched down on a chip.”

“Book?”  I held my hand out and Lake put a stack of Pringles in it.

“Book” Lake took another drink from his beer can.  “Someone sent the basket ball photographs Sky took to a publisher.  They thought it would make a great coffee table book.”

“Someone?”  I reached over Lake to open the cooler.

“It was Katherine’s idea.”  Lake opened the cooler for me and held up a Fosters.  I shook my head.  “So, was the idea Sky is going to pitch the publishers for his next book,” Lake said.  He held up a Corona.  I shook my head again.

I held up my cup with a tiny bit of clear liquid at the bottom.  “What idea is that?”

Lake pulled the bottle of gin from the cooler and I nodded.  “Another coffee table book.  This time, clothes lines of the world.”

“Really?”  I handed Lake my cup.

He scooped some ice into it.  “Really.”

“Is the barbie almost ready?” my Steve called up to Jane.

“Almost,” Jaycee replied.

“Almost in lawyer time?  Or almost in real person time?” my Steve asked.

Lake poured some gin and tonic into my cup and handed it back.  Sam carried a plate loaded with filets to the upper level.  “Hope everyone is hungry,” he said as he went past us.

Henri stood up.  “I will see to the other food.  We need more than just fish.”  He stopped at the cooler and pulled a small bottle of Kettle One vodka out.

Katherine was rinsing the fish remains off the landing.  “Do you need some help?” she asked as he passed.  Henri nodded and they disappeared down the steps into the cabin.

My Steve came over and sat in Henri’s chair.  He leaned over close to me.  “Did you see my fish?”

I smiled and wiped a bit of sand from his cheek.  “I saw your fish.”

“I did good, eh?”

“You did very good.”  I kissed him lightly.

The smell of barbeque and grilling fish wafted down.  I gestured to Lake who took a Fosters from the cooler and tossed it to Steve.  Steve caught it, popped the top and took a drink.  He leaned back over to me.  “Do me a favor,” he said into my ear.  “Remind me not to get into a knife fight with Katherine.  She’s a bit frightening.”  Steve sat back in his chair.

“Right.  No knife fights.”  I took his hand.

Sam came and stood nearby, looking out at the coastline of Ant.  “Does it look to you like we’ve moved?” he asked.

We looked over the edge of the boat.  “It does look like we’re closer to the island now,” Lake said.  “Perhaps the anchor has lost its hold.”

“We should tell Henri,” Sam said.  He opened the cooler and took out a beer.  We watched as the shoreline drifted past.  Nobody moved.

tale #46

“That ocean is like bathwater,” Lisa exclaimed, climbing, dripping wet, up the rope ladder hanging off the back of the Tchoomy Tchoomy.  She shook the water off and stretched herself out on the teak landing, droplets puddling around her.  The blue and red, one piece sports suit she was wearing showed off her golden limbs and athletic figure.  I heard a popping noise and looked over at two Steves and Lake who were sitting on the nearby deck, on beach chairs.  Their eyeballs were hanging out of their sockets, bouncing gently at the end of springs, like characters in an animated cartoon.

I moved over near Lisa and scanned the horizon for the small motor boat carrying Steve and Sam.  They had left the Tchoomy Tchoomy that morning on a “mission to fish.”  It was now well past lunch and there was still no sign of them.  In the distance, I saw Katherine and Henri, owner of the Tchoomy Tchoomy, snorkeling along a shallow reef.  Otherwise, the crystal blue water was empty.

The Tchoomy Tchoomy was a revamped Indonesian cargo boat.  Henri was a forty something revamped French Canadian.  He had shown up on Pohnpei about two years earlier with his boat and a stack of posters advertising charter services.  He spoke with a charming accent, preferred vodka to gin and played a mean alto saxophone.  Not much else was known about him.  That did not stop speculation.

