The Island

by Clarissa Johal

  She made a sweep of the rooms and saw nothing out of place. Grumpily, she went into the bathroom and stripped off her socks and shoes. A crash sounded from the kitchen. Emma ran to see what it was.

  The garbage can had been tipped over and the tequila bottle lay shattered on the floor. “Come on in, everyone,” she griped, “make yourself at home.” Opening the bottom cupboard, Emma peered inside. “All right, where are you?” She straightened. “My hospitality is done. You can go away now!” she yelled to the empty cabin. “I’m not having a good day!”

  She took a step and her bare foot came down on a piece of glass. Hopping across the floor, Emma spewed a string of expletives. She limped into the bathroom, trailing blood across the floor. After rinsing the cut in the bathtub, she hunted for a Band-Aid and found none. Emma pulled on a clean sock instead. She limped back into the living room to wipe up the blood.

  It was gone.

  She checked the bottom of her sock, thinking she’d tromped through it. There was no trace of blood, no smears on the floor. It was simply gone.

  “I’m seriously losing my mind.”

  She grabbed a broom to sweep up the glass, being careful not to step on it. On autopilot, Emma started a fire. Her thoughts tumbled over one another as she gazed into the flames. Maybe I need to eat.

  Too tired to consider anything beyond soup, Emma opened a can and heated it. She got a couple spoonfuls down before she decided her stomach wasn’t interested.

  Emma contemplated calling her dad, just to hear his voice. He’ll know you aren’t feeling well. You’re just going to worry him for no reason. He can’t do anything about you, anyway. Gideon said Nathanial will pick you up. Be patient.

  “What if he forgets?”

  The cabin walls held no answers for her. Emma limped back into the bedroom.

  A breeze blew in from the open window, though she swore she’d closed it earlier. And that’s why you have visitors, Emma. She shut and latched it with a sigh. Crawling into her sleeping bag, it wasn’t long before sleep claimed her.

  Something was licking the floor.

  Emma woke with a start. A trickle of moonlight traced the dark corners of the room. The night was silent. I must have been dreaming. A breeze blew in from the open window.

  “What the hell?”

  She closed and latched it with a frown. Her foot stung. At some point during the night, she’d taken off her sock. Emma found it on the floor and slipped it on again. Climbing back into her sleeping bag, she curled herself into a ball. She started to drift when the sound of footsteps echoed from the living room. She made a grab for her flashlight and switched it on. Straining to hear, there was nothing but silence. Either I’m hearing things, or the squirrel got really big.

  Creeping into the living room, she made a sweep of the darkened corners. She let out a nervous laugh. “There’s nothing here.” The fire had almost burned down, and she added a log to it before returning to bed.

  Her night was a restless one.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EMMA AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING feeling dehydrated and spent. She slipped out of bed and winced as her foot hit the floor. Pulling her sock off, she saw the cut on her foot was red and irritated. She limped into the bathroom. To her surprise, the scrape on her cheek had bled during the night. Dried blood smeared her jaw and neck. The shattered mirror multiplied the image a hundred times over. Averting her eyes, she quickly rinsed her face.

  A breakfast of leftover soup washed away the residual feeling of emptiness. She quickly dressed and noted the bedroom window was open again. Several pine needles littered the ledge. Emma brushed them outside with a frown. She pulled the window shut with a slam and latched it. Pushing on the window, she tried to see if the latch slipped on its own. It held tight.

  Emma spent the morning working on the garden. It was nice to be outside, she reflected. A part of her felt compelled to return to the cave and see just what exactly lay in the corner. A larger part of her was quick to dismiss the ridiculous notion that it was anything out of the ordinary. If Nathanial stops by like Gideon said he might, I need to be ready to leave. Not roaming the island, looking for god knows what.

