Page 31 of Gulfside Girls
The weather app called for a high in the low seventies and sunshine, but with a possibility of an afternoon thunderstorm.
Ah, Florida. Wasn’t that the forecast every day?
Ali decided her legs were too white for shorts, so she opted for her most comfortable jeans, and this time a plain white t-shirt and her platform Chuck Taylor’s. She had good Chucks and knock around Chucks in her car. She opted for the knock-arounds that she didn’t worry about keeping white.
Something told her that the state of the plot of land they owned had to be rough. Really rough, or why else wouldn’t someone have tried to sell it? If it was anything but scrub or a garbage heap, why hadn’t their dad tried to vacation there?
That alone told her she was about to encounter some sort of real estate albatross.
Ali got in her Jeep, plugged the address in, and did as Waze instructed.
“Turn right on Gulf Boulevard. In 1/8 of a mile, your destination will be on the left.”
“Okay, so I could have walked,” she replied to Waze. Ali and Waze were now best friends after driving around Atlanta during rush hour together.
She traveled a few numbers past the Seashell Shack.
“You’ve reached your destination.”
But it came up on Ali so fast that she went past it. Waze began to get a real attitude about her stopping, turning around, and getting back on track.
“Okay, okay!”
Waze was a crappy best friend.
She pulled into a little grocery parking lot and then turned right to try to get to her target address.
A small oval sign, more weathered than even the Seashell Shack sign, dangled from a post. There was a cartoon turtle, a wave, and the greeting,Welcome to Sea Turtle Resort.
“Okay, well, this has to be it.”
“Like I said,” Waze replied.
Well, that’s what she imagined Waze would say.
Ali pulled into a gravel covered and unkept front parking area. Her Jeep was the only vehicle in the parking lot. Overgrown palm trees, tropical plants of some variety, and—what were they called? Mangrove?They all seemed to be trying to overtake the space. She clicked the fob of her Jeep.
A paint-chipped little office building indicated that this was the right address. She had no idea what she’d find. Or if it was even inhabited.
She walked to the screen door and opened it. Inside were four washers and four dryers. None in rotation at the moment. To the right of that a counter, behind that, another door.
There was a vending machine with what appeared to be ancient food items and dusty beverages.
“Oh, man, this is the lobby at the motel at the end of the world,” she said under her breath.
There was no sign of a manager or a clerk, and she was surprised that there was even this much of a structure here.
She looked at a map on the wall behind the counter.
It was an arc of small cottages arranged in a half circle, each with a cute little name. There was also a hook and key on each image of a cottage.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Ali walked back out of the office. She walked further into the overgrowth, half expecting the swamp thing to come out and grab her.
After navigating a trellis-type entrance, she couldn’t believe her eyes. As the map depicted, there were six cottages in various states of disrepair.
Cottages? On the beach? Did they even have those in Florida anymore?She figured this explained why the was property was in their name. It was a white elephant or something.Maybe they were built out of asbestos?
