A Southern Soul In A Minnesota Body

After my plane lands in Harlingen, Texas, it will only be a one-hour drive to the island—just a few more minutes until then. A part of me can’t believe I’m truly following through with this. However, another part of me is wondering what took me so long. One can only take so much of the bullshit their daily lives throw at them. The sun plays impostor as it pretends to be the same glorious sun I once loved down south. But it’s not fooling me. Nor are the protesters mocking my beliefs as I drive by their held-up signs that dance in the air. Right or left, it doesn’t matter.

I couldn’t fathom leaving my family behind in Minnesota, and I couldn’t afford to take a seven-year-old child with me either. But now was the perfect time to utilize the one-way plane ticket to Texas without looking back after dropping off my little girl.

I had a difficult conversation with my daughter before leaving. It wasn’t easy, but I’m sure she was relieved when I told her I would return, although I’m unsure if I will. She adores her dad, just like I did once upon a time. The only thing that worked out between us was our child. Our memories can stay where they are.

“What brings you to Texas?” the man seated next to me asks as we wait for everyone before us to exit the plane. I thought I might get away with not having small talk with a stranger, but the only other person in my row burst that bubble at the last minute.

“If I’m being honest with you, I don’t know,” I respond.

“Are you hiding or seeking?” he asks me.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, if I’m being honest, no one ever flies to Harlingen, Texas unless they are hiding from something or seeking something.”

“Is that right?” I ask him, sarcastically. “What if I’m on vacation? You forgot about that possibility.”

“Unlikely. You’re alone with multiple bags. I highly doubt you’re on a business trip or hosting a bachelorette party without anyone else joining you,” he smirks.

“I could say the same about you, but here I am minding my own business,” I say with a fake smile. He lightly chuckles while slowly shaking his head. Once we gather our belongings and finally exit the plane, he asks me, “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“I highly doubt that,” I tell him confidently.

We go our separate ways, and I watch him enter a black Chevy Traverse while I hop in my Uber.

“Hola, Señorita,” the friendly Mexican driver greets as he glances at the directions to my destination on his cell phone.

“Hola, Como estas?” I ask him.

“Muy bien, gracias. What brings you to South Padre Island?”

I look out the window and ponder his question momentarily before answering. “I’m seeking something.”

“Ah. Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Me too.

#

I can’t get enough of the view from my condo’s balcony. I can only afford this rental for a few days until I’m out of money. Immediately, I searched the web for job openings on the island. One particular job caught my eye. It’s a bartending position at a beautiful, tiki-like bar near the ocean, and they need someone to start immediately. A nice walk over that way might do me some good.

A “Help Wanted” sign sits at the entrance of a small wooden path bordered by rope that leads up to the bar. This place perfectly resembles a tiki hut in paradise. Behind the bar is a frantic young Latina woman trying to manage her job duties independently. “Excuse me, ma’am?” I say, trying to grab her attention. “I saw your job posting online and your sign—”

“You’re hired!” she interrupts, without a glance in my direction. “Can you make four different kinds of Mojitos? I need to catch up with drink orders, and we are short-staffed. Not only that, but Tiffany just called and said she can’t make it for her shift.”

“Um, sure – I mean, of course I can help. Thank you so much for the –”

“No time for chit chat. I need a blueberry, strawberry, coconut, and a regular Mojito STAT,” she interrupts again.

I don’t waste any more time. I grab four Collins glasses and go to work. Before I knew it, I had four perfectly flavored and garnished Mojitos. The young lady told me to take care of the beer and classic cocktail orders, and she would take care of the specialty cocktails since I’m unfamiliar with those recipes.

Four long hours later, the place calmed down, and I finally conversed with the young lady. Her name is Clara, and she has been running this place for almost five years. She and her best friend, Tiffany, bought it with every penny they had. It was their long-time dream.

“Thank you again for saving the day. And don’t worry, I’ll get all the paperwork together so you can start getting paid. I’ll give you back pay for today as well.” She hands me my share of the tips and continues, “You’re free to go join your boyfriend if you want. Mark and Juan are here for the last shift, so we can leave for the day.”

“What makes you think I have a boyfriend?” I ask her.

“That man,” she says, pointing to a handsome man sitting at the corner table with three other unfamiliar people. “He keeps looking at you. We may have been busy, but I can sense a spark when I see one.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Clara,” I laugh. “But it’s funny you say that. I just met him on a flight to Harlingen this morning.”

“Aye, mama. He’s muy caliente. Good for you, chica.”

