by Kate Sundara
She tries to put Zak out of mind, to clear away all thought and enter a meditative state. She’s on her way to peace when something makes her open her eyes. Zak’s coming to sit beside her. She fixes her stare ahead at the stained-glass window, shows no sign of excitement though her heart’s skipping beats. Zak moves closer to her with all the confidence in the world. Sat beside her, he takes a long wax taper, dips it into the flame of her candle. The wick’s immersed, but still won’t light. With his hand hovering beside hers, clear hot wax drips onto his fingers, the hairs on his arm brushing lightly against hers. They’re nearly touching, but only nearly. Without even looking she sees bright reflections in his eyes. She won’t look at him. When she looked into the eyes of the village child, his pupils had grown huge against the dark. One look into Zak’s and she wouldn’t stand a chance – those ocean eyes would swallow her whole. Zak readjusts his position so he’s angled from her – neither beside nor opposite – somewhere between. Nonchalantly, she looks down to where he still tries to gently coax the flame, to coax her attention. Their hands almost meet. His hands are the hands of a traveller, hands that have traced the carvings and ruins of ancient civilisations, hands that have embraced the gracious and humble, that have received the hemp-string offerings of friendships now worn around his wrists. Yes all this she feels in him, but she won’t give in.
Music dips and rises over them. She won’t allow Zak to become her focus. Tonight isn’t about him, or her. Wax drips faster onto his hands as wick refuses flame. She watches their wicks kiss as one kindles and the other resists. It’s only as she grapples with a sudden sense of auspiciousness that the wick finally lights.
Zak looks at Mia but she ignores the invitation of his gaze. She regards him for a split second, smiles politely, looks away. She’s right to do so while she still has a chance. She glances back to the window, closes her eyes. Zak stays beside her for a long while then she feels him stand and walk away.
Leaving the church and all the lights behind her, Mia searches the dark, fooling herself she’s not searching for him. People trail from the abbey in their droves but Zak isn’t among them – she’s so attuned to his presence now, she knows when he is or isn’t within her radius. Walking around, she tries to appear natural in case he sees her first from a distance. How casual she’ll seem, with what easy grace she’ll greet him. She doesn’t know what she’ll say if he does show up, she just wants to know what that was back there.
The camp-fire crackles, people already gathered around it, smoke billowing up into the starry sky. She wanders beneath fairy-lights, past flash-lights and fireflies, jesters juggling batons and swirling poi, giggling teenagers smuggling a bottle of alcohol through the dark. Friends and workmates stop her on the tracks for goodbyes and parting hugs and, Mia, can you sign this petition? Save the dolphins! Please fill-out this amnesty form! Hey, what’s your email? Are you on Facebook? What’s Facebook? It’s a new online thing – check it out.
Mia’s enticed into half-a-dozen conversations, all the while keeping a lookout for Zak. She spends all evening walking in the same observant loop, that wistful, unassuming veil of hers wearing thinner with each round. The circus of festivity carousels around her – music, laughter, silhouettes dancing. In quieter corners of camp, couples are kissing or locked in private intensities. Intimacy everywhere, Zak nowhere to be found. Is he with Anna? she wonders. She hasn’t seen Anna either and it’s making her anxious.
Crestfallen, Mia gives up, frustrated by Zak’s push-pullisms. He’s gone, just like that day above the wishing-well, like that evening down in the bay. It’s her last night on the island and she’s as alone as ever. Alone with me.
* * *
Mia oversleeps for the first time all summer. Not even the swinging church-bells could stir her this morning, so I didn’t stand a chance. I watched her sleep.
When finally she wakes – realising it’s her departure date and she’s likely missed her last chance to eat today – she leaps out of bed, brushes her teeth and rushes through the grounds towards the kitchen. Still wearing her cotton candy-striped pyjamas, Mia has barely rubbed the sleepy-dust from her eyes when she hears fast footfall rushing up behind her, and out of nowhere a hand takes her own, side-swiping her off-track, sweeping her up through a broken fence and into the long grassed meadow.