The Tchoomy Tchoomy slept six comfortably, but more if you weren’t particular about where you sprawled for the night.  It had a single deck spread over several levels and was perfect for fishing and lounging.  During slow times, Henri was willing to take out groups of ex pats at reduced rates.  Now, we were anchored near Ant, one of the larger islands located on the outer edge of the reef.

Next to Lake, Jane watched the boys watching Lisa with an amused look on her fact.  She reached her leg out and tipped over the Fosters at Lakes feet.

“Hey,” Lake looked over at Jane and then at Lisa again.

“Ogling married women,” Jane said.  “Bad form.”

Lake gave Jane a wounded look.  “I was not ogling.  That was not an ogle. Certainly not a beer tipping ogle.”  He looked sadly at the river of yellow liquid flowing from the can.  “That was a nearly full can.”

Jane shook her head at him slowly.  “I knew this day would come.  I just didn’t think it would come so soon.”  She picked up a small white bucket and walked down to the landing where Lisa lay.  Moving past Lisa, she knelt down, dipped the bucket into the ocean and carried it back to the deck.  “You’re going to have to choose,” she said to Lake, as she splashed a bit of the sea water on the deck to rinse away the spilled beer, “between all the blonds in the world and me.”

“Hmmm,” Lake looked up from his low slung chair.  “That’s a tough call.”  He shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand.  “Can I have until Thursday?”

Jane turned the bucket on Lake at the same time Lake grabbed Jane around the knees.  The remaining water flew in all directions and Jane flew into Lake’s lap with his arms securely around her.  “You know what would make that decision easier.”  Lake grinned at her.

“Another beer?” Jane ventured.

Lake kissed her on the cheek.  “That’s why I love you,” he said releasing her.

“Men are so simple,” Jane said as she moved to the cooler strategically located near the stairs down into the cabin.

“Boy beer,” Lake called, “not girl beer.”

I joined Jane at the cooler, digging around for a cold juice.  “Boy beer?”

Jane nodded.  “Fosters.”

“And girl beer?”

“Corona.”

Lisa rolled over onto her stomach.  “Hey, my husband and I do the same thing, but with cookies.”

I couldn’t imagine how cookies could be divided into gender.  “Boy cookies?” I asked.

“With nuts.” Lisa said, and sat up gazed out at the postcard perfect view.  She gave a contented sigh and then stood and came over to the cooler.  “Y’all have another gal beer in there?”

I wandered over to Kelly and Jaycee who were seated on the upper level of the deck, keeping a watch for my Steve and Sam.  I slowly scanned the water on the front side of the boat.  ”They should be here soon.” Kelly said.  I knew there was no reason to be worried.  Sam’s motor boat was solid and he and Steve both knew their way around these waters.  Still, they’d been gone for most of the day.

Jaycee must have seen something in my face.  “They only took one six pack,” she assured me.

I nodded.

“For both of them,” she added.

I nodded again.

“Hey Austen,” Lisa called.  “Did you bring the letters?”

“Yes,” I called back, brightening.

“Well, c’mon then.  Haul ‘em on out.”  Lisa was now seated in a beach chair on the lower level deck.  Lake and Jane were elsewhere.

I went down to the cabin and dug through my duffel bag until I found the manila envelope with the resumes and cover letters I had received in response to the ad for another attorney.  I brought it onto the deck with me, stopping at the cooler on my way to pour some gin and tonic into a cup with ice-cubes.

Lisa gestured to a chair, recently vacated by one of the Steves.  “So, who’ve we got?”

I pulled out the stack of resumes and read the first one.  “Barbara Bonner of Lawton, Oklahoma,” I said.

“No,” Lisa said.  “I don’t like her.”

“You don’t know anything about her,” I objected.

Lisa shrugged.  “She’s from Oklahoma.  That’s enough.  They talk funny.”  She drank from her beer.  “Who else you got?”

I stuck Ms. Bonner at the bottom of the pile and looked at the next resume.  “Darlene Jonas.”

“Where’s she from?”

“Fort Lauderdale, Florida.”

