Page 4 of Wishful Thinking

Chapter Three

Treasures from the Sea

October 2018

Belle smiled as she looked into the face of the young girl in the photograph. One arm raised in triumph, her twenty-two-year-old self smiling after winning the long court battle. Shekept the picture out where she could see it. The image, her personalreminder to take a stand againstscumbagmen,andnot takeshit from anyone. She had to go back often and stare at the image to remember the lessons.

Tink died that day, and Belle was born. The desperate act performed to put him awayoften moved through her mind.Belle wondered howthings would have turned out had she not embellished the evidence.It pained her, but she feared Dick wouldhave gotten away with his bullshit and raped someone else. The justification was enough;She told herself.

Her long nails stroked the soft fur of the purring Maine-Coon cat. Picking the large beast up, she nestled him on her lap. His rumbling sounds filled the silence, mixing with the echo of the waves beyond the walls that crashed onto the shoreline. The meticulous white linen blousewrinkled, clotted with clumps of brown and black fur from Mr. Sassafras ten minutes later. Standing up and setting him aside, she brushed at the hairs on her shirt and moved towards the bedroom to change into something less fuzzy.

The tall windows stood wide open. Salty scented air wove in from thegentle breezethat blew acrossthe island mostdays. Belle stripped off the blouse and ransacked her drawers looking for a tank top. Her skin wastan and tight. The dailyregimen of yoga and healthy eating still working wonders for her fifty-two-year-old self. She moved to the edge of the window and lifted her arms over her head. The tepid air drying the slight dewy perspiration on her stomach from the weight of the cat. She breathed in deep and closed her eyes.

“Damn, I’m gettingold. Where did that carefree girl go?I should forget she ever existed” she said to the empty room.

A knock on the door pulled her from reminiscing and she grabbed the first shirt in the wicker laundry basket, a bright orange “Crush” T-shirt she had found in a local thrift shop. She loved the soda as a kid; The shirt brought a smile each time she wore it. Her long silver-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, the lines of pale white blending in and giving her a more of what she considered adult image. Her champagne pink nail polish didn’t mesh with the orange T-shirt but she didn’t care. To her, those werepetty things.

The knock sounded again, and she moved down the corridor, tripping over Sassafras on her way. She hit the floor with a resounding thump.

“I’ll be right there, shit, give me a second, okay?” She touched the knee that had scraped the tile floor as blood rushed to the surface. The torn skin swelled in a dark red welt. Belle vowed to add arug soon to this part of the hallway as she pulled herself up. Mr. Sassafras stared in feigned interest, licking his paw. At twenty-two pounds, he was indestructible andknown as a speed bump for his knack of laying in the way at the most inopportune times.

Belle stood gingerlyand limped towardsthe door, wipingthe blood thatdripped from her knee. Her blue eye peered through the peephole as a grin took the place of the grimace. Philippe stood waiting. Sensing Belle watching, the boy stuck out his tongue and made faces.

“I see you, silly boy, hold on a second, okay?” She turned the multitude of locks and opened the door up to the petite boy who stood on the welcome mat. Philippe shuffled back and forth, looking up with his gap-toothed smile. She opened the door wider.

“How was school today? Does your mother know you’re here? She hates it when you wander.” She stared into his eyes as she spoke, and he nodded as her words filled the hallway. He held up a small pink hibiscus flower and handed it to her, shutting the door behind himself as he moved into her home. He pulled out a small notebook from his oversized swimming trunk-style shorts. The bright blue sharks with a menacing look dotted the boy's legs.

“Okay, yes, she knows. School fine” he wrote, his fingers moving fast and efficient with years of practice. Belle nodded as he rushed past her and moved towards the cat.Sassafras spottedthe boy, turned, and attempted to disappear around the corner. He caught the fat fur ball around the belly and brought it up to his face, smothering him in kisses. Belle laughed and winked at the cat.

“Serves you right, speed bump, enjoy the love.” She moved into the kitchen as Philippe dropped the cat and followed her. Opening the fridge, the boy watched with a look of eagerness as she waved the can of soda in the air.

“Do you want a drink? I bought more Dr. Pepper, you inhaled it all last time.” She laughed as Philippe jumped onto the stool at the counter and sat with the widest grin, his eyes wide and alert. Belle grabbed a box of cookies from the cupboard and handed him both. Philippe cracked open the can and took a big gulp, broke into the box of cookies like a starving man and grabbed a fistful.

“Hey! Start with two, thenyou mayhave more.I don’t want to be the reason you spoil your supper tonight.”