‘Zak!’ Other than a gasp and startled laugh, Mia’s too surprised to say anything else. She blushes, privately acknowledging that they’re walking hand-in-hand, to her astonishment.
There’s a buzz all around him, he grins at her, eyes glistening. Zak’s mood is soaring and it spreads, Mia’s grouchiness disintegrating.
They sit down on either side of the little stream. Mia doesn’t ask him why they’ve come here. She’s too smart to play dumb. Their attraction has been brewing and building, I’ve seen and felt it – that encounter at the wishing-well, then down in the bay, their meeting on the dust-track, then that tension in her dorm, their stillness in the fig-grove, then last night in the candlelit temple, and every magic little moment or glance or smile in between.
Here in the meadow, on the edge of the community, butterflies flutter about them as they poke their toes into the trickling stream. Mia is alone with him properly. She’s been resisting Zak for days, she’s not sure she can do it anymore. She wonders, is he ever going to kiss me?
Zak starts to tell her stories of the amazing places he’s been to in the world. A far cry from his native America. Sat opposite him, sun shining in his ocean eyes, her heart flutters just watching.
‘I’m living the dream!’ says Zak. To Mia he feels like a dream. When he talks to Mia he really looks at her, studying her face, her lips. She feels like they’re falling in love, if they haven’t already. I’m not used to seeing her in this context, because she’s never in this context. Mia has been so self-contained these past few years, I’m now confronted with a stark sense of competition. I become almost defensive, or jealous, for an instant – an influx of feeling from my former self – an echo of emotions that should no longer exist.
The last time Mia was even vaguely close to a guy was at the start of summer: inter-railing with Aussie Jed through Europe. A disastrous choice of travelling-buddy – Jed, with his one-track mind and final attempt to get laid by telling her that story he stole from a romantic movie. He wasn’t to know she has an audiophonic memory, that she’s trained her brain to recall people’s stories in her quest to write a book someday. It was a step too far; she gave Jed the boot, thankfully, and travelled around Europe alone – alone before she found Utopia and Zak, apparently wrapping up her summer a whole different way.
‘One last dip before you go?’ asks Zak with a smile no charm school could teach. He looks out to the sparkling sea.
‘You won’t catch me in the water,’ she tells him.
‘Are you kidding? I’ve seen you lying in this stream right here.’ Mia’s spent her summer literally testing the water, making herself lay here in the shallowest of streams – an attempt to rid that trauma from her mind and body. Even though she finds it almost intolerable – the rushing bub- bling in her ears – she does it every week and internalises her ordeal. It’s self-enforced aversion therapy.
‘You’ve seen me? You were spying on me?!’
Zak laughs, not knowing that to Mia it’s no laughing matter. His laugh sounds kind, however, his teasing lighting up his too-blue eyes.
‘It gets so hot.’ She veils her private ritual with a practicality.
‘C’mon!’ he urges. ‘I found the perfect diving spot! I whip off all my clothes, dive right in. Man, I feel alive!’
Zak makes her feel alive – her pulse is racing. ‘Naked? At an abbey retreat?!’ she switches topic.
‘Naked as in Eden… before the snake.’ He flashes Mia a grin and she giggles. ‘I can’t tell if that laugh’s naughty or innocent,’ he tells her, intrigued.
‘You’re wild!’
‘And you’re still in your pyjamas.’
They la
ugh. With slight incidental movement their toes touch in the little meadow stream. Zak feels the contact and looks at her, eyes gleaming. ‘So what makes someone who hates the water decide to come live on an island for a whole summer?’ he challenges her.
‘I didn’t say I hated it – I’ve a love-hate relationship with the sea.’
‘You’re complex,’ smiles Zak. ‘I like complex. I like your freckles, your British accent…’
‘Quit it. And P.S: That was a terrible British accent. So you’re a writer too? What do you write?’
Zak doesn’t answer. ‘Take a compliment,’ he commands with gentle authority. He leans back on his hands, body-language a mix of ease and intensity, as if he’s purposely maintaining his mystique. Sunlight flickers through branches, she watches the leafy patterns cast across his sun-kissed face. ‘You don’t look so British.’
