Sanibel Scribbles by Christine Lemmon Read Free Book Online

I meant ‘goof.’ What a ‘goof’ I feel like with my ears popped. I must be shouting right now,” she said, and then forced a wide yawn, hoping that might help.
    Could Florida, or golfing, actually take years off a person’s life? Maybe, she thought, as she hugged both her mom and dad together, noticing a fresh glow to their skins and natural highlights in her mother’s hair.
    As she and her mother waited on the curb for her father to pull the car up, Vicki noticed a group of women standing around them, looking as if they were linen hung to dry in the scorching sun a bit too long. And, as quick and fleeting as a hummingbird’s presence, a moment of déjà vu fluttered through her mind. Suddenly she could predict exactly what her grandmother would be about to say at this exact given moment were she still alive and picking her up at the airport for her annual visit.
    “Sunscreen is the Fountain of Youth,” Grandma would say before pulling a brand-new bottle of lotion from a drugstore bag stuffed in her large straw purse. “I’m only going to warn you once on this trip. You don’t want alligator skin.”
    “Thank you, Grandma, but wrinkles are not something I need to worry about now. I don’t care what I look like when I’m older. I only care about now.”
    But now, like never before, she did care about wrinkles, aging and even death. She reached into her bag and pulled out sunscreen she had bought at her layover. She rubbed it into her arms, legs and face, then, fearing that SPF 60 might not be strong enough to protect her from the sun’s deadly rays, she reapplied a second, and then a third coat.
    In the backseat of her parent’s tiny white car, with the air-conditioning not working properly, Vicki felt as if she were sitting in a sauna, ready to exit, but unable to do so. The door was stuck. She felt a kind of panic shehad never felt before, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She closed her eyes and tried to inhale deeply, but there didn’t seem to be anything for her lungs to inhale. She tried convincing herself that a few more minutes of socializing in the sauna would be nice. She and her parents had much to catch up on as they drove west on Daniels Parkway, then made a left onto Summerlin Road and followed the signs toward Sanibel Island. Like private cramps deep within her gut, Rebecca’s death agonized her, yet she didn’t want to make it public news just yet. She chose to suffer alone, like someone choking silently, dying unnoticed during a wonderful dinner with family. Several minutes later, they passed billboards that teased travelers with painted glimpses of paradise ahead. She still couldn’t properly catch her breath, but like the man standing knee-deep in the water out her left window, she wouldn’t give up. She had to catch it just as he had to catch his fish.
    “Oh, thank God. The bridge is going up,” said her father. “That means we’re forced to stop and wait.”
    “There’s no place I’d rather be stuck then here on this bridge,” added her mother.
    “I’m getting sick. I’ve got to get out of this.”
    Vicki waited as long as she could, then, as soon as the car stopped, she opened the door like a person escaping a burning house and rushed over to the side rail of the bridge, as if she might throw up, but then she couldn’t help but notice the water below her, looking so clear. She glanced up and saw giant brown pelicans gliding overhead like creatures one might see in The Wizard of Oz . One lunged downward and caught a fish, and carried it toward land. She couldn’t arrive on Sanibel carrying the heavy news of her friend’s death alone. It would sink the island. Laughing gulls swirled around her as well, but she couldn’t hear them.
    As she watched a sailboat to her left with two—no, three, no, four—bottlenose dolphins riding its front wave slowly approaching the bridge, she noticed her parents getting out of the car to join her, and she knew she needed to share