by Sloane Tanen
His hands were nestled into my enormously puffy hair. I stared down at his long, dark eyelashes and tried to stop the loud and juicy sneeze I felt tickling my nose. No luck. He untangled himself with no trace of embarrassment and a few casual apologies. He was obviously a guy accustomed to waking up with strangers in unfamiliar places.
J:
Cisco’s morning breath stinks of raw herring, but I’d cut off a finger for a kiss. I swear J., he’s prettier than Rachel Bilson.
F.
I hit send out of habit just as Jonah came running on to the beach screaming.
“I found fresh water! Hey, wake up, wake up!”
His enthusiasm stirred everyone. I could see that Joe was down by the shore rinsing out his clothes. At Jonah’s arrival, Joe reluctantly headed back to the group. That’s when I noticed Milan, curled up in a ball, twitching. She was wearing Chaz’s oversized purple shirt and her hair was in rough sections with odd chunks dangling precariously around her ears. She was sitting next to a pile of extensions she’d obviously spent all night plucking. Yipes.
“Well, where is it?” Cisco asked, perching himself up on his perfectly shaped elbows. His cheek was now green, black and blue, but I sensed there was no reason to bring it up.
“Yeah,” Eve said, “I’m parched.”
“It’s about a mile from here. There’s a fresh stream. We just need to find a way to collect it so we don’t have to keep going back and forth.”
Milan was rocking. She clearly hadn’t slept at all.
“What about food?” Cisco asked, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so hungry, dude.”
“Me too,” Eve said, spitting sand out of her mouth.
“If you’d like a Frappucino or scrambled eggs, you’ll have to wait until Rachael Ray or the Coast Guard show up,” Jonah snapped.
“Relax, dude, I just said I was hungry.”
“All you guys do is sleep and complain. Ever heard of an attitude of gratitude?” I could totally relate to Jonah. Looking after this bunch was as gratifying as looking after my mom and Em. It was always about what you didn’t do. Still, the rhyming was obnoxious.
Jonah tossed a baby turtle down on the sand in front of us.
The turtle was so little and deeply cute. I had a sudden urge to pop him in my pocket. When I was nine, my dad and I tried to start breeding spotted turtles. For whatever reason, turtles were the only animals my mother would allow us to have in the house. I named them all Homer after Homer Simpson. They all died, as is the fate of the childhood pet reptile.
“What’s that for?” I asked, reaching down to stroke his little head.
“Breakfast and a cup. We eat the meat and use his shell for water.” He looked really pleased with himself.
“Yuck. You have got to be kidding. I’ll pass,” Eve said, pulling her shirt around her mini body in defense.
Cisco eyeballed the turtle suspiciously. I could almost see the civil war raging between his inner carnivore and his outer vegetarian.
“No offense, Jonah,” I said, snatching the turtle up and tucking him under my arm. “But that’s a terrible idea. Homer’s just a baby. And there’s not enough meat to satisfy any one of our appetites, let alone all of ours.”
“Who the hell is Homer?” Milan jerked to attention. “Another imaginary friend?”
I looked down at the turtle. Joe and Jonah rolled their eyes.
“I’ll do it,” Milan said, reaching for Homer.
“Do what?” I asked. “I thought you were busy withdrawing.”
“Kill it. You’re a bunch of pussies. I’m hungry.”
“No,” I said with authority. “You can’t be that hungry yet. And he’s not going to fill you up. Besides, if he’s surviving here,” I said, stroking Homer’s head, “that means there are worms or crickets or at least tadpoles.”
“You eat tadpoles, fish-face,” Milan said. “I’ll stick with turtle. They’re on the Zone,” she laughed.
“Forget it,” I said, backing away from her.
“Francesca,” Joe reasoned, “we are going to have to kill something bigger than a worm. And eat it today. It’s that simple.”
“I’m fine to kill something, just not a turtle. Plus, what if they show up in a few hours? Do you want Homer’s blood on your hands?”
“What is the matter with you?” Jonah asked. “It’s a stupid turtle. Who cares?”