  Emma surveyed the wilting plants Derek had pulled. There were a couple Solomon’s plumes that remained intact, but her grandmother would have been mortified at the damage. As a child, Emma remembered peeking out the bedroom window to catch Fae in a rare moment of joy. The woman had been cultivating and gathering various leaves and roots to dry for the season. Emma had quickly run out to the garden, thinking they’d work on the task together. Fae had been humming softly, a wisp of a smile on her lips. It was only when Emma joined her that the tune was cut short and a frown quickly replaced the smile without apology.

  Emma bit back a feeling of melancholy. A cluster of burdock had taken hold of one corner of the garden. Handling the plants would be a mistake. She’d tangled with their burrs before and lost. She went to the tool shed to see if she could find some gardening gloves. They lay on top of a pair of rusty pruning shears. Stiff with mud, the gloves had seen better days, but at least they’d protect her hands.

  Focusing on the task at hand, she clipped leaves from one plant and gathered the roots of another. The garden slowly began to take shape and look a little less wild. A lingering tiredness continued to plague her. Five minutes with Derek. Five minutes is all I’d need. She debated calling information to get his phone number. The conversation in her mind ended with her leaping through the phone and punching him in the face. It was a nice day dream, and kept her going.

  The sun passed overhead as the day wore on. She continued to work in the garden, happily passing the time by letting her thoughts wander. Emma sang several songs she knew and made up words to the ones she didn’t. An eerie feeling came over her and she glanced over her shoulder. She walked to the edge of the garden and peered through the trees. Seeing nothing, she shrugged it off.

  Emma went inside to rinse her bounty in the sink. The burdock leaves could be boiled, though she wasn’t a fan. Tubers from an overgrown Jerusalem artichoke might be edible, she mused. She decided to save some for dinner. The other plants she’d harvested could be dried and stored. The phone rang, and she ran to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “I suck.”

  Emma sank to the bed in relief. “No, you don’t.”

  “Derek and I had it out last night.”

  “Paisley—”

  “Let me talk because I just finished a bag of Gummy Bears and the sugar buzz is only gonna last for so long. You’re my best friend. We’ve been best friends since grade school. Guys come and go.”

  “You broke up with him?”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “I’m…sorry,” she said. “He’s not worth it, Paisley. You deserve better.”

  “You know what? I do. Onward and upward.”

  “Onward and upward.”

  “The Atomic Unicorn has that big art show Sunday night.” Paisley sniffed. “Maybe I’ll meet someone artsy who’s not a jerk.”

  “Of course you will. Or not. Staying single for a while is okay too, you know.”

  “There is this one artist who’s kind of cute. I need to find something to wear.”

  “You can borrow something of mine, if you want. You’ve got my key.”

  “Hello? Curvy size Paisley here. Teeny size Emma.”

  “Well, if you need shoes or something. My closet it your closet.”

  “Thanks,” Paisley said dolefully. “So, how’s it going in the land of the lost?”

  “Yesterday was kind of rough—” Emma paused. “Um…not to add salt to your wound, but.…”

  “Spill it.”

  “I think Derek put something in the tequila. I only had one shot, but I woke up with the most godawful hangover, and yesterday was a mess.”

  There was a pause. “Fucking son of a bitch. I’m going to fucking kill him. Better yet, I’ll call my cousin, Clyde, and have him arrested. Save the tequila for evidence.�
��

  “I dumped it down the drain. I’m kicking myself, trust me.”

  “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I know some hackers who can make Derek’s life a living hell.”

  “You were drinking the tequila too. Did you feel weird that night or anything?”

  “You know, he took the tequila away from me and was being all possessive with it,” she said. “When I went in to pee, he had the bottle open in the kitchen. He said it’d be a night you wouldn’t forget.”

  “Asshole,” Emma muttered.

  “I was too drunk to know what the fuck he was going on about. Shit, Emma. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  “I’m all right. A little worse for wear, but I feel better today than I did yesterday.”

  “Do you want me to come back? I could probably manage to get away for the day. Ash is on lunch right now, but—”

  “I’m basically finished here. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I promised to help you and—shit, I messed up.”