Belleglancedat the cookies inthe boy'shand and the torn package. Philippe tucked three of the five cookies back into the tray. Crumbs fell from his lips as he chewed, his front tooth missing from a scuffle with a boy two weeks ago. Being deaf, he suffered the brunt of bullying often. He read lips like a master, and Belle had funtalking faster to see if she could lose him. It never happened, of which she was glad.

His mother Lacey was single with a full-time job. When Belle befriended the boy walking alone on the beach, she took over as a surrogate mother. Philippe was no bother, keeping himself busy while visiting, he loved the television. Her newer model smart-tv had the closed-captioned words that raced across the screen. Heloved snacks and sweets, things his mother couldn’t afford on her salary. Belle learned to keep a constant supply on hand, only going off the island once every few weeks, she bought extra in case.

They had an easy time of it while he visited. Enjoying the silence of their time together, it always amazed her at how smart the boy was. She watched as he worked on his homework and neverhad to correct his answers. Belle gazed at Philippe and wondered what it would have been like if she had had children. Not that it was a choice, but avoiding men didn’t lend itself to procreation. His happy nature was clear in everything the boy did and Belle was glad to have found a true friend, albeit a small one.

“Too late for that pipe-dream, now I’ll never know,” she shrugged and gazed at the boy. Tousling his thin brown hair she felt her heart beat faster. Belle loved him as if he were her own. Philippe ran his hand through his hair, straightening out the slight mess she had made of it and smiled. He took another sip of soda and jumped off the stool. Hugging her around the waist, hemoved towards the door.

Belle caught up with him and touched his shoulder, he turned and nodded at her.

“Are you leaving me so soon? You just got here.” she mouthed to the boy, and Philippe nodded as he shrugged his shoulders, blew her a kiss and ran down the hallway and into the bright sunlight, the door slamming behind him.

Picking up his empty can, she rinsed it out and threw it in the recycling container beside the fridge. She wiped down the counter, walked into the living room, and gazed out the large picture-window. A loneliness stirred in her and she looked around at the empty room and sighed.

The island saw tropical storms in season and her house was a virtual fortress. The place wasn’t huge, but big enough for herself and Mr. Sassafras. She had found him on the mainland as a kitten, discarded like yesterday’s trash. He was rummaging in a dumpster behind where she lived. A matted, flea-infested fur-ball, he looked at her with pathetic, sad eyes. Belle realized there was no choice but to scoop the cat up and squirrel him away to her apartment until she could figure out what to do with him. He had been half-way up the edge as he scrambled out of the cardboard box labeled Sassafras soda. The name stuck.

Down below, the beach lay deserted. A fast-moving storm the night before had left the sand littered with driftwood and seaweed. Something glinted in a pile of brown and green near the dunes and caught her eye. She squinted at it; Light hitting at the perfect angle to make the gold shine.

“Hmmm… What is that?” Belle limped down the hallway, her bare feet producing a slapping sound on the cool tile. Slipping into her Birks, she headed down the stairs towards the gate to the beach. The flamingo pink stucco walls of her home fit into the nearby scenic town, and she felt blessed to live in the paradise. Palms swayed in the wind off the beach and though still warm, the sea-breeze took the edge off the heat.

Belle kicked off her sandals, feeling the soothing warmth of the sand slip between her toes. The stone path between the homes lay in the shade, and it only took a few seconds to reach the heaping pile of green stringy sea grass. The tide was high; Waves pushed more of the dead stinking kelp onto the shore. She barely saw the golden glint as water pushed it deeper into the muck. Reaching beneath the sopping pile and wrinkling her nose at the rank odor, she pulled out a small oil lamp. Crafted with designs of flower tendrils, scratched and dented, she rubbed it on her shirt to clean it. Belle waitedfor the next wave to come in. She dipped it in the swirling waters. Red gems affixed into the metal sparkled like rubies.

“Cute. I wonder if it comes complete with Will the genie? Hello, Will, you in there?” She held it up in the light and smiled as it sparkled.

“If only it came with three wishes. That would be the cat’s ass. Hmmm… My first wish would be a big cheesy piping-hot pizza. Yeah, that, but can’t forget the ice-cold beer served on a platter by a hot sexy man at sunset.” She giggled out loud and shook her head.

“There is nodecent pizzeria around. Not to mention, a huge zippo onhot men, too. Yeah, I guess that sweet wish will go unfulfilled.” Belle carried the golden lamp to the house, cradling it in her hands and whistling to herself as she wondered what to do with her new treasure.

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