“I do! This is one of God’s creatures! I’d expect you of all people to understand.” I knew I sounded insane, but I wasn’t about to justify my childhood attachment to the turtle to Jonah Baron.
“That’s ridiculous. It’s natural. Do you not eat meat?”
“I do, but this is differ—”
“Because it’s not sliced and diced and sold between cellophane at Safeway? You should be more connected to what you put into your body.”
“I just don’t like to think of my food as having such a sweet disposition.”
“Well, that’s a good reason to eat you instead,” Milan piped in, rather wittily, she obviously thought. Chaz laughed. My hair was so huge I could see it out of my peripheral vision. I’d have killed for a rubber band. I felt like a freak standing there in front of them with my clown hair and turtle friend.
“Look, I’ll figure out something else,” I said. “Let’s look for clam shells or coconuts. Doesn’t that make more sense?”
“Give it to me, Francesca,” Cisco said seductively as he reached for Homer.
“Hey!” I said. “I thought you were a vegetarian.”
“Really,” Eve looked at Cisco with disdain. “Aren’t you a PETA spokesman?”
“This is different,” he told us in a firm voice. There hadn’t been a lot of range in Cisco’s expression so far, but here, at last was something interesting. It was hunger.
“And besides,” Eve continued, “you wouldn’t have a clue how to kill it.”
“Is that so?” Cisco asked, inflating with manhood. He lunged back at me, and I turned on my heel and ran to the beach, cradling Homer to my chest, fast as I could go in one shoe. Cisco started chasing me but tripped. I looked back and saw him, facedown, with a mouthful of sand. He really was cute, but he wasn’t the most coordinated guy. I started to laugh, thinking about telling Jordan. This guy needed a stuntman just to take a leak. Suddenly I saw Milan heading toward me. Now that crazy bitch was fast.
Everyone else started screaming and cheering as I made for the water. I turned back once I reached the shore and saw Milan, running, grinning like a serial killer, blotchy spray tan, pieces of patchy, disconnected blond hair circling her face like a vision from The Blair Witch Project. I liked her better medicated. I kissed Homer on the back and tossed him as far as I could back into the ocean. It’s possible he didn’t survive the landing, but I figured any fate was better than being eaten alive by the Brat Pack.
“You crazy, delusional bitch!” Milan started shrieking. “What is the matter with you? If you don’t get me something to eat, I’ll, I’ll…”
“You’ll what? What will you do?”
Milan was shaking and practically foaming at the mouth. Chaz came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Don’t touch me, you fat fuck,” she shrilled, shaking him loose. “I have got to get out of here! If I don’t have a cigarette, I’m seriously going to kill her,” she said pointing to me. “Her body will keep us going for a good year.”
Was that another comment on my weight? I wondered incredulously, looking down at my thighs, which even from that angle didn’t seem that much bigger than hers.
Chaz smiled at Milan, trying to soothe her. “Honey, she’s a piece of lint on your Dolce and Gabbana. Just ignore her and maybe she’ll go away…like a pimple.”
God, he was rude. He led a quivering Milan back to the beach. I found myself standing alone on the shore. Nobody was even looking at me anymore. I realized I had better figure out a way to feed these people or I was going to be on a Survivor team of one. Not that solitude might not be prefer
able to this group. I slunk down in the sand and tried to think of something until I heard Jonah call my name. I turned around and headed back to the group.
“Let’s just put this crazy episode behind us and focus on getting food and collecting water, all right?” he asked, looking directly at me. I nodded.
“We have to assume nobody is coming for a few days,” Jonah said in a feeble attempt to restore sanity. “And we have to plan accordingly.”
“Of course they’re coming,” Milan said. “Why are you so negative?”
“Not negative. I’m just realistic. I don’t know where the search team is, but I do know we need to gather as many amenities as we can before we get dehydrated and hungrier. So, Eve and Francesca, you guys go look in the woods for berries, nuts, anything that looks edible. But do not eat anything. Bring it all back here and we’ll do a test.”
