On the Island (14 page)

Chapter 27

—

Anna

We went into the house when darkness fell and the mosquitoes descended. T.J. lay down beside me and covered us with the blanket. He wrapped his naked body around mine and fell asleep seconds later.

I was wide awake.

When he kissed me, I hadn’t stopped to think before I kissed him back. We were two consenting adults, but no matter how I spun it in my head I knew if we ever got off the island, and people found out what we’d done, there would be repercussions for my actions. As I lay there in the dark with T.J. spooning me I justified that what we had done felt good, and if anyone deserved that, it was us. What we did was our business and no one else’s.

At least that’s what I told myself.

I knelt on one knee wearing T.J.’s baseball cap, my hair pulled back so it wouldn’t get in my way. The curved stick T.J. used to start fires, two small chunks of wood, and a dry nest of coconut husks and grass were spread out on the ground in front of me.

A week or so after we killed the shark, T.J. pointed out that there was one thing I didn’t know how to do. He always made our fires, and he wanted to make sure I could make one, too. He’d been teaching me, and I was starting to get the hang of it, although I had yet to produce anything other than a lot of smoke and my own sweat.

“Are you ready?” T.J. asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

I picked up a stick, threaded it through the loop in the shoelace, and used the bow to spin it. After ten minutes, I had smoke.

“Keep going,” he said. “You’re getting close. You have to spin the stick as fast as you can.”

I spun my stick faster and twenty minutes later, arms aching and sweat running down my face, I noticed a glowing ember. Digging it out, I nudged it into the flammable nest beside me. I picked up the nest, held it in front of my face, and blew gently into it.

It burst into flames, and I dropped it. “Oh my God!”

T.J. high-fived me. “You did it!”

“I know! How long do you think it took?”

“Not too long. I don’t care how
fast
you can make one, though. I just want to know that you can.” He took my hat off and kissed me. “Good job.”

“Thanks.”

The accomplishment was bittersweet, because even though I could start a fire by myself, the only reason I’d ever need to was if something happened to T.J.

Chapter 28

—

T.J.

We were eating lunch when a chicken walked out of the woods.

“Anna, look behind you.”

She turned around. “What the heck?”

We watched as the chicken came closer. It pecked the ground, not in any kind of hurry.

“There was one more after all,” I said.

“Yeah, the stupid one,” Anna pointed out. “Although it’s the last one standing, so it’s done something right.”

It came right up to Anna and she said, “Oh, hi. Do you not know what we did to the rest of your kind?”

It tilted its head and looked up at her as if it were trying to figure out what she said. My mouth watered. I thought about the chicken dinner Anna and I would have. But then she said, “Let’s not kill this one, T.J. Let’s see if it lays eggs.”

I built a small pen. Anna picked the chicken up and put it inside. It sat down and looked at both of us like it was happy with its new house. Anna put some water in an empty coconut shell. “What do chickens eat?” she asked.

“I don’t know. You’re the teacher. You tell me.”

“I taught
English
. In a major metropolitan area.”

That cracked me up. “Well, I don’t know what it eats.” I bent down by the pen and said, “You better lay eggs because right now you’re just another mouth to feed, and if you don’t like coconut, breadfruit, and fish, you may not like it here.”

I swear to God that chicken nodded its head.

It laid an egg the next day. Anna cracked it into an empty coconut shell and scrambled it with her finger. She put the coconut shell near the flames and waited for the egg to cook. When it looked done, she divided it between us.

“This is fantastic,” Anna said.

“I know.” I finished my share in two bites. “I haven’t had a scrambled egg in so long. It tastes just like I remember.”

The chicken laid another egg two days later. “That was a good idea you had, Anna.”

“Chicken probably thinks so, too,” she said.

“You named the chicken, Chicken?”

She looked embarrassed. “When we decided not to kill it, I got attached.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Something tells me Chicken probably likes you, too.”

Anna and I walked down to the water to take a bath. When we reached the shore, I dropped my shorts and waded in, turning around to watch her undress.

She took her time, first taking off her tank top and then slowly pulling down her shorts and underwear.

I wish she could do that to music.

She joined me in the water, and I washed her hair.

“We are dangerously low on shampoo,” she said, ducking under the water to rinse.

“How much do we have?”

“I don’t know, maybe enough for a few more months. Our soap supply isn’t much better.”