Lisa shook her head.  “Not Florida.  People from Florida are suspect.  Who else?”

I moved Ms. Jonas to the bottom.  “Jasmine Lee. She’s a deputy public defender in Fresno California.”

“Jasmine, huh.”  Lisa wrinkled her nose.  “Odd name.  Might be her parents are hippies.  She is from California, after all.”

Oh for goodness sakes.  “She’s from Fresno.  That’s as close to the Midwest as you can get without leaving the state.”  Kelly and Jaycee joined us.  I put Ms. Lee at the bottom of the stack.  “How about Leah Robinson?  Does that name meet with your approval?”

“Is she Jewish?” Lisa asked.

“Is that a problem?” I snapped.

Lisa looked surprised.  “No, I’m just wonderin’ is all.  This hiring process is making you a bit tetchy.”

“I went to law school with a Leah Robinson,” Jaycee volunteered.  She was a black girl from Detroit.  I don’t know if she was Jewish.  We never discussed religion.”

This Leah Robinson was from Utah.  She currently worked as a private attorney for a firm that defended law enforcement in civil actions.  I set her aside as a possibility.  I looked over the next resume.  “Well hello, this sounds promising.  Patrick Carr, from Boulder, Colorado.  He works as a city attorney for the town of Littleton.” I looked up.  “That’s the type of work experience we need.”  I looked back down.  “Outside interests include fishing and sailing.  And,” I paused for dramatic effect, “he makes his own beer.”

“He’s hired,” Jaycee and Kelly said simultaneously.

“Sounds like your bloke” Steve the Australian tuna biologist said.

“Any objection?” I asked Lisa.

“I don’t know,” she said gravely.  “He’s not named Steve.  Is that allowed?”

We all thought about that.  What were the consequences of bringing a non-Steve on island?  We looked at one another questioningly.  We took a drink.

“I know,” Kelly said, “you can just call him Steve.”

I looked at Lisa.  “That might work,” she said slowly.

I set the resumes down and picked up the gin.  “I’ll write to Mr. Carr when we return.”  In the distance, I could hear the steady putter of what could only be Sam’s outboard motor.  I took another long drink of gin and relaxed further into the chair.

tale #45

“Well, that was interesting,” I said as I came into Jaycee’s office and headed for the empty chair in front of her desk.  Lisa occupied the other chair.  Jaycee sat behind her desk with the entire contents of her file cabinet piled over the desktop and spilling onto the floor around her feet.  Lisa had a stack of files at her feet as well.

Jaycee looked up from the open file in front of her.  “How’d it go?”

I had been at a committee hearing of the Pohnpei State Legislature.  They were investigating the allegation that a foreign fishing corporation might have been Cyanide Fishing in Chuuk and Pohnpei.  Cyanide Fishing was something I’d never even heard of until recently.  Wanting to be prepared, I had cornered Stephan, the New Zealand fisherman a few nights earlier at Rumors.

“What is Cyanide Fishing?” I’d asked, setting two gin and tonics in front of him.

Stephan looked at the two drinks, gave me a sour look and then gestured to the chair next to him.  He was a lanky man in his early thirties with once brown, now sun bleached blonde hair and disproportionately large brown eyes.  His skin was the color of copper and he had the reputation of being a cranky loner.  “Cyanide Fishing is evil.” he said.  “It’s the devils way of fishing.”

I nodded.  “Could you be more specific?”

“Well,” he said slowly, “reef fishing with lines can be slow.  Pulling up one fish at a time.”  Stephan took a swallow of the drink he had been working on, drained the cup and set it aside.  “If you inject a reef with cyanide, it stuns the fish, which float to the top and can be scooped up in nets and transported alive.”  He picked up one of the drinks I had brought.  “You capture a lot more fish, much more quickly.  Plus, live fish fetch you a more attractive price in the Asian markets.”

“Makes sense,” I said.  “What makes it evil?”

