On the Island (11 page)

Chapter 22

—

T.J.

I was in the woods when Anna screamed. It came from the direction of the house, and when I cleared the trees I ran toward the sound.

She staggered up and collapsed on the ground. Gasping, she said, “Jellyfish.”

The outline of its tentacles had left red welts on her legs, stomach, and chest. I didn’t know what to do.

“Get them off me,” she yelled. When I looked down, I saw a few clear tentacles still attached to her stomach and chest. I pulled on one, and it stung me.

I ran to the water collector and grabbed the plastic container on the ground next to it. I filled it, ran back to Anna, and doused her with the freshwater. The tentacles didn’t rinse off and she screamed in pain, as if the freshwater made it worse.

“T.J., try seawater,” she said. “Hurry!”

Still holding the container, I ran down to the shore and filled it with water from the ocean. I sprinted back and this time, when I poured seawater on her, she didn’t scream.

She whimpered on the ground while I tried to figure out what to do next. I knew she still felt pain by the way she moved back and forth, struggling to find a comfortable position.

I remembered the tweezers and hurried to Anna’s suitcase to get them. When I returned, I pulled off the tentacles as fast as I could. She closed her eyes and moaned.

I had removed almost all of them when Anna’s skin started turning red, not only where she had been stung, but all over. Her eyelids and lips puffed up. I panicked and poured more seawater on her, but it didn’t help. Her eyes swelled shut.

I ran into the lean-to and found the first-aid kit, then flung myself back down on the sand next to her, opening the lid and dumping everything out. When I picked up the bottle with red liquid inside, I heard her voice in my head.

This can save your life. It’ll stop an allergic reaction.

Anna’s face resembled a balloon by then and her lips were so swollen the skin had split. I struggled with the childproof cap, but once I got it off I put my arm under her, lifted her head up, and poured the Benadryl down her throat. She coughed and sputtered; I had no idea how much I’d given her.

Her bikini top shifted when I lifted her. It was too big on her, since she’d lost weight, and when I looked down I saw a few tentacles inside it, still stinging her.

I yanked her top off, wincing at the marks on her chest. I laid her back down, poured the last of the seawater on her, and removed the tentacles with the tweezers.

I took off my T-shirt and covered her with it, tucking it gently underneath her. “You’ll be okay, Anna.” Then I held her hand and waited.

When her skin wasn’t as red and the swelling had gone down a little, I looked through the contents of the first-aid kit scattered on the ground. After reading all the labels, I chose a tube of cortisone cream.

I started with her legs and worked my way up, rubbing the cream onto the welts. “Does this help?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Her eyes weren’t swollen shut anymore, but she didn’t open them. “I’m so tired.”

I didn’t know if I should let her fall asleep, afraid I’d accidentally overdosed her. When I checked the bottle of Benadryl, there was still a lot left, and the label said it would cause drowsiness. “It’s okay, go to sleep.” She passed out before I finished speaking.

I rubbed the cream on her stomach, but when I got to her chest I hesitated. I didn’t think she realized I took her top off, or maybe she didn’t care.

I lifted my T-shirt off her chest and cringed.

Her boobs were a mess. Raised welts covered her skin, some of them already crusting over with dried blood.

I stayed focused, thinking only about helping her, and I applied the cream carefully with my fingertips. When I finished, I checked her over to see if I’d missed any welts.

Her skin color was back to normal and the swelling had disappeared. I waited a bit longer, and then I picked her up and carried her to the life raft.

Chapter 23

—

Anna

I opened my eyes and sighed in relief at the absence of burning, stinging pain. T.J. slept beside me, his breathing deep and steady. I was naked from the waist up, and something soft covered my chest like a blanket. I sat up and slipped the T-shirt over my head, inhaling the familiar smell of T.J. I rolled over on my side and slept again.

In the morning, I woke up alone. I pulled the hem of my T-shirt up. The faint red outline of the tentacles remained and probably would for quite some time. Raising it higher, I cringed at the condition of my breasts. Dark red streaks covered them, crusted and bloody. I let the T-shirt fall, stepped into shorts, and left the house to go to the bathroom.

T.J. was making a fire when I returned.

He stood up. “How do you feel?”

“Almost back to normal.” I lifted my T-shirt a little and showed him my stomach. He traced the marks with his finger.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, not really.”

“What about . . . ?” He pointed at my chest.

“Not as good.”

“I’m sorry. There were some tentacles inside your top, stinging you, and I didn’t notice right away.”

I had no recollection of him taking off my top, only the burning pain. “That’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“You turned red and swelled up.”

“I did?” I didn’t remember that either.

“I gave you Benadryl. It knocked you out.”

“You did exactly the right thing.”

He walked into the house and returned with the tube of cortisone cream. “I rubbed this on your skin. It seemed to help. You told me it did before you fell asleep.”

I took the tube from his outstretched hand. Had he rubbed it on my breasts, too? I pictured myself lying on the sand, wearing only the bottom half of my swimsuit while T.J. rubbed the cream onto my skin, and suddenly I couldn’t look at him.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Did you see the jellyfish before it stung you?”

“No, I just felt the pain.”

“I’ve never seen one in the lagoon.”

“Me neither. That one must have taken a wrong turn at the reef.” I walked into the house to get my toothbrush, squeezing a minuscule amount of toothpaste onto it. When I came out, I said, “At least it wasn’t one of the deadly ones.”

T.J. looked at me with an alarmed expression. “Jellyfish can kill you?”

I pulled the toothbrush out of my mouth. “Some of them.”

We stayed out of the water that day. I walked along the shore, squinting into the distance and checking for jellyfish, reminding myself that just because we couldn’t see the dangers of the ocean didn’t mean they weren’t there. I also wondered if the first-aid kit would someday cease to contain the one thing we needed to save either of our lives.