We switched places, and she washed my hair. I soaped up my hands and rubbed them all over her and she did the same for me. After we rinsed, we sat on the sand letting the breeze dry our skin. Anna settled in front of me and leaned back on my chest, relaxing as the sun sank lower on the horizon.

“I watched you take a bath once,” I admitted. “I was out looking for firewood, and I wasn’t paying attention. You walked into the ocean naked, and I hid behind a tree and watched you. I shouldn’t have. You trusted me, and I did it anyway.

“Did you ever watch me again?”

“No. I wanted to, lots of times, but I didn’t.” I took a deep breath and let it out. “Are you mad?”

“No. I always wondered if you would try to watch. Did I, um . . .”

“Yes.” I stood up and took her by the hand. We went back to the house and lay down in the life raft, and afterward she told me I was so much better than baby oil and her hand.

Chapter 29

—

Anna

I sat near the shore painting my toenails pink. It was silly, considering our circumstances, but I had the polish in my suitcase, and I definitely had the time, so I painted them anyway.

T.J. walked up. “Nice toes.”

“Thanks,” I said, starting another coat. “Did I ever tell you about Lucy, my manicurist?”

He laughed. “I don’t even know what that is.”

“The girl who does my nails.”

“Oh. No, you never told me about her.”

“I used to go to Lucy every other Saturday.”

T.J. raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I might have been slightly more high maintenance in Chicago than I am here. Anyway, English wasn’t Lucy’s first language, and I never knew what was, only that I couldn’t speak it. But that didn’t stop us from having these long conversations, even though neither of us understood all of what the other said.”

“What did you talk about?”

“I don’t know, just stuff. She knew I taught school and that I had a boyfriend named John. I learned she had a thirteen-year-old daughter and loved reality TV. She was so nice. She called me honey and always hugged me hello and good-bye. Every single visit, she asked me when John and I were getting married. One time we had a huge communication breakdown and, apparently, I promised her she could do my bridesmaids’ manicures for the wedding.”

I screwed the cap back on the nail polish and checked out my toes. I hadn’t done the greatest job. “Lucy would shit if she saw my feet right now.” I looked up at T.J. He had a strange expression on his face, one I couldn’t read. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna go fishing. You better let those toes dry.”

“Okay.”

He seemed back to normal by the time he returned with the fish, so whatever had bothered him, he got over it fast.

“Why aren’t you naked all the time?” T.J. asked. “Why even get dressed?”

“I’m naked right now.”

“I know. That’s what made me think of it.”

T.J. and I stood near the shore attempting to wash our dirty clothes, including the ones we’d been wearing.

“Does this still smell?” T.J. asked, holding out a T-shirt for me to sniff.

“Eh, maybe a little.” It was hard to get anything clean, considering we ran out of Woolite over a year ago. Now we swished everything back and forth in the water and called it good.

“If we were naked all the time we wouldn’t have to do any laundry, Anna,” he said with a big smile on his face. We walked out of the water, throwing the clothes over the rope we’d strung between two trees.

“If I was naked all the time you wouldn’t even notice after a while.”

He snorted. “Oh, I’d notice.”

“You think that now, but in time, you might not.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. When we got back to the house, he stretched out on the blanket.

I didn’t get dressed either because everything we owned was wet. I lay on my side facing him, propped up on my elbow.

“Oh, now that’s a nice pose,” he said. “I like that.”

“It would be like eating your favorite food all the time,” I said. “At first it would be great, but after a while you wouldn’t want it anymore. It wouldn’t taste as good.”

“Anna. You will
always
taste good.” He leaned over and kissed my neck.

“But eventually you’d get tired of it,” I insisted.

“Never.” By then he had moved a little lower with his kisses.

“It could happen,” I said, but by then even I didn’t believe it.

“Nope,” he said, moving lower still until finally he stopped answering me because it’ss almost impossible to talk when you’re doing what he was doing.

Chicken walked over and plopped down in my lap.

T.J. laughed, reached over, and ruffled her feathers. “It cracks me up when she does that,” he said.

We didn’t have to keep Chicken penned up anymore. I let her out once and forgot to put her back in, and she wandered around but didn’t try to leave.

“I know, it’s so weird. She really likes me for some reason.” I gave Chicken a gentle pat on the head.

“It’s because you take care of her.”

“I love animals. I always wanted a dog, but John was allergic.”

“Maybe you can get one when we get home,” T.J. said.

