Pink Slips and Glass Slippers

by J. P. Hansen

“One lava coming right up.”

  Brooke glared at the drink she just ordered, and the pretty patron beside her said, “Oh, these are scary good. I think that’s why they call ‘em ‘lavas’.”

  The bartender flashed an I just had my braces removed smile, and said, “They’re a mix of Piña Colada and Daiquiri.”

  Brooke shrugged as she watched bottles flipping and heard two blenders whirling. The bartender filled the clear cup half way with a red icy concoction, then, with a concentration that stunned Brooke, eased the yellowish drink to the top. He presented the drink to Brooke with flair—like he just accepted his Harvard diploma, then beamed. She sipped with an audience, then said, “Good,” thinking, it doesn’t taste or look like lava—go figure. Noticing the bar was packed three deep, Brooke considered ordering another one. The first sip turned to gulps, each time flowing easier; Brooke realized why they called it lava.

  The cute couple next to her struck up a relaxed conversation—where are you from, are you just getting here, where are you staying, then where did you go to school? When Brooke said, “UNC, Chapel Hill,” the brown-eyed brunette beside her said, “Oh my God, me too. I knew I liked you.” They both laughed as a guy with an orange cap standing nearby frowned. “My name’s Christine, but my friends call me Sissy.” Brooke thought, that name makes about as much sense as lava. Her boyfriend caught the bartender’s eye and motioned for another round for his girlfriend and Brooke—that’s nice.

  Brooke noticed the sparkling diamond ring on her finger. “When are you two getting married?”

  “We just got engaged last night.” Sissy gazed lovingly at her new fiancé.

  “Sorry, I think I need something to eat.”

  The musician just finished Every Rose Has It’s Thorn—fitting—then pacified the loud mouth across the way by launching into Bohemian Rhapsody. Sissy spun, then pressed her finger and thumb under her tongue, and whistled, drawing a grin from the performer. She said, “Oh my God. I love it when he does this song.”

  Grateful for the diversion, Brooke turned and faced the shaded mini-stage. After the opening, which drew all eyes front and center, Brooke said, “This guy’s good. I think I’ve heard him before.”

  Sissy stared at the singer like a teen idol, then said, “Dave’s my favorite. I want him to play at our wedding.” Jake nodded.

  Brooke blurted, “I hope this isn’t your wedding song?” Laughter. Brooke realized the second drink, sans food, was erupting inside her small dehydrated body, dropping her IQ like trees in a volcano’s path.

  Much to Brooke’s astonishment, Dave sang the operatic section. Brooke wondered how he’d pull it off, but, as if on cue, everyone joined in like a Queen video. After the rousing riff—that actually sounded great on acoustic guitar—Dave finished to a standing ovation. Brooke heard the words “short break,” and took her cue.

  “I need to eat something before I pass out. I should’ve bought you guys a drink…”

  Jake said, “Nonsense. It was great meeting you. You’re welcome to join us. We’re waiting for our table inside the restaurant and can easily—”

  “No, I kinda feel like pizza,” Brooke eyed the short line on the opposite side of the café. “Thanks though, you guys remind me of…” Brooke stopped herself, then grabbed her cup and toasted the young couple. She didn’t need it, but Brooke downed the remainder of the drink, then waltzed away.

  Her smile ended abruptly as the name of the pizza stand registered—Tanner’s Pizza.

  I can’t win.

  Dave passed by Brooke and nodded, then headed to the men’s room. She thought, everyone here is so friendly.

  ***

  “Wake up, Daddy, I’m hungry.”

  “Huh?” Chase shook his head as Parker’s tiny hand tugged on his golf shirt. Oksana and Dmitri, her boyfriend, formed a triangle with Parker. The image startled him. Chase said, “What time is it?”

  “Dinner time. Can we go back to Salty Dog? Please,” Parker finished with a cute but phony pose.

  Chase rubbed his chin, then said, “Oksana and Dmitri, it’s your pick tonight. What do you feel like eating?”

  Oksana glanced at her boyfriend, then said, “We don’t care.”

  “Well, we were just there yesterday. Don’t you feel like—”

  “I want pizza, pizza,” Parker crinkled his eyebrows, looking more adorable than angry.

