Left on Paradise

by Kirk Adams

  Heather raised her hand.

  “Dibs,” the teenager called out, “on any you outgrow.”

  “We can adjust them,” Kit said, “with needles and thread.”

  “Do you realize,” Ursula asked, “my boobs will be stretched to my knees if I nurse out here? There’s not a good support bra within a thousand miles. I’ll look like some cannibal’s mother from National Geographic.”

  “As a near-vegetarian,” Heather cried out, “I protest that allusion.”

  All three women laughed.

  One after another they showered in the cool water of the waterfall—though they paid scant attention to Heather’s petroglyphs, being far more interested in the bar of soap and bottle of shampoo that the teenager had brought with her. Indeed, the women talked little as they soaked, scrubbed, and rinsed for nearly half an hour.

  “Now I feel human,” Ursula said as she dried herself.

  “Cleaned with soap instead of sand,” Kit said. “My skin feels smooth.”

  “You sound like a commercial,” Heather said as she bunched and tied her hair with a dark blue ribbon.

  “Commercial capitalism returns,” Ursula said. “Charles and Joan wouldn’t be pleased.”

  “Pleased or not,” Kit said, “I’d die for an hour in Macy’s lingerie department.”

  “I’d die for a banana split,” Ursula said, then looked at a nearby banana tree, “without the bananas. Never another damned banana.”

  “Remember the baby,” Kit said as she winced.

  “You’re right,” Ursula said. “I’d share the ice cream with my baby, but neither of us want any damned bananas.”

  “You’re right about ice cream,” Kit said. “We’ll get dessert before we shop for lingerie.”

  “I also want a potato with sour cream,” Ursula said, leading all three women to place orders for their favorite foods.

  “Order me one too.”

  “And chocolate cake.”

  “Me too.”

  “And real Chinese takeout.”

  “Same here.”

  “Don’t forget the pizza pie.”

  “I want pizza and pie.”

  “And finally,” Ursula said. “A steak. I’m dying for a slab of beef.”

  “Your kingdom for a cow?” Kit asked.

  Ursula pointed toward Heather, who wore only a cotton towel wrapped loose around her hips. “She looks good enough to grill.”

  “She’s almost Midwest corn fed,” Kit said. “No mad cow disease from her.”

  “Halfsies?”

  Kit started to grab Heather’s arm, but missed when Heather jumped back and squared a fist, clasping her towel with the other.

  “I’m a vegetarian,” she said, “not a pacifist.”

  All three women laughed as they sat near the waterfall. Heather soon stretched her legs.

  “I need a good shave,” Heather said.

  The others saw the long wet hairs, nearly a half-inch long, lying flat across tanned legs.

  “That’s nothing,” Ursula said, lifting an arm. “I’ve got more hair under my arms than Sean does. I could curl it.”

  Both Heather and Kit grimaced.

  “I haven’t shaved in a month,” Ursula continued. “I brought a jumbo pack of refills—and lost it the first week.”

  “That’s lost treasure,” Kit said.

  “Tell me.”

  “I shave once a week,” Heather said.

  “So do I,” Kit said, “but I’m still down to my last two blades.”

  “I have three,” Heather laughed, “but my legs are a bit stubbly.”

  “As a progressive,” Kit said with a shudder, “I’m against regress—especially to the fashions of yesteryear: like those of hair-covered cavewomen. I can hardly stand unshaved legs, at least on me. Too many years in the beauty parlors.”

  “Lisa,” Ursula said, “is sporting a European style. She hasn’t shaved since we arrived.”

  “I don’t judge her,” Kit said, “but I’d be wearing long pants if my legs were as fuzzy as hers. No matter how hot it might be.”

  “Long pants are unlikely,” Ursula said. “She also told me she’s going native.”

  Both Kit and Heather looked confused.

  “Au natural,” Ursula explained, “says she’s tired of tearing her shirts.”

  “I won’t be much different in a few weeks,” Kit said, “I only have two decent ones left. The rest are rags.”

