by Daya Daniels
Tenley’s shoulders fall almost right to the floor and her eyes well up with tears.
Honestly, I’m not in the mood…
With a scoff, I shoot up from my seat and take the dinner plates when I do. “Oh, and let me add, we have no flares. So maybe we should just set the boat on fire while we’re at it just to let the whole world know we’re out there and hope we get rescued before the boat sinks and we all die a watery death.”
“Brooks, I want to go home.” Her voice cracks.
Slamming the plates down, I spin around and face her. “I WANT TO GO HOME TOO, TENLEY!”
Tenley
WE’RE FALLING APART…
As if we were ever all put together.
I’m stunned at his outburst.
“You think I don’t want to go home too, Tenley?” Wild blue eyes glare back at me.
I’m stuck staring at them, unable to speak or move.
“You don’t think I’m sick of this place! You don’t think I want to go home to my wife, to my home, and to the company I’ve spent so many years building?” The vein in his forehead thrums. His eyes water. His chest shudders. Then he turns away from me and remains hunched over the preparation table while breathing heavily. “I want off this island as much as you do.” His voice has lowered almost to a whisper.
I wipe away my tears feeling as if my hopeful yellow balloon has just been popped with the chop of an axe! “I just don’t understand why you set out to build this boat if there was never any plan for us to use it to get off this island asap, Brooks?”
“I never said that, Tenley, we just need a better plan. We can’t make desperate moves.” He sighs. “If we do things without thinking them through properly, Tenley, it will be a disaster. And we can’t afford disasters. They’ll get me killed. They’ll get you killed. Shit. They’ll get us both killed. Please believe it.”
“I understand.”
He turns away from me again, offering me his back. He runs a hand over his sweaty face, and I have no doubt that swipe also assisted with wiping away a few of his tears…the ones he won’t allow me to see.
Is he crying?
Brooks doesn’t cry. Joy had told me so herself. She had told me she’s never seen this man cry and that he hadn’t even shed a tear at his own father’s funeral when they had buried the old man many years ago.
I rise from my seat and cautiously proceed toward him.
He shudders, shakes his head while muttering to himself, and lets it hang low.
The wooden floors are cool beneath my feet tonight and with the drop in the temperature I know the rain is coming and with that follows the fog. Which means we’ll be relegated to staying in this house, as Brooks has recently determined is best until it lifts.
He sniffles.
The floor creaks beneath my feet.
Peni is now awake. She perches in the windowsill and observes Brooks with interest.
I drag my fingers through my hair.
Gingerly, Peni approaches Brooks and sets something down near his hand.
He laughs a bit, wipes his face a few more times. “Thank you, Peni.”
I crane my neck to the side of them to get a better view, still taking more steps. I finally determine that Peni has given Brooks a pitaya—another one of her gifts. I smile at her sweetness.
Peni snatches up what she’d placed there and pops it in Brooks’ mouth. After she’s satisfied, she scampers toward the door and then she’s gone.
I edge closer to where Brooks stands. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “I’m sorry for yelling.”
“It’s okay.”
“It isn’t.”
I remain silent.
“There’s so much I wanted to do with the rest of my life, Tenley. So much. And there was so much, so many plans I wanted to even tell Joy about that I never got around to. I wanted us to visit the Canary Islands. I wanted to take her to Paris finally. I wanted to expand the charity work that Bona Fide has supported which is poured into various territories throughout Africa. I wanted to finish carving the grandfather clock that I’ve been working on since college, I swear.” He laughs, still sniffling, still wiping his face. “I have days where I think it’s all over, Tenley. I have days where I just think…”
I run a hand over my cheek and leave it there. “That this is where we will die.”
He inhales sharply. “Yesssss.”
I guess this is a rotten time to tell you that I don’t think Richard is coming for us.
“I’m used to knowing how to get myself out of situations. But this mess…” His head hangs low.
“Maybe this isn’t something we need to fix, Brooks. It could just be something we need to work through.” I scoff. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even believe my own words. I just hope. I wish. I pray often.”
He wipes his face once more. “I don’t know how to fix this, Tenley.”
Silence settles.
The breeze slips in through the windows. The crickets chirp. The candle in the corner of the room flickers and the sweet scent of the frangipani fills my nostrils bringing some semblance of calm.
Reaching a hand out, I place it on Brooks’ left shoulder.
Warm.
Strong.
A man I shouldn’t have my hands near.
Yet, I know what it feels like to need to be held…and hating to admit that considering the circumstances and knowing there’s only one other person here who can console me.
“Please don’t fucking touch me.” It comes out as a nasty hiss.
Instantly, I pull my hand back and remain stuck to the floor, stunned, bewildered, judged. Even accused. Insulted! My heart almost stops and emotions I can’t explain twist up my gut and make me feel ill. “I’m sorry.” Right away, I work around him to tidy up the dishes never giving him another look. When everything is done, I rush over to the candle and blow it out, allowing the bright moonlight to fill the room which it does in stripes across the floor and the rest of the house. Then I pad over to the bed and slip beneath the covers, exhaling shallow little breaths.