  Before Chase could respond, Oksana said, “It is okay, we can go where Parker wants. We like Salty Dog, and they have more stuff other than pizza.” She glanced at Dmitri, who nodded.

  “Yippee, let’s go,” Parker said, hoping to preempt a rebuttal.

  “Give me five minutes.”

  Driving their BMW SUV along the winding single-laned road in heavier traffic than usual, a silver Lexus sped by in the opposite direction. Chase’s eyes popped wide as he peered through the side mirror. He shook his head. That couldn’t have been…I have to get her out of my mind.

  ***

  A tapping jolted Brooke out of a vivid dream. Huh. She heard it again, and realized a woodpecker had perched just outside her window. With blood rushing to her head, Brooke felt pregnant—including morning sickness. The pancakes, pizza, and lava had hoodwinked her brain, but hadn’t fooled her stomach. She slowly descended back into her foam pillow and tried out several excuses not to run. She was unable to persuade her inner voice.

  Running was the cure-all remedy, the one constant in her life. She realized it more than ever when sidelined by her ankle injury. Still lying down, Brooke remembered the Run for the Cure was next weekend, and it catapulted her out of bed. After swallowing two aspirin with an extra large gulp of water, she laced up her shoes, threw on her running garb, and jogged down the shaded path.

  Once on the moist sand, past the searing zone, Brooke kicked off her shoes and decided on running the opposite direction. It looked clear and she could stop at Marriott for one of their poolside fruit plates. After a few easy paces, her food and lava coma subsided. With the rising sun and soft breeze, she felt lucid. The tide was midpoint and she felt centered. To her right, something moved—two dolphins arced through the air, then cut into the calm ocean without leaving a ripple.

  Keeping her eyes trained right, they lunged up again as if synchronized, then two babies followed. They matched Brooke’s pace. After a few seconds, the four repeated their show. Memories flooded in. She recalled her fascination, observing her first dolphin while on vacation with her father. Today, Brooke’s eyes widened each time the dolphin family emerged, just like the old days. Even though the scene was just as it looked the first time, the dolphins captivated her. Suddenly, she realized she was in front of the Marriott.

  Brooke watched until the dolphins faded from view. Feeling exhilarated in her runner’s high, time stood still for her. Brooke puzzled—I must be hungry.

  Brooke savored each bite of the fresh fruit medley with her feet dangling in the pool. She felt like a new woman—a noticeable improvement from yesterday; and it wasn’t only the change in diet, though that helped. On her return, Brooke decided to lazily stroll rather than run. The tide had shifted out further than before, revealing plenty of underwater treasures.

  Splashing through the irregular ocean’s edge, Brooke spotted the top of what looked like a buried conch shell. She nudged it, then gripped and pulled, until the entire shell swooshed out. Brooke examined it, marveling at its shape and color. She made sure the snail-like creature was gone, “It’s a keeper.” Wandering further, she collected an assortment of seashells.

  Arriving back at her shoes, the hot sun beckoned her to stay. Low tide invited the incoming beach goers, and Brooke decided to join them. She spotted a cute little boy plunked inside an unfinished sand castle—doing more playing than building. He glanced up and smiled at Brooke, impressed with her overflowing collection. His adorable smile caused Brooke to drop several shells near his burgeoning sand fortress. His eyes widened, then he squinted back up and said, “Did you find all those pretty shells your
self?”

  Brooke smiled, “I sure did.” She rubbed her hands together, deciding against picking them up. Inspecting the ground, she said, “That’s a nice sand castle. Did you build that all by yourself?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Wow. Didn’t your parents help?”

  “A little bit, but they’re over there taking naps on their blankies.” The boy pointed to the couple, who lounged on beach towels nearly fifteen feet away. Neither noticed.

  Brooke wished she had a video camera to capture his enthusiastic innocence—his squeaky voice and delightful eyes. Brooke smiled lovingly and thought of her doll collection.

  “Hey, you wanna play?”

  “I have to…” Brooke bit her lip, then gazed at his eyes with his long lashes, and said, “Sure, why not.”

  “Yippee.”

  Brooke giggled—I have to find a camera, “You want these shells to protect the castle?”