Stephan blew out his breath.  “What doesn’t.  The amount of cyanide needed to stun the larger fish, kills the smaller ones, along with everything else in the vicinity.  It does irreparable damage to the reef, thus depriving all reef creatures the nutrients they need to survive, which in turn destroys the eco-system of miles and miles of water, leaving large swaths of our beautiful ocean dead and decaying.”

“So,” I said, “basically, it’s a bad thing.”

Stephan nodded.  “Only callous pig sodomizing bastards who have sold their souls and the souls of their grandmothers would engage in such behavior.”  He looked at me closely.  “Why do you want to know?”

I flashed on an image of Stephan, harpoon in hand, chugging his little trawler out to challenge the foreign fleet, who were rumored to be armed with something more than harpoons.  “Just curious.”  I moved away before he reached for the second gin and tonic.

When Jaycee had given me the assignment she had presented it as an opportunity to show that the national government could cooperate with the state government.  A chance to heal some of the rifts that had occurred between the two, over money.  “Be proactive,” she had instructed.  “Engage with them.  Ask questions during the hearing.”  Now, she grinned at me over her desk.  “How’d it go?” she repeated.

“I think it went alright,” I said, leaning forward and turning one of the scattered files so I could read it.  “Of course, since the entire meeting is held in Pohnpeiin, they could have spent the whole two hours saying insulting things about my mother and I’d have never known it.”
Jaycee burst out laughing.  “Everything sounds polite in Pohnpeiin, doesn’t it.  Did you ask a lot of questions?”

I gave her a long steady look.  “Pretty much, the only question I had was, what did that guy say?”  I reached over and pulled a sheet of paper from my briefcase.  “However, they did pass a resolution praising the national government for our cooperation.  They passed it in English.”  I handed the formally printed resolution to Jaycee.

Jaycee studied the piece of paper.  “Wow.  I never got a resolution.”

“You don’t smile as much as I do.”  I smiled at her.

“I don’t understand,” Lisa said.  “I thought English was the official language here.”

I turned to her.  “English is the official language of the Federated States of Micronesia.  But only because they couldn’t decide which of the sixteen documented languages in the country it would be.”

Jaycee set the resolution down on the desk.  I reached over and rescued it before it disappeared into the avalanche of paper.

“You have another problem,” Jaycee said.

“I didn’t know I had a first problem,” I responded.

Jaycee shook her head slowly.  “There’s always a first problem.  In this case, it’s hiring another attorney.”

I was gathering my briefcase and scooped up a file I planned to reassign to myself.  “What’s my other problem?”

“The Paliker Post Office has closed the Attorney General post box,” Lisa offered.

“What?”

“I went to collect the mail today,” Lisa explained, “and that sweet ol’ man told me he couldn’t give me the mail because the AG hadn’t paid its post box rent.  He was ever so sorry about it.”

The mail on Pohnpei was uncertain during the best of times.  It came with the passengers on the Continental flights.  When the flight was full, or overweight, the mail got left behind.  Recently, Continental had the reduced the number of  flights out here.  Less flights resulted in each flight being more crowded which resulted in the mail being left behind more often.  Mail was the only way I was going to find an attorney to take Jaycee’s place.

“We haven’t paid our post box rent?”  I don’t know why that surprised me.  “How far behind are we?”

“Three years,” Lisa said.

I sighed and thought for a minute.  “I’d better ask Tully the best way to broach the subject with Saiko.”

Jaycee nodded.  “That’s what we thought.”

I stood up and walked towards the door.  Jaycee said behind me “hey, good news though.”

I turned around.

“Lisa’s husband can’t get out here for another month.”

I looked over at Lisa.  Her face didn’t look like she thought that was good news.  I looked at Jaycee inquiringly.

“So, Lisa is coming with us on the Tchoomy Tchoomy this weekend.  And” Jaycee paused for dramatic effect, “Lisa can live in the studio apartment until her husband gets here.  Then they can take the house Kelly and I are leaving.”

