The Price
A Short Story
“I don’t know how you hit them from so far off, Randy,” the old woman said, shaking her head at the lanky young man.
Randy was tall and thin like his father. He wasn’t muscular, but he had the sinewy strength of a fishing pole. You might bend it in half, but it’ll snap back into place all the same. His teeth and his Adam’s apple were a little too large, but his eyes were a pristine blue and his skin was a healthy tan. His dark brown hair was pushed back underneath a cap, but he cut an otherwise professional figure. At least as professional as a pest control man could.
He smiled. “My daddy always said I had a cool head and a steady hand. I figure that’s pretty important when it comes to shootin’ stuff.”
“Good riddance I say.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a 20-dollar bill, and offered it to him.
He held up his hands in a gesture of refusal. “No ma’am, that’s your tenth iguana, and the tenth one is free! Consider it the Triple R Pest Removal rewards program. Plus I got a couple calls over in Cape Coral this afternoon, and I charge them extra.” He winked, and she gratefully put the cash back in her purse.
“Things are just so tight these days with Robert needing more care.”
“You don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, iguana-related or not. You and Mr. Danube are about as close to family as I have these days, and you know we take care of our own.”
Mrs. Danube patted his arm affectionately and turned slowly to walk back inside. Her beige stucco bungalow was common in this part of Florida. The screen door to the back porch clattered shut, spring hinges shrieking. Randy smiled sadly as he watched her go. He hoped she’d be ok with Mr. Danube being in hospice.
He walked over to the small stand of citrus trees in Mrs. Danube’s backyard that the iguana had previously inhabited. A gentle breeze picked up and the smell of orange blossoms ticked his nose. It was early spring in Alva, FL, and the temperatures were already climbing into the high 80s. He picked the iguana up off the ground. It was about three feet in length and had a tiny .22 caliber pellet-sized hole behind its eye. It was perfectly ordinary so he wouldn’t be keeping it.
Richard Randall Richardson stashed his air rifle in the truck bed lockbox, tossed the iguana in a trash bag, and climbed into his red 1982 GMC pickup. He drove slowly through town before turning south on Broadway towards the river.
He held his breath as he crossed the bridge that spanned the Caloosahatchee River and merged onto Highway 80, heading west towards Fort Meyers. He had six calls to check in on between there and Cape Coral, so he’d be out for several hours. Luckily he’d been able to take care of Mrs Danube first thing that morning.
His radio was tuned to 101.9, Gator Country, and he hung his arm out the window as he cruised down the highway. Today he would bag his third albino iguana. [I think maybe some more work needs to happen here] While standard green iguanas were copious and an infestation, albino iguanas were rare, and therefore valuable. Randy had only seen two in the past two years. Those two were packed in ice in his deep freezer. He had checked his numbers multiple times, using the ancient solar powered calculator that lived on his father’s desk. He knew just how much those lizards were worth.
Three was the number he’d identified. That was the number that would convince Mr. McCoy to bless Randy’s proposed marriage to Lily, Mr. McCoy’s only daughter.
“Surely that’ll be enough,” he said as he pulled into his next client’s driveway. The neighborhood was like most retirement communities in South Florida. More golf carts than cars, and homes that were all exactly the same with the exception of the “beachy” exterior colors the owners got to choose. Pastel pink, light teal, mint green, coral, sky blue. A rainbow of monotony that sat in front of wetlands. Wetlands where iguanas love to live.
Randy checked the address for his first call, and climbed out of his truck. Before he walked to the front door, he did his routine uniform check. Collared shirt tucked in straight? Check. Name tag? Check. Business cards in pocket? Check. He walked to the front door and knocked.
Randy quickly dispensed with the two iguanas that had taken up residence in the backyard. They weren’t what interested him. He allotted himself an hour per job so he had time to hunt the wetlands. After stashing the dead lizards in the trash bag with the other one from Mrs. Danube’s house, he circled around behind the fence line and started making his way into the underbrush. It was dense, but he wore thick pants and waterproof boots for a reason.
It was tough, sweaty work that required physical and mental stamina. There was no tree stand like deer hunting, and no baiting like fishing. The lizards were fast and he had to find one preoccupied by eating or sunbathing in order to have long enough to get a shot off.
His first excursion into the brush was unsuccessful. “Next one for sure,” he thought to himself. It was important to remain positive, especially when he felt luck was on his side, like he did today.
House after house, scratch after scratch, green iguana after green iguana, he came up empty. He trudged into the wetlands behind his sixth house, grumbling to himself. “Sorry Lily, I guess today isn’t the day.” Maybe he’d gotten all the albino iguanas in his radius of work. Today had just seemed so perfect to complete the task.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he missed the tall palmetto plant in his peripherals. The sharp leaf cut him right over his left eyebrow. He clapped his hand over it, the sweat immediately stinging the wound. His palm came away bloody.
