Rum Punch Regrets

by Anne Kemp

  Abby looked Maria in the eye, almost laughing at the thought that this was an issue. Yet Maria was not reacting. In fact, she was just rocking and nodding.

  “No time for limin’. Leigh asked me to be kind in telling you since you traveled so far an’ being her sister an’ all. Just no way to wake someone up to say get out, really.” The big pearly white smile was back. This woman needed to share her Crest Whitestrips with Ziggy.

  What is the obsession with picking limes here? Abby thought. Are limes a main source of island income, and do I need to help pick them?

  Abby crossed her arms. She could tell that her quizzical stare made Maria melt a little, wanting to explain further. Yet Abby felt like Maria was stopping herself.

  “Abby, come. Let me make you some coffee. It seems to me that Miss Leigh may have left something out when she sent you here . . . ”

  Oh no. Oh no! Abby’s voices were screaming in her head. Of course there is more to the story. That DAMN Leigh! She never, ever, ever can tell just the truth or tell something like it really is. Oh, hell no. She has to cover up something or . . . instead of lie, “I omitted the truth, Abby,” she says. Humpf. Omits the truth. I always think I know her. All I really know is that I never will know her like I think I do.

  Abby was rubbing her forearms and realized her demeanor had shifted from “I’m the Queen of the Manor” to “I think I’m lost.” Maria took note of this, too, as she lifted herself from the rocker.

  “Abby, come. Coffee and food. It does wonders for the body and the mind, not to mention the surprise of all this. And then I can explain to you the things you need to be hearing. It’s gonna be a bit to take in, oh yes. But Leigh wants you to know it for some reason. Otherwise, it would not be you doing this, right?” And with that, Maria began to walk out of the room, stopping at the door to turn around and wait for Abby.

  Okay, strange Kittian woman with the bright smile, Abby thought as she slid into her flip-flops and shuffled out of the room behind Maria. You have a point. I need coffee. Let’s do this.

  #

  “La Cantina is Leigh’s bed-and-breakfast and I have to move in with BEN?!?!” Abby shouted, slapping her hand over her mouth almost instantly when she heard her own voice hit an octave that had never been captured before.

  “Abby, it’s gonna be uncomfortable and a wee bit crowded . . . ”

  “‘Wee bit crowded’? Are you kidding me?”

  “But you can do it. He has an alcove that was meant as a place for a desk. Ziggy is bringin’ an air mattress today for you. After he tells Ben that you’re movin’ in.” Maria placed Abby’s coffee mug in front of her. “Here. I just put milk. Like Leigh likes it, too.”

  Abby gripped her coffee mug tightly. So tight she was worried she might just shatter it. Maria continued to bustle around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and cooking as if getting ready for Thanksgiving. Well. At least I don’t have to break the news to Ben, Abby thought.

  Abby had to fight her sudden urge to video-chat Leigh so she could see her face as Abby bitch-slapped the computer screen.

  “Maria, I’m going to repeat back to you everything you just told me to make sure I have this under control in my brain. Okay?”

  Maria nodded, mumbling, “Okay, Abby,” and kept busy prepping food in the kitchen for the mystery meal.

  Abby took a deep breath, like the yoga kind her therapist always suggested to her, especially when she was trying to quit smoking. Or dealing with her mother or Leigh.

  “La Cantina is a bed-and-breakfast. An inn. My sister owns an inn. A B&B. And it is La Cantina. Right?” Abby asked.

  Maria turned and looked at Abby. “Yes.” Then she returned to her work.

  “Okay. And tonight, there are guests arriving so I am not to be in the house because the space is needed, therefore this truly is a classic case of ‘no room at the inn’?” Abby stopped long enough to take a breath before continuing. “Again, La Cantina being the BED AND BREAKFAST MY SISTER OWNS?”

  Maria turned and glowered at Abby. “No need to be shouting. I am right here.”