‘I’m British with Italian roots, if you’re that interested.’
‘Oh, I’m interested…’ He looks out to sea, then turns back to her with a smile on his face ‘So, how ‘bout it?’
‘I told you. What, you think because it’s my last day here I’m gonna make out with you in the water then never see you again? Sorry to disappoint you buddy.’ She’s surprised by her own tone, her cool words masking the heat and chaos of her desire. She wants him but she won’t let on; what’s going on inside her so different to what she wants the world to see. Typical Mia. Maybe Zak can see through it, that’s why he’s not giving up. Whatever the case, it’s working wonders, as he seems to like the chase. Play a little hard-to-get; generations of women before her had passed down that firm advice. And so she clings to it now, wrapping disinterest around her like a blanket, shrouding herself in the credence of ancient wisdom when faced with something so new to her – so new and so deliciously unsettling.
‘Feisty too!’ smiles Zak, eyes glittering.
‘I know how guys think.’
‘Would it be so bad?’
‘I’m not that kind of girl.’
‘So what kind of girl are you?’
‘One who’s had enough of good-looking men saying things to try to get what they want.’
‘You think I’m good-looking?’
She doesn’t answer. It’s a ridiculous question – Zak is extraordinary, she thinks, of course he knows it, and yet a part of her says maybe he doesn’t. She starts to smile, she can’t help it. Zak laughs like he’s got sunshine inside of him, only it comes from a place softer than sun…
‘I think, like me, you see the magic in things,’ he tells her. ‘That’s a gift.’ The imaginary blanket around her is becoming threadbare – he’s unravelling it with his eyes, threatening to leave her exposed. She looks away – doesn’t want him to see any more – doesn’t want him to see that other thing. Me.
‘I see you,’ he says. And he’s gaining on her, coming too close to the truth, she can’t stand it. She glimpses him, light catching the cobalt in his eyes – she looks away, looks down. ‘I know you’re a sassy thing, a travel-writer, seen a lot of the world, brave, independent, a tomboy, but you’re not as tough as you make out. I saw you with that injured bluebird. You’ve got a big heart. The world’s full of brothers and sisters to you, but you like to keep a certain distance. You love nature, you believe in all that’s good. You blush whenever someone calls you beautiful. You’re beautiful.’
‘Stop it.’ She starts to blush, and it’s way too hot here for blankets – it slips right off her as he touches her hand. ‘How did you find this place – the island?’ she quickly asks, retracting her hand, trying to deflect his attention off her for just a second so she can breathe. He just keeps gazing at her with that blithe smile, his non-answer frustrating. It makes her want to slap him… or something. Such a mix of emotions. ‘And where did you disappear to last night? One moment we were in the temple, the next you were gone!’
‘I was called out of mass,’ he eventually concedes. ‘I didn’t want to interrupt you, you had your eyes closed. I was on night-watch – that’s why I was sat near the edge. When mainlanders started leaving, I had to go help, guiding them with flash-lights down the tracks.’
Of course. Zak’s Mr Helpful, Mr Humanitarian, got time for everyone. She loves that.
‘You’re a night worker?’ asks Mia.
‘Uh-huh. Had a nocturnal summer.’
‘So that’s why our paths haven’t crossed till recently.’ Night workers are a small group in charge of security after dusk, patrolling the hilltop for fires, noise, alcohol, loud music, anything that could unbalance the peace. The night-team have separate living quarters so they can eat and sleep at different times without disturbing or being disturbed. His work would’ve eased up now that people are leaving. That explains why she’s started seeing him around.
‘It took a while before we got the last person onto a boat. Soon as I was done with that I came to find you, but you were sleeping,’ says Zak.
‘You came to my dorm?’
Zak smiles, his face kind and playful. He’s a mystery. He regards her with an inquiring look, as if she’s a sort of curio. The part-scorched orchard behind him becomes a sunlit blur, crickets throb, birds gather in the treetops, pecking the ripest cherries. A butterfly rests on the back of her hand.
