THE BEACH
Sunday was the beach day. Fish and Chips had spent the night at the other end of the island at Chip’s condo at the beach. Chips worked as an engineer for a furniture manufacturing company in the middle of the state. She did well. Fish had introduced me to Maxwell Beauregard Rules, a clean-cut, gray haired southern gentleman who was often typecast as a Klansman, whenever he was called to do extra work, in some of the movies and programs filmed in the Wilmington area. After a morning visit to Toots, and my daily ritual of tai-chi in a vacant lot, I sauntered over to the beach with reading and writing material and a bamboo straw mat. Maxwell was sitting alone in a lounging chair, wearing a straw hat and sunglasses, sipping bottled spring water through a straw.
It was April, but sunny and hot. Hardly any people were swimming; not very many people were on the beach. Maxwell invited me to grab a patch of sand as he pointed out flocks of large brown pelicans and the bikini clad young women and other visual candy. The finger he pointed with had a confederate flag decorating the nail. He was more daring than darling, with an inquisitive mind and engaging manner. He owned and managed several properties on the island and catered to disengaged Yankees who didn’t mind being verbally abused by a southern gentleman.
“Yankees! Y’all bring money and leave. I like that. I just have to double up on my insulin when y’all around.”
Once the word got out that we were working on developing a film about hemophilia, everyone began telling me their ills. I was torn between getting some Jack Kervorkian cards to pass out or simply listening. Nobody really cared about hemophilia except for hemophiliacs, their families, and those who benefited, the homecare and pharmaceutical industries. There were so many distractions and temptations that it didn’t take me long to realize that I was there for a reason, because the blood thing kept sucking me in deeper and deeper, keeping me focused: The Royal Disease, Rasputin the Mad Monk, the “bleeder” thing, the HIV thing, the AIDS thing. I was hooked.
“If it’s fundable, it’s doable.” Was it fundable? That was the big question.