  Abby nodded and took another drink of coffee. “I’m sorry I’m shouting, but all of this,” Abby began waving her hands around and motioning loudly, as if her hands could talk and they were the ones shouting, “is a bit of news to me. A big piece of info that my sister, the person I should know best in the world, has left out. That’s what she does. She leaves things out.” Abby was exasperated. “I even asked her . . . Okay. That she has a house is one thing . . . but a freaking inn on a Caribbean island? And I can’t even stay in it? I get to room with a complete stranger for a few weeks while I help her fix her inn?”

  Abby pounded her heart with the palm of her right hand and began breathing dramatically. “Forgive me if I am yelling or in any way offending you, Maria, but things as I know them keep shifting. Dramatically.” Abby suddenly shuddered. “Oh God.”

  Abby was sweating profusely and her stomach was sick. “This. This is what a heart attack feels like. I think I’m having a heart attack . . . ”

  Abby got up and was really stroking at her heart now and couldn’t catch her breath. Oh God, she thought. I’m going to die in this house of Leigh’s right before her guests arrive to stay. Well, well. That’s one way to totally get her ass back.

  “Gas. It’s gas. I bet you need to go number two.”

  Abby turned and looked at Maria. Is this woman joking? From Maria’s deadpan, know-it-all expression, Abby could tell she was not.

  “You traveled and are probably dehydrated. I am sure you just need to release a little stress. Maybe a massage for your bowels later? Now sit back down . . . ”

  Abby was stunned. “No one will be massaging my bowels today. And stress? Maria, really? Everything I keep discovering and now there’s a you and a Ziggy and a house and a roommate and guests and you think I only have gas? I’m thinking an ulcer or an aneurysm.”

  Maria nodded, her face emotionless. “Ziggy gets it too. No worry. I make you a root tea later; everything will be,” she winked at Abby, “regular again. Smooooth. You’ll see.”

  Maria started to laugh raucously, and it echoed all through the kitchen and dining room. It rolled over porches and into the yard. The neighbors probably heard her, if the wind was just right. Abby knew she would not escape the sound of this woman’s glee. In fact, Abby knew she would not escape any of this. It was her new reality. Yet as Maria laughed, Abby started to smile as if she was infected by the sound. Slowly her own laughter joined Maria’s. Here she was in paradise, Abby George, and she was about to stay with someone she had never met, much less had even been introduced to. It was all quite surreal.

  Abby was still chuckling as she sat back down at the kitchen table.

  “Okay, Maria. I’ll play. I really have no choice, do I? I’ve never been here, and I don’t know you or Ziggy.” Abby looked at Maria, who was smiling at her again.

  “So, Ziggy is telling Ben that he has a new roommate?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He already told him Leigh is going to be selling the place.” Maria watched Abby for her reaction. Realizing Abby was calm and listening now, she went on. “Ben’s studying to be a vet and needs to get done this semester so he can go back.”

  “To the States, right? Leigh mentioned the vet school and finishing up back on the mainland.” Abby asked as she dived into a plate of muffins Maria had placed in front of her. Mmmm, blueberry . . . Better than the Starbucks or coffee truck variety to which she was accustomed.

  Maria nodded. “Maybe he gets done and the house will sell at the same time.” She was prepping ribs with a sweet-smelling marinade. Abby’s nose was tingling with all the new Caribbean spice smells assailing her senses.

  She chewed her muffin thoughtfully, almost with a deliberate slowness because she was tired of speaking. “Maria, is Ben going to be okay with me staying with him? I would not want a ‘me’ living in my house if I were a Ben.”

  Maria’s laugh resonated through the room again. “Abby
! Trust me. Tonight you two will have dinner and get to know each other. Ziggy is going to drop you off at Ricky’s down the street. It’s close and it’s quiet. Rum punch and dinner make people happy. You and Ben are gonna be just fine.”

  “Oh I get it, you want me to just get really drunk every night so I don’t care where I sleep, right?”

  “No, girl. No. Your family raised you better than that. Now, you just help me get this place ready today. We keep you busy so you’re not idle, okay?”

  Abby ignored the family comment, especially since the way she felt about Leigh at the present moment was not familial at all.

  “I’ll be glad to help. Just please make sure to shield me when Ben comes in and unleashes the anger of the gods this way . . . Okay? Have him know it’s not my fault?”

  “Girl! Go get changed!” Maria was laughing and shooing her out.