Why did I keep getting stuck with ineffectual Eve Larkin? I could see it already: Eve sitting in my shade while I risked my life climbing nut trees.
“Milan and Cisco,” Jonah continued, “you guys go try and find some sort of vessels or shells to transport water.” Milan smiled while Eve and Cisco exchanged sympathetic looks.
“Chaz and I will go see if we can find any animal tracks. Maybe we can kill something for lunch.”
“Um,” Chaz interrupted, “I’d rather go with Milan and Cisco. I’m more gatherer than hunter, but thanks for thinking of me.”
“You’re coming with me,” Jonah clipped, military style. “I need someone strong.”
“But I’m not strong,” he whined. “I know it’s deceptive, but trust me, there is no muscle under all this fat. There’s just layer upon layer of fluffy nougat. Imagine a human 3 Musketeers bar if you will.”
“Let’s go,” he said to Chaz, ignoring his protest.
“Who elected you Boy Scout leader anyway?” Chaz asked, pouting.
“You want the job, be my guest,” Jonah responded.
Chaz shuffled the sand around with his chubby toes. He looked a bit like Fred Flintstone with his big, bare chest and tan shorts.
“And what’s he doing?” Milan asked, glaring at Joe.
“Whatever he wants. Bird watching. Who cares.”
Joe ignored Jonah.
Eve cleared her throat, “Um, I can’t really be out too long in the midday sun without sunscreen.”
Everybody turned to look at her. She didn’t seem to be kidding.
“Whaaat?” she asked, already trying to creep into my shadow. “I’m very fair,” she said, looking at my freckled arms again in horror.
Eve seriously didn’t get it. It was as if she thought Yvette was going to pull up in a limo any minute with some SPF 45 and a macrobiotic sushi platter. Personally, I would have done anything to team up with Cisco and Milan, or even Jonah and Chaz, but after the Homer incident I decided I should just keep my mouth shut.
All About Eve
It was going on an hour, and Eve and I were still sitting on a white patch of sand that separated the flats from the jungle. She was afraid to go inside, and nothing I said was persuading her otherwise. She just sat there like a troubled anime character with her big head and blinking eyes.
I started texting Jordan out of boredom. Occasionally, Eve shaded her eyes with her hands and glanced up at the sky in anticipation of the next Boeing 747. She looked lost from the inside out.
I had to remind myself who she was because frankly she was pretty unimpressive. There was something profoundly blank about her. She reminded me of a kid’s book my dad used to read to us about a chameleon that was depressed because he would never have a color of his own. She was just like that chameleon, casting about at the end of a stick, instinctively looking for something or someone colorful to get hold of and climb on to. She was gray. She was sad. She was nobody without an audience.
“I think we might have to go farther in,” I suggested, after I finished texting.
“Why did Jonah send Cisco off with Milan?” Eve asked, absently scratching at a colossal mosquito bite on her neck. She was covered in bites.
“Is that what you’ve been thinking about this whole time?”
“It’s not fair. I just don’t see why I couldn’t have gone with Cisco.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. He doesn’t like her. Nobody does.”
Eve’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Do you think she’s pretty?” Eve asked me.
“Who?”
“Milan!”
“I guess, if you like that sort of look.”
“What sort of look?”
“You know, tan, tall, blond, and muscular.”
“As opposed to what?” she deflated, “Pale, short, and flabby?”
“I’m just saying. I think you have a more unique quality.”
“You do?” she asked, suddenly taking great interest in what I had to say.
I could tell she wanted me to elaborate on how good looking I thought she was, and, loathe as I was to kiss Eve Larkin’s ass, I needed an ally around here, and Eve was obviously going to have to do. I was also beginning to realize that the way to this girl’s heart was through her ego.
“Yeah, I mean, you’re beautiful. Milan is just pretty. You’re interesting, she’s pedestrian.” It was beginning to scare me how easily the lies were flying out of my mouth.
