View from a Hammock

A Chapter by SouthSoul

Chapter 1 Walking the beach

Walking the beach is something i like to do! Stubbing my toe is not.

Slowly falling forward an almost forgotten memory rushed through my mind, how hard the ice is in the hockey arena so many miles and years away. I'm pretty sure i had a thankfull smile on my face as i splashed down on the warm sea water and the soft sandy bottom. The thought didn't relieve the pain in my foot however. It's one of those times you would like to instantly have back, like when you say something and then actually think about it. I looked down, dropped to one knee, in pain, my bad knee to add insult. I lost my focus for a brief minute with the undertow pulling on me. I felt around in the sand and the quick moving water that felt so warm and inviting. As the water pushed me around i dug my hands down in the sand, blindly searching under the receding wave, there was something there, not sure what i was feeling a log or a piece of metal. Being buried in the wet sand it was dificult to get a grip on, the wind was really picking up now the beach flags snapping and popping in the stiff breeze, a couple of kite surfers enjoying every minute.

My foot was throbbing miserably as i hunted around the bottom and touched what might be a bottle, it was covered in some kind of cloth or burlap, you never know what you might find. I had it in my mind that i should at least try to pull it out before someone else breaks their toe on it. With some patience i was able to bring it loose, a beach bag type of thing with the colours of the Jamaican flag, hmm ma-bee a party tonight! I waded around in the knee deep water for a minute so it would clean the cut i knew i had on my foot.

Retreat across the sand to a secluded cabana chair seemed appropriate, as i took a seat i tried to have a nonchalant look around, which is impossible, because it always looks so suspicious. Never the less, yellowing palm trees, hot sand, empty beach shacks are all i can see. looking up at the crimson morning sky reaching across from the horison to the empty rundown balconies reasured me i was pretty much alone and im sure those out surfing the reef could care a less about me.

I leaned back in my seat to take a quick look in the bag.

Being partly torn open it was full of sand adding to the difficulty, digging through i found some tanning lotion, a deck of playing cards then the culprit, an empty bottle of Patrone tequila "damn you" i thought chuckling.

I said to myself 'Ok, lets get going, i don't need any more sand in my eyes', the warm wind and blowing sand getting very iritating now. Picking my steps cautiously, i picked my way with the backpack through the sand and coconut palms onto the partially brick but mostly sand street, i dropped my sandals to the ground slid them on and i crossed over. I wasn't sure which leg to limp on, my cut foot or my bad knee. I passed the shops and bars with the closed signs, dipping and diving around vacant cement benches and tree branches, no people to contend with. I thought to myself, it won't be very long, mabee a week or so and the streets will be overflowing with people again. I eased my way forward.

* * *

Around the corner and up the wide open side street for two blocks and i'll be home, but my stomach is warning me to not forget food so i veered in through the door of “Gladys Tienda.” The sign said closed but i knew he was always open, a fish taco and half a dozen beer should do the trick.

“How's business today Keemo?”

Keemo was originally from Columbia, he's one of the first people i became well acquainted with here on the island twelve years ago, partly because he was my main connection to the outside world, the dark ages before the whole internet thing.

“Nada” he said quietly, and waved his hand “the only excitement is that a yacht caught fire offshore last night, it was cruising from Trindad to Aruba with some famous actor or something.”

I scanned the selection of tacos and picked out a good looking one. I hadn't noticed my foot bleeding and leaving a telling trail of spots on the floor.

"Sorry Keemo i didn't realise i was leaking." I hurried to the counter and slid some money over.

"See you later my friend." I went out through the door.

Then the heat hit me and the blowing sand stung, it improved as i rounded the corner and headed up my street, especially with the shelter of the high wall where they hang fishnets to repair.

There's a good chance this bag is from that boat. Although there is often a steady flow of sailboats and yachts slipping by the island however this is a slow time of the year, no cruise ships or anything, seems a little odd. Oh well just another insurance thing i thought as i plodded along.

* * *

Sitting on the cement curb bouncing a soccer ball in front of his fathers shop as usual was Marco, bleached out kinky hair and all wearing his usual soccer shorts. Marco is the youngest of Miguel's seven kids, and a quite a personable young boy, i gave him a pat on the shoulder and said. “que tal Marco?”

I don’t like to ignore people, though sometimes he would follow me around, asking all kinds of questions and non stop talking. I guess he liked me. I liked him to.

“Hola senior Blue, nothing much” he said “i'm still waiting for Jimmy”

He told me his older brother went to his girlfriend Nadia's house for the night but didn’t come home this-morning, who knows.

I said “ma-bee he blew a tire on his Motorcycle. Hasta luego Marco!” He didn't even follow this time.

I would have gone in and said hello to his dad if my foot wasn't throbbing.

I remembered something i've been wanting to do and turned back, i said " oh yes Marco are you going to be here for a few minutes?"

"Yes i'll be here"

"I'll be back shortly ok."

* * *

My front door was an adventure to get open as usual, about 8 ft. high, old colonial style, and completely rotten, it jambs so tight i have a hard time getting in, good luck intruders! Some leaves and a couple of palm branches were strewn around the small open courtyard inside the door from the wind still blowing above, a lone gecko darted for cover not knowing i could still completely see him.

I sat my find just inside the door on the old cast iron table which is hedged in by a small bamboo garden with Budah sitting on a pedistal. I moved through an open archway into the main area of my home. I always appreciate how comfortable the place is, a few deep coloured Asian wool carpets, wood carvings proudly on display, a large chinese painting on the only actual wall in the house and pottery from Moroco here and there, various things i've acumulated traveling for work. I dispatched my not quite dry swim suit, i flicked on the ceiling fan and took a seat on the middle of a sofa, it felt good sitting and absorbing the faint cooling breeze. I examined my sore foot, it wasn't cut deep or anything. In the washroom i cleaned it and put on some dressing and a tensor bandage around it. I wet my hair and ran a comb through it, looking in the mirror i still had a hell of a head of dark brown hair with a little grey on the sides reminding me of my 43 years. A goatee when i shaved and a beard when i didn't, the perpetual sunburn on the bridge of my nose.

I could hear some catchy Latin rap music thumping from a car rolling by outside. I remembered Marco waiting, i walked out to one of my bookcases and grabbed the one i had intended on giving him for a while now, he seemed to be a reader but most of what i had seen him reading were old dog eared half missing books. He speeks quite acceptable english although his first language is Spanish. I left the door open as i went out.

"I have a gift for you Marco! It's a book called The Hobbit, i think you will like it" His mouth wide open not sure what to say, i was about half way up the block when he shouted "Thank you!"

"De nada Marco" i replied.

* * *

My stomach growled and i remembered my supper waiting for me on the counter. A fish taco with a splash of my favourite “Surrender The Booty Caribbean Red Hot Sauce” and 4 of the beer went down nice. I sat down at my desk out on the veranda and tried to do some work but it's difucult, since my laptop failed if i write more than a few lines my hand cramps up. I decided to work on painting the wall i had been putting off. Up on the ladder i noticed something move, a gecho had shifted to a better position, it had been siting on the edge of the deep blue colored wall, the front half of it was green and the back half was briliant blue, the dangdest looking thing. I had diferent images pass through my mind as i painted, about who the backpack might belong to and i drifted along with imaginary people as the time went by. The afternoon had passed and it was getting on in the evening so i decided to put things away.

I cooked up a nice chicken dijon supper, the one thing i like more than eating, is cooking, along with a couple of Solar i was ready to call it a day . After i cleaned up, i hit the lights and wandered up the outside steps to my always enticing bed, with the shutters open, the wind in the palms and the beat of the music in the distance put me nicely to sleep.