  “Just one thing . . . Ziggy’s accent is Kittian. But yours, it’s different. Where are you from, Maria?”

  Maria and Abby locked eyes, and there was trust. Not that Abby could pinpoint the moment and say it then, but she felt good with Maria. “My mom was from London, and my dad was Kittian. I grew up in the U.S.”

  Maria began to speak, but once again stopped herself. “Just clear out of your room quick and I get Ziggy to put your bags out in the pool house. Guests come and so do Ben soon. We deal with each one as it happens.” Maria started chopping some green onions very efficiently and with purpose. “First, we need to change sheets, open windows, fresh flowers in rooms. You need to be calling the roof repairmen so dey come dis week and get started. Lots to do!”

  Abby could tell she would get nothing else out of Maria until later, and she honestly wanted some busy work to help her sort through all of the mixed feelings she had at the moment. Maybe jumping right in with repairs and doing some cleaning will help me unleash some of this irritation inside, Abby thought. I can scrub some tile and pretend it’s Leigh’s face. She watched Maria as she began chopping some celery and onion together. The way she moved was fluid and poetic. She was about to leave the room when Maria called after her:

  “And, Abby. There is a lot to know here about a lot that you may not know. You can’t be having expectations, girl. None. Day-by-day. Just remember, you are always taken care of.”

  Abby started to open her mouth to ask what it was Maria still needed to tell her, but Maria was chopping furiously. As if she had eyes in the back of her head, she waved her right hand over her shoulder toward Abby as if to say, “Get out.”

  Abby smiled at Maria’s back. She slowly nodded and turned on her heel, unable to shake the feeling of familiarity she had with Maria. This woman was funny and honest: She had gone from being a jolting surprise to a blessing in a just a couple of hours.

  All this and it wasn’t even noon yet.

  Welcome to the island . . .

  CHAPTER THREE

  The thick Caribbean humidity was beginning to take its toll on Abby. Sitting at a table on the patio at Ricky’s, she waited patiently for a very late Ben to join her for their get-to-know-your-roomie dinner. Already on her second rum punch, she was jiggling the ice cubes in the cup as she waited to order number three. Abby was nervous, but ready to meet Ben. All she could do was hope he was the understanding type.

  #

  Abby had begun the day by placing a call to her sister, which had promptly been sent to voicemail. She followed up by sending her the obligatory “What the hell were you thinking?” email while wishing there were some way she could send a good ass-kicking instead of flowers to her doorstep. Obviously a conversation with Leigh was out of the question at this point -- at least until she decided to return Abby’s messages.

  Maria then had gotten Abby settled in the small office off the main kitchen, where Abby would be making her calls to schedule the repairmen. Being used to the “go-get-’em” attitude of the States, Abby was expecting to place a call and have the repairmen over for an estimate within a few hours. As she opened the Yellow Pages for the island, she found that there were only three roofing companies to pick from. The first two didn’t have voicemail, much less answer the phone. The third try was her lucky charm, as someone named Buddy answered and agreed to come by. In three days.

  “Three days? Buddy, is there anything I can do to get you to come sooner?”

  Buddy’s end was silent as he thought. Then, “No.”

  Okay. “I’ll pay more. We can pay a little bit extra on top of the fee to get you here?”

  Silence again. “Mmmmm. No. Sorry, Miss George. I got tings to do. Leavin’ today for fishin’. But I see you in tree days.”

  So he was going fishing. Abby felt her frustration welling up inside of her, but decided that if it had to be “tree” days, then it would be. She agreed to his terms and opted to let it go for the time being.

  She spent the rest of her day hustling around, jumping at the mere sound of Maria’s voice and her delivery of orders to prep La Cantina. She helped polish, shine, dust, sweep, launder and replace linens. Maria allowed her one last lovely, luxurious long shower in the main home before having Ziggy grab her bags and help her get set up in the pool house, air mattress and all.

  “An air mattress? Ziggy . . . I mean, really? I go from ‘I’m living in this gorgeous home’ to ‘Here’s your air mattress and a hole under the stairs’?”