“Well if ever there was a sign to turn back, I guess that was it.” He checked his watch. He still had ten minutes allotted for this call before he’d return to Alva. He stood there for a moment. Wavering.
“You’re about as stubborn as they come, Randall,” Lily said. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you give up on anything. You always think there’s light just around the next corner. It’s what I love about you.” She squeezed his hand tightly. “I know it feels impossible to move on. No mother should ever leave their child. This wasn’t your fault. Don’t let this change you.”
Randy set his jaw and wiped his bloody eyebrow on his sleeve. “Just around the corner,” he muttered. He worked his way past a particularly dense patch of forest when he came to a small game trail. He followed it for about 30 yards before he came to the edge of a clearing. On the opposite side was an orange tree, just like the one in Mrs. Danube’s back yard. Sitting on the branch, eating one of the fruits was a bone-white iguana. It looked to be about 3.5 feet in length and it was sitting broadside to Randy. A perfect setup. An easy shot.
Randy unslung his air rifle from his shoulder, brought the gun up to firing position, and flipped the safety off. He began his internal routine.
Sight the target.
Deep breath.
Slow exhale.
Even trigger pressure.
Follow the shot.
It was the same every time he took a shot. Except this time. He had no trouble sighting the target. But his breath was ragged with tension. “This is it!” he thought to himself. “This is the last one. I won’t get an easier shot than this.” His hands started to shake. His cut was still stinging from the sweat, and blood from the cut was runnelling down into his eye, casting everything in a pinkish hue. He couldn’t wipe it away. He couldn’t risk the iguana hearing him, or catching the movement. No, it had to be now. It had to be this shot.
He set his jaw, clenched every muscle to still the shaking, and squeezed the trigger.
He missed.
He saw the leaves above the lizard get shredded as the pellet ripped through them. The iguana without hesitation scurried to the backside of the branch and down the tree, into the underbrush.
A soft groan escaped from his lips. His hands went numb and he sat down on the ground, laying his rifle next to him. Tears began to mix with the blood and sweat.
He’d wasted the chance.
He’d be given the opportunity to quit, his perseverance had been rewarded, and he missed.
He didn’t know how long he sat there. The sun was tracking behind the trees, shadows lengthening. Randy stood, grimacing as the blood rushed back into his legs. The cut over his eye had finally started to crust over. He reached down to pick up his rifle. “Life is what you make it,” he said. It was something his dad had said the night his mom had left.
“There are precious few things you have control over in life. But you always have control of your response.”
The pain had been evident in his father’s voice, and he hadn’t tried to shield or deflect Randy from it. He stood in it. Shoulders back. Eyes front.
Just as Randy was about to begin the trek back to his truck, he caught movement in the same tree across the clearing.
The lizard had returned.
Randy’s heart leapt. He wouldn’t waste this chance. He shouldered the gun, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.
The lizard fell dead instantly.
Randy let out a strangled cry of joy and relief.
He walked over to the dead lizard and picked it up by its tail. Randy smiled. “Time to get you to Mr. McCoy,” he said, and began practically skipping back to his truck.
“Evenin’ Mr. McCoy.”
Mr. McCoy had come outside when he saw Randy’s headlights coming down the driveway, and was making his way down the front steps. Twilight had started to descend, and Mr. McCoy’s face was shadowed as he was backlit by the front porch lights.
“Hey Randy, did one of those lizards finally fight back?” he asked, gesturing to the bandaid over his eye. Randy had gone home and showered off the sweat and grime before donning his best shirt and his cleanest work hat. Tonight was important and he wanted to look the part.
“No sir, I lost a fight with a plant this time.”
“Well I trust you gave as good as you got,” Mr. McCoy chuckled. “How was hunting today?”
“Good. Was over at Mrs. Danube’s place this morning.” Mr. McCoy nodded, “How’s Robert doing?”
“They moved him into hospice.” The statement hung in the air with the humidity.
“So what can I do ya for, this evening? I’ve got to get dinner finished up.”
“One second, Mr. McCoy.” Randy jogged to his truck, grabbed a big cooler from the bed and lugged it back over to the porch.
“So I was doing the math, and I think this is enough.” Randy popped open the cooler to reveal three mostly frozen albino iguanas.
Confusion lodged itself between the older man’s eyebrows, and stayed there until they released in a resigned sigh.
“Randy, what is this?” His voice was weary.
“Well, like I said, I’ve done the math. What you’re looking at is $150,000 worth of albino iguanas. These suckers are rare. Took me three years to get them.”