“Tenley, I’m sorry.” Brooks’ voice echoes from where he still lingers.
“Yeah, me too.”
Because I truly am sorry for everything…
I fix my eyes on that big moon, stare at its big face and I wonder if James is looking up at it too. I miss him so fucking much. I bury my leaky eyes in the pillow beneath my head, and soon, I’m asleep and off in a better place…in my sweet dreams.
CHAPTER THREE
Brooks
“LIKE THIS?” TENLEY GIVES me an uneasy expression as she holds the axe in her hand and stands alongside the massive chunk of wood.
I’m in a squat, perched with my back against a tree, enjoying the sea breeze that washes over where we’re working.
We’ve been at this together for a while now and making steady progress.
And Tenley was right, with the help, this project underway moves closer to completion a little faster. Plus, now I can take more breaks. And I have a new carpentry student…
I smile. “Yes, just like that.” The axe connects with the wood as Tenley shaves it away in short slices, the muscles in her arms tensing with each motion.
She’s patient with her work, listens well, and seems to appreciate having something more to do.
The blue sky above is clear, and the sun above is golden. It’s beautiful out here and the view beyond the cliffs is picturesque. With a breath, I tip my head back and gaze up at the birds which dip and dance in the sky.
Tenley works.
My eyes are fixed on the heart-shaped pendant on the gold necklace that I’d given her for her birthday—something I’d found while digging around this place, along with the silver spoons, forks, and tin cups which must’ve belonged to the previous homeowners. Tenley’s smile was big when I put the chain around her neck and then she blew the candles out in the large pineapple I’d stuck them in and made a wish.
A laugh shakes my chest when I t
hink about that day.
Afterward we’d swam for an hour and lain out on the beach in the sun while saying nothing at all. Tenley seemed content and I was happy I could make her birthday memorable with the little we had to do it with.
Despite that her dress is threadbare, her hair is all over the place and her feet are exposed it doesn’t seem to bother her. Tenley’s clothes are just as tattered as mine. We’re far from the designer garments we’re used to wearing. These days little emphasis is put on the quality of the material which covers our skin.
I’ve cut my hair twice, but it grows with the speed of weeds. So I’d given up cutting it regularly long ago, and had just decided to tie it up on the top of my head and leave it. I trim my beard often. And once in a blue moon I’ll opt for a clean shave using a straight edge razor I’d pulled from one of Captain Alcott’s trunks along with other items like hats, scarves, and carefully kept razor blades that Tenley was super excited about.
I’d discovered more clothes too.
Tenley almost cried when I pulled a pair of leather moccasins out of the trunk that seemed to be made especially for her feet. Along with a decorative mirror I’d discovered too. They were all likely Peighton’s belongings, as is everything else she wears but Tenley was grateful anyways. She claimed she found no use in looking pretty anymore. Her statement made me feel rotten right down to my guts. What woman doesn’t need to ever feel pretty? After I’d presented everything to her, she’d spent more time than I could stomach in the bathroom, bathing and being very vocal with her excitement about finally being able to shave then trying on every single one of the dresses and parading in front of the mirror while wearing them.
Her joy had brought me joy.
My eyelids lower for a millisecond and then they pop open to the sound of her voice. “Thank you for letting me help.”
Pressing my lips together, I shrug.
She walks alongside the massive hunk of wood, back and forth, working the blade of the axe along the wood. “I always enjoyed making things.” She smiles. “I loved using my hands then. I still do.”
“Those are the words of a true handyman.” I grin.
“It’s why I make everything…” She pauses. “It’s why I used to make…everything to do with Fennel—the candles, the oils, the soaps and such. At least in the beginning I did until it became too much because I couldn’t keep up with the numbers and then I had to outsource most of the production for everything.”
With my eyes narrowed, I admire the control she has with the blade. It’s steady, careful, and precise—impressive. Although her hands are small, her fingers are dexterous and press against the wood gently as if she cares about it, as if she has no intention of hurting it and only desires to make it lovely.
It’s the same way my father used to handle wood before he worked with it.
A smile touches my lips at the vivid memory.
By the looks of it, Tenley just might make a better carpenter than I’ve ever been.
Smiling, I admire the work she carries out, trimming down the side we’re working on today. She doesn’t complain about the heat. She doesn’t complain about having been standing hunched over for the extended amount of time she has been. She doesn’t make any mention that I also haven’t had much to say except for the direction I’ve been giving her. She just works.
“I always knew that stuff like this was what I loved to do.” She laughs. “I always knew I was never meant to be sitting in a classroom or at a desk. I knew I was someone who was always meant to live in a workshop.”
I chuckle.
She does too. “But no one would listen, Brooks. Everyone thought what I wanted was stupid.”
“It wasn’t, Tenley.”
“I know.” She giggles.
I open one eye.
“I told you I could help.” She lifts the axe. “Do you see how much time you’ve wasted?”