  “Save ‘em,” Ursula said, “for your period since we’re out of tampons.”

  Heather and Kit nodded.

  “I’m not about to run around this island topless,” Heather said. “Not with Jason so close.”

  “Doesn’t he give you the creeps?” Ursula said.

  “He needs a wife,” Heather said.

  “That’s premarital wife abuse,” Ursula retorted. “I think it might be a mortal sin.”

  The conversation died a few minutes later when Kit found a pole to knock down some coconuts; her strike was hard and two nuts soon fell to the ground.

  Heather cut through one with a machete and bore into the nut with an auger—handing it to Ursula.

  “For your baby.”

  Ursula drank, then Kit and Heather finished what remained before they cracked the nut and used pocketknives to pry fruit from the shell. After they’d eaten, all three women lay in the shade. No one spoke until Kit tapped Ursula on the shoulder.

  “Are you excited yet?” Kit asked.

  “I’m getting there,” Ursula said. “I’ve had time to think and I know I really want to keep the baby. No adoptions or anything.”

  “What about Sean?”

  “He’s a jerk,” Ursula said, “but I suppose I’ll have to keep him too.”

  “Will he help?”

  “He says so.”

  “How?” Kit asked.

  Ursula shrugged.

  “What do you want from him?”

  “I guess I’d expect marriage,” Ursula said. “I’d rather not do single motherhood in Paradise.”

  “You,” Kit said as she forced a smile, “have motherhood without marriage and I have marriage without motherhood.”

  “I haven’t even got a boyfriend,” Heather declared.

  “Jason’s available,” Ursula said.

  “I’ll pass.”

  “What about Jose?” Kit asked.

  “As far as I can tell, he’s chasing Maria.”

  “I wish he’d catch her,” Kit said as the women returned to the water’s edge to shave.

  Only after they rinsed arms and legs did Heather ask when Kit planned to renew her vows.

  “We haven’t had time to talk yet,” Kit answered. “Tiffany probably did it the right way—public and to the point.”

  “Ask her to give me some advice about Sean,” Ursula said.

  “She is good at it,” Kit said. “Not at all timid.”

  Heather and Ursula agreed and a few minutes later, the women packed their toiletries and each returned to her work. Heather climbed for coconuts while Ursula and Kit collected bananas and breadfruit. Ursula’s strength soon was sapped by sun and sweat and she returned to camp with just two bunches of bananas slung over her shoulders while Heather and Kit returned much later with bags full of fruit.

  After Ursula retired early, Sean ate dinner with Joan and Deidra, then bathed and washed dirty laundry. After hanging the clothes to dry, he returned to his tent and lay down next to Ursula—whose eyes followed his arrival, but whose lips didn’t move. When he scooted closer, she turned away, both hands beneath a pillow and sleeping bag drawn tight. Sean caressed the pregnant woman’s neck until Ursula shook herself free.

  “Don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t feel like it.”

  “You haven’t felt like it for weeks.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “Only a little.”

  “Don’t be a jerk.”

  “This isn’t,” Sean sat up as he spoke, “abou
t morning sickness or whatever it’s called this time of day, is it?”

  Ursula said nothing.

  “What’s it about?” Sean said, with evident irritation to his voice.

  Ursula still didn’t speak, so Sean rolled her over.

  “You’re a jerk,” the young woman said with a scowl.

  “What’d I do?”

  “Viet helped me cross Mount Zion last night. While you were partying it up at the beach.”

  “I asked you whether I should go or could stay a little longer.”

  “You shouldn’t have to ask.”

  “I should read your mind?”

  “You should be kind.”

  “I thought you liked your independence.”

  “I like compassion too.”

  “You have to tell me what you need.”

  “I don’t know what I need,” Ursula said. “I never carried a baby before.”

  “And,” Sean said, “I’ve never done without sex for two whole weeks.”

  “Welcome to fatherhood.”

  “What a harpy.”