  Ziggy chuckled. “Miss Abby, you will not be sleeping under the stairs. You have a roof over your head! What more do you need?”

  Ziggy was already walking away from Abby, headed to the pool house with the air mattress tucked under one arm and one of her suitcases dangling at the end of the other.

  The pool house was not as large as Abby had originally imagined. Granted, from the outside the size was deceiving; it looked small because the width was not grand. Yet the length was amazing -- it stretched back into the tropical foliage, almost disappearing as if into a miniature rainforest. From her first glance, she guessed the living room to be the size of the bedroom she had just slept in the night before.

  Ziggy had begun rooting around in an alcove off to the side of the living room. It was a small area. It looked about 5 x 10, had curtains and was the size for . . . Wait, Abby thought, is he taking the air mattress out of the box and putting it there? Am I not getting a door at least?

  “Ziggy, is that my place? Or are you adding some more seating?”

  “No, man. I’m making your bed nice and firm now, Abby. Blow it up with the hair dryer and cap it for you.” His head nodded and the dreadlocks bounced as he began to inflate her new bed.

  Unreal! Leigh, you did it again. I always think things will be different with you, Leigh, Abby thought. They never are. I don’t even have the pleasure of being able to shut a door to close out all of the complete strangers I keep meeting.

  Abby found a corner behind the dining room table where she could hide her bags for the time being. May as well wait to see where Ben wanted her to store her things. She then made her way through the pool house, looking at pictures -- Ben had only a few present in sporadic locations. It was most certainly the home of a college student. There were some schematics of animals up on the walls as well, skeletal systems or diagrams of some sort, and shelves that were laden with books on anatomy, physiology and animal science. There was a pile of dishes in the sink and the coffeemaker looked as if it had seen better days about twenty years ago.

  Abby moved slowly through the house, taking in the quarters she would be sharing for the next few weeks. The downstairs appeared neat, but when she looked upstairs, she was granted a glimpse into Ben’s bedroom, which appeared to have suffered from a small explosion. She started climbing the steps and then opted not to go. It was, after all, someone else’s living quarters. It was awkward enough without her rooting around any more of his space.

  As she surveyed the surroundings, she noticed a litter box a few feet from the air mattress. Please don’t let that thing stink in this heat, she cringed silently.

  The sound
of Ziggy’s voice snapped her back to the present.

  “Mon, all set. I’m taking you to Ricky’s now,” Ziggy said, looking ready to go.

  Abby furrowed her brow. “I thought Ben was meeting me here first?”

  “Happy hour, Abby. I need to meet some people at Ricky’s for some tings.” He was grinning widely. It was the smile that said, “I’m about to sell some of my weed that perfumes the air around me.”

  “Okay. As long as he knows I’ll be there?”

  “Yeah, mon. Handled.”

  With that, Ziggy sailed out the door, heading to his cab. Abby took a look around at her new digs one more time. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. I hope Ben and I get along was the only thought she could muster.

  #

  Abby took her cup and wiped it across the top of her forehead, letting the condensation from the drink trickle its way down over her flushed face. It was harder to catch her breath here today, and sitting outside was turning out to be a dumb idea. But she wanted to “break bread” with Ben since they would be living together for the next who-knows-how-many weeks.

  Ricky’s Café and Bar was a comical little spot down the road from La Cantina. At the end of a pothole-infested drive, it was tucked in the underbelly of a hotel that was slowly rotting away due to lack of love from the owners and a hurricane that had hit seven years ago. Abby got the feeling that Ricky’s was a home away from home, much like Cheers, to many of the folks gathered around its plastic patio tables and picnic benches. There was a dive shop, and the whole crew was at one end of the patio enjoying the sunset, knocking back the local beer, Carib, and hanging with tourists from a cruise ship. The bar had only four seats pulled up to the window, with two customers sitting with their heads together, sharing beers and cigarettes. One of the gentlemen was quite dark and weathered with bleach-blonde hair and seemed kind of dirty in that needing-to-be-washed way, while the other man was tall and rugged with dark hair and a great smile, emitting a “mysterious stranger” quality. The two were speaking in hushed conspiratorial voices, the blonde one gesturing wildly ever other word or so.