A Short Story…
Ida, really short for nothing, raised giggles and became quite a hit in school, mostly because of the black and white films of the 1940s. Ida Lupino had been a major film and TV star. Ida wasn’t a name thought up by her parents for the film star of raw emotion, tough-talking, intelligence, confidence, sinister, brittle, unhinged, gentle, frightened, sassy, sexy, funny, jittery, and vulnerable portrayals. Ida’s father actually suggested the name and her mother absolutely hated it.
Ida actually loved the name. It caught people off guard and it made people stop and think. Her first husband joked about the name and declared her name as You-da-one. Ida thought it funny for about two seconds. The marriage lasted just a little longer.
The name constantly came in handy and was good for a memory tool for both business and friendships as well. Today was one of those days where magic was working . . . all by itself. Ida was interested in renting a room with a foggy view at Ocean Shores. Her favorite month to relax was June, but she had a couple of days with zero clients involved and February seemed ideal.
She checked in and then visited a grocery store for a few supplies. Afterwards she drove a short way down the street to see what the current film was at the one movie house in town. Back in her room she added the film to her daily work.
The next morning the sun was up, but Ida wasn’t. She stayed in bed looking out at the view and weather for the weekend. Then memories and fake stories roamed through her mind.
At low tide Ida took advantage of it even in the cold. She ran bare foot in and out of the surf and let the soft and wet sand tickle her toes until she stepped on something, a crunch of glass. She was in pain, there was no one else along the shoreline, and she was quite a ways from her motel room. She had tried looking between her toes to find out where the damage was, but everything was sandy.
The wind was starting to pick up a bit and Ida couldn’t see just sitting and waiting. Rain would probably be next. She stood up and hopped on the one good foot. This worked well for about eight or nine feet. Ida tried the bad foot again and stopped after try number 1. “I am not going to crawl!” became her new slogan.
The wind continued to pick up power along with the rain. After another ten minutes a miracle showed up. “Having problems?” was just loud enough for Ida to turn and look at the face of a friendly soul, . . . a strong looking hiker who obviously came to help. He backed up to Ida and bent down a bit so she could crawl onto his back and then the two of them headed away from the incoming tide.
After a couple hundred yards the helper began to stumble a bit and was almost at full dropping to his knees on his next step when the two reached his door. Once inside, they caught their breath. As they warmed a bit, the hiker gave his name followed by Ida who freely gave her name as “Ida . . . Ida Fool.” The young man didn’t get the joke, but Ida didn’t care. She just laughed. Ida soaked her feet in the tub and cleaned off the sand and any pieces of glass still around. In seconds her foot felt better. They both were still in their clothes and nodded off. A few hours later Ida woke up, left a “thank you” note for “My Savior” and quietly closed the door then retreated to her rented room and slept the rest of the day and night away.
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