As Lea stepped from the plane the heat hit her as the opening of an oven. She could not believe she was expected to walk down that long stair case,   across the tarmac, into the arrival lounge, but there were a lot of things she hadn’t expected.

Being alone in Jamaica was one of them.

 Lynn was her best friend and they were supposed to have gone on this trip together. They had saved for a year, gotten tickets early at rock bottom  prices. Three weeks ago Lynn met a man.

The tickets were non-refundable, non-transferable, etc. But in the unwritten law of unmarried women, nothing took priority over a marriageable man. Not money and certainly not friendship; a marriageable man superseded everything. If the tickets were refundable, transferable, if there was any way to postpone the trip, Lea would have. But there was no sense in her losing money because Lynn met a man. So here goes Lea, by herself to a land far away. Whoopie!

The line at Customs was unbelievable long and slow and Lea felt ungainly. Her bags were slipping off her arm, the stupid heels she had worn crippling, the heat, but most of all, being alone when everyone else was with someone. She tried to imagine all sorts of unattached men at the hotel, each one handsomer than the other, but had the feeling it was going to be like the 9th grade dance. Two weeks of the 9th grade dance.

That was only one of many moments when Lea got to feel the pain of loneliness in a crowd. Watching everyone swirling about the floor, wishing someone would ask her to dance, but no one asking. It was the longest three hours in the history of Earth.

She had gone to the bathroom four times, outside to smoke twice, to the punch bowl five times. She had sentences with each girl in her class before they were scooped up by their boyfriends or a hopeful. When Lea’s father arrived to take her home she was grateful, but couldn’t let him know. Couldn’t let anyone know she had gone to a dance and no one had asked her.

As the line at Customs crawled Lea warned herself not to fill with negativity. Anything could happen. This wasn’t the ninth grade. She didn’t have to wait for her father’s rescue. There were thousands of people in Jamaica, she must find one to talk to. There must be one man who came alone. There must. Finally escaping Customs, onto the bus sent by the hotel, her eyes searched for a man; a possible. Under forty, over twenty, unattached.

The two she saw seemed a couple. She looked out of the window. She didn’t see anything. The choice was either to have lost all that money, (and having spent so much on her wardrobe she’d be set for the beach for the next ten years) or try to have a good time. She decided she was going to have a good time.

The bus arrived and after confusion and discussion and lies, (Lea realised she couldn’t tell them Lynn wasn’t coming, only that she didn’t make this flight), she reached the room, a nice double all to herself. She assumed it wouldn’t last long, but she’d take what she got and enjoy it while she had it. It was afternoon, no reason not to go to the beach. Lea pulled on her pink two piece, her matching hat slathered suntan oil on her skin, grabbed the towel provided by the hotel and left her room.
-

She walked to the shore, couldn’t find an empty chaise
 lounge, didn’t want to squeeze in amid kids and old
 people, located spot somewhere private and lay on
 the big towel.

It wasn’t ten minutes when she heard a male voice,
 opened her eyes. Sitting beside her, offering to rub
oil on her back was a very black man with dreadlocks.
 He was not young, handsome, in fact, he was creepy.
 Lea told him no. He continued to sit as if ”no” was an
invitation, then began speaking in the most fraudulent
American accent.

It was offensive to hear him drawling in this pathetic version of a Georgia sharecropper. In a louder voice, she exclaimed: “Please Leave me Alone.”

He didn’t move, totally unafraid, unconcerned, then asked if she were married.

“Yes, and I’m waiting for my husband to join me, so please leave.” He sat another minute, then moved on to an older woman who had planted herself about ten feet away. This one really did have a husband. When he came up the fellow moved away.

Lea marched into the sea, the current surprised for it was stronger than expected. Another man, a little better looking than the first, approached and went through the same litany. She tried to ignore him, moving away, back, turning her head, everything but scream. And that was next.

Just before she did, up came another one, younger, better looking who said;

“Move from here Skibo, you don’t see the lady doesn’t want to be harassed?”

Skibo moved.

“Sorry about that.” He said.
 ”Thanks,” Lea hesitantly replied.
 ”Cha.” He dismissed.