I looked at Lisa.  She nodded.

“And,” Jaycee continued, “keep Susi with them.”  Jaycee ended with a big smile.

I looked at Lisa with sympathy.  Susi was Jaycee and Kelly’s crazy cat.  She had a severe case of agoraphobia.  A lot of Menwei had cats that started domesticated but went feral after a few months on island.  Susi arrived on island and after spending one hour outside, had come back into the house and refused to leave again.  She spent hours sitting in front of the screen door, staring out.  I had once opened the door for her.  She ran under the dining room table and hissed until I shut the door.

“I just love cats,” Lisa smiled.  “They’re so independent.”

I looked at Jaycee who gave me a severe look and a small shake of her head.

“Aren’t they?” I said, as I again headed for the door.

tale #44

“You did what with Lisa this weekend?”  Jaycee said in an astounded voice.  She was in her usual place, leaning against the doorframe of my office.

“Yoga,” I repeated for the third time.  “I did yoga with Lisa.  She’s teaching a class for the Jesuit volunteers.  I tagged along.”

Jaycee looked at me with suspicion.  “Lisa teaches yoga?” she asked in a disbelieving tone.

I nodded.  “Father Steve arranged it.”

“But, she’s from Arkansas.”  Jaycee exhaled in exasperation.

I shrugged.

“Honestly, you can’t turn around without stumbling over a crunchy little earth muffin these day.  No place is sacred.”  Jaycee shook her head.  “I’m sorry.  I would never have knowingly saddled you with someone like that.”

“It’s just yoga,” I said mildly.

“Oh sure, it starts with just yoga.” Jaycee looked at me sternly.  For a moment, she reminded of Disco Dannenberg.  “Next thing you know, it’s peace signs and community gardens and you can kiss your beloved Pringles goodbye.  Gin and Tonics at Rumors turns into whole wheat and mango smoothies.”

I looked up.  “They have smoothies on island?”  I love smoothies.

Jaycee sighed.  “You’re hopeless.”  She pushed off from the doorframe.  “I just hope you do a better job screening the next person than I did with Lisa.  You might want to say ‘no hippies’ in the ad.”  She started down the hall.

I smiled.  Sometimes Jaycee was such a stereotypical New Yorker.  Wait.  What next person?  What ad?  An alarm went off in my head.  I flew out of my chair and down the hall after Jaycee.  “What ad?”  I followed her into her office.  She sat down behind her desk, without answering my question.  “What ad?”

“The ad you place to hire the next attorney, when I leave.”  Jaycee scowled at me.  “What other ad is there?”

I sat down in the chair in front of her desk.  “When you leave?”

Jaycee sighed with fake patience.  “Well yes.  My contract is up next month.”

Panic started to set in.  “And you’re thinking of leaving?  Jaycee, that’s crazy talk.”  I took a breath and thought for a moment.  “You’ll just have to extend your contract.  I’m sure Aamil wouldn’t mind.  He likes you.”

Jaycee shook her head sadly.  “Kelly can’t get any more leave from her job in the states.  We have to go back.”

There was a buzzing in my head and my lungs wouldn’t quite fill with air.

“Look on the bright side,” Jaycee said.  “You’ll be chief of litigation.  You never have to go to Chuuk again.  You can send someone else.”  She grinned.  “Someone that annoys you.”

I got up and walked slowly back to my office.  The buzzing stopped, but my stomach felt tight.  I couldn’t imagine working here without Jaycee.  Or the island without her, for that matter.  And without Kelly.  I wondered what kind of response I would get to an ad that read “wanted – pushy lesbian lawyer with spectacular partner.  New York accent optional.”   A minute later, I was back in Jaycee’s office.  “Where do I place this ad?”

Jaycee looked up from her desk.  “Uh huh, find out you’re going to be in charge, and all of a sudden you’re chomping at the bit.”

“And what do you mean someone that annoys me?  You sent me to Chuuk constantly.”  Maybe I wasn’t going to miss her that much.