“Son, a thing is only as valuable as people are willing to spend on it. Who is going to spend that much money on a dead lizard?”
Randy frowned. He hadn’t thought of that before. “I figured that someone out there has enough money to pay that much. People buy all sorts of weird things that cost a lot of money. I just thought this would show you that I can provide and give her what she needs. To give you the peace of mind you might not have had up to this point.”
“Randy, this is what, the fourth time you’ve asked my blessing to marry my daughter? You’re a good kid, and I mean that. I know you haven’t had an easy go of it since your dad passed. Hell, you didn’t have it easy before that either. And I know you work hard, but—.” He stopped short, clipping off the comment that he’d wanted to say for years now. But this had to stop, for the boy’s sake.
“But I want something better for my daughter. Something better than half-frozen iguanas and Alva.” He frowned and continued softly, “something better than what I had. What I was able to give her.” He gestured around himself. “She deserves better than all this. And you’re– well, you’re this. Honestly, the simple fact that you thought three dead lizards would convince me of anything other than your inability to give her something better, shows me you can’t.”
He began shaking his head. “No, I won’t have her stuck here. She should have a choice, and her being with you would take that choice away.” He grimaced. “I just don’t think you’ll ever be anything other than more of the same.”
The cicadas buzzed and the frogs were singing. The moon had started its journey and stars were winking into view. The truth was there, out in the open. The tension taut like a fishing line with a set hook. Mr. McCoy looked ashamed to have been so blunt, but his jaw was set.
“My mom and dad got married really young. She left right after I was born, and he couldn’t really move on. I think it’s why he hates this place so much, but also feels like he can’t leave. Like there’s some part of him that thinks she’ll come home.” Lily had told him this after the first time he asked for Mr. McCoy’s blessing. He’d been 18 and just graduated high school. Randy was devastated when Mr. McCoy said no.
“How do I convince him?” he’d asked her.
“You just gotta give him time. He still thinks we’re too young.”
Randy shrugged his shoulders like Mr. McCoy had stated the obvious.
“I used to think you were saying no because of my age. But I got older and you still said no. Then I thought it was because I didn’t dress like an adult. So I started wearing nicer clothes. No more grease stained jeans and sweaty trucker caps. Then I thought it was because you didn’t believe I could provide for her. So I started my own company, worked everyday for three years, and brought you proof.”
He paused, straightening his back. “You don’t know your daughter very well, if you think she’s ever going to be stuck anywhere.”
Mr. McCoy’s mouth gaped open and he clenched his fists. Randy opened his hands in a placating gesture. “But if what it takes is me getting a job in some big city like Fort Meyers, or Orlando, or Jacksonville, or New York City, I’ll do it.”
“You’re missing the point, Randy.” Mr. McCoy began. Randy cut him off.
“Mr. McCoy, your daughter has been the only consistently kind person to me my entire life. She was a levy when the hurricanes hit.” He took a steadying breath, the emotion creeping into his voice. “Truth is, I’ve loved her since I can remember.”
He continued, “My daddy always said you gotta chase the good you want for yourself. Nobody is gonna give it to you. Mr. McCoy, your daughter is about the best thing I can imagine in this whole wide world. There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for her. Except for quit.”
The two men stood there for a few more minutes in silence. Then Mr. McCoy walked over to Randy and clapped him on the shoulder before pulling him into a hug, then he turned to walk back inside.
Randy and Lily were sitting on the opened tailgate of his pickup. It was late and still warm, but a breeze coming off the river bank kept the air from stifling their conversation. Randy glanced at her. Her chin was tilted up as she studied the stars. He knew she was looking for Orion’s Belt.
“There’s Orion’s Belt!” She exclaimed, pointing to the three stars in a line.
“I asked your dad for permission to marry you again, today.”
She frowned but didn’t take her eyes off the heavens. “Randall, how many times are you gonna put yourself through that? I told you, say the word and we’ll leave. I’m yours and I always have been.”
“You know I’d never feel right doing that. I told you, it’s not the honorable thing. It’s not what I want.”
“Well what about what I want? Why should I let my daddy dictate my life like that? When we get married, it’s our life, our roof I live under.”
“Your daddy always says he loves you more than anything in this world. And if you think I’m the kind of man who would go behind his back, then maybe you don’t know me very well at all,” he harrumphed and folded his arms across his chest.
She turned towards him, a glint in her eye. She started poking his ribs. “Richard Randall Richardson, I know you better than you know the engine block of this GMC and the river right there. I know you better than you can even imagine. And I know your heart better than I do my own,” she added, her voice whispering with affection.
He slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close like he’d done hundreds of times on countless evenings in this very spot. “Well, I won’t be asking your dad’s permission again. Turns out, all he needed was a few albino iguanas.”