“Yeah, I suppose I do.” I let out a breath. “I wish I could take all that time back, Tenley, and use it more wisely.”
“Don’t we all.” She laughs.
“Yeah, I guess we do.” Grinning, I allow my eyes to shut completely. “What do you regret the most?” I run my hands through the grass near me. “And that’s if you regret anything…”
There’s no response for a while and then Tenley huffs. “I don’t think I have many regrets about the things I’ve done or haven’t done, Brooks. Any regret I feel has a lot to do mostly with myself. We spend so much time living and not appreciating the things we have that we easily forget that life isn’t promised to us. And even if we have life, a happy life isn’t promised to us either. I wish I had spent more moments thinking about what I would do with the rest of my time on this earth if it were ever imperfect. I wish I had put more thought into how I would feel if I ever lost everything—what I would do—you know? But, of course, we never think about those things because we spend so much time just living our perfect lives.”
My eyes pop open. “My life was never perfect, Tenley.”
“Neither was mine.”
“But at the time I thought it was wonderful and it really was, don’t get me wrong. However, it was never perfect.”
“It was perfect compared to what it is now, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose it was.”
She smiles. “Nothing like being stranded on a deserted island to shed a little perspective on your life, huh? Except, it all comes a little too late. No sense thinking about it all now.”
I laugh. “Why do you speak like that?”
She stands straight, drops her hand by her side, and regards me with an odd expression. “Like what?”
“As if everything is funny, Tenley?”
Because it isn’t.
“Because if I don’t laugh about it all, Brooks, I’ll cry. And truthfully, I’m tired of crying.”
Tenley is stronger.
I accept now that she might honestly be stronger than me.
She hasn’t had a meltdown in a while which means I haven’t had to hold her, to soothe her.
A scratchy sensation affects my throat before I clear it seemingly of nothing.
Tenley gets back to work. “I’m tired of being angry about ending up here. I’m depleted from spending my nights thinking about James and what he’s going through when I can’t do anything about it. I’m a million miles away! We could be in another dimension for all we know! I’m exhausted. I’ll never let go of my old life, Brooks, or hoping that I’ll get it back, because, believe me, I-want-it-back. But I can’t let it consume me anymore.”
I lower my head.
“I’m already a fucking shell of who I used to be.”
So am I.
Fury echoes in her admission.
I regard her carefully.
She huffs. “I can’t give any more pieces of myself to things I can’t control. It gets to be too much. I get too sad. I end up feeling too alone while I’m here.”
“You aren’t alone, Tenley.” I sit up a little straighter at her words.
She stills completely, doesn’t look at me, only gets back to using the axe.
My brows collide so hard they hurt.
A lot spoken in the words she hadn’t just said.
“I keep wishing, Brooks, and I wait, and I just survive.” She exhales. “I know it’s what James would tell me to do—to just survive and get back to him in one piece.”
I laugh softly. “Yeah, that’s exactly what he’d tell you.”
She swallows hard, fights back tears, and moves a little faster than before. Then she laughs a sad laugh. One which I share when I do the same thing.
“It’s just you and me, Brooks.”
“Yeah.” I yank a few sprigs of grass from the ground and let it all slip through my fingers and blow away with the wind. “It’s just you and me, Tenley.” I exhale loudly and flinch when Tenley’s thin dress blows up with the wind revealing golden skin and toned thighs. I know just under that dress is nothing but nakedness since our unde
rwear ceased to exist long ago.
I have nothing to keep the occurrences in my shorts strapped down, so now I don’t even bother much anymore to conceal it. And on those occasions Tenley stares and stares, biting her lip, squirming in her seat. Those pretty browns of hers watch my every move. But she never dares to speak on it, only observes, hesitation and desire at home on her features, same as they are on mine.
What do we do with it?
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
I grin at her happiness and then I groan.
Tenley…my best friend’s wife…my wife’s best friend…
So simple.
The facts speak for themselves, don’t they?
I run a hand over my beard and gaze out to the sea that’s devoid of ships, as fucking always. Only a pod of killer whales passes by the island, their dorsal fins breaking the surface of the water every now and again which accompanies their massive dark shadows beneath the sea.
Pulling Captain Alcott’s diary from my back pocket, I flip to the page I’d bookmarked using a long blade of grass.
August 12, 1893
Yesterday, the earth trembled…
Rubbing my eyes, I shove the book back in my pocket, making a mental note to finish reading it later. I can’t concentrate right now. My mind is too busy.
Tenley is still working.
The days of jerking off have become routine but it quells nothing, only causes frustration to build and my soul to ache a little more when I accept that my resolve is slipping…away, away, drifting so far that I’m beginning to wonder what it all means. I’m holding on to shards of glass, bleeding profusely, but nevertheless still maintaining a firm grip.
Tenley smiles.
I only breathe and watch her.
Even in something tattered she’s beautiful. And calming. I feel like a creep just looking at her but often I can’t help myself. My eyes do a dance my brain can’t keep up with. Sensibility chases something I often feel shuts itself off in my mind at times.