Nov. 30 Heartbreaker in Heels

 
            I wake up in the middle of a storm. It’s been windy since I got here, but this is the worst yet! My sleeping bag is wet again from the spray blowing sideways into my picnic shelter. It’s morning, but the heavy storm clouds are keeping it dark. I know I should try to get over to Indian Creek as early as possible to ask about that job, but I really don’t want to get out of my sleeping bag in the middle of this storm much less walk several miles in rain to the golf course! I snooze for nearly an hour longer.
            When I finally get up the rain is slowing and a few rays of sunlight are breaking through the clouds, but the wind is still strong. I try to pull myself together and get moving quickly so that I can be at the golf course as early as possible, but everything takes longer when I’m in a hurry. It’s nearly 8:00 by the time I start rolling and it’s at least an hour and a half walk to get there. I definitely won’t be impressing anyone with my arrival time!
            The route I traveled last night looks different in the overcast daylight. I travel on the other side of the road just to mix it up a little. There’s a fine mist in the wind and I’m slowly getting wet. I stop to put on my raincoat. I should probably put on my rain pants too, but that would mean sitting down, unlacing my boots, hopping into the pants, and then walking along with not only a bright yellow cart, but also a bright yellow raincoat and bright yellow pants. I hate to be vain, but I’d rather not look like a giant banana unless it’s really going to rain. For all I know this is about to clear up. My jeans are already damp anyway, so the pants would just hold the moisture in at this point.
            The rain doesn’t clear up; it gets worse. I should have put on the full rain suit before I even left my pavilion this morning, but now I’m soaked through, so it won’t do any good at this point. Showers come and go randomly, but it doesn’t matter now. It will be hours before I’m dry. Every half hour or so I stop at a bus stop to sit down and rest. I really wish I had a secure place to leave my cart and pack. There’s no reason for me to have to lug them around everywhere I go except I don’t have any place else to put them. A well-dressed gentleman with hair like Einstein, is waiting for a bus. He asks where I’m headed.
            “Indian Creek Country Club” I tell him. “I’m looking for work so I’m hoping they’re hiring.”
            “Oh yea, several of the people in my building have memberships there.” He tells me. “That’s a very exclusive golf club! I hope you can get in. You’d like it there.”
            “Thanks!”
            I leave a wet butt-print on the bus-stop seat and plod the rest of the way to 91st Street, hang a right, and walk down to the large fancy gate entrance for the resort. It looks like the entrance to a palace. There’s a security office on the left side. It looks like I won’t make it far without permission from him. The office has large, dark windows looking out over the resort entrance, and the room inside looks like a miniature version of a space shuttle command center. A security guard inside rolls his chair back from the bridge and calls to me through a garbled intercom.
            “Can I help you sir?” I can’t see a mic anywhere so I just try to talk loudly.
            “Yea, I was hoping to speak with the grounds or maintenance supervisor.”
            “Do you have an appointment?”
            “No, I don’t.”
            “You’ll have to call and make an appointment.” I can barely see the officer through the tinted glass, but I feel like I’m talking to a security droid.
            “Okay, thanks...” I start to turn away, “Oh, can you give me the phone number for that?” He gives me two numbers, one for the main office and one for the maintenance office.
            I write the numbers in my notepad and walk a few feet away to make the call. There’s no answer, so I leave a message explaining that I have experience in golf maintenance and that I’d like to meet and give them my resume. *Sigh* I probably could have found those phone numbers online without wasting a second trip all the way out here. If I thought I’d get called right back, I’d stay in the area just to be available for a meeting, but if they aren’t hiring they probably won’t even bother to return my call at all, so I can’t justify sitting around.

As I walk back toward Haulover, I feel lousy from head to toe. It’s early in the day and I slept fine, so I can’t be all that tired. I’ve been drinking so I shouldn’t be dehydrated. Why do I feel so awful? My diet has been pretty narrow lately. I haven’t had any fruit or anything else with vitamins for several days. That’s likely it. You can only survive on trail mix for so long before the body starts noticing. I think it’s time to check out that Win-Dixie and get some real groceries.

On my way back through Haulover I stop at the beach for a while again. It’s still windy, but the sun has come out and the lifeguards are on duty so I go for a swim. The path out to the beach has sprayers for rinsing off the salt water. That’s the closest I’ve come to showering in several days. It’ll have to do. I walk the beach for a while to dry off, but I’m really looking forward to those groceries.

