by Daya Daniels
“No.” I drag my palm over the scar on my arm—something new.
“He asked me if there were any wild hogs on this island?”
Hogs?
She giggles. “I laughed out loud and told him absolutely not and that we’re practically official vegetarians here who mostly eat seafood and lots and lots of tuna and nuts to make up for the protein red meat would provide. And then he simply said ‘good’ because wild hogs are extremely dangerous and a problem but still good to eat. He apparently was stuck on an island before with some wild hogs he said.” She pauses and points the tip of the knife in her hand to the sky. “I was stunned that someone would ever admit that they’ve been lost at sea and left on a deserted island twice. But Kulon said it happens all the time to men who spend their lives on the sea.”
I run a hand over my jaw and inhale the fresh scent of the coffee then my eyes move over to the stack of linens always there and realize that the pile has dwindled. “Where are all the towels?”
Tenley freezes. “I gave two to Kulon along with a blanket and a pillow so he can at least be comfortable with his injury in that tiny house, Brooks. It isn’t the most suitable, especially since it’s so close to the water.”
I’m already bored.
“We lived in it just fine.”
She glances over her shoulder. “Yes, but it’s nothing like this.”
I only stare at her, unsure of what on earth I could say so that I don’t come across like a complete asshole…but I don’t have any words that could possibly support that right now—none at all.
“We should invite him for dinner tonight. You should get to know him. He’s really nice.”
Another grunt slips from me that I cannot stop as I stand.
I have no clue who this guy is but if he’s from the jungle…
I pause before I make my way to the bathroom. “A word of advice but make sure that Kulon knows Peni is with us and that she is not food. If not, you’ll be seeing her skinned of her beautiful brown coat and spinning on his spit.”
Tenley’s eyes widen with terror as she slams the knife down. “Brooks!”
Tenley
A FEW DAYS LATER…
My foot twists in the cool grass beneath my feet which is covered in dew. I glance up at the sky which tells me the rain is coming but I don’t care. It isn’t here yet. Striding along the path in the garden I’ve been cultivating for a few months, I pluck a petal from a pink carnation and admire it for a while. It rests on the tip of my finger, and then, when the cool breezes rushes over me the petals drift away with the wind.
I spin around and take in all the beautiful colors which linger beneath the pergola Brooks had already built and is now fixing. The structure is intertwined with vines and beautiful canna now and provides shade whenever we’re out here. I often come here to read or simply to gaze out at the cliffs. And just a few feet away now are the line of torches Brooks had banged into the ground long ago which we light every single night in the hopes that some passing ship or airplane will see them.
This place is a sanctuary.
It’s perfect.
I march over to where Brooks works and sidle up next to him. “So…” I smile.
He gives me a blank look and continues his work. “Yep.”
I suck in a loud breath. “Have you met Kulon yet?”
He rises to a standing position and maneuvers a board into position before he nails it down. “Yep.” Then he bangs the nails in one by one.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The ground vibrates.
I slink back from the violence of Brooks driving the pylon into the ground and then I approach again refusing to be pushed to the side. “So, you hit it off?”
Brooks stops suddenly.
I fiddle with my fingers just as a smile slowly curves up on his lips. “Yes, Tenley, we most definitely hit it off.”
Really?
I smile endlessly.
“We talked about our childhoods and our favorite colors, and later, we’re even having a tea party.” Every single one of his perfect, straight white teeth are showing right now. Yet still, it’s the most miserable smile I’ve ever seen.
I hate that he’s always miserable, especially lately. There have been times when Brooks has seemed happy despite our circumstances. Not many though. He used to walk out to the shoreline and sit on the sand and gaze out at the sea. I’d watch him then and wonder what he was thinking but I dared never to ask. He doesn’t sit on the beach anymore really by himself and stare out at the sea. He just works and keeps himself busy, fixes anything and everything I ask him to fix or build which seems to keep him content. But I know that nothing will make him happy these days, really.
Brooks is still smiling.
Shaking my head, I stare at the ground for a moment and then my eyes flicker back up to Brooks’ blues. “I thought you were serious for a moment.” I step closer and when the breeze hits me it sends the aroma of his sweat with it. I freeze completely after inhaling that cloud and look at the large man in front of me who’s covered in sweat, donning a beard and a messy man-bun. Even though he looks as if he just crawled out from the bushes, the sight of him affects me. Maybe these days, all of him affects me.
I wish I could ease his pain.
But how, when I don’t even have a handle on my own?
“I wasn’t joking, Tenley.” He frowns. “I met Kulon. He’s a decent man. We’ve come up with a strategy. But we can’t execute it until his leg has healed.” He huffs. “And that’s going to take a few weeks I’d say.”
“Okay.”
“He wants to get off this island just as badly as we do.”
“I know.” My face scrunches when I think about Kulon’s family who must be worried sick about him.
And then my thoughts drift…
To my old life. To my old house. To James. And everything is jumbled up, nothing is clear.
“Tenley.” Brooks’ deep voice slips into my daydreaming.
“Yeah.” My eyes cut to his.
He tips his head in my direction. “It makes no sense.”
I exhale softly.