“Now you’re catching on.”  She smiled at me.  “You can advertise in the Federal Journal.  They have a section for international employment.  You can also place an ad in the American Bar Association journal, but they’re a little pricy.”

I had answered an announcement I had seen posted on the California District Attorney Association website.  I wondered now how it got there.  “How did you find Lisa?”

“The way everything out here is done,” Jaycee said.  “A friend of mine from law school knew her and thought she might be interested.”  She stood up from behind her desk.  “We can talk about it on the way home.  I promised Kelly I’d be home early.”

That suited me.  Steve was back on island and we had plans for dinner.  I moved towards the doorway.  I turned and surveyed the office.  It was larger than mine.  Maybe I would move in here when I became chief.  Jaycee raised her eyebrow at me.  I turned back to the door.  “I’ll get my gear.”

A taxi cab was waiting at the back door of the office.  It was white with yellow lettering.  Across the trunk it said “Best cab service on island.”  In fact, it was the only cab service on island.  Some Chinese looking lettering adorned each passenger door.  That Chinese looking writing had been the subject of much discussion on numerous Friday nights at Rumors.  Over several rounds of drinks, it had been decided that it was either traditional Chinese or Mandarin and said either, “Caveat Emptor” or “Eat at Joes.”

A round faced man in his mid twenties stood leaning against the driver’s door, dressed in the company uniform for Joseph Norman Taxi Service, a khaki shirt, blue shorts and zories.  They had been showing up everywhere, since I had given Norman Norman the green dragon vase to return to the President.  This same driver had been outside my apartment when I left for work this morning.

He tipped an imaginary hat to us as we came out the door.  “Is one of you ladies Austen Clark?”

I raised my hand.  “That’s still me.”

He smiled.  He had a full mouth of very white teeth.  “Can I take you somewhere?  Courtesy.”  He opened the passenger door.  “That means no charge,” he added.

I smiled back.  “Thanks.  I still have my car.”

A mischievous look came over Jaycee’s face.  “I could use a ride,” she said.  She jerked her thumb in my direction.  “I’m her boss.”

The taxi driver looked surprised.  He paused and then smiled again.  “Alright lady.  Where do you want to go?”

“Rumors please,” Jaycee said innocently.

I watched as the poor man began calculating the trouble he would be in for refusing to drive a friend of mine versus the trouble he would be in for taking a customer to Rumors rather than the Jungle.  The struggle played out on his face.  Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer.  “Jaycee,” I prompted.

“Oh alright,” Jaycee said.  She turned to the driver.  “I’m just messing with you.  Austen is driving me home.”

A look of immense relief flooded the man’s face.  “Thank you.”

Jaycee started towards my car, then turned back.  “I live behind the telecom building.  I’ll need a ride to work.  You can pick me up at 8:00 tomorrow morning.”

The driver looked at me and I nodded.  “Yes, ma’am” he said to Jaycee.

We watched as the driver got into his cab and pulled out of the parking lot.

I turned to Jaycee.  “That wasn’t kind.”  Father Steve said the three questions you should ask yourself before saying something are, is it true, is it necessary and is it kind.

Jaycee shrugged.  “No,” she admitted.  “But it was fun.”

I shook my head at her.

She sighed as she stood by the passenger door of my car.  “There is so much to teach you and so little time.”

I looked around the parking lot.  Despite the early hour, it was nearly empty.  “Speaking of teaching,” I said.  I walked around to the passenger door and placed the keys in Jaycee’s hand.  “I think it’s time you had a driving lesson.”

tale #43

Ace Hardware sat on the main road just before the bridge crossing out of Kolonia.  There was a dirt road on either side of it.  If you turned down the road before Ace Hardware, you got to Old Bill’s house.  If you turned down the road after, it led you to Disco Dannenberg’s house.  Hers was the third house back.  I almost missed it.  The short, squat, cinderblock building was hidden behind a tangle of hibiscus and bougainvillea.  I parked near an overgrown azalea  and sat in the car for a moment, as was polite, to give Mrs. Dannenberg time to see me and prepare for a visitor.  I hadn’t called in advance, in case she told me not to come.

