11. Eleven
Eleven
Z ak
I did not see Dante again until Saturday, two days later. Although we lived in the same house, because of our work schedules, this was not unusual. Working long hours and different shifts meant even when we were both home, one or the other was usually sleeping.
I heard him come in earlier and knowing he had to be back on patrol at six; I expected him to sleep until after I was gone for the day. So when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs to my bedroom, the only room on the second floor, I went to investigate.
Dante clad in just boxers, which was more clothing than he usually wore around the house; was just cresting the landing when I entered the hallway. “What are you doing up so early?”
“I wanted to make sure you were ready for your big date.” It touched me, that he had remembered. “That’s not what you’re wearing, is it?”
“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” I had made a special trip to JC Penney's for the white Docker shorts and thought the pale blue Hawaiian shirt with pink parrots showed off my tan nicely.
“You look like a fucking tourist.” He shook his head and gave a long, pained sigh. “At least put on different shoes. Even the gays don't wear sandals anymore.”
After changing into a pair of canvas topsiders, I grabbed my wallet and headed for the door, but he stopped me. “Do you have rubbers?”
“For crying out loud, Dante. It's our first date.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
I explained the three date rule, but he was unimpressed. “Life is too short for that kind of thinking.” He handed me a strip of three Durex Snug Fit. “Mine are probably too big for you, so I picked these up at Walgreens yesterday.”
“You bought me condoms?” I asked in disbelief.
“No need to thank me. Just promise me, if this woman’s up for it, you won’t let some silly rule about nice guys not fucking until the third date stand in the way.”
I shook my head and tucked the condoms in my back pocket. “Have a good day Dante.”
“You too, buddy,” he leered.
Morgan and I had agreed to meet near Gabby's Clam Shack at noon. I arrived fifteen minutes early. Five minutes later, wearing black running shorts and a yellow t-shirt which clung to her curves, Morgan got out of a Honda Civic and gave a shake of her long hair. It shimmered in the sunlight and my heart raced. I could not believe such a beautiful woman was there to meet me.
Spotting me across the parking lot, she gave a smile and a wave. Then on long, well-toned legs, she walked to where I was leaning against the breakwall, attempting to look cool. Any illusion of nonchalance disappeared when she kissed me on the cheek. “So, what do you have planned for us today?”
“I thought we could get something to eat first.”
“Great idea. I didn’t have breakfast and now I’m starving. Shall we get in line?””
“I didn’t mean here. I was thinking of something fancier than a food truck.”
“Zak, look at me. I'm wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of faded shorts. Do I really strike you as someone who cares about fancy?”
“I think you look amazing. Why, you’re the prettiest woman on the entire island. I just want our first date to be special.” Before I could run off at the mouth any further, she put a finger to my lips.
“The point I was trying to make is, I like simple things and I would love nothing more than a couple of shrimp tacos and a cold Corona. Now, shall we go get in line?”
As we waited to order, I contemplated my shirt, wondering if I had overdressed and would a t-shirt have been better. Dante was right. I looked like a tourist. But Morgan’s words made me feel better. “I like the parrot shirt. It tells me you don’t take yourself too seriously and know how to have fun.”
We found an empty picnic table and sat down to eat. “Are you going to tell me where we're going, or are you going to make me guess?”
“It depends on you. Do you know how to swim?” She nodded. “Then how do you feel about going out to the reef for some snorkeling?”
Her squeal was so loud, several heads turned in our direction. “Are you serious? I've heard so much about the reef. I can’t believe I’m finally going to get to see it up close.
It was the reaction I hoped for and was feeling rather good until she asked, “What if I didn’t know how to swim? What was your back-up plan?”
“We would have gone down to Key West to see Hemingway’s house and the aquarium.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Good thing I know how to swim, then.”
She took a bite of her taco. Not wanting the conversation to lag, I asked. “Have you always been a Pirates fan?”
I could tell the question confused her for a second. “Oh, you mean the shirt. Not really. I did an internship with them when I was still planning to go into sports medicine.”
“That must have been cool,” I enthused. “What made you change to emergency medicine?”
“It's a long story.” Her smile faded, and she set her beer down. I waited for her to continue, but she changed the subject. “Did you grow up on Turtle Key?”