“A golden retriever.”

“That’s the kind of dog you want?”

“Yes. One that’s full grown, that nobody wants. From a shelter. I’m going to get my own apartment, and I’ll adopt it and bring it home.”

“You’ve thought about this.”

“I’ve had time to think about a lot of things, T.J.”

A few nights later when we were in bed, T.J. groaned and collapsed on top of me, breathing hard.

“Wow,” I said, feeling his body relax.

He kissed my neck and whispered, “Did that feel good?”

“Yes. Where did you learn that?”

T.J. laughed, still trying to catch his breath. “I have an excellent teacher. She lets me practice all the time until I get it just right.”

He rolled off me, pulling me toward him so I could lay my head on his chest. I snuggled closer, content and drowsy. He rubbed my back.

It wasn’t until I was twenty-six or twenty-seven that I even figured out what I wanted in bed. When I tried to tell John, he didn’t seem all that thrilled about taking direction. T.J. hadn’t been shy about asking what I liked, though, so I decided not to be shy about telling him, which was working out spectacularly.

I sighed. “You’ll make a woman very happy someday, T.J.”

His body tensed and he stopped rubbing my back. “I only want to make you happy, Anna.” The way he said it, and the rejection I heard in his voice made me wish I could take it back.

“Oh, you do, T.J.” I said, quickly. “You do.”

He didn’t talk much the next day. I waded into the water while he fished and stood next to him. “I’m sorry. I hurt your feelings and that’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

He kept his eyes on the fishing line. “I know this never would have happened between us in Chicago, but please don’t talk about saying good-bye to me while we’re still here.”

I put my hand on his arm. “When I said that, about you making another woman happy, it wasn’t because I was the one who said good-bye, T.J. You were.”

He turned to me, confused. “Why would I say good-bye?”

“Because I’m thirteen years older than you are. This might be our world, but it isn’t the real world. You still have a lot of things you haven’t experienced. You won’t want to be tied down to anyone.”

“You don’t know what I want, Anna. Besides, I don’t think about the future anymore, and I haven’t since that plane didn’t come back. All I know is that you make me happy, and I want to be with you. Can’t you just be with me, too?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I can do that.”

I wanted to tell him I’d never do anything to hurt him again. But I was afraid it was a promise I might not be able to keep.

T.J. turned nineteen in September. “Happy birthday,” I said. “I made you mashed breadfruit.” I handed him the bowl and leaned in to give him a kiss. He pulled me onto his lap and insisted on sharing.

“Why don’t we ever celebrate your birthday?” He gave me a sheepish look and said, “And when is it, again?”

“It’s May 22nd. I’m just not into birthdays, I guess.”

I used to love celebrating my birthday until John ruined it for me. When I turned twenty-seven I was convinced he was going to propose because he’d made reservations, told me to dress up, and invited our friends to join us for drinks before dinner. I pictured him down on one knee holding a ring, and I could hardly contain my excitement when the cab dropped us off in front of the restaurant. We went inside and everyone was already there, almost like a surprise party. When the champagne came, John pulled the Tiffany box out of his jacket and presented me with a pair of diamond stud earrings. I kept a smile on my face for the rest of the night, but Stefani pulled me into the bathroom later and hugged me. I set my expectations as low as possible after that, which turned out to be a smart move because for the next three birthdays he didn’t even buy me jewelry.

“I want to celebrate your next birthday, Anna.”

“Okay.”

The rainy season ended in November. Thanksgiving came and went like any other day, but on Christmas T.J. found a huge crab near the shore. My mouth watered as he poked and prodded it toward the fire, one giant claw pinching the end of his stick, the other snapping at him the whole way. He dropped it onto the flames and soon we were gorging ourselves, cracking the legs with the pliers and pulling the meat out with our fingers.

“This reminds me of our first Christmas, when we caught the chicken and celebrated with something other than fish,” T.J. said.

“That seems like such a long time ago,” I said, blinking back tears.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just thought we might be home for Christmas this year.”

T.J. put his arm around me. “Maybe next year, Anna.”

In February, I woke up from a nap. A bouquet of flowers gathered from the various bushes and shrubs scattered around the island lay on the blanket beside me, a small length of rope wound around their stems.

I found T.J. down at the shore. “Someone’s been checking the calendar.”

He grinned. “I didn’t want to miss Valentine’s Day.”