Through the car windshield, I could see a small wooden stoop that led up to the front door.  On it sat a lonely looking single chair and a small table.  I reached over to the passenger seat and scooped up the Styrofoam cooler that Bernard had lent me.  Inside was the white vase with the green dragon pattern I had purchased in Guam.  I took a deep breath and opened the car door.  The walk between the car and the stoop was only a little muddy.

Mrs. Dannenberg answered on the first knock.  She was almost exactly as I had pictured her but shorter.  Much shorter.  I towered over her.  She matched her house, short, squat and covered in a house frock with a tangle of tropical flowers.  Her hair was steel gray and pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head.  She looked up at me appraisingly and I felt sure she knew who I was.  “Yes?” she said.

I smiled.  “Mrs. Dannenberg?  I’m Austen Clark.  I work for the attorney general.  I was hoping to speak with you about your son-in-law.”  She looked at me blankly and waited.  “Norman Norman” I added.  She continued to watch me.  I stopped smiling.  “He’s married to your daughter.”  The woman didn’t move.  “He works for the national government.”

Mrs. Dannenberg tilted her head to one side considering me.  She gave a long sigh and then stepped back, opening the door wide.  “Come in,” she said.

I slipped my shoes off.  “Thank you.”  I followed her inside.  The linoleum was very clean and felt cool under my feet.  The house was the same layout as the one I had rented from Old Bill.  Her little kitchen was tidy and the living room had a few pieces of wooden furniture with faded cushions.  It did not look as if she had company very often.  I looked from the straight backed woman in front of me, to her cheerful floral dress, to the drab furnishings of her small house.  Something was not matching up.  Why was she living in a Menwei style house, by herself?  Old Bill had cinderblock houses on his property, but he lived at the front, in a traditional style house, with a rotating cast of relatives.

“You have a lovely home,” I said as I sat in an armchair, near the kitchen pass through.  I set the cooler I was carrying by my feet.

Mrs. Dannenberg sat on a loveseat across the room.  She looked around, as if trying to see something lovely about the room.  Finally, she shrugged.  “It’s where I live now.”

She looked at me again.  We were both silent.  “Well.  Hmmm,” I said, trying to figure out how to begin.  Mrs. Dannenberg didn’t say anything, an intent expression on her wide face.  “Awhile ago, your son-in-law, Norman Norman, gave you a vase,” I said.

She gave a single nod of her head.  “Yes.”

“That vase was not his to give.  It belongs to our President.”

She snorted.  “That man is from Kosrae.  Presidents are from Pohnpei, or Chuuk.  But that man is from Kosrae.”  Her disdain for the national leader was evident.

“Yes, ” I forged ahead, “but it is still his vase.  He would like it back.”  I gestured to the cooler at my feet.  ” I have another vase for you.  You should not be without a vase, since you didn’t know it belonged to the President when you accepted it.”  My speech sounded stilted, even to me.

“What if I did know?” she asked, leaning forward.  Her face took on a sly appearance.

I sat back, surprised by the question.  “Well,” I thought for a moment.  “Then, I would have to arrest you for receiving stolen property.”  I couldn’t actually arrest anybody, but maybe she wouldn’t know that.

“You would arrest a frail old woman?” she asked in a shocked tone.

I looked at her neat hair and straight back.  “You’re not that frail,” I said.

She stared at me.  Then she stared at the cooler.  Finally, she held her hand out towards me, palm up, and wiggled her fingers.  “Let’s see it.”

I took the lid off and pulled out the vase.  I held it in both hands and turned it around slowly, like a human display rack.

The look of disdain returned to her face.  “I was told you were bringing me a better one.”