  “Derek messed up, Paisley. Not you,” Emma corrected. “Gideon said he’d give Nathanial a call if he can’t get his own boat up and running. Once someone shows, I’m out of here.”

  “Nathanial, huh? Hmm, I see.”

  “No, you don’t. Shush,” Emma said. “So I found that pile of rocks I told you about. It is a cave.”

  “Tell me you didn’t go in. It was probably full of snakes.”

  “It was empty, but I think my grandmother must have found the same cave. She wrote about it in her journal.”

  “You need to be careful with caves. Remember what happened to Frodo.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen.” Emma touched the scrape on her cheek.

  “Shoot, I gotta go. One of my customers just slipped a Hentai in with Archie. That’s gonna give some poor kid an education.”

  “Save the children.”

  Paisley snickered. “The art show is Sunday night at seven. Are you going to make it?”

  “I think so.”

  “Call me when you get back.”

  Emma hung up and saw she had a message. She tapped play and listened.

  “It’s Dad. Hope everything is okay. Give me a call when you can.”

  The message was short, but she could hear the tension in his voice. Heart racing, she quickly returned his call.

  “Dad?”

  “Hey, honey.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I went to my doctor’s appointment yesterday.” Pause. “I’ve been putting it off, but…he wants to do surgery.”

  “When? Why?”

  “He says my disc is herniated. I’ve scheduled it for Wednesday.”

  “So soon? Do you need my help?” She ran her fingers though her hair. “Gideon said it might be a couple days before his boat’s fixed, but I can call him—”

  “His boat’s broken? Business is bad right now. He’s going to take a hit on that.” He sighed. “Don’t worry about it. I know you don’t like hospitals.”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “Margaret offered to drive me to and from. She took me to my appointment yesterday, as a matter of fact,” he added. “I don’t want you to worry, Emma.”

  “I’m not worried,” Emma said quickly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. What time is your surgery scheduled?”

  “Ten in the morning,” he replied.

  “How long are they keeping you?”

  “Overnight, at least.”

  “Tell Margaret to call me after it’s over, okay?”

  “She’s here. She wants to talk to you.”

  “Emma?” Margaret’s voice came high and lilting. “How are you doing out there?”

  “I’m basically finished.” Emma paced the living room. “I’m just waiting for a boat ride back.”

  “Your dad will be fine.”

  “He never told me he needed surgery—”

  “Sweetie, I know in his heart that he doesn’t expect you to drop everything. You’re doing exactly what needs to be done. His doctor has been telling him for the past week he needed surgery. Once your dad stopped trying to fight him on it—”

  “I wish he would have said something.”

  “He didn’t want you to worry. They couldn’t have picked a better surgeon. He fixed my sister up as good as new. Her hip, let me tell you…”

  Emma half-listened to Margaret’s ramblings.

  “I promise to call you when he’s done,” Margaret finished. “Do you want to talk to your dad again?”

  “Yes.” She waited for him to take the phone. “We could have put Fae’s stuff on hold, you know,” Emma scolded. “At least until you were on the mend.”

  “I was hoping to avoid all of this, but… Doctor Bates says it’s basically an in-and-out procedure. Don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not mad,” she said with a sigh. “Make sure Margaret calls me, okay?”

  “She will.”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you too, honey,” he said. “I’ll talk to you when it’s over.”

  Emma hung up. It’s just a simple surgery. It will be fine. Worry gnawed at her insides. Not like Mom. This isn’t like Mom.

  She went into the kitchen and grabbed an apple. Pacing the cabin, her thoughts were in turmoil. Emma set the apple on the table and grabbed her phone, shoving it into her back pocket.

  The waves lapped rhythmically against the dock. Scurrying clouds raced across the sky. Emma watched them. It’s just a simple surgery. He’ll only be in the hospital overnight. There’s nothing wrong with letting Margaret help out either. She’s been after Dad for years. Gazing across the ocean, she blinked as something surfaced. A seal? Whatever it was, it ducked quickly under the water.