I roll my eyes, chuckle at her absurdity, and clean my last glass before leaving for the evening.

“I knew I’d see you around,” the gentleman from the plane says as he leans against the bar. “You're hiding from something, aren’t you?” he confronts me, flashing another smirk in my direction as if he thinks he has me figured out.

“I’m going to start hiding from you if you don’t stop following me,” I tell him as I approach him from behind the bar.

“I bet you wish I were following you. No, I’m here on a short getaway with the guys,” he gestures to the now empty table in the corner, “Who happened to leave me here,” he chuckles.

“It was nice to meet you…” I trail off, not knowing what to call this man.

“I’m Calloway, but you can call me Cal. I didn’t catch your name either.”

“Mila,” I tell him as I walk over to the ledge that overlooks the gulf waters. And to no surprise, he continues to follow me like a lost puppy. I take out a cigarette and light it. I offer him one, but he politely declines with a wave of his hand.

“If you’re not hiding, why are you running?” he asks me.

“For the last time, I’m not. Why do you have this significant interest in me? I’ve seen you twice and in two different places in Texas, all within the last twenty-four hours,” I tell him, then blow out the leftover smoke from the drag of my cigarette.

“Coincidence, I guess. Plus, you seem…mysterious. I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“Yeah, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“We’ll see about that. You’ll let your guard down with me at some point,” he says, then grabs one of my cigarettes and lights it with my lighter.

“What makes you say that?” I question him.

“Because, as much as you may not want to admit it, you feel comfortable around me. Why? I have no idea. We’ve never met before. But the way you fell asleep on my shoulder on the flight here without realizing it, and how your bare leg rested against mine, and you didn’t bother to move…it just seemed natural.”

“Natural? For two strangers to feel comfortable enough to touch on a plane? I don’t think so. That’s weird, and I’m sorry for invading your personal space. I had no idea I did any of that.”

“I know you’re running from something. No one’s natural human instinct is to cozy up to a stranger on a random flight to Texas, let alone South Padre Island.”

“Do me a favor and get over yourself,” I tell him flicking my cigarette butt over the ledge and turn to walk away.

I stand silently on the beach by the tiki bar and watch the sun submerge into the horizon. Out of all things that should be on my mind, Calloway continues to cluster it. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. I hope I can avoid running into him again. A man is not what I came here for.

#

Clara had me come into work early so I could fill out my paperwork and start to learn the ropes around here. This bartending job is entirely different from the nursing world I’m used to. But that’s precisely why I love it. And I’ve learned that I’m good at it, too.

Today is Tuesday, and there are more staff here than yesterday, so Clara feels more at ease. I also had the opportunity to meet the co-owner, Tiffany. All the TVs around the bar show sports recaps and the local news. Everyone here is focused more on the news, as a storm is expected to surface. I’ve never experienced anything other than your typical thunderstorm or snowstorm back home.

“I hope you have a safe place to stay tonight,” Calloway says, interrupting my focus.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in frustration.

“Last time I checked, this place is open to the public, and everyone is welcome,” he replies.

“Everyone except you,” I say in a more casual tone. I don’t want Carla or Tiffany to overhear me talk to a customer like this. However, I can easily pull it off as flirting if they do.

“Why do you have such ill will towards me? Don’t want to make any new friends?” he asks.

“No, I didn’t come here to make any new friends, Calloway!”

“Just call me Cal.”

“Okay, Cal. If you wanted to know the harsh truth so badly, you should have just said so in the first place. Just because you think you can charm people with your tall physique, dark chocolate hair, crisp blue eyes, and smooth, deep voice, doesn’t mean you can with me. I didn’t mean to stroke your enormous ego when I fell asleep on the plane and accidentally rested my head and leg against you. So why don’t you do me and yourself a favor and get lost!” My voice went up a notch, causing a minor scene in the bar.

Cal holds up his hands in surrender and says, “My bad. As I said, I can tell you’re running from something, so I was checking on you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, thank you very much. I can take care of myself. I also don’t need a stranger to worry about what I’m doing and why I’m doing it,” I sternly tell him. I dash off, storm down the small wooden path, and exit the bar. Even though it’s an outdoor bar, I feel emotionally claustrophobic and need more air. I’m overwhelmed by the fact that Cal might be right.

Right about everything.

#

Nothing feels more calming than sitting on the beach and watching the dark storm clouds roll in. The air swarms, causing a chilling breeze to scatter the heat away. The sun disappears more and more as the storm invades the sky. I admire the lightning in the distance. The thunder has yet to present itself. In the middle of the darkening sky, an opening appears, letting in a small beam of sunlight.