  “I’ve laid in this bed,” Ursula growled, “for two weeks, wrenching my guts, and I’m a harpy because you can’t have a little fun?”

  Sean said nothing.

  “Do you,” Ursula continued, “really want me to vomit on you again?”

  “You don’t look sick now.”

  “Just sick of you.”

  “And this,” Sean said, his voice trembling, “is why I don’t want kids. Everything changes. Women mutate into mothers.”

  Ursula’s face drew tight, her eyes wide and breathing labored. “You don’t have any intention of marrying me, do you?”

  “I said I’d support you.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’ll be there for you and the baby.”

  Ursula began to sob.

  “We never talked of marrying,” Sean whispered.

  “We never talked of babies either.”

  “It’s your choice. Live with it.”

  “You selfish son of a ...” Ursula’s words died in mid-sentence as she threw herself at Sean. She struck him across the cheek with the palm of one hand, but he grabbed the other and pushed her away and fell atop her, pinning her by the wrists.

  “I didn’t mean to say that,” Sean said.

  “You meant to think it, ” Ursula said as she went limp.

  “It’s been hard,” Sean said as he backed away, “neither one of us are accepting this very gracefully.”

  “I want to know,” Ursula said as she continued crying, “what you’re going to do.”

  “I told you I’d be there for you.”

  “How?”

  “You tell me what you want.”

  “I want,” Ursula said as tears ran down her cheeks and her voice cracked, “a man who will love me when pregnancy stretches my figure and who’ll accept me when it makes me crazy. I want a man who will be there during morning sickness.”

  “You never asked.”

  “Do you have any idea how embarrassed I am that Linh and Tiffany clean my messes while daddy parties?”

  “Do you know what I want?” Sean said. “I want a woman who will sleep with me once in a while.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “Isn’t that just convenient?”

  Ursula wiped away her tears as she glared at the father of her unborn child.

  “Ursula, when?” Sean continued. “I can’t wait a year.”

  “I guess,” Ursula said as her eyes flashed and lips tightened, “you’ll wait as long as I do.”

  “You want a man to be there?” Sean replied. “I want a woman to be there with. How long, Ursula?”

  “It depends on my body.”

  Sean muttered curses under his breath, then pulled on a pair of shorts and grabbed a shirt and a pair of dirty boots with socks stuffed in them as he started for the door.

  “You’re not,” Sean growled, “the only woman on this island.”

  “I’m the only one who’d put up with you.”

  “And I won’t be putting up with you if you don’t start putting out.”

  As Sean started to leave, Ursula hit him across the back of the head with a shoe and he screamed—more from surprise than pain—as he stumbled outside. Still, he was careful to aim far from Ursula when he tossed the shoe to the rear of their tent.

  Two tents over, Ryan and Kit lay on their backs and stared through a ventilation window into the dusk. Ryan tapped a toe on Kit’s ankle.

  “Sounds like,” Ryan said, “Ursula and Sean are having it out.”

  “He’s a jerk,” Kit said.

  “He’s young.”

  “Old enough to be a father.”

  “She was there too.”

  “I didn’t say she was a virgin.”

  “She should have been careful. It’s her body.”

  “He doesn’t help her,” Kit said after a pause.

  Ryan moved closer to his wife. “I didn’t nominate him for father of the year.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “But it’s her body and she needs to take care.”

  Kit rolled away, her back turned to Ryan—who inched closer and kissed his wife on the neck, though she didn’t respond.

  “They’ll work it out,” Ryan said. “What’s Sean to you and me?”

  Ryan kissed Kit’s neck a second time and ran his hands down her hips. “Turn around, Kit.”

  When Kit didn’t move, Ryan leaned over his wife and asked what was troubling her.

  “It’s always the woman,” Kit said, “who has to be careful. She has to endure pregnancy for nine months by herself and ...”

  ”And what?”

  “And she has to give up children if the man doesn’t want them.”

  “Not this again.”

