The announcement of my departure led to another set of questions. “Is it true we will be bathing with rainwater?”
“Yes, Mrs. Osborne, as I explained when you arrived, we do use the rainwater since there are no real alternate water sources. The rain is captured by the gutters and then drained into a filtration system underneath the house. It’s completely safe. I’ve checked your water level and it looks good for the length of your stay but feel free to give me a call if you need some delivered.” Studying the excess amount of skin around her eyes and the sagging lady flaps underneath her arms, I was sure she wasn’t worried about the pH of the water affecting her skin. Still, she was a beautiful older-looking woman. I had to give her credit, she put in a ton of effort when other women her age wouldn’t.
“You’ll deliver water?”
Please, God, I just want to go to my happy place.
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, well as long as we won’t run out.”
“Have a good night.”
I was halfway to the sliding door that led to my exit and the waiting bottle of wine when she spoke up behind me.
“Wait. Is it safe to drink, you know, or is it like Mexico?”
“Get the Osbornes settled?” I could hear the smile in Jasmine’s voice—she must have known when she took the reservation they would be a pain in the ass. I drove along the mountainside enjoying the breeze and glanced over the cliff to see a cruise ship had come in while I was at the Osbornes’.
“Shit.”
“What?” Jasmine asked through the speakers in the cabin of my Jeep.
“The cruise ship came in while I was dealing with shit, like literally. Now I’ll never get home.”
“What?” she asked absently.
“What to which part? I just picked up iguana crap. In fact, I was summoned to pick up iguana crap. Thanks, boss.”
Jasmine’s laugh belted out while I navigated through a thousand tourists. Shipwreckers walked around like new babies with their cell phones, arms up in selfie poses clicking away at the scenery while risking their lives in the rush of traffic.
“The ship never shows up this late. Damnit, I’m going to miss the sunset.” Routine was crucial to my well-being and the sunset was often a focal point of my day. For me, it was a finish line of sorts.
Parked in traffic, I surveyed the sparkling water next to me. It would never get old. Even when I got gray and ceased grooming, and had grown my own pair of lady flaps, I would enjoy the same view.
“All you do is complain, Koti.”
I shoved a fistful of French fries from my brown-bag dinner into my mouth. “Liar. I hardly ever give you grief. I’m the best employee you have.”
“You’re the only employee I have, so there is no comparison.”
Swallowing my food, I laid on the horn as a van veered slightly toward the median. In the rearview, I saw a lady whose attention seemed to be on anything but driving, her phone hanging out the window to get the perfect picture of the surrounding bay.
“Hey, lady, pay attention to the road!”
Jasmine ignored my shriek. “What are you doing tonight?”
I filled my mouth with more fries to keep from answering.
“Oh… let me guess. Nothing. Again,” she chided. “Come join me, I’m at the wine bar.”
“No,” I cut her off quickly. “No, no. No, lady, no. Last time we did ladies’ night, I ended up flashing my thong to a hundred people.”
And it was the best night I’d spent in St. Thomas, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. If there was one thing I’d learned, it was that you can’t repeat the same good time twice. And the only reason I partook in that night was because I was half-drunk before we got to the bar.
Jasmine’s infectious laughter was welcome amidst the chaos that surrounded me. “That was a great night. And if you would act a little more twenty-nine than eighty-nine we could have more of them. Besides, I only took one picture. One.”
“If that picture even exists.” She was forever threatening me with evidence she never produced. “I’m fine with being a homebody. You know I prefer it.” I laid on the horn again just as an old Cadillac cut off my progress. And seconds later, as if some cosmic force decided battling traffic on a ship day wasn’t enough, a chicken—lady flaps spread wide—appeared on the hood of my Jeep and came straight for me.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME!” I swung my arm out in a knee-jerk reaction. “Shoo!”
“What? What’s going on?” Jasmine asked, more amused than concerned as I took up the inch of space between me and the car in front and tapped on my brakes to try to get the bird off my hood. The stoic chicken didn’t budge.
“A rooster just jumped on my hood!”
“You are shooing a chicken?”
“Is there chicken-speak etiquette?” Apparently, there was, because the chicken came toward me like it knew I had a freshly plucked, chopped, deep-fried and wrapped relative in the brown sack next to me. “It’s attacking my windshield!”
Honking the horn, I stood on my brakes as the rooster closed in. It would have been an easy jump into the open cabin of my Jeep. I was in full-on panic mode as the bird bobbed and weaved like we were in a Tyson fight. I might as well have put hot sauce on my ear because that bastard was ready to brawl and take a piece of it.
“What do I do?”
“It’s a chicken,” Jasmine cackled, “Shoo it away.”
“You are such an asshole,” I screeched, as her laughter filtered through the speakers. I rarely ever spoke on the phone while driving. Car accidents were the most notorious killer. And my Jeep just so happened to be a deathtrap as well. But the Jeep didn’t actually belong to me. It was on loan like much of the rest of my life. I had no choice but to drive it around the mountainous terrain of St. Thomas. The cloth hood made zero difference in safety. I’d checked. Being able to drive the SUV at all was my first milestone in the many I’d conquered in the last year. I wasn’t about to throw them all away for a psychotic chicken.
I had to keep calm.
I looked for anything I could throw at the real-life version of an Angry Bird to keep it from making the easy leap into my passenger seat, then realized all I had was my dinner. The bird seemed satisfied with intimidation at that moment until I laid on the horn. Apparently, the sound was the chicken’s trigger.
“Oh, come on!” The light I sat at had changed three times and I was in gridlock battling a psychotic rooster. “FUCKING SHIP DAY!” I screamed, hurling the bag at Tyson who let me have round two and jumped off the hood.
“Atta girl, blame it on ship day.” Jasmine was still laughing as a group of people next to me applauded.
“I just nailed it with a chicken sandwich. How twisted is that?”
“I would give my left boob to see what just happened,” she bellowed.
“Is there something you need, boss? Because I’m off the clock, and I really don’t like you right now.”
“No, you love me. You okay?”
And that was Jasmine, a friend first, boss second, but that wasn’t the order we started in. She’d picked me up off the side of my quarter-life crisis and we’d been inseparable since. “Yes, I’m fine. Just really freaking done for the day. I love you too, you jerk. See you tomorrow.”
She hung up as I battled cars, traffic, and new tourists for another half hour to get home. I managed to sip my pinot right as the sun met the water setting off an endless trail of diamonds too elusive to be captured by anything other than the naked eye.
I inhaled and thanked the God I hoped existed for the gift of it.
I dug my toes into the sand as Bon Iver’s “33 GOD” drifted through the speakers off of my porch and melted the rest of my day away.