He doesn’t elaborate on his words. It isn’t necessary. The pathetic look on his face already tells me he pities me since it’s clear he stopped thinking about his old life long ago, angry and pissed off at the world that he can’t have it anymore, and that he’s been relegated to this…with me.
He’s no longer a man in a tailored suit who drives a Maserati, carries a black American Express, wears an Omega, and who smokes Marlboros by the boatload. Now he’s a simple man who half the time doesn’t even wear a shirt.
Still, I think he might be dealing with all this better than most human beings would.
James would never survive here. He’d adore the ocean and the sun, but the rest would likely drive him to the point of insanity before we could ever come up with a solid plan.
I fiddle with my fingers, eyes quickly filling with tears. “You’re right, Brooks. It makes no sense.”
He half-smiles. “It doesn’t, Tenley. It truly doesn’t.” Dropping the tool in his hands, he steps my way. “This-is-our-life.”
And you hate it.
I keep my head low. “I know.”
“These eyes of yours, Tenley, they tell me everything.” He clutches my chin with his thumb and index finger and searches my face making me feel as if he’s peering right into the depths of me.
What has he found?
Since I’m assured I don’t even know what lives there anymore.
I can feel this man’s unhappiness. He protects me from his sorrow, but still, I can sense it there looming over us more often than the fog does.
With a shaky hand, I reach up and cup his cheek, smoothing my hand over his soft beard.
Brooks slow-blinks and maintains his unreadable expression.
I press my lips together inhaling the salty breeze. “I can’t say I knew you before in the way that I know you now.” A loud exhale leaves me. “I barely re
member the man you were before you came here.” I swallow and peer into his blues. “I see a different man now, Brooks.”
With a trembling bottom lip, he manages a brittle smile. “Yes, Tenley, I think you are right about that and it’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
~
It’s late at night.
Brooks is sound asleep.
The crickets chirp nonstop and every now and again I catch the echo of Peni’s laughter as she plays in the trees not too far away. I smile for a beat and then I roll onto my back, stare up at the vaulted ceilings, and accept that I’m restless.
My palm rests on my stomach and soon I’m acutely aware of the warmth it provides to my skin.
A simple touch.
One I haven’t felt in so fucking long.
I cover my face with a hand for a moment and exhale a soft breath. Biting my lip, I allow my hand to slide lower and lower until my fingers are delving into the wetness between my thighs. I stay as quiet as possible, breathing softly, forcing down the moans and whimpers which threaten to come. My fingers slide along my pussy lips and my thumb runs over my clit until I’m rocking into the movement softly. It’s sensational. Freeing. Wonderful. An escape from the consistent frustration of this place.
I squeeze my eyes shut and visualize.
Do
I
ever
imagine…
Sweat. A ripped body. Those haunted eyes.
My fingers slide in and out, out and in, over and over they part my walls that have been sealed up tightly like those in an abandoned home. I’m assured that if I peer deep within my pussy that I just might find some cobwebs.
I shove the thought out of my mind and sink into the pleasure.
My thighs quiver helplessly. My body tenses. My mouth falls open before I force it shut. My heart pounds away, frantic breaths escape me. Still, I make not one sound.
With fingers curled up in the sheets, I bite back the pleasure which consumes me with a vicious force and sends shock waves through me from my knees up to my navel. When the sensation subsides, I find myself staring up at the ceiling once more, just breathing.
God, that felt good.
Why don’t I do it more often?
I should do it more often.
Is this what I’ve been reduced to?
I’m still breathing heavily when I cover my face with a hand and shudder, fighting back the tears which threaten to pour from my eyes like a monsoon.
The wood creaks.
My eyes cut to the floor where Brooks sleeps. I stop breathing, literally, when I discover he’s already watching me. Our eyes connect and I wonder what he’s thinking—what he’d seen—what he’d heard. He doesn’t say a word! And then I can’t take it anymore. I can’t handle being under that gaze for even just a millisecond longer. Not right now. When I’m weak and pathetic, still panting and wide awake with all the lust still pulsing through my veins. Without saying a word, I shift onto my side turning away from him and cry—sadness mixed with lust—lost.
Soon, I’m asleep.
Brooks
WITH A BREATH, I approach the banyan tree, holding the axe in hand.
Day—unknown.
Month—unknown.
Exact coordinates in the Indian Ocean—still unfuckingknown.
The sky is gray this morning, so gray that I’m assured the rain is on its way soon.
Tenley was still asleep when I slipped from the house after warming coffee for her. I pulled the covers up to her neck and watched her sleep for a little while. The strands of her hair fanned out against the blanket and her hands were tucked in tight near her face. Her breaths were slow and light, and I knew in that moment was when she was the most at peace…lost somewhere in her dreams.
Peni sat in the windowsill and kept watch while shoving the remnants of a mango into her mouth, her big blue eyes flickered over me curiously, as if asking where I was off to. But she didn’t follow me as I had expected her to. As much as I love that little monkey, I accept that she is indebted to Tenley first and foremost. So often wherever Tenley is, there is Peni. They’re inseparable—connected at the heart.