  “I’m sorry, Ryan,” Kit said. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come here. I never thought of them in Hollywood, but this island makes me feel things I never imagined. I can’t stop myself.”

  “It’ll pass,” Ryan whispered.

  “I don’t want it to pass.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It seems better to feel childless here than happy in Hollywood.”

  Ryan took Kit by the hand.

  “You want,” Ryan asked with confusion in his voice, “to be moody and miserable?”

  Kit closed her eyes for a long while.

  “I’m happier and unhappier than before,” Kit said after a time. “Only I need a baby someday. Or at least the chance—no, the hope—for a baby. I no longer dream of films and awards. I remember my mother and grandmother and hope for a child. Those are my ambition now.”

  “We made our choice,” Ryan said. “Maybe it wasn’t the best option as things are turning out. I don’t know. But we both agreed it was sensible at the time.”

  “We did.”

  “And it can’t be reversed.”

  “Not really.”

  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “You can try understanding.”

  “I want to empathize,” Ryan said, “but to be honest, I’ve never wanted kids.”

  “You could consider adoption.”

  “If it was possible, I’d consider it. For you.”

  “But you’re saying it’s not possible here?”

  “I don’t see a way,” Ryan said. “Not unless Brent and Tiffany meet some grisly fate. And even then it’s not a baby.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Ryan.”

  “Sorry.”

  “If we’re really to be a country, don’t we need children?”

  “We have four in this village alone.”

  “I mean we need to reproduce. How can we survive past a single generation if we don’t have children to inherit our ideals? Won’t all our dreams die with us?”

  “We can grow through immigration.”

  “Maybe,” Kit said, “but that won’t help us transmit our way of life to the next generation.”

  “We can p
ublish our story.”

  “Who’ll read it?”

  “The whole world.”

  “And if every woman tied her tubes?”

  “They won’t.”

  Kit said nothing.

  “Moreover,” Ryan said, “are you saying you want children for the good of society? That seems rather loveless.”

  “Was it more loving,” Kit whispered, “to choose childlessness for the good of society?”

  Ryan shrugged.

  Kit took a long pause before she renewed the discussion. “Didn’t you ever desire children?”

  Ryan considered his reply for a minute. “Not that I can ever remember,” he said. “Certainly not after college. Not after I learned about the population explosion and the drain on resources and the difficulty of raising children in the modern world.”

  Kit fell silent for a time. When she spoke, there was a tremor to her voice and her hands quivered.

  “You know what I think?” Kit said. “I think I was too taken with my own glamour to want to share the spotlight.”

  “I don’t remember it that way,” Ryan said as he tried to hug his wife—though Kit turned away as Ryan moved closer.

  “We can’t change the past,” Ryan said. “We have to make the best of it. Come closer.”

  Kit didn’t move.

  Now a shout sounded from outside—Sean had yelped a little from surprise or pain.

  “Wow,” Ryan said, “they’re making it public.”

  “I don’t know what Ursula sees in him,” Kit said.

  “He’s not a bad kid. He just needs to grow up.”

  “He has eight months.”

  “That’s an interesting point.”

  “I don’t like his attitude.”

  “I like him being around,” Ryan said.

  “I’m beginning,” Kit said, “to fear he was a bad selection.”

  “Just remember you pressed for him.”

  “I made a couple choices I may live to regret.”

  When Ryan asked for an explanation, Kit said she meant Maria.

  “She does her work,” Ryan noted, “and unlike Ursula, she’s not pregnant. She doesn’t even have a boyfriend. At least none I know of.”

  Kit turned around. “I’d be glad,” she said with a sharp tone, “to hear someone put a baby in her belly too.”

  “That’s not nice.”

  “It’d keep her away from you—with your aversion to pregnancy.”

  “We’ve been over this a dozen times,” Ryan said. “She’s a friend. We’re all friends. I can no more keep away from her than you can keep away from the men of this neighborhood. We aren’t in little white houses in suburbia.”