It’s an hour inland when I get to Win-Dixie. My butt-cheeks are chafed raw from walking in sweaty jeans all day. There’s a bench in front of the store, so I lash my bike lock through the bench and the handle of my cart and leave them outside. The air-conditioned supermarket is filled with glorious food! I’m going to have to discipline myself. The first thing I see is a rack of strawberry parfaits. So much for discipline; I drop one in my basket.

I’m just enjoying being out from under that backpack, so I take my time perusing the isles. It’s been almost an hour when my shopping basket is so full I’m carrying things in my arms. I have no idea how I’m going to fit all this in my cart. I’ll have to sit on that bench and eat half of it before I go! I’m pretty cool with that plan.

The bill makes me cringe a little, but I’m not hurting for cash just yet and it’s not like I’m saving my money for anything besides food. Outside there’s two old ladies sitting in the bench where I locked my cart. They’re deep in a very animated conversation and I need to eat a bunch of this food before I need my cart anyway, so I just take another nearby bench and dig in to my loot. I eat a banana, an orange; I open up a jumbo jar of creamy peanut butter and begin dipping mini crescent rolls into the nutty nectar. Mmmm… foooood!

A young man and a Hispanic señorita walk up to the bench and sit next to me. I try to mind my own business, but they’re arguing about something. After a few minutes they fall into icy silence. I try to keep eating and pretending I can’t feel the aura of tension. Finally he gets up and walks away leaving her mumbling angrily to herself in Spanish.

“Do you come here often?” I suddenly realize she’s not mumbling to herself anymore.

 “Oh, ah… no, this is my first time at this store.” I’ve got a peanut-butter covered crescent roll stuffed in my mouth. She nods with a smile.

“I come here all the time.” She’s cute… REALLY cute. Wow!

“Are you from around here?” She’s got a Hispanic accent to die for!

“No, I’m new in the area. I’m just looking for work.”

“Oh, me too!” She’s got the characteristic flamboyant hand gestures of an energetic Latino chica, but it’s not as if I’m noticing. Besides, this girl has trouble written all over her.

“I’m Aaron.”

“I’m Catalina, I’m from Colombia but I was raised in New Jersey, and I’ve been living here for several years. Are you living nearby?”

“Sort of, I don’t really have any place to stay yet. I’ve just been spending the nights at a park nearby.”

“You don’t look like a homeless person, you must take good care of yourself.” Not sure, but I’m pretty sure that was a compliment.

“Yea, I try.”

“And I see you’ve got food and everything.” She points to my four overloaded grocery bags.”

“Yea, uh… yea.” I’m not quite sure how to respond to that but did I mention this chic is freaking gorgeous?! I can feel my I.Q. drop in half just watching her mouth move. That Colombian accent is killing me! Why do Latinos have to be so ridiculously gorgeous! It's not fair!

“Do you drink?” Well, there’s a random question.

“Uh, yea, a little, sometimes. I’ve never been drunk or anything, but sure I drink a little.” I hear warning bells, but I’m just flattered to be getting attention from a super-model.

“What sign are you?”

“Uh, whu… Hu?”

“What month were you born?”

“September.”

“So you’re a Virgo.”

“Ahh… Okay, I didn’t know that.”

“It means you’re energetic.” She informs me.

“Oh!” she suddenly acts surprised. “You’ve got wine right there!” She points at one of my bags. Her other hand is on my arm. “Do you mind if I have a sip?” I cringe inwardly. I carefully selected the cheapest red wine in the entire store, but it was still a bit of a splurge for me.

“Sure! Absolutely, have one!” I hand her one of the cheap plastic single-serving bottles. I hesitate for second but grab one for myself also. I was going to savor that sometime later, but I might as well be social. She’s lucky she’s so good-looking. I would never do this for a dude!

 “My boyfriend and I are not doing very well lately.” She complains between gulps. “We’ve got a friend of his staying with us, but he’s a complete slob! Always ungrateful! Never cleans up after himself! Hasn’t offered a single dollar to help out!” Dang! That Colombian temper is adorable, but this chic is trouble with a capitol T! “I really want to kick him out, but my boyfriend is too nice! He won’t do it, but I can’t stay there with that fat idiot laying around making messes and never thanking nobody for nothing!” She’s worked up now! I’ve barely started my wine and hers is almost gone. Those eyes flash with beautiful passion. So this is love!

“How many wines do you have there?” she points at the grocery bag.

