Between the Land and the Sea - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,9
hat that had panels of what looked like aluminum cans knitted into it. I would have taken her for a homeless person if she were anywhere near a shopping cart.
A little tabby cat poked his head out from under the landing midway up the stairs.
“Is that him?” I asked, pointing up at the cat. Her wide relieved smile told me it was.
“Oh, thank you sweetie,” she said as she extended her hand, “My eyesight isn’t what it used to be.” When I shook her hand she leaned closer to peer at me, “I’m Stella... I take care of the little wild ones.”
“I’m Marina,” I replied, and looked up to see Freddy slink out and pick his way towards us tentatively. His ears were tattered and his ratty tail was bent at an unnatural angle. Movement in the grass caught my eye and I spotted a couple more small thin cats watching us intently as they inched closer.
Stella pulled out a bag of cat food and poured out several piles onto the grass, motioning for me to back up with her. The fearful little cats edged over to the food, keeping their eyes on us and gulping it down as fast as they could.
She looked up at me again, “I know you... Where have you been?”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” I said gently, “I just moved here yesterday.” Stella’s eyes clouded over as slipped away into a distant memory, “We used to dance on the ship... the music– oh, the music was so wonderful,” she looked out towards the decrepit cement boat.
“On that ship?” I asked skeptically.
“Oh, yesiree my dear!” she said emphatically.
The fog behind her eyes seemed to lift as she described how the S.S. Palo Alto was towed to Aptos to become an amusement destination during prohibition. It had a dance pavilion where big bands used to play, and the pier leading up to it once housed restaurants and arcade games. There was even a heated swimming pool on one of the lower decks. Looking at the battered carcass of the old tanker it was hard to imagine, but I couldn’t doubt her as she spoke nostalgically of the glorious times she had enjoyed.
“It only lasted a couple of years before they went bust. Us young girls used to sneak in...
We’d dance and dance with all the swells that came down from the city.” She heaved a sigh, “It was the cat’s pajamas.”
Remembering the scruffy little cats, I turned to see that they had melted back into the brush.
“It was nice meeting you Stella,” I said, shaking her hand again before walking towards the beach.
“Goodbye Dollface,” she called after me, “Don’t be a stranger.” I slipped off my shoes, savoring the feeling of cool sand between my toes as I picked my way through a jumble of driftwood down to the water line. The tide seemed to be going out and I dodged the surf, darting in and out to pick up blue and green beach glass. I liked the quiet and solitude of the early morning beach. The dense fog blurred everything at a distance, and I had the sensation I was walking along in a bubble created by my own little field of vision.
Climbing up the stairs onto the pier, I walked along the wooden planks, looking down into the turbulent ocean a good twenty feet below. Dark murky waters under the wharf churned like witches brew in a cauldron, opaque and sinister looking. As I got further down the pier, a small figure looming along the railing came into focus. I drew closer to see an ancient looking Asian man fishing off the side.
We both nodded hello and I peeked over into the plastic bucket at his side. I was surprised that it was full of fish, and I glanced up to see the old man smiling at me.
I returned his smile, “Good fishing today,” I commented.
“Ah,” he said, smiling wider, “You have water in your eyes.”
“Uh, thanks,” I said, not sure if his observation was meant to be a compliment.
My eyes are probably my best feature, colored somewhere between blue, green and gray depending on the light. At least that’s what strangers always compliment me on, and that’s what Dad calls “empirical evidence”.
I wished the fisherman continued luck and advanced further down the pier, glancing back to see the fog swallow up the funny little man.
Arriving at the cement ship, I ventured down a small set of stairs leading to the deserted deck. The top of