3
Samuel again put the phone down. Leaving his condo, he walked past the other units and in back of the building looked over the railing at the Intracoastal’s blue green water. He had fished from here once, his only catch a rusted lure tangled in a mat of seaweed and sticks. Bored then, he took his fishing pole and left. Nervous now, Samuel continued watching the empty waterway.
“This is stupid. I’ll call and get it over.”
What if her religion is like Glenda’s? Do I want to chase love again?
No.
Yes…
Back inside, he dialed the motel.
“The Castaways,” the woman answered pleasantly.
“Room 427,” Samuel said.
“Who are you calling, sir?”
“Margaret Kelly.”
“Thank you. I’ll ring her room.”
No one answered. Grateful, he hung up. Kate needed him. He had reconciled himself to loneliness. A bottle of wine and another book about Nazi Germany waiting, he had the evening planned. Samuel looked around his white room.
“I’d like to leave a message,” he told the woman after calling the Castaways back. “Samuel Baas. 305-578-2645. I work with her uncle.”
He sat by the phone and thought about Kate. What had happened to her?
“Nothing,” she answered. “I wanted to be a doctor, then changed my mind. I’ve flown all over the world, gotten as far away from Nebraska as I could. I like men. You know that. I’ve met all kinds. Remember the fun we had in Key West? Take off that ridiculous suit, Samuel, and come to bed. Were you really a virgin?”
He awoke with a start.
“Hello,” he said after fumbling for the phone, his voice groggy.
“Hi Samuel, it’s Margaret.”
“Margaret…”
“I’m sorry. Sounds like you were expecting someone else.”
“No…I was hoping you’d call.”
“Thank you. That’s very nice. I was on the beach, gathering seashells. Do you collect them too?”
“Not recently.”
“It’s fun. A boy and girl were building a sandcastle. I gave them shells so they could decorate their towers and walls. There was a dog, I think a terrier, snapping at the waves while trying to get the stick its owner had thrown into the water. The sunset was beautiful. You must enjoy living in Miami.”
Her voice so quiet and calm, Samuel felt as if he had just been listening to soft music. It took a few seconds for him to realize he should say something.
“When I first moved here everything seemed bright and colorful. Now I guess I don’t look around as much as I should.”
“That’s natural,” Margaret said. “I’m a tourist. This is all new to me. There’s definitely a lot I want to see. Would you consider going with me? I’m sure you are very busy. It won’t hurt my feelings if you say no.”
“We could play miniature golf,” Samuel suggested.
“I was thinking about sailing. There’s a place next to the motel where they rent boats. It would be my treat.”
“Sailing…”
“Is it difficult?”
“No…”
“What time do you get off work Friday?”
“It depends. 5?”
“Perfect. We’ll see the sun go down. I’ll meet you at the dock at 5:30 or later, if that’s better for you.”
“5:30, no problem,” Samuel said. The real problem? He had two days to learn how to sail.
“Thank you, Samuel. Shalom.”
After hanging up he hurried to the library and brought home an armful of books on sailing. Pen, paper, highlighter, and bottle, he took notes, pausing in his lessons only once.
Shalom? She’s Catholic and wanted to be a nun. Was she calling me a Jew?
Samuel drank some wine then went back to learning about the jib’s crucial function.
4
On Fairyland Island its row of neon lit motels with concrete mermaids, seahorses, fountains, and facades too otherworldly even for a theme park, dimmed in comparison to the phantasmagorical Castaways. Spread over ten acres, soused in shades of blue, green, red, yellow and orange, its pagodas and dragons looked as if designed by a Polynesian or Chinese architect wanting to make a cartoon version of his heritage.
The colors hurt Samuel’s eyes.
At the dock, a tall, slim woman wearing a headscarf smiled at him and waved.
“Margaret?” he asked after walking over.
“Pleased to meet you, Samuel,” she shook his hand firmly.
“Guess even when I wear shorts and a T-shirt it’s obvious I’m a lawyer.”
“I don’t think so. You fit the description. My uncle said you’re nice looking.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m just being honest.”
Kate had also told him she didn’t lie but kept her relationship with Peter a secret. Regretting women needed to wear masks, but more interested in men than principle, she used cosmetics to create an idealized and alluring version of herself. Samuel wondered if Margaret’s honesty was as malleable and compromising as Kate’s.
“You look worried,” Margaret said.
“No…I’m not…”
“I understand how awkward this must be for you. My uncle arranged for us to meet. You work with him. He wants me to have a good time. I will! Trust me. I like everything!”
Moonfaced, makeup free, her pale skin smooth and unblemished, he saw in Margaret’s face childlike wholesomeness combined with the features of a woman, her eyes as green as Mary’s.
Did Kate growing up on a Nebraska farm ever look this naturally pretty? Is Margaret’s slacks and high-buttoned shirt part of an act? Will she flirt with me as Mary did, all of it leading to nothing?