‘We’re together now. That’s what matters.’
Together? Her heart accelerates.
Silence falls between them, water trickles over their feet. He watches her the way that I used to watch her and I know what he wants, just like I did. Before my hormones dissolved into earth. Before I became purely a light-being. She’s still beautiful to me.
‘Isn’t this the best place you’ve ever been?’ he asks. ‘I mean, we’ve both travelled. Tell me if I’m wrong.’
‘There’s a reason they call it Utopia,’ she tells him. ‘I wish I wasn’t leaving today.’
‘So do I.’ Zak’s ocean-eyes flood into her, eyes that take her back to a place she knew before herself – a place she’s always known, but doesn’t yet know. She’s exploring her own secret Atlantis.
Mia gulps. ‘The thought of leaving this island on that little boat freaks me out.’
‘You seem like you aren’t afraid of anything.’
She’s afraid to look at him. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’
‘I know I’d make you feel safe if I were travelling with you.’
‘Well you’re not.’
‘Don’t you want to be with me?’
‘Be with you? You haven’t even kissed me!’
‘I would if I thought you wouldn’t hit me.’
‘Maybe I would.’
‘I’d risk it.’ Zak reaches in and kisses her. They’re knelt in the sparkling stream, joined in a ray of light, fused by a high-voltage kiss – the thrill of it racing up inside her as his hands hold the back of her damp straw-coloured hair. A thousand unformed images flash through her mind. I look away, practice my detachment – make myself not feel again. I think of sky. I’d be lying if I said it’s not weird for me to witness. It’s tough to watch her living her life when I’m stuck where I am. Another reason why I have to find a way to stop this.
When Zak pulls away, the current breaks and Mia’s fleeting half-seen things scatter like fallen cherries. She’s dizzy, delirious – like someone’s cast a spell on her – like she’s not the same person who entered this meadow. Zak pulls her close so she’s sat on top of him, bites her earlobe – a rush of heat between her legs. This is how creation started, she thinks. Can he tell I’ve never been with anyone before? A flashback of me – a split-second, but she deflects it, focusing on the physical. She wants to scratch his stubble against the soft inside of her arms, to have him run it all the way down her spine. I look away, reaching to touch the leaves on the tree beside me, but my hands pass through like they do with everything.
‘How come you don’t have a boyfriend?’ he asks her.
She doesn’t answer. It’s like she feels me here.
‘Mia.’ It’s the first t
ime she hears him say her name. ‘You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?’
‘No… No of course not. Would I be doing this?!’
Zak laughs and pulls her back into the long grass. She picks up a fallen green fruit – a distraction – and pierces its plump skin with her fingernail, liberating its sweet zesty scent.
‘Why do you suddenly look so sad?’ he asks.
‘Just sad about leaving the island,’ she shrugs it off. ‘Bergamot,’ she says and holds her juicy citrus fingers to his nose. Zak takes her fingertips to his mouth. ‘You can’t eat it!’ she pulls her hand away. ‘The brothers used to extract the oil for aromatherapy. I love all this fruit, all these trees. I saw you in the fig-grove. The other day. With Anna.’
‘Your dorm-mate?’
‘Dorm rep. She’s my neighbour. I have my own room,’ replies Mia.
‘But I saw bunks in your dorm.’
‘All empty. I live alone.’
‘Me too.’
‘We’re in the minority. We’re lucky.’
‘You opted for that?’
She nods. ‘I have some things to work through. It’s better I’m by myself. It is a retreat, after all. A person can be alone if they want to be.’
‘And then you met me.’
Mia starts to smile, she can’t help it. ‘And then I met you…’
Zak laughs a little and it’s like he gets her – like he’s the only one on this whole island who gets her. There’s something about him; he brings out a brighter side to her being, a whole world opening up in which they’re flying high together – but it’s another thing she has to test: ‘When I saw you and Anna in the grove… I thought you were flirting.’
‘Were you jealous?’
‘No.’ It doesn’t sound convincing.
‘She just wants to be your friend,’ says Zak.