“Hello, you,” I whisper. Tears overflow my eyes, and my heart begins to break again.

I sense someone standing behind me.

I let him stand there.

After a while, he sits next to me in the sand.

I let him sit.

“I’m hiding from something," I begin, "but no matter how far or how fast I run, I will always be found by a certain someone,” I tell Cal while staring at the small beam of sunlight in the sky.

He remains silent.

“Last year, my daughter was diagnosed with a rare kind of brain cancer. She was only six years old. They gave her five years, but her body could only handle one. She recently passed away at seven years old.” Tears coat my cheeks, and the storm clouds overcome the sunbeam. Cal still doesn’t say a word. “Before they took her to the morgue, I told her I was going to be leaving for a while, but I’d be back to lay her down to rest during her funeral. I left for Texas immediately after that. I told no one, not even my parents. I just…left. Maybe that’s why I felt the need to touch you on the plane. My heart craved comfort from someone, and you were the first person I had come across since my little girl left this earth.”

“When is her funeral?” Cal finally asks.

“Two days from now. But I don’t know if I can handle going.”

“You have to go. You’re her mother.” He lightly touches my hand as it lies in the sand. “If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

Neither of us says anything else. We sit silently on the beach and let the storm begin to sprinkle its rain.

#

I left my condo to check on the damage the storm caused last night. Palm trees lay in pieces on the flooded grounds. The roofs of some buildings need repair, and most of the island is without power.

“Did you hear?”

“Did you see?”

“What are we going to do now?”

As I stroll around the island, the anxiety in people’s voices fills the air, making me curious about what they are referring to.

“Mila!” Cal shouts as he leaves his group to catch up with me. “Do you know?”

“Know about what?”

“Shit…,” he says under his breath.

“Know about what, Cal?” I ask him eagerly.

He looks straight into my eyes. His expression is full of worry. It takes him a minute to say more. The longer I wait, the more nervous I am to hear his answer.

“The causeway collapsed in the storm,” he finally tells me. I freeze with denial. “Mila, no one can get on or off the island.”

“I know what it means,” I say with breathless shock. “My daughter…she needs her mom! What am I going to do? This isn’t what I signed up for. I came here for an escape, but I thought I’d be able to get off the damn island in time to be there for her!” I cry.

Cal engulfs me in his arms so I don’t collapse. My breathing increases, and I start to feel numb. I guess Clara was right. We have this insane spark between us, and neither can deny that we have this strange connection.

“We will get you there. Don’t worry, we’ll find a way,” he reassures me.

We walk down to the marina near the absent causeway. A crowd is gathered around the boats in the best shape, wanting and hoping for a way back inland. Captains are shouting at people to back up and to calm down. The only thing we can do at this point is approach the chaos and hope for the best.

“They aren’t letting anyone on these boats unless it’s an emergency or you have a good chunk of money to offer,” a lady says to us near the back of the crowd.

Cal takes my hand and leads me through the sea of people to talk with one of the captains.

“This is Mila,” he tells the captain nearest to us. “She needs to get back to Minnesota—”

“No one is getting on this boat unless it’s an emergency. Otherwise, it’s fifteen hundred upfront for transportation,” the captain informs us.

“Fifteen hundred? Are you crazy?” I exclaim.

“It’s an emergency,” Cal informs him. “She needs to attend her daughter’s funeral. It’s tomorrow and she needs to be there to say her final goodbye.”

The captain looks back at me. “Fine. But hurry. I’m leaving soon.”

“Thank you so much,” I tell him.

Before I can get on the boat, Cal stops me. “Here, take this,” he says, handing me a small bag. “I want you to have this. It will be more essential for you than for me.”

The captain and his crew release the ropes that tie the boat to the dock, signaling the departure.

“I have to go. Thank you, Cal. For everything.”

I grab his hand tightly and don’t let go until I can no longer reach him. As the boat sails away, I open the small bag he gave me. Inside is a lump of cash and a note.

Use this money to get a flight back home. Be with your daughter one final time. Take as much time as you need, and then use the rest of the money to fly back to me.

-Cal

P.S. Wear this gift to your daughter’s funeral. I think she’d like it, and you will, too.

At the bottom of the small bag is a box. Inside the box is a necklace. The necklace features a gold and grey ribbon; gold symbolizes childhood cancer, while grey represents brain cancer.

Cal was sent to me because the universe knew I needed him during this difficult time. I only wonder why I was brought into his life. Only time will tell.

Until next time, Calloway.