Uh oh, she didn’t like it.  “You don’t like this one?”  I had spent quite a bit of my limited time on Guam selecting it.  “What’s wrong with it?”

“I was told the President was a man with fancy taste.”  She stood up.  “And the vase was very special.  ‘One of a kind’ the police said when they came here.”  She waved at the vase I was holding.  “That one don’t look so special to me.”  She walked out of the room.  I could hear her shuffling around in one of the bedrooms.  A minute later, she walked back into the living room holding a vase in her hands.  It was white with a green dragon pattern.  I looked at it.  I looked down at mine.  I looked back at the one she was holding.  The vase in Mrs. Dannenberg’s hands was an identical twin to the one I was holding.

“I guess the President’s taste isn’t so fancy after all,” she said.  She placed her vase on the counter of the kitchen pass through.  She sat on the ottoman near my chair, leaning towards me.  In a low voice, she said, “You can tell me, where did you get it?”  Her eyes gleamed a little.

“K-Mart,” I said sheepishly.

She nodded and took the vase out of my hands.  She stood up and set it on the counter of the kitchen pass through, next to the President’s vase.  We looked at them, side by side.  Mrs. Dannenberg moved back to the love seat and sat down.  She shook her head and said, almost to herself, “All this mess over a cheap vase I didn’t even want.”

Really?  I couldn’t rent a car in Chuuk, or go to certain shops, or take a taxi, over something she didn’t even want?  Really?  I looked over at her.  She looked so dejected, like a small, disappointed child.  I sighed internally.  “Norman Norman must have thought you would like this vase.  He risked a lot to give it to you.”

She snorted again.  “Norman Norman is an idiot.  I told my daughter that before she married him.  I like his brother alright.  If my daughter had been faster, Bernard Norman could have been my son-in-law.  But her cousin got there first.”

“What do you want?” I asked.

“What?”

“You said you don’t want a vase.  What do you want?”

Her old face lit up.  She held her two hands up to me, palms facing inward.  They were bent and wrinkled, like my old leather slippers, just before they had to be thrown out.  “My hands don’t work so good anymore,” she said.  “They have a machine that opens cans for you.  You just put the can near it, and it opens them.  You don’t have to do anything.”  She inspected her hands.  “What do they call those?”

“An electric can opener?”

“Yeah, that’s it.  One of those would be nice.”

“An electric can opener.  Your son-in-law steals from the President, you turn the police away at your door, and what you really want is an electric can opener?”

She nodded in affirmation.

Oh for goodness sakes.  “A little communication can go a long way,” I said, exasperated.

“I tried to tell him,” she said sadly.  “That Norman Norman, he don’t listen so good.”

“Well why didn’t you just give the vase back?” I asked.

Mrs. Dannenberg looked appalled.  “That would be rude.  Norman Norman went to a lot of trouble to get it for me.”  She looked at me sternly.  “Maybe you don’t have such good manners.”

We sat quietly for a bit.  “What now?” I asked.

She stood up and walked over to the two vases.  “Close your eyes,” she said.

“Why?” I asked automatically.

She gave me another stern look.  “Close your eyes.”

This time, I sighed out loud.  I shut my eyes, though not tightly.  I could hear the vases scrapping on the counter.

“Okay,” Mrs. Dannenberg said.  “Open.”

I opened my eyes and the two vases were still side by side on the counter.

“Pick one and take it to the President,” she said.

I stood up and went over to the counter.  I examined both vases carefully.  They really were indistinguishable.  I picked up the one on the left.

Mrs. Dannenberg nodded and handed me the cooler.  I placed the vase inside and headed to the door, where I turned to my hostess.  “Thank you.  It’s been…”  I hesitated, “interesting.”

Mrs. Dannenberg looked up at me.  “I like you.  You’re not so nice.  Maybe you’ll come visit again?”

Maybe not.  I shrugged.  “Maybe.”

She opened the door for me.  “Good,” she said as if I had agreed.  “Next time, don’t park so close to the azalea.”