  The little boy bobbed his head, considered the reach of the shells, then said, “Okay, you can use ‘em to keep the big sharks out. I can teach you how.”

  Brooke shot a glance at the distant shoreline, then with wide eyes, asked, “Are there sharks?”

  “Uh huh. I caught one with Captain Carlos.”

  Oh you cutie, “Okay, I’ll try to protect us with these shells then.” Brooke lined some shells face down around the front.

  The boy scanned the first few shells, then said, “Should we dig sand for them first?”

  “That’s a great idea. Why don’t you shovel and then I’ll put the shells on top to keep the sharks out.”

  As the two wiled away the afternoon, they constructed a creative shark cage. Though she could spend the entire day with this delightful boy, her skin screamed for sunscreen. She feared a horrible burn enflamed her back and shoulders. Brooke had to use the bathroom and her stomach’s compass pointed toward a seafood salad bar.

  Brooke frowned at the boy’s parents, who hadn’t budged, but said, “I have to go.”

  The boy peered into Brooke’s eyes as if staring into her soul, then asked, “Are you coming back?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got to eat lunch and do some stuff…” Brooke’s heart stopped—his eyes could melt the sun. She continued, “I’ll try to come back, but if I don’t get here in time, you can keep my seashells.”

  “Wow, thanks. I’ll get them before the sharks eat ‘em up. I can’t wait to show my dad.”

  “Good idea,” Brooke smiled, then grimaced at the young man still collapsed on the towel, missing so many glorious moments. She felt a magnetic pull and didn’t want to leave, but then said, “Take care.” After two steps, Brooke paused and said, “What’s your name?”

  “Parker.”

  “Nice to meet you. How old are you?”

  “Almost four.”

  “You’re very smart for your age. I really enjoyed meeting you. Take care.” Parker smiled, then began running his hands through the edge of the castle.

  Brooke marched by Parker’s lazy parents and considered kicking sand, but the blaring heat was too much to stop to pull on her shoes, so she traversed the fiery ground like a ballet dancer. Once safely on the wooden path, she tiptoed to the outdoor shower station and jumped in. Brooke stood under the refreshing water and felt her temperature ease into a comfort zone.

  Brooke realized her own child would be about Parker’s age.

  Back inside her villa, Brooke pressed her thumb against her skin and released. She gasped, observing the white turn fire engine red. No more sun for me. Pity, I really liked that little boy.

  She threw on a cover-up, then strolled across the street to the Crown Plaza’s indoor restaurant. Brooke selected a plentiful plate of seafood buffet. Though the resident’s discount made the price less painful, her skin matching the lobster claws haunted her.

  More beach time was out of the question, so Brooke decided on a nice shaded bike ride. Hilton Head offered plenty of nifty trails, from right outside her door.

  Brooke pedaled away from the beach this time. She swerved around majestic oak and palm trees on the smooth dark path. Unlike most riders, she stopped at each subdivision entrance. Tall shrubbery blocked driver’s vision. Frequent stopping was an inconvenience, but getting hit was deadly. Technically, bikes and pedestrians had the right of way—which didn’t matter much. Though she hadn’t ridden this direction in well over a year, she remembered the path crossed Shipyard Road up ahead. While slowing, a family on bikes had the same idea. They dismounted and waited for the busy road to completely clear—which it never seemed to do. Brooke stopped right behind a trailer with two little kids crammed in like Siamese twins.

  Brooke said, “Hi you two,” then lowered her head while smiling and waving.

  The mama bear lugging them glanced over her shoulder. Without breaking eye contact with the wide-eyed little ones, Brooke said, “They’re so cute.”

  “Thanks, they’re a load today. Wanna trade?” The husband in front turned and sneered at his wife.

  Though Brooke almost blurted sure, but only for the kids, she said, “How old?”

  Just as she replied, “They’re twins, nine months,” the man interrupted, “C’mon, let’s go. It’s finally clear,” thrusting his bike forward.

  Brooke said, “Too cute,” while mini waving and following. Once safely across—just in front of a minivan speeding well past the limit—Brooke stayed behind, smiling and waving as their little eyes scrutinized her. After crossing another street in the same order, the family caravan went straight, but Brooke turned the other direction. She wanted to follow along the roadside lagoon that led to a big pond.