She splashed a bit more, he stayed near, warning her about the current just as the first harasser returned. “Keep moving, Cudjoe,” her “saviour” said.
 ”You’re my bodyguard?” Lea asked, pretending she wasn’t uncomfortable with his company.
 ”I’d like to be.” He smiled, a perfect white smile, then turned away as if it were a joke.

She gave him a study, admiring his physique then asked him his name. “John.” He gave. “I’m Barbara,” she lied. “Good to meet you.” He said in a clear Jamaican accent. “Very good to meet you.” Lea replied, wondering why she had given him a false name. That’s when he asked; “How long you staying?”
 ”Two weeks.” “You have plenty of time, then.”
 ”For what?” she asked warily.
“To go to town, take the tours.” He tossed as if she were confused. “Some visitors only stay three or four days which isn’t enough.”

Lea had been suspicious when he asked how long she was staying but his answer seemed appropriate. She came from the sea, he didn’t follow. She had expected he would. There was the impression he had chased the others to make a niche for himself. Yet, he remained in the sea, not moving to speak to others, not seeming to do more than swim. Lea watched him, she suppose he felt it, as he turned, met her eyes, gave a one finger wave. She felt dubious, decided she had enough sea for one day, began to pack up, assuming he’d come racing to her side. He didn’t.

She walked up the beach, into the hotel, her room. She showered, put on her red shorts suit and went to get something to eat as the hotel was all inclusive. She didn’t like eating alone but there was no choice. Fortunately, she had started early, so as the restaurant began to fill she departed for her room. Lea switched on the television, watched two movies on the cable before the band started up and she couldn’t hear the dialogue. She put on her long white dress with the matching shoes and went down, sat at the bar, looking for a man. There weren’t any. Not in the way she meant.

There were locals, both black and white, but they seemed to be career drinkers. Others were old or waiting for someone. She saw fabulous drinks being prepared, with umbrellas, fruits, but it didn’t seem right to order one. It was like buying a birthday cake when you lived alone. She drank a beer, pretended she was listening to the music but actually impersonating herself at her 9th grade party when she pretended to listen to the music.

“If you want to really hear music you’ll have to go to a dance hall.” She spun quickly to the voice. It was John, dressed in jeans and a blue tee shirt. “Hmmm.” she reply, her eyes looking for someone, anyone else so she could smile, wave, make John believe she wasn’t alone. But she saw no one. John continued to speak. “Rarely does any first, even third rate entertainer perform at a hotel as the pay is so bad.” “How much?” she asked, not really interested.

“It wouldn’t really translate, you use U.S. dollars which are one to seventy of ours. Minimum wage is two thousand five hundred per week. If she told you that band receives about five thousand for their performance here tonight–.” “Each?” “No. Five thousand. To share.” “That’s not much.” “That’s why entertainment at the hotel is not much.” “Are you staying here?” she asked. “Not really, I live nearby, drop in once and a while. Anyway, nice seeing you, have to go.”

Lea was pleased he had to go. It suggested he wasn’t stalking her. It could be read as just passing by. He’d seen her difficulty this afternoon, stepped in. He just happened to be at the bar, said hello to be polite. Nothing to write home about. In fact, there was nothing to write home about. No one talked to her and she had the wonderful opportunity to watch other people dance and have a good time. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait until 10:30 to leave. she could go upstairs as soon as she felt the need. Which was two minutes after John left. She reached the empty room, turned up the sound on the T.V. watched a movie seen before, cried, then tried to force herself to sleep.

All she could think of was ninth grade, and of course, dream of watching her classmates all grown up, having a good time. Despite a wretched night, she was up early and on the beach about seven am. Two new members of the harassment posse arrived. Oddly, she wished John were there. She marched from the sea, looking to complain. The security guard seemed the best choice. When she approached and asked if he were the security he answered in the same ridiculous false accent so it sounded as if he’d said; “Yayess. Ahhhhh. Hammmm.”

Angry now, Lea stomped away, spewing invective in a loud voice about the harassment and made up her mind to speak to the Manager. She wondered if she could make a case against the Hotel and get back the money she spent on this wasted effort. The idea made her buoyant and she ate a full breakfast, then sat and considered for about an hour. To prove her point, she went back to the sea, but wasn’t harassed for quite some time. No doubt her outburst had some effect. But, then, a new batch washed in. Before the first of them could get within ten feet, she left the shore, up to her room, showered, came down and asked about “tours.”

