Read Online Reinventing Mike Lake by R.W. Jones - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: R.W. Jones
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asked me to put my dog into the kitchen and picked up the cat and placed it outside of the window.
“Hey, I’m Frank, Jean’s husband. I guess she didn’t tell you,” he said, while reaching out and shaking my hand. “We started leaving food out for the cats down in the courtyard by the pool, and they sort of became part of the charm of the place. A lot of people come here just because of the cats. They’ve grown accustomed to coming into visitors’ rooms.”
First, I apologized profusely for waking him up, and everyone else within a three mile radius, but he just said, “Don’t worry about it; it happens all the time. Jean usually forgets to tell our guests about the cats, and sometimes I don’t get to you all in time. If you don’t want them to come in, just shut the windows. They have their regular shots, so there’s nothing to worry about, unless you’re paying for them,” he added with a tired chuckle.
I liked the idea of cats coming in out of the heat, and even though I wouldn’t mind leaving out food and water myself I knew I would have to make sure Bahama was okay with the idea before trying that. My parents had cats, so she was used to them, so I figured it wouldn’t be a problem once Bahama got used to the way things worked around there.
Frank once again told me to not worry about the disruption and to enjoy my stay, but after that start I knew I wasn’t going to sleep anymore. My stomach was growling, having not eaten much that day, so I went quietly downstairs to the refrigerator that I was told held the fresh fruit. I guess most of the supply of fruit had yet to been restocked, so all I saw was water and a type of fruit I had never seen before. My stomach was growling in anticipation of food, so I gave the mystery fruit a go.
The fruit was a yellowish green color, which I could see from the glow of a street light through a window in the downstairs kitchen because I hadn’t turned on the light. It was very oddly shaped, with what felt like ruffles. I didn’t know where to start. I just sunk my teeth into it, and once I got through the sour outside I was met with a delicious sweet flavor in the middle. A couple minutes into making a mess of my face and shirt due to the dripping sticky juice, a light turned on. The embarrassments never end, I thought.
“Most people cut that first,” declared Jean, before heading into the kitchen and grabbing a knife and plate. She saw me rubbing my face with the back of my hand, so she also handed me a paper towel. Jean then grabbed another one of the fruits from the fridge, cut it up into clean slices, and held up one when she finished. “Star fruit. Can you guess how they got their name?”
I couldn’t remember the last time I needed someone to cut my food for me, but was thankful Jean was there. Over three or four more star fruits, this time with me cutting them, I told her about what I was doing on this trip. I spoke about my wife, but didn’t get into too many details.
Jean didn’t speak much but I could tell she was listening, and it was very therapeutic for me. She reminded me of my mother in a lot of ways, but was quieter. She was the type of person, the kind I had met just a few times in my life, where she almost commanded me to spill my soul without saying a signal word. She didn’t offer much in the way of advice, but instead just listened.
It was nearly 3 a.m. when our conversation wrapped-up. I could tell she was getting even more tired because she was speaking less and less, but over the weeks I learned Frank did most of the talking in their union, which seemed just fine for Jean.
Before heading to bed, Jean
“Hey, I’m Frank, Jean’s husband. I guess she didn’t tell you,” he said, while reaching out and shaking my hand. “We started leaving food out for the cats down in the courtyard by the pool, and they sort of became part of the charm of the place. A lot of people come here just because of the cats. They’ve grown accustomed to coming into visitors’ rooms.”
First, I apologized profusely for waking him up, and everyone else within a three mile radius, but he just said, “Don’t worry about it; it happens all the time. Jean usually forgets to tell our guests about the cats, and sometimes I don’t get to you all in time. If you don’t want them to come in, just shut the windows. They have their regular shots, so there’s nothing to worry about, unless you’re paying for them,” he added with a tired chuckle.
I liked the idea of cats coming in out of the heat, and even though I wouldn’t mind leaving out food and water myself I knew I would have to make sure Bahama was okay with the idea before trying that. My parents had cats, so she was used to them, so I figured it wouldn’t be a problem once Bahama got used to the way things worked around there.
Frank once again told me to not worry about the disruption and to enjoy my stay, but after that start I knew I wasn’t going to sleep anymore. My stomach was growling, having not eaten much that day, so I went quietly downstairs to the refrigerator that I was told held the fresh fruit. I guess most of the supply of fruit had yet to been restocked, so all I saw was water and a type of fruit I had never seen before. My stomach was growling in anticipation of food, so I gave the mystery fruit a go.
The fruit was a yellowish green color, which I could see from the glow of a street light through a window in the downstairs kitchen because I hadn’t turned on the light. It was very oddly shaped, with what felt like ruffles. I didn’t know where to start. I just sunk my teeth into it, and once I got through the sour outside I was met with a delicious sweet flavor in the middle. A couple minutes into making a mess of my face and shirt due to the dripping sticky juice, a light turned on. The embarrassments never end, I thought.
“Most people cut that first,” declared Jean, before heading into the kitchen and grabbing a knife and plate. She saw me rubbing my face with the back of my hand, so she also handed me a paper towel. Jean then grabbed another one of the fruits from the fridge, cut it up into clean slices, and held up one when she finished. “Star fruit. Can you guess how they got their name?”
I couldn’t remember the last time I needed someone to cut my food for me, but was thankful Jean was there. Over three or four more star fruits, this time with me cutting them, I told her about what I was doing on this trip. I spoke about my wife, but didn’t get into too many details.
Jean didn’t speak much but I could tell she was listening, and it was very therapeutic for me. She reminded me of my mother in a lot of ways, but was quieter. She was the type of person, the kind I had met just a few times in my life, where she almost commanded me to spill my soul without saying a signal word. She didn’t offer much in the way of advice, but instead just listened.
It was nearly 3 a.m. when our conversation wrapped-up. I could tell she was getting even more tired because she was speaking less and less, but over the weeks I learned Frank did most of the talking in their union, which seemed just fine for Jean.
Before heading to bed, Jean
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