“Come on!” Margaret said, her stride purposeful, the pace of a woman who didn’t waste time. She walked quickly to the end of the dock. When Samuel joined her she introduced him to the teenage boy standing at the tie line to a dinghy rigged with jib and mainsail.
“Jack, this is Samuel. He’s the captain.”
“Hi Jack.”
Shyly looking down, the boy nodded.
“Jack’s decided to take the GED. Isn’t that great! I hope this boat is OK, Samuel. Should I have waited for you to choose one?”
“No…it seems very…seaworthy.” While nervously looking at the dinghy rocking in the water Samuel tried to remember what he had read about sailing.
“Excellent! Hop on!” Margaret stepped surefooted onto the boat.
“I’m not really a captain,” Samuel whispered to the boy. “I’m a lawyer.” Turning, he tripped over a cleat in the dock and stumbled toward the ocean. Jack caught him by the arm.
Margaret helped Samuel down.
“This is going to be fun!” she said.
His sweaty hand gripped the rudder.
Jack untied the rope looped around a piling and pushed the dingy out. With the wind at their back, Samuel steered out to sea.
On the bow, Margaret took her scarf off and eyes half-closed, tilted her head toward the sun, her black hair, very short on the sides and back, shiny in the late afternoon light. Samuel enjoyed looking at her.
The dingy glided smoothly across small waves.
This isn’t so bad
He began to relax.
The water became darker. Whitecaps rolled toward the boat. A sudden strong shift in the wind tore the jib off. Another blast toppled the mainsail, Margaret and Samuel ducking out of the way. The sea
again calm, they now sat on heavy dead wood surrounded by ocean.
“I’m sorry,” Samuel said. “I should have turned, done something different. I’ve been so busy, haven’t sailed much lately. I really screwed up.”
“There are pieces of the mast. We’ll use them to paddle.” Margaret knelt and silently prayed.
As streaks of crimson futility sliced into the approaching night, Samuel tried keeping pace with Margaret’s steady, forceful strokes.
I did this. Put her in danger. I’m the child who thought I could playact with the sea. Will her god listen to her prayer or punish Margaret for trusting a fool?
“Could we stop a second?” His arms and back ached. The lights of Fairyland Island didn’t seem any closer.
“Sure, Samuel.” Margaret turned from the bow and again faced him. “A short rest. Then we have to push on.”
“This is all my fault.”
“You’ve said that and it’s not true. I wanted to go sailing. Choices are never simple. They always have consequences. That’s the blessing of freewill. Our struggles are God’s way of teaching us how to be better.”
“You have a strong faith.”
“No. I need to work at it everyday.”
“I once prayed in a Baptist church, but it wasn’t to their God. I thanked some unknown thing for giving me the same values as those worshipping next to me. Pretty weird, right?”
“You want to belong, that’s life affirming,” Margaret said. “I’m curious. What do you value?”
Samuel looked into her eyes and saw nothing flirtatious or simple. Although afraid, he told her. “Love. Marriage. A family. Is that possible?”
“Of course! God gave us the ability to love. You went to church because we weren’t created to live alone. All religions recognize the need for human connection. Prayer strengths us spiritually so we can feel more for others. After Jesus prayed in the desert he came back and attracted thousands to his word. You want what he taught.”
“I’m a Jew.”
“So was he. Love is for everyone.”
“I hope God’s listening and if your prayer gets you out of here, He’ll let me tag along,” Samuel trying to joke.
“I didn’t ask God for help. I thanked Him for giving me this day. Time to paddle.”
In darkness, the only sound the thud of water against wood, they continued to fight against the sea, Fairyland’s neon dimming inside the enveloping night. Samuel knew they were going to die. He didn’t think about Mr. Gleba or Daniel. He wanted to stop struggling and find in this vast emptiness of black ocean and starless sky what he’d always searched for.
He would sit by Margaret.
Hold her close.
Feel the warmth of family…
Samuel saw a small light.
“That’s Jack,” Margaret said. “Let’s keep paddling. We don’t want to make his job harder.”
“Maybe it’s a buoy.”
“Listen. You can hear the motor.”
“Yes…” Samuel wondered if he should look skyward and say thank you or ask why, the motor’s sound a persistent call to return. He did neither. “How do you know it’s him?” he asked Margaret.
“When I rented this boat, we talked. He has a younger brother and sister. His dad died, his mother works two jobs. Jack dropped out of high school so he could help support the family. A boy like that wouldn’t leave us alone on the ocean.”
She turned and caught the rope Jack threw her as the rescue boat glided up to the dinghy’s bow. After Margaret quickly tied on, the skiff began tugging them back toward shore. Samuel couldn’t read the boat’s name until Fairyland Island’s neon again flashed luridly across the water. When he did, he agreed.
Idiot Retriever
Not looking at Margaret or Jack, he got off at the dock, planned to quickly say goodbye to her and hurry away.
“That was quite an adventure!” she said. “I’m hungry. Would you like to get something to eat?”
“You and me?”