I dip down into a squat and press a palm to the cool bark of the tree. I caress the metal, reveling in the feeling of the tool in my hand which has come to have so many purposes in my life since I’d snatched it from the wall of Gus’ boat. It’s become almost an extension of me. My wrist moves in a nonstop motion until I’ve carved another notch in the tree.
Each day I count them in my head, yet still I make sure I mark this tree so that we don’t ever lose track. The marking which I now carve makes exactly seven hundred days.
I run a hand over my beard and exhale harshly through my nose.
Seven hundred days…almost two years.
Fuck, where has the time gone?
My gaze sweeps across the beach and over the SOS letters which I’d placed in the sand so long ago. Now, they linger there like art facing the sky. Vines cover the logs and now greenery and flowers are sprouting from them which the birds feed from. Its purpose has morphed into something else since the time I’d placed the large pieces of wood there—a stark reminder, or rather realization that life goes on…What’s one man’s trash is another man’s treasure…Everything learns to adapt.
Charles Darwin’s theories, long ago, had upset people, especially religious ones. They were not willing to accept the intellectual connection between humans and animals. The naturalist thought of life as a single tree, branching and re-branching and that a large number of living things must be destroyed before they can reproduce—natural selection. A connected idea which states that the strongest of the species survive while the weaker, less-adapted are weeded out, thus ensuring the species survives and adapts to the best of its ability.
Clever.
And true.
A turtle pops its head out of the water and soon it disappears from view.
The sea washes against the shoreline, and when the waves retreat, I spot all the shells there.
Smiling, I think of Tenley and Peni and how collecting shells has become one of their favorite pastimes. At least every few days they come here together when the tide is low to swim and to collect shells. Tenley promises that one day she will use them for a special project even though she hasn’t quite decided what that is yet. Often, I fish while I watch them giggling and laughing as they play a game of hide-and-seek or tag.
The simple things…
Smoke wafts from Kulon’s hut and the distinct aroma of grilled meat fills the air.
I rise to stand and decide I’ll go and pay our new friend, the introduced species, a visit.
~
“Selmat pagi.” Kulon spots me before I do him.
Although he has a constant limp as his leg heals, he’s currently exercising.
I smile at the effort. “Good morning.”
Kulon tips his head forward as he stretches this way and that along the sand and then he moves into position and does a few push-ups. He counts in Bahasa, a language I somewhat understand but do not know much of.
I examine the hut he’s apparently turned into a pretty decent home since moving in it.
A fire burns and hanging from the spit above it is a bird. A plate of boiled eggs and fruit accompanies what I believe is about to be his breakfast. And the towels Tenley had given him lie atop the hut as they dry since he’s clearly already gone for a swim.
I glance back at the beach and the high tide. “It isn’t safe to swim when the tide is high.” My eyes narrow. “I thought Tenley had probably already told you that.”
“Yeah, she did. I know about the sharks around here but I’m not afraid of them.” Laughing, he speaks with effort as he continues his exercise.
“And Tenley wouldn’t like to know that you’re around here trimming down the parrot population.” I sidle up next to a tree, place my hand on the thick trunk and linger there.
Kulon stands and limps toward me. “Well, she doesn’t have to
know about the parrot.”
I twist my foot in the sand and trace the line of colorful feathers which Kulon must’ve plucked from the bird in his preparations.
With a chuckle, Kulon gets to work kicking the sand over the feathers. “I’ve done a bad job of hiding the evidence, haven’t I?”
Yes.
Tenley would have an epic meltdown if she saw this!
He laughs.
I laugh too and then I feel bad for sharing in the humor.
This guy is good-natured considering that he’s far from home and is as lost as both Tenley and I are now—away from our homes and families. He lives as if he’s used to this. It shouldn’t surprise me that he’s comfortable in the outdoors.
Kulon pats his injured leg. “It’s healing nicely. The limp is only there because I haven’t been able to stretch, but once I get that worked out, as I’ve been doing for the last few days, I should be back to my old self in no time.”
“Good.”
“This place is beautiful.” He stands straight and cranes his neck to the sky.
“Yeah, it is.”
Kulon plops down on a rock near the fire that’s dying out and pulls the bird off the spit. With his bare hands he begins peeling the meat from the bone, chomping away as he eats some of it and smiling. He extends a hand. “Please sit with me. Eat maybe? I know your wife doesn’t eat red meat.” He sends another smile my way. “I don’t know how a man could do without eating red meat?” He laughs…at me.
I grin.
“A man not eating red meat is like a man going without sex for too long.”
Go fuck yourself.
He tilts his head to the side. “It’s unnatural if you ask me.” He laughs out loud.
The statement aggravates me and so does his goddamn laughing. Nevertheless, I decide to let it go, accepting that the annoyance which itches my bones has more to do with me than it does with him, or his words. This man sure has a funny way of being funny.
My eyes remain fixed on that dripping, delectable, flavorful, mouthwatering meat and then my mind flickers back to the mention of Tenley’s name. Kulon had called her my wife. Clearly, Tenley hadn’t corrected his assumption. And I’ve decided that I won’t either. But I will have a piece of that poultry…because I sure have missed eating poultry.