My original plan had been to catch a double-feature, and I got to the Regal Nickelodeon just as "My Sister's Keeper" was starting, so I saw that one first. It was well-acted and delivered all the heartbreaks you would expect (although I understand it takes major liberties with the novel from which it was adapted), although oftentimes I found myself wishing director Nick Cassavettes had had more faith in the actors to carry the material instead of slathering so many songs on the soundtrack that were programmed to tell us which emotion we should be feeling at any given time. I had also expected it to be more of a courtroom drama, since it's about a young girl (Abigail Breslin) named Anna who sues her parents (Cameron Diaz and Jason Patric) for "medical emancipation": Basically, Anna has been used as -- to put it crudely -- spare parts for her leukemia-stricken sister, Kate, all her life. Now, when doctors want to remove one of Anna's kidneys to donate to Kate, Anna refuses, even though she loves her sister deeply. The provocative legal questions are more or less brushed aside in favor of domestic drama and a teen love story.
Anyhow, the movie got out at 2:30 and "Tyson," the next film on my list, wasn't scheduled to start until 4. Plenty of time for a late lunch. Except that the Nickelodeon is in the middle of a wildlife preserve, and there are literally no other businesses around. At all.
I started walking down the road, sure I would find some kind of cafe or sandwich shop -- nothing. To top it off, by the time I realized this, I must have already been about a mile away from the theater. And this was the time when the granite-colored sky finally decided it was time to let loose with a few raindrops, which forced me to make a quick decision. If the rain really started up, I would be drenched by the time I made it back to the theater (where there was nothing to eat except popcorn and candy); if I went on ahead, I might find some place to rest and maybe get something substantial to eat. So I went on. "Tyson" would have to wait.
Not long afterward, I caught sight of a gas station -- with a Dunkin Donuts in it, thank you, Lord -- and that, of course, was the exact moment the shower came to an abrupt halt. Dunkin's lunch menu is limited to say the least and I had ample time to read it since the woman working behind the counter was engaged in a bitter, long-winded discussion with her mother (a customer) about what constitutes proper child care and how many hours of sleep a working parent deserves and which of the cashier's friends qualify as acceptable babysitters in the mother's eyes. Both women were speaking in shrill, rather loud voices, but even though there was a manager nearby they did not quiet down and he did not intercede to suggest that maybe this was the kind of confrontation that should take place at home, not in a ersatz restaurant.
The mother finally gave up and left. I ordered a grilled cheese flatbread, which didn't seem like too much of a stretch, but from the expression on the cashier's face you would have thought I'd demanded she whip up beef Wellington. With sandwich in hand, I returned to the road, convinced I could walk a little bit further and shave a few more dollars off that cab fare.
I've made smarter moves. About 10 minutes later, while I was walking along a woodsy stretch with no houses or businesses whatsoever, the rain made an unwelcome return and it was a mite more insistent than it had been before. If this had been happening on the island, I might have summoned up the courage to stick out my thumb to one of the passing cars. Unfortunately, I was in the real world, where hitchhikers are barely one notch above swine flu carriers and panhandlers. So I picked up the pace, navigating around crushed plastic cups, used diapers, discarded gloves, a faded and ton-up copy of "What Daddies Do Best" and other random rubbish strewn along the shoulder.
The rain did stop, although I was no closer to a commercial district. Instead, I saw farms, forests and a couple of clusters of pre-fab housing communities that looked as if they'd been designed for the Stepford Wives to move into; one group of almost identical houses, all painted a watery gray and trimmed in white, was downright eerie and I wondered how many of them were sold since every driveway was empty and every yard utterly barren.
I used the Google Maps feature on my phone to check if I was going in the right direction to get back to the mall. Affirmative: Only four more miles, it told me. Now you hear "four miles" and you think, "That's not very far." And it's not, if you are in a car on a bus. On foot, it's an entirely different experience, especially when there is nowhere to stop and rest along the way. I kept trying to convince myself there would be a place just around the next bend in the road; instead, I found more of the same.
By the time I reached the rather meager-looking highway the mall was on, I calculated that I was already more than two-thirds of the way back. What cab driver is going to go out of his or her way to pick up someone who's only going to travel a mile anyhow? No point in stopping now.
I reached the mall and made it to the trolley at 4:40, which gave me 20 minutes to shop before departure back to Woods Hole. I needed an external hard drive and some recordable CDs for my computer and I knew these items would carry a much heftier price tag on the island than they would in Falmouth. So I once again ventured into WalMart -- wishing I could wear a bag over my head -- and found the items (admittedly at very reasonable prices). I boarded the trolley and started another bumpy ride back to the Steamship Authority. My legs were throbbing a bit, although my two-and-a-half-hour walk had saved me nearly $30 and had certainly warmed my legs up for the full week's worth of walking I will be doing at the Toronto International Film Festival in September.
How far exactly had I gone? I consulted Google Maps again and found that, with one accidental detour thrown in, I had plodded along for close to eight miles. That's almost as far as Martha's Vineyard is from the mainland. Thank goodness I do not have the power to walk on water -- although it would save me ferry fare.
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