The tours were not covered by her package, however $15 didn’t seem much. She booked one leaving tomorrow at eight a.m. more to get away from the hotel than see anything. She amused herself with thoughts of a lawsuit which took her mind off her loneliness for stray minutes at a time.

The day was about one hundred hours long. She sat on the terrace of her room facing the sea. Avoiding the Skibos and Cudjoes. A prisoner at an all inclusive hotel. Her mind circled around John. If he were one of the beach bums, wouldn’t he have been there this morning making his pitch? Perhaps he was on the level.

The next day she went on the tour so she could be moving around in her silence. She was returned to the hotel at 6 pm, fought her way into the restaurant, ate, then sat by the bar.

“You took a tour?” John was beside her. “How did you know?” “Didn’t see you,” he replied, “where’d you go?”

Lea told him, making it sound far more interesting and pleasant than it had been. So hungry for company she ordered him a beer. In a bit John suggested they sit on the beach; “Put a little distance between us and the noise.” The beach was right there, so she took her drink, but he led her parallel to the shore, along a narrow track.

It was very dark, frightening, in moments she felt deep within a jungle. Se couldn’t see anything, would have turned back but felt lost. Images of being raped and murdered slammed through her mind, until she took that final step and was in a tree embraced clearing with a view of the sea. It was Edenic. Yet, fear made her walk from the safety of the trees towards the sea to locate the Hotel. It was not a thousand yards away. The path, having snaked through the foliage suggested miles. To hide her fear, her doubt, she became more jovial. She babbled to dispel her fears of violence, her doubt of John’s bona fides.

Lea kept talking to prove this was a man who happened to find her attractive, not trying to use her.

It got later and later but every time she thought of going to that empty room she decided to remain on the beach. It seemed such a private, secret world, wonderfully mysterious, this little clearing in the bush. The band had stopped playing, she knew it about eleven thirty, not late. But it was so quiet and they were so alone in the clearing. Maybe it was the shooting star, the sound of the sea, or raw loneliness, but she kissed him. Then they made love. After, he led her farther from the hotel, keeping in the trees, to a hidden cove, where they could skinny dip. It was wonderful to feel the sea on her naked body. She felt beautiful for the first in her life.

For the next three days she lived to see John. He had her rent a car so that she could leave the hotel each morning alone, drive a few minutes, make a turn, pick him up.

Once in the car, he’d drive to a secluded spot, they’d greet in passion, then go somewhere.
 Lea paid.
 Lea always paid.

 She’d return to the hotel about dusk, eat, go up to her room until about ten. She’d come down, wander along the shore to meet John and make love on the beach, in “their” clearing. On the forth morning of her wonderful idyll, she happened to be on the other side of the hotel.

The ice machine in her corridor was empty. She had walked the long silent hall way to the other machine, and just so happened to glance through a window that gave a wonderful view of the kitchen’s back door. She saw John talking to Skibo and Cudjoe.

Maybe he was telling them their horoscopes or maybe he was setting them up for another scam. Most of her money was gone. But money wasn’t the problem. The problem was she felt so stupid. From the moment she saw him she’d though he was part of the Cudjoe/Skibo set but given herself false proof he was not. But he was. His “rescue” appearances, his absences, the lack of initiative, (for she had made the first move), were part of the “play”. The “affair” was all Lea. All Lea in her loneliness who had reached out and John had taken.

Angry, tears fought from her eyes and she stood in that corridor and cried, clamping her hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs. If she had been in her room, she could turn up the T.V. and hunker down in the bathroom for a nice long sob. But she wasn’t in her room.

Before anyone saw her, she pushed into a bathroom, a Men’s room, but any port in a storm, and washed her face. Eventually she caught control. She marched down to the manager’s office to complain about the harassment. She spoke long and hard, listed the harassment; (left out John, who no doubt was waiting for her to pick him up.)

Lea demanded her money back, threatened law suits. She didn’t shout, she kept her voice soft, but her words were hard. The manager sought to appease her. He would have the refund ready when she returned.

Lea hastened upstairs, hadn’t really unpacked, so tossed the few things in her suitcase. She looked around the room, and spat on the floor, then walked out.

As the manager calculated her refund, Lea got the first whiff of success since she landed on this island.