In June of 2003, T.J. and I had been living on the island for two years. I had turned thirty-two in May, and T.J. would be nineteen in a few months. He stood at least six-two by then, and there was nothing boyish about him. Sometimes, when I watched him fish, repair the house, or emerge from the woods that he knew like the back of his hand, I wondered if he thought of the island as his own. A place where he could do whatever he wanted and anything was acceptable, as long as we stayed alive.

We sat cross-legged, facing each other near the water’s edge so I could shave him. He leaned forward, resting his hands on my thighs for balance.

“How did I become your personal groomer?” I teased. “I’ve bathed you. I shave you.” I spread the shaving cream, which was almost gone, on his cheeks.

He gave me a big smile. “I’m lucky?”

“You’re spoiled. When we get off this island, you’re going to have to shave yourself.”

“That won’t be any fun at all.”

“You’ll manage.”

I finished shaving him and we walked back to the house, ready for a nap under the awning.

“You know, I would be happy to give you a bath or shave you, Anna. Just say the word.”

I laughed. “I’m fine, really.”

“Are you sure?” He was lying on the blanket beside me and he reached over and pulled my arm up, then ran the back of his hand along my underarm. “Wow, you are smooth.”

“Stop! I’m very ticklish.” I swatted his hand away.

“What about your legs?” he asked, and before I could answer, he leaned toward me and ran a hand slowly up my leg, from ankle to thigh.

The heat that flooded my body took me by surprise. I made a noise, a cross between a gasp and a moan, and it slipped out before I could stop it. T.J.’s eyes widened and he stared at me with his mouth hanging open. Then he smirked, clearly pleased with the effect his touch had on me.

I took a deep breath and said, “I can handle my own grooming.”

“I’m just trying to pay you back for helping me out all the time.”

“That’s very nice of you, T.J. Go to sleep.” He laughed and turned on his side, facing away from me. I lay on my back and closed my eyes.

He’s only eighteen. That’s too young.

A voice in my head said,
Technically, it’s old enough
.

A few days later, in the afternoon, T.J. and I swam with the dolphins. There were four of them, and we watched as they frolicked around us. I wanted to name them, but I couldn’t tell them apart.

When the dolphins swam away, T.J. and I sat on the shore. I dug my toes into the soft, white sand.

“Didn’t you say you were going to take a bath?” he asked.

“Yes. I didn’t bring anything with me though.” Our supplies were dwindling fast. We only washed with soap once a week now. I no longer noticed the way we smelled.

“I’ll get everything for you,” he said.

“You will?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, but I need clothes, too.”

“No problem.”

He brought it all down and left it on the sand. I waited until he walked away and then got undressed.

When I finished bathing, I stood for a minute drying in the sun. I walked over to the pile of clothes, expecting to find a tank top and shorts, or a bikini. What he picked out surprised me. He chose a dress, the only one I’d packed. It was one of my favorites, short and light blue with thin straps. He also selected a lacy, pink pair of bikini underwear, and I felt the heat on my cheeks. He’d forgotten a bra, or maybe he hadn’t, but I never wore one with that dress anyway.

I stepped into the underwear and slipped the dress over my head. When I reached the house, T.J. stared openly.

“Do we have dinner reservations I don’t know about?” I asked.

“I wish,” he said.

I stopped in front of him. “Why a dress?”

He shrugged. “I thought you’d look good in it.” He took his sunglasses off and looked me up and down. “And you do.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling the heat on my cheeks again.

He left to go fishing, and I sat on the blanket under the awning waiting for him to come back.

I often caught T.J. staring at me, but he’d never been so blatant about it. He was getting bolder, testing the waters. If he had been trying to hide his feelings before, he wasn’t as concerned with that now. I didn’t know of his intentions, or even if he had any, but living with him was about to get complicated.

That much I knew.

“I wish we had scissors.” I was sitting on the blanket outside the house a week later, trying to brush the knots out of my hair. It hung almost to my butt and drove me nuts. “I should have had you hack off some of my hair before the knife got so dull,” I said.

I glanced over at the fire.

“You’re thinking of burning some of it off, aren’t you?” T.J. asked.

I looked at him like he was crazy. “No.”

Maybe.

I continued brushing.

T.J. walked over and held out his hand. “Give me the brush. I’ll do it. See? I’m paying you back for shaving me.”

I handed him the brush. “Knock yourself out.”

He leaned back against the outside wall of the house, and I sat in front of him. He started brushing. “You have a ton of hair,” he said.

“I know. It’s way too long.”

“I like long hair.”

T.J. patiently dealt with the tangles, working on one section at a time. The sun beat down, but the awning shaded us. A cool breeze blew off the ocean. The omnipresent sound of the waves crashing into the reef and the feel of the brush moving gently through my hair lulled me into a state of relaxation.

He lifted my hair off my neck, and then pulled me toward him so that my back rested against his chest. I turned my head, and he pulled my hair to the side, laying it over my right shoulder. He continued brushing and it felt so good that after a while I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

When I woke up, I knew by the sound of T.J.’s breathing that he’d fallen asleep, too. His arms encircled my waist from behind, his clasped hands resting on the bare skin above my bikini bottom. I closed my eyes again, thinking about how nice it felt with T.J.’s arms around me.

He stirred, whispering in my ear, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah. I had a nice nap.”

“Me, too.”

Though I didn’t really want to, I sat up and his hands slid off my stomach. My hair fell in a smooth sheet down my back. I looked over my shoulder and smiled. “Thanks for brushing my hair.”

His eyes were heavy with sleep and something else. Something that looked unmistakably like desire.

“Anytime.”

My heart rate increased. My stomach filled with butterflies and a warm feeling spread over me.

Thinking that our relationship was about to get complicated might have been an understatement.