“No, I've only been here the last few years. I was born in Fruitville, about an hour south of Bradenton. After high school, I enlisted in the Navy. When I finished boot camp, I trained as a corpsman and was assigned to a Marine unit in Afghanistan. My enlistment ended shortly after we evacuated, so I came back to the States and took a while to get my head on straight.”
“One of my instructors in med school was a former field surgeon.” She reached out and touched my arm. “I can only imagine the horrors the two of you must have seen.”
“Yeah, it was pretty rough. Eventually, I got certified as a paramedic and moved down here.” There was more to the story, but it was not first date material.
I looked at my watch. “We better get a move on, or we will miss the boat. The captain claims I saved his life last summer when he had a heart attack, but that won’t keep him from leaving without us.”
Morgan looked stricken at the thought and quickly gathered up our trash. I asked if she needed to get anything out of her car before we left. “Nope, I’ve got sunscreen in my bag and I already have my bathing suit on.” She flashed me a smile and pulled down the waistband of her shorts, revealing the bottoms of an incredibly tiny black bikini.
We hopped into the Jeep and made it to the dock with time to spare. Captain Kip greeted me with a hardy slap on the back and gave Morgan an appreciative glance when I introduced them. There were four other couples making the trip with us. All of them tourists.
It wasn’t the prettiest boat in the fleet, but the price was right and Morgan seemed happy just to be on the water. When we got to the reef, she was the first in line to get outfitted. I knew she had an amazing body, but my jaw dropped when she stripped down to her bathing suit.
To call her curvaceous would be an injustice. Although she had incredible curves in all the right places; her arms, legs, and waist were as toned as any professional athlete. Morgan seemed totally oblivious to the stares of the other men on the boat. Instead, focusing on Kip’s instructions before entering the water.
Together, we explored a small part of the third largest reef in the world. Although the water was only eight to twenty feet deep in that section, there were plenty of mini canyons and sea cave arches to swim through. Behind her mask, Morgan’s eyes grew wide every time we encountered a new species of coral or fish.
We had been in the water for nearly two hours when I tapped her on the shoulder and pointed at the sea turtle to my right. She squealed so hard she dislodged her snorkel. When we surfaced, there was a huge grin on her face.
“That was fantastic.” Her hug and even more so, her kiss surprised me. “Thank you for bringing me out here. I can't believe there is so much beauty under all this water.”
Arms still around each other, we treaded water, eyes locked on one another. She leaned in for another kiss, but stopped when Kip yelled. “All right, you lovebirds. It’s time to head back.”
Reluctantly, I released her from my arms, and we swam to the boat.
Parking was tight around the dock, and Morgan's hand on my thigh was not making it any easier to maneuver around the other cars. But I thought it would be rude to ask her to move it.
“So where to next?” She licked her lips, and I offered her a bottle of water.
“It's a surprise.”
She stroked my leg higher and told me she loved surprises. But when I turned left onto Highway One, her hand clamped like a vice. “We're not going over the bridge, are we?”
“Yeah, unless you know another way to get the Pine Key.” She let go of my leg and set up straight, then tightened her seat-belt. “Is something wrong?”
“I just know how dangerous that bridge is. A deputy sheriff got run over there the other night. I was among the staff who treated him. He didn’t survive.”
“I heard about that. It must have been difficult losing a patient. I’m sorry.” She was clenching her fists, and I said, “If it makes you too nervous, we can do something else.”
“No, I'll be fine. Besides, I want my surprise.” Her smile was not as wide as before.
As we neared the bridge, I asked who her favorite musical artist was. Without even having to think about it, she turned to face me and said Beyonce. “I really respect everything she accomplished.”
“I can understand why you like her. I'm more of a southern rock guy myself.”
“Makes sense. Especially since you grew up down here.”
I asked next about her favorite movie. “Don't laugh. It's an old one, but my grandmother was a huge Humphrey Bogart fan and had all of his movies on tape. I must have seen The African Queen a hundred times and still love it.”
Hmm, interesting. I filed the information away for later. “That’s a good one, but personally, I prefer the movies he made with Lauren Bacall. Like The Big Sleep .”