“We’re still on a date, aren’t we? Let check out the Wreck Bar. The place looks exciting!”
“I’ve never been inside but I’ve heard it’s kind of wild. Lums is good. They have hotdogs?”
“Maybe I’d like a beer! I’m not a nun.”
“I know. I wasn’t thinking that. It’s just that you’re a …”
“Square? My word, not yours! Don’t be embarrassed. You’re sweet to consider my feelings. OK, let’s go!”
They walked close together, their hands almost touching.
Built to resemble a sunken galleon and part of the Castaways, the Wreck Bar had varnished posts and beams, round wooden tables, plastic seats along a long counter where customers, sipping drinks, looked through underwater portholes into the pool. A band played loud rock and roll music.
The tanned, bleach blonde waitress in a crimson Chinese blouse took Samuel and Margaret’s drink and food orders, handed them mallets and tambourines. Margaret rattled her tambourine, banged her mallet down almost in time with the music. She got up and danced, an awkward imitation of the bikini wearing go-go dancers gyrating on tables.
Sweat plastering her bangs to her forehead, Margaret plopped down and looking at Samuel, sipped her coke. He had hesitated before ordering a beer, now didn’t know if he should drink it.
“May I try that?” Margaret asked him. He handed her the bottle. “Bitter. Thanks, you can have it back. You look surprised.”
“It’s just that you’re different than I expected.”
“The nun thing again! I’m undecided about whether I should take my vows. My order serves in hospitals. I like helping the sick. But to do that as a nun requires sacrifice. I’d never know romantic love or have children. It’s a difficult decision. I am not using this time away from the convent to sample life. I always enjoy what I do. But I am exploring my feelings. I hope you understand. Go on, Samuel, drink your beer.”
They danced. She ate her hamburger, coleslaw, and took some of his fries. Still at their table, the bar full of drunk and noisy vacationers doing what they thought a goodtime required, Samuel and Margaret talked until 2 in the morning.
He walked her to her room.
“I know it’s late,” Margaret took out her key. Samuel waited, nervously wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts. Was she going to ask him in? “But services aren’t until 11. You wouldn’t have to get up early. There’s a synagogue I’d like to visit in the morning. It’s in Northeast Miami. Will you go with me?”
“To temple…”
“I would enjoy your company.”
“I’m not a practicing Jew.”
“Neither am I! So, do we have a date?”
“I’ll pick you up at 10.”
“Wonderful! Thank you, Samuel. Today was so much fun!”
“About the boat…I’ll pay for the damage.”
“Not necessary. I bought insurance. Good night,” and she shook his hand.
Samuel knew that although over the last nine years he had gradually settled into a routine of working and drinking, it didn’t fill the emptiness. Driving home to his white-walled condo, he thought about what had happened tonight. Swallowed by the dark in a sailless boat far from Fairyland Island’s shoreline of lights, the heavy and constricting night compressing his life into what he believed were a few remaining heartbeats, Samuel had wanted to hold Margaret and in this closeness dream about love a last time.
Then the light came.
As he turned into the condo’s parking lot Samuel decided the rescue boat had also brought with it another kind of illumination, under
standable only now. The light not only ended his melodramatic thoughts about dying with Margaret in his arms but by doing so made him realize how foolish he had also been with the women he had dated. He’d wanted Kate, Mary, Glenda, Sandy, Jennifer, and even Mrs. Pendergast to love him. Not trusting Leo Damour’s truth, accept love, he hadn’t given Rachel a chance. From loneliness and desire he tried to conjure love, but when already present rejected it for an illusion, the idea he should love too.
I am like Ginger. I don’t charge money but I exchange fantasy for false intimacy. For a moment, even death had seemed romantic. I forgot about the real lives of those who need me. I’m not cursed, just a boy living in a sentimental world of romance comics the Idiot Retriever exposed with its light.
Samuel planned to accept Margaret as she seemed, a woman of faith who enjoyed life, was nice to him, and liked to have fun. Kate had been right. Why speak of love.
He parked and turned his car lights off.
In his bedroom, Samuel opened the bureau drawer and ignoring the nude photos of Kate took out Gary’s letters, all sent from Vietnam. He knew there was only one reason why Gary had stopped writing. After rereading them he carefully put the stack back and sat thinking about his friend.
Gary would have helped me with women. I know what else he would have said.
“Remember me and Leo, Buddy. If you’re dead in a jungle or going up in smoke, it’s all shit. There’s nothing romantic about death.”
Samuel started trembling.
5
With its ornamental, honeycombed façade above a tall archway, the Moorish style synagogue looked much different than the block shaped Baptist church Samuel had visited. As he walked with Margaret past the palms and toward the few steps leading inside, he wondered what, besides having a Jewish mother, he had in common with other Jews.
“Thank you for wearing a suit,” she told him.
“You look nice,” he said, Margaret’s long dress black with a white collar.
In the sanctuary a wide aisle under a high vaulted ceiling led to two podia, behind them a cabinet. There were few congregants.
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