  Waiting for it to surface again, Emma walked to the end of the dock, hoping to get a better view. She stood, uncertain. My imagination is playing tricks on me. It’s probably just some seaweed.

  Farther down the beach, Emma came across a pile of driftwood. The wood had been tossed by a recent storm, configuring into something that almost looked like a fort. With a little work, it could be a fort. Half-heartedly, she kicked one of the smaller logs into place. It’s all about layers. She pulled out her phone and contemplated calling her dad back. Shaking her head, she slipped it into her back pocket again. Emma rolled one of the larger logs into place. Making a fort would be a complete waste of time, she thought, but it was her time to waste, and she had to do something to distract herself.

  For the next hour, Emma rolled and stacked logs into place. She hunted for smaller pieces of wood for support and stuffed seaweed into the cracks. Wet sand stuck to her jeans, and her hands were reddened from the cold. The scrape on her cheek stung from the salty sea air. When she was done, however, she surveyed her work with satisfaction.

  “That’s a very good fort, if I do say so myself.” She tied a piece of seaweed to the top of a stick, making a flag. Emma wedged it between two pieces of driftwood. “It may not last through the next storm, but I think I’ve made my mark.” The seaweed flapped wetly in the breeze. “Welcome to Emma’s Island!” she yelled out at the ocean.

  Her voice was swallowed by the sound of the waves.

  Emma walked to the cabin, lost in thought. As she reached the clearing, she saw that the front door stood ajar. I swear I shut the door when I left. “Hello?” Nothing but silence greeted her. She dismissed it as the wind until she noticed the apple she’d left on the kitchen table was gone.

  Emma checked throughout the cabin. “That’s what you get for leaving food out.” She tied the garbage shut and picked up the blue dish from outside. “No more freebies for you, Mr. Squirrel. You just broke house rules for the last time.”

  For the next several hours, she needlessly moved boxes around, singing out loud to silence her internal chatter. Several times, she thought she caught movement outside the window, but dismissed it as nerves. By evening the wind picked up, hinting at a possible storm. Emma dusted her hands off and went into the b
athroom to clean up.

  The mirror reflected the worry in her eyes. It was duplicated into shattered pieces. Emma changed into her pajamas. Margaret will call me once the surgery is over. She promised. I can always call her if she forgets. She flopped onto the bed and examined the raw-looking cut on her foot. Her attention was captured by Fae’s journal sitting on the bedside table. She picked it up and opened to a random page.

  November 20, 1999

  My heart goes out to my son, for now he knows the loneliness of being left behind. Kate’s death was unexpected. To go in for something simple and have that happen… It seems so unfair. Sometimes these things are without rhyme or reason. I hear the pain in my son’s voice and can’t do a thing about it. I don’t think he ever got over their divorce. Losing someone you love is the greatest pain imaginable. Even time cannot erase it.

  The last sentence burned in Emma’s mind, and she immediately wished she hadn’t read it. She turned a few pages, her hands shaking with nervousness.

  December 15, 1999

  Avery has asked to send Emma out for Christmas. I know he wishes for us to be closer, but she doesn’t want me. I keep telling him this, but he’s lost in his own world of grief. This will be the child’s first Christmas without her mother, but I know it’s not safe for Emma out here. Sometimes, I fear it isn’t safe for me.

  “Not safe? What are you talking about, Fae?” Emma’s jaw tightened. “I ended up spending Christmas alone while Dad slept all day in his bedroom. That was so much better.” Frustrated, she turned a few more pages.

  August 2002

  Peter dropped by with his family. He bought a new fishing boat so his wife and son could go out with him in the summer. His wife is from Somerset and is very charming. You can tell Peter is quite smitten with her. His son, Nathaniel, has plans to attend the university on the mainland to study marine biology. He was very polite and stayed by his father’s side, which I appreciated. I miss Gerry. Sometimes I still see myself standing over his hospital bed.