“Are you really a Bogie fan or are you just pretending, because you know I like him?”
“You tell me, would someone who was pretending know that his middle name was DeForest?” I gave her a wink. “Another piece of trivia you may not know is that until they made the movie there, Key Largo was called Rock Harbor.”
“All right, I believe you," she said, and I could not help but notice how much more relaxed she had become. As we rode along, we continued to compare favorites—books, holidays, foods—and discovered we had many interests in common.
We were halfway to Big Pine Key when Morgan looked out the window and saw where we were. “I don't even remember going over the bridge. You had me so distracted with conversation.” Her eyes flickered with understanding. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
I smiled silently as she returned her hand to my thigh.
“You’re going to want to keep your eyes open. We’re still a few miles away from the Refuge, but this area usually has a few deer near the road.”
“Wait a minute, you brought me down here to see deer?”
“That’s one reason,” I confirmed
“You know I grew up in West Virginia, right? I've seen deer before.”
“Not like these you haven’t.” Key Deer, at only thirty inches tall, are the smallest deer in North America and only found in the Florida Keys. Considered an endangered species, only about seven hundred of them still exist, most of which live in the National Key Deer Refuge.
As far as I was concerned, the best place to see them was Wagner Trail. The three and a half mile stretch on No Name Key is little known to anybody outside the area, as it doesn't appear on most maps. That, along with its diverse mixture of foliage, makes it a favorite spot for mother deer and their nursing fawns.
“The trail’s pretty rugged.” I explained, exchanging my topsiders for a pair of Pumas. “Think you can handle it?”
“I run three to five miles every day.” Morgan smirked. “I think I'll be okay.”
Once we were about a quarter mile past the unmarked trailhead, I whispered, “Keep your eyes peeled. They blend in really well with the vegetation.”
She scanned the tall grass, like an eagle looking for a meal. “Over there.” Morgan excitedly pointed at a fawn not much larger than your average beagle. She pulled her phone from her pocket and snapped a picture. “So cute.”
The mother deer saw us and moved her tiny charge deeper into the underbrush. We saw more deer the further on the trail we went. I pointed out the various plants and trees, such as red mangrove, thatch palm and batis.
“You’re quite the plant savant.” I wondered if that was her way of telling me I was boring her.
“I come here a lot and the visitor center has pamphlets that help identify the various wildlife. My older sister is the actual expert. Stephanie’s a botanist at the Smithsonian. My younger sister, Paula, is a lawyer and works as a legislative assistant in Tallahassee.”
“Do you see them very often?”
“Not as often as I would like, but we stay in touch by text. How about you? Any brothers or sisters?”
“I had a sister.” She bit her upper lip. “She died a few years ago.”
“Oh, I am so—”
She cut me off with a finger to my lips. “I know. You are very sorry. And probably wondering what happened. But we’re having such a good time and it is a painful memory. How about you just impress me with more talk about plants?”
Although I had never lost a sibling, there were parts of my life I did not enjoy talking about. “This one over here is Zillow Milo..”
“You just made that up.” She laughed and punched me on the arm. “Even I recognize a chanterelle mushroom.”
As we walked, she reached out and took my hand. “You may be the sweetest man I've ever met.” Then gave me a kiss on the cheek. I blushed and could not help thinking how wrong Dante had been. It paid to be a nice guy sometimes. When we reached the end of the trail, I told her I usually jog back.
“Let’s race. I'll let you kiss me if you win,” she said and took off sprinting. It took me nearly half a mile to catch up with her. I'm pretty sure she slowed her pace deliberately, because with a hundred yards to go, she left me in the dust.
I was panting when I reached where we had parked, but she wasn’t even winded. “Don't look so glum, Zak. I'm still going to let you kiss me.”
It was a fabulous kiss, even better than the one out on the reef. “Unless you're in a rush to get back, there's one more thing I want to show you. I think you'll find it the biggest surprise of the day.”
“Well, I do like surprises. Especially big ones.”
“It's a little out of the way, but I know a shortcut.” I said, helping her into the Jeep.
By the time we reached Misery Key, Morgan’s hand was back on my thigh. I was thinking about her lips and how much I enjoyed kissing them; and almost missed the turn.