Chapter 4 #3
Francis’s eyes looked wet in the moonlight. “That would be… Wow, my first artistic endeavor at my new artist’s retreat.” He covered his mouth with his hands and laughed, then fanned himself as if to keep tears at bay.
“I want to know the story behind this idea,” I said, setting him back on his feet. “I’m so eager to know all about you. Will you tell me everything on our dinner date?”
He laughed again, and his saucy smile was back.
“You might get some of it, but I’m not giving up all my secrets. A guy’s gotta have a little mystery about him.”
If only he knew how invested I was in solving the mystery of him.
“I can hardly wait.”
We said goodbye, and I wandered back to my sanctuary, thinking once more how things do happen for a reason.
I wouldn’t be having a rendezvous with the gorgeous guy next door if I hadn’t decided to come out here.
Yeah, I’d left friends and family in Florida, and, I don’t know, maybe I was having a midlife crisis, but I’d wanted my animals, and I’d wanted change.
Florida was full of memories for me, many of them sad—like my failed marriage and so much loss.
When Grandma was in her last days, she was still coherent enough to talk, and she told me over and over that I deserved to be happy, that she wanted me to find someone to love me, “and if it’s a man, I guess that’d be all right, s’long as he can cook, I reckon.
Florida will survive without you, and you need to live, son. ”
I sat on the stone bench I’d put in with the radiated tortoises so I could hang out, and they wouldn’t destroy it.
I had eight of them, and they were so cool to watch.
It was relaxing to just observe the different designs on their shells, and how they formed a little social order.
They’d come from the Central Valley—some farmer had them for about twenty years—and when he sold his farm to move to assisted living, he didn’t have a place for them to go.
Rashad, the vet I befriended at UC Davis, put me in touch with him, and I’d picked them up even before I brought the giants home.
I called them the Rat Pack, though I hadn’t quite decided who was who, except for the biggest one, Frank Sinatra.
He was undoubtedly the Chairman of the Board in their enclosure, bossing the others around and always eating first.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out to find a picture of my little Chairwoman on the screen.
“Dad, how’s Elizabeth Taylor? You didn’t tell me whether she’s recovered from laying her eggs?”
“That’s why you’re calling me at, what, midnight your time?”
She huffed into the phone. “I just got home. I worked an extra shift tonight. So how is she?”
I updated her on Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, my rhino iguanas, and we talked for a bit about school, which was getting on her last nerve.
She’d had to take summer classes to stay on track with her biology degree, as well as her visual art minor.
She hoped to finish up at Daytona State College at the end of next year.
She’d started college late, changed her major twice, and it had taken her an extra two years, as the transition to college life had been tough.
Losing her brother had been a major setback, for all of us.
A pang went through my chest thinking about how much it sucked that I didn’t get to have these adult conversations with my son as well.
“You’re working hard, babe. You’re going to be fine. Don’t be in a rush.”
“I know, but I want this term to be over. I want to come see the new place.”
I smiled. “It’s pretty great. Reptiles as far as the eye can see,” I teased.
“As long as there’s a bedroom for me,” she groused. “I don’t want to have to sleep on the couch like at your old place.”
When her mom and I separated, I’d moved into a two-bedroom apartment.
Shortly after, I’d moved Dad in, and, within months of losing him, I’d brought Grandma out from California.
With their hospital equipment and caregivers coming in and out, Shay hadn’t enjoyed staying with me.
There’d been no privacy for any of us, plus it was hard for her to see them suffer.
She’d been motivated by the experience to become a nurse.
But it was one thing to take care of strangers and another to do it for your beloved grand- and great-grandparents.
“Oh, I could probably set you up in the room with my pythons.”
She growled, and I cracked up. “Dad, you promised, no snakes!”
“And I’ve kept my promise. You’re just too easy to mess with.”
“I miss you, Dad. Are you okay? Aren’t you lonely out there?”
I smiled at that. If only she knew where I’d just been.
She’d have thoughts about me dating, which she’d share.
Vigorously. I wasn’t quite ready for that tonight.
What is it about twenty-somethings that makes them think they know so much more than their parents, turning them into judgy little punks?
“I’m not lonely. Besides my menagerie of reptiles, I’ve got great friends at the fire department and in town.
” And before I thought better of it, I added, “And I have a new neighbor. A guy bought the winery next to Grandma’s property.
He’s turning it into an artists’ retreat.
” I couldn’t help the smile, and I was sure she heard it in my voice as well.
“Artists’ retreat? That’s so cool.”
“I think it will be.”
We talked over dates for her to visit, and I told her to book flights, and I’d reimburse her.
“Miss you, sweetheart,” I said, as we ended the conversation.
“You, too, Dad. See you soon.”
I blew out a breath as I disconnected. I loved Shay with all my heart, but sometimes talking with her was a reminder of the part of my heart I was missing.
“Miss you, Son.”
And then I had a good cry, the kind that lets you purge all the icky stuff clogging up your flow so you can live to fight whatever came at you for another day.
At that moment, it was Frank Sinatra coming at me.
“I got no beef with you, friend,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’ll bring extra snacks tomorrow, all right? I know, I gotta pay protection fees, ya little mobster.”
He climbed over my shoe and went on his way.
Shay had complained that I was going from taking care of the elderly to taking care of needy creatures, and maybe I should examine why I had such a need to tend to others.
I’d tried to explain that it was wildly different, that I experienced joy from watching my reptiles thrive.
It was like preserving a part of history.
They were a piece of the past still surviving despite existing in a world and a time that were often perilous, and yet they carried on.
There was a lesson in that, somewhere. Being around them brought me peace.
Having Francis move in next door could bring me more peace, or it could disrupt my flow.
Bring it on, Saucy Neighbor.