“Uh… it’s a four-pack, so… two more.”

“Do you mind if I take one for the road?” Her first bottle is already empty and her hand is on my shoulder this time.

“Uh…” I cringe. “I just spent a lot of money on these groceries here and ahh…” I can’t bring myself to say no to such beautiful eyes, but she’s asking a bit much. I’m a little perturbed that she would even ask. I didn’t splurge on that just to give half of it away to a heartbreaker in heels. I can’t bring myself to say no, but I’m not about to say yes either.

“I could give you my number and if you help me get this guy out of our apartment, you could stay with us!” Seriously? Is she trying to bribe me right now for a small bottle of wine? I consider the option carefully. I wouldn’t mind having a real place to stay. Their apartment is in a perfect central location. I’d be a much better roommate than the filthy freeloader staying there now. Certainly that’s worth twelve ounces of wine! Right? Besides, did I mention she’s freaking gorgeous?!

I’ve balked too long. Her bus pulls up to the curb and she rises to leave.

“Hey, I’ll see you again.” She says. “It’s fate that we met.” I watch her slender body saunter away in slow-motion. There goes trouble! Trouble with a capitol T! An absolute train-wreck! A disaster in tight jeans! Destruction with liquid eyes! *Sigh* If I had played my cards right I could have had a place to stay… and a royal headache!

I screw the cap back on to my wine. I’d rather save it for later. I barely got five sips in the time it took her to down an entire bottle! I carefully stuff the rest of my new groceries into the cart. I have to eat the parfait to make it all fit, but I don’t mind.

It’s early afternoon. I haven’t blogged since before Thanksgiving, so that needs to happen before I forget what’s been happening. My batteries are red-lined too, so I need to recharge. That Dunkin’ Donuts with the comfy chairs is right next door, so I’m headed there. The ladies smile with recognition when I walk in. It smells like fresh coffee and smooth hits are playing on the intercom. I order a medium coffee with double cream and sink into my favorite chair.

As the afternoon passes I tap away on my computer and watch the customers come and go. It’s all Latino ladies behind the counter and most of the clients seem to be Spanish too. I love listening to the fluid, graceful language. My Spanish is rusty, but I quickly start picking up a lot of the vocabulary again. One of the ladies is a jolly grandmother type, and at least half the kids who come in seem to be her grandchildren. They squeal with delight when they see her, and she comes around the counter to give them hugs and kisses. The Latino culture has got to be the most wonderful culture in the world! They seem so happy and friendly with each other like they’re one big happy family.

I was hoping to get a call back from Indian Creek today. I check my phone again. I’ve got a message from just twenty minutes ago! How did I miss the call? Shoot! I enter the pin to listen to the message. It’s the maintenance supervisor for the golf course. He says his name is Joe and that he would like to meet me tomorrow morning! That’s wonderful! That means they are definitely open to hiring!

As the hours wear by I type away and it slowly gets dark outside. Business slows and only the young one remains to close out the store. She hurries about her work without making eye contact or saying a word. Each new customer gets a cute, reserved smile and quick service, but most of the time it’s just me and her in the store. From the sitting area I can’t see my cart and pack where I left it on the curb. I break the ice.

“Are my things still out there where I left them?”

“Yes,” She answers with that warm smile, “You can bring it inside if you want.”

“Really? I don’t want to take up your space.”

“Sure, we can put it in the corner over there.” I walk out to the side walk and come in wearing my pack and pushing my cart. She eyes the load with amusement.

“I’ve walked over two hundred miles with this rig.” She gasps adorably.

“Really?” I nod my affirmation.

“While I’ve been sitting here, I’ve been writing about my adventures and stories about things I’ve done and seen along the way. It’s been quite an experience.”

“I’m sure it has been!” I hand her one of my cards with the blog address.

“If you’re interested, you can read it here.”

“Oh, thank you! I definitely will!” I go back to writing, but it’s late and I’m finishing up for the night. I power down my computer and tuck it into the cart.

“See you later. I’ll be back.”

“Okay, bye.” She leans on the counter and watches me as I wheel the cart out the door.

The night breeze is warm and cool at the same time. This is why I’m in Florida. The picnic table is right where I left it. The soothing cadence of ocean surf strokes my soul while I slowly sip the wine that I opened earlier. What a great day! I got a call-back for a job interview, I didn’t have to walk too much, I survived a close encounter with a girl who could have ruined my life, and I met a much nicer one too! Things are looking up.