She smiled up at me, flattered. I was fairly certain her “team” blew this sort of smoke up her ass on a regular basis, but from them it probably didn’t count. A compliment, to matter, had to come from a stranger.
“You’re really pretty too,” she said lamely. “I could never carry off that hair and those freckles.”
Thanks a lot, I thought, pressing my hair down. This is what Jordan and I like to call poison candy. It seems good at first, and then it gets stuck in your throat and you choke on it. I would have liked to tell her that I didn’t need that kind of affirmation, but let’s face it, a) I did, and b) it was the only language this girl spoke.
“I’m not, but thanks,” I said, smiling. “So, what do you say we venture in a ways?”
“One more question. Please don’t tell anyone I asked you this, OK?”
“OK.”
“I know it sounds really superficial, but how bad do I look?” She straightened up again and looked up at me with those far-set eyes embedded in that pasty white moon face framed with a mat of lank, black hair. Her pale lips were pursed in anticipation, and I could see the slight shadow of a moustache. There were two giant mosquito bites on her left cheek and her neck. Her head was moving around a little in what I can only describe as a sort of Parkinsonian jerk. It was obvious the question was close to her heart. Eve is the sort of girl who’d sacrifice two more days without food for one reassuring glance in a mirror. I mean, there was no denying that Eve was attractive, but unlike Milan, her beauty was more an observation than an announcement.
That said, she definitely made the most of what she had with the tools of civilization. And a blow dryer, hot wax, loads of makeup, and eight hours of sleep seemed to be essential to her beauty regimen. At the moment, she was more Cousin It on crack than Oscar-winning actress.
“You look good. Natural,” I lied again.
“Really? Because I feel like crap.”
I would have liked to kick Eve in the ass. Here we were looking for food, and she was fishing for compliments and obsessing on her appearance. I mean, was she for real? Did she not get how bad she’d look dead? That said, I knew if I wanted her to focus and be motivated, I needed to give her the food she needed. So I did. I took a good long look at her and paused thoughtfully for a minute before speaking. I did this for effect.
“I sort of like the way you look better this way. It’s less ‘done,’ you know? It’s kind of a totally fresh look for you.” Lie, lie, lie.
She ruminated over this for a good forty-five seconds before running her fingers through her hair and roughing it up for effect. Then she smiled and looked at me for approv
al…like I was taking her goddamn picture or something. I nodded stupidly, marveling at how completely lame she was.
“You’re sweet, Francesca. I’m glad you’re here.” Despite myself, my heart skipped a tiny beat. Were Eve Larkin and I becoming friends?
“So,” I said, “what do you say we venture in a bit?”
“I’d really rather not,” she said Britishly. “They’ll figure something out for us to eat.” She settled back onto her rock.
“Who will? Milan and Cisco or Chaz and Joe? C’mon, don’t count on it. The only shot we have is Jonah, and he needs help.”
“This whole thing is just crazy. I keep thinking it’s a dream. A bad one. I feel like I could pass out, I’m so thirsty. And my feet are killing me. I never should have come back. I could fucking kill Yvette.”
“Come back?”
“To the States,” she squirmed, fingering a huge, red blister on the top of her perfectly pedicured toe. “We would have worked through it. I overreacted.” She looked wistful as she examined her foot.
“Who? What are you talking about?”
Eve’s eyes filled up with water. “My boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.” She was far away.
“We had a fight a few months ago,” she continued. “I overreacted probably. Yvette’s been trying to get me back in L.A. for years, so she really jumped on it. But she’s always hated him. Four years of having to justify him to my manager. How twisted is that?”
“Pretty twisted.” I said. “Who is he?” I asked, curious why I didn’t know she’d even had a boyfriend, let alone a boyfriend of four years. You’d think I would have read about it somewhere.
I must have sounded too eager, as she suddenly looked up from her foot and eyed me suspiciously.
“Anyway,” she continued, slipping back into celeb mode by evading my question, “Yvette thought this little African goodwill tour would be good for my image. Idiot. Ouch!” she cried, popping the water blister. “Nice bloody image.”