Dream Me(48)

Babe: Can you guys please not argue?

RoadWarrior: Hello, Babe. So glad to see you’re still doing the creative writing. Please be sure to add more of the actual locale details because I think many people my age would like to see more of that. Then we can get the cute fantasy love story combined with actual real life helpful hints for traveling to your area. For instance, if you could include the names of more restaurants and places of interest I think my friends like These50States would be more likely to follow your otherwise delightful blog.





Zat


Once they called him a dreamer and he was always pleased with the label. None of them understood dreams more than theoretically, of course, but to him it implied something beyond the ordinary.

Now, the ordinary is what Zat craves. An ordinary life with Babe. But what was once ordinary to Zat is beyond his reach.

When she grows old, he wonders, will she continue to dream of herself as a young woman? Will he be eternally youthful in her dreams as she ages?

The human condition, he realizes, is uncertainty. Uncertainty layered upon uncertainty.

That’s the beauty he sees and the beauty he seeks. There will never be an end to it. Not even after he’s gone.

He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and the lions on the beach.

He must remember to ask Babe if she’s read this book.





Sixteen


The Four Musketeers were on our way to Hurricane Island. There used to be a lighthouse on the island, but during a major hurricane back in Civil War times it was destroyed and never rebuilt. Now it was just a pretty little island in the gulf with pristine white sand beaches littered with seashells. A perfect place to do nothing. No cell reception. No private boat docking. Just a white dome in the middle of a turquoise ocean. With sea oats sprouting from its crest, it reminded me of a balding man’s head.

Normally, it would have been a day which brought lots of visitors to the island, but the bill fishing tournament was the main attraction that weekend. The whole town turned out to greet the sport-fishing boats as they came in with their catch. It was even covered on live TV. I couldn’t understand the excitement of killing those magnificent spear-headed creatures. They were the wild stallions of the sea.

We boarded the water taxi to Hurricane Island and the captain waited an extra ten minutes to make sure no one else was coming. When we finally pulled away from the harbor, we were it—just the four of us plus the captain. Thirty minutes later he deposited us on the shore and told us he’d be back in four hours. I couldn’t believe our good luck. We had the island to ourselves!

I’d volunteered for food duty, and spent the morning putting together PB&J sandwiches, roast chicken, carrot and celery sticks, sliced apples, and bottled water. Not exactly Big Mama’s Fish House, but my West Coast-bred arteries needed a break. We’d all come prepared by wearing swimsuits under our clothes. I even brought along a sun umbrella that we wedged up against a sand dune.

It was a day of pure fun and, for the first time since Zat appeared in my life, I actually had no thought in my head other than what was happening around me right at that moment. We occupied the entire island like little kids who’d been left alone in a candy store. It only took thirty minutes to walk around the island and less than that if you went straight through the middle. We collected a bucketful of shells and we snorkeled and swam.

While we were eating our lunch, Mai came up with the idea we rename it Secret Island and anything we said to each other could never leave the island. It seemed like a silly but fun game so we went with it.

“Alright, what does everyone want to be and where do you want to go to college?” Mai asked. She turned to Alonso who hadn’t been very talkative and said, “I know you’re still young so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

LeGrand went first, “Where do I want to go to college or where will I go to college?”

“Both,” Mai said.

“Where I want to go to college is southern California—UCLA or USC. Where I will go to college is Princeton.”

“How do you know that?” I asked. “Princeton’s hard to get into, isn’t it?” I had an idea, but I wanted to hear him say it.

“I’ve got the right genealogy. My great-grandfather, grandfather, father, my uncles . . . they all went to Princeton. My dad gives them a lot of money. It’s like a family business.”

“Why UCLA or USC?” Mai asked.

“I’ve always wanted to live in California. I’d like to work in the film industry, specifically acting, if you really want to know. I’ve only told this to one other person so y’all go ahead and laugh at me if you want.” The corners of his lips pulled up as though he was getting a head start on us.

But which one of us was going to laugh at this gorgeous boy who oozed charisma and charm? It was almost impossible not to imagine him as a movie star.

“We’re not laughing,” Mai said. “So do it. Scared of your dad or something?”

“C’mon Nuggins, be nice,” I said at the same time LeGrand flung a dried starfish at her, ninja style. “Better work on ditching the accent, LeGrand, if you want to be the next Brad Pitt.”

“I think I can handle it. Okay, Miss Big Shot Mai, tell us about your plans,” he said.