  Brooke passed a mother and daughter tossing bread to a swarm of turtles from an old wooden bridge. The little girl giggled each time a turtle gobbled the floating food. With the little girl’s laughter fading, Brooke spotted a line of little ducks swimming in tight formation behind the adult. The clearing loomed up ahead and children cried and clung to their parent’s legs. She realized what that meant. Then she saw…

  The alligator was bigger than the one she spotted the other day. Though a safe distance away, he eyed the commotion with haunting steadiness. Brooke pedaled faster, running a stop sign, compounding her fright. From the other direction, a Shipyard security cop glared at her. Her two fears were gators and spiders. A cop would have to shoot to stop her this close to the pond.

  During the return trip, Brooke realized something interesting—she did not miss work. Hilton Head had a way of centering her that she couldn’t explain—or get enough of. She decided to take a night off, relax at home with take-out sushi, and focus on the assignment from Shane—to define meaning.

  ***

  Thunder boomed, pulling Brooke’s eyes open. She froze, unaware of her locale. Then, as her eyes adjusted, she realized she had fallen asleep on the couch in the downstairs family room. An old movie ran on the TV, the sound out of synch with the mouth movement. She pulled herself up as another thunderous growl rumbled, then detonated. Illuminated by the TV’s glow, her journal had some doodling under the title word—so much for meaning tonight.

  Scaling the stairs, Brooke crawled in to bed. The thunder quieted in the distance, but flashes of lightning continued like a frayed power line while rain pelted her roof. Despite the open shades, Brooke slept soundly.

  When Brooke awoke, she heard rain trickle against her window. She flipped over, clutched the covers under her chin, and fell back asleep. Once again, Tanner visited her dreams, looking like the college days. Brooke felt a tickle and sleepily brushed her hand across her cheek thinking it was her hair, but she felt something crawl onto her hand. She shook it wildly and bolted upright, screaming. Brooke leapt out of bed and turned on every light as she spotted a spider darting away. I hate those stupid things! She trembled as she searched everywhere, unable to find the hairy creature. Her body felt like a pin cushion with millions of nerve endings prickling at once.

  So much for sleeping in.

  Brooke craved waffles
and realized she never made it to a store. Still spooked by the spider, she grabbed her shorts and a new Salty Dog T-shirt and dressed downstairs. At her front door, she ducked as she exited, and then surveyed the sky which looked like an all day rain. That meant one thing—mall day—probably a good thing for her skin, but bad for her credit card balance. Though Brooke had enough money to retire, she lived frugally. Unless, it was a rainy day on vacation.

  Brooke drove over to the Marriott, this time opting for the hearty inside brunch. Then she cruised to The Mall at Shelter Cove. Aptly named, it was the only enclosed mall on the island. She entered a bookstore, seeking insight on meaning, but ended up browsing the anorexic fashion trends—not the best thing to do after chocolate chip waffles and a three cheese omelet.

  Feeling the pull to move on, Brooke exited back into the mall and stopped at Gymboree. She found plenty of adorable infant clothes, but none that were gender neutral. Realizing it was a haul to return clothes, she wished Melissa knew the sex. After asking a clerk for help, she settled on a cute Hilton Head outfit that could work on any infant. Baby’s first Hilton Head experience.

  Shopped out, Brooke treated herself to a movie. Though billed as a romantic comedy, it wasn’t romantic and didn’t make her laugh. The buttered popcorn didn’t mix well with breakfast, but sure smelled and tasted good at the time. She drove home, stopping only to grab Chinese food for later. She was out before sunset.

  The next morning, sharp rays awakened Brooke—again sleeping with the blinds open. Birds sang their joyful harmonies while diving on a surplus of worms. The Chinese food left her feeling extra hungry, but she decided on fruit. Brooke took a leisurely bike ride back to Marriott. No dolphins in sight, but she stopped occasionally to pick up seashells. With a basket, she didn’t have to worry about volume. She thought of Parker and wondered what he was playing on the beach today.

  The sun had evaporated the heavy rains from the previous day, creating an ideal beach setting. She stopped at the approximate sand castle spot, but no Parker. She pedaled further—still no Parker. Hmm, most people are here for at least the week.