by Wicks, Becky
'That's romantic,' he says, nudging me with his shoulder. The wind is howling outside.
'It was good at first,' I say. 'He was good for me, but like you said, there was always this huge hole from what I lost and he couldn't fill it, even though he wanted to. He said I was a control freak... but I never had any control over anything. I never felt like I did, anyway. Not after the tsunami.'
I pause as Ben squeezes my fingers. 'Izzy,' he says quietly, 'we all got messed up. And no one on the outside really knows how to deal with someone who's been through what we have. How can they?'
We're so close now. I can hear us breathing at the same time and I almost tell him. I almost let it out that Colin cheated on me with Claire; how I was feeding Sega in our brand new kitchen when he came home that night. I remember looking at the Whiskas can in my hand as I sank to the floor and told him what I'd seen on his laptop. I was thinking how when it had been closed, everything was fine, but soon as it had been opened, my life had changed all over again and I had no control anymore. No control over anything. I wished I'd never read that email, but more than that maybe, I wished I'd never fed his cat.
I look at our hands entwined. No. I can't tell Ben. He'll ask why I went back to him, just like Amy would if I told her. He'll know how bloody pathetic I was... am. I just have to break things off once and for all, stop being so weak, stop relying on his presence as my only constant.
'So, things are complicated,' Ben says now. 'But you love him, right?'
I turn my face to him, to his lips in a straight line now; his serious eyes that see through me. I can omit slight truths, but I can't lie to him. 'It wouldn't be fair to say no, but really, I don't know if I like him that much anymore,' I admit.
'You don't like him? What did he do?'
'Nothing he doesn't think we can't work through.'
'OK...'
I don't have much else to compare love to, really, Ben. Colin's the only man I've ever been with. What do you want me to say?'
Shit. I cringe to myself at what I've clearly just admitted, but Ben drops my hand, brushes my hair aside, tilts my chin up so I'm trapped in his stare. 'Nothing,' he says defiantly. 'I don't know much about love either, Izzy, trust me,' he says, resting his forehead against mine.
An eternity passes. The contact and his breath on my skin and the dampness of his hair makes my blood fizz like Cola through my veins. 'Izzy,' he whispers now. It sounds more like a groan. 'It's time.'
Time? My nose is touching his now. My hands flatten against his bare chest. 'Time for what?'
He stands up quickly, pulling me to my feet and letting go. My hands fall to my sides. 'Time you had a bucket.'
Wait. What?
'Come on, British Izzy, it's bucket time. We're on Phi Phi, you got all your stuff back, you just bitch-slapped a thief like a badass, there's no excuse. We're celebrating.'
My pulse is still throbbing wildly as he unzips his bag, pulls on a loose green button up shirt, runs his hands through his hair again in front of the mirror. What the hell? I thought he was about to kiss me. Now he's dragging me out to drink alcohol from a bucket?
'But it's still raining!' I say as I watch him grab his wallet from the waterproof pack.
'So we'll get wet,' he replies, heading for the door. 'Vamos aviando, let's go.'
BEN
'Sang Som, Red Bull and guava juice from a box! This right here is a Phi Phi Dream,' I tell her, putting the silver bucket down on the sticky table in front of her. Izzy turns up her nose at the pink drink.
'That looks like it's already been vomited up.'
'No, no,' I say, pulling out the chair next to her. 'That's an elixir that will fix ya.' I put my feet up on the empty chair. 'I just made that up, do you like that, writer?'
She laughs at the same time as she shakes her head and I watch her take what looks like three small sips through the straw. 'Sugar cane rum,' I say, studying her lips in the pink flashing lights. 'Sang Som's the cheapest you can get, pretty much, but it's a specialty. What do your esteemed taste buds think? Would it make it into Sweet Eats?'
'No way in hell, it's disgusting,' she shouts over the music, but she takes another three sips anyway, grinning.
'That's right, get back to those boozing roots,' I tell her, pushing the bucket even closer to her. 'Your country would be proud.'
She swipes a hand across her mouth, leans her elbows on the table and runs her tongue along her lip in a way that's not supposed to be sexual at all, but really is. 'It's not that bad. Are you trying to get me drunk?'
'Why would I do that?' I say.
Izzy opens her mouth to say something flippant that I know will be bordering on what we both know is the truth; that we have to share a bed tonight and that there's a very large possibility that we might not want to keep our hands off each other. I think we're both a little more uncomfortable with the situation than we're letting on. But she closes her mouth, drinks more through the straw and pushes the bucket back to me.
The bar is busy. We're two minutes from the hotel so it's not on the beach, it's on the street, and a guy on the mic is trying to get everyone to sign up for karaoke. I hate karaoke, but I will sing ten Abba songs in a row if it means I don't have to go back to that room just yet. I almost kissed her before. I almost crossed that line.
We're silent, passing the bucket back and forth, watching a guy get up and start with a really bad, drunken rendition of My Way.
'I wouldn't do anything his way,' Izzy says to me, halfway through the chorus. 'His way is terrifying.'
'Terrifying,' I agree. 'At least he's drowning out the storm.'
'Silver linings,' she smiles. My eyes stay on her lips. I was literally one millisecond away from caving in before I stood up and dragged her out of that room. I can't initiate anything, I keep telling myself that. It's not right. She's got Colin, whatever the hell's going on there, and I don't even know where I am with Kalaya. Plus, she's not just some tipsy tourist looking for a one-night-stand. What good would ever come from me starting something? Nothing ever does.
My phone buzzes on the table. Izzy's eyes flash to it. It's my mom. I stare at it, put my feet to the floor as the usual battle starts off in my brain, but Izzy nudges the phone with a finger. 'You should answer that, I'll be OK with Frank Sinatra here.'
I have no choice. I put the phone to my ear, stand up and head to the doorway. Mom starts talking at me a million miles an hour as soon as I pick up, but all too soon the line goes quiet and there's nothing left to say. I watch a plastic chip packet blow down the street in the wind as a girl starts destroying a Taylor Swift song in the key of wasted behind me. Izzy's words won't leave my head, what she said before: So you don't like to commit, much?
She's right. I never commit and I never really deal with any of the consequences of that because usually I cut people off clean before any shit hits any fans. But hearing that one observation from her mouth made me feel like more of an asshole than ever, not least because I want to kiss her as much as I did when I was a teenager. More than that, now. I want to pick her up and make love to this amazing miracle girl who's shaking up my life like another fucking earthquake.
I ball my fist.
Stop before she falls. Before you fall. Nothing breaks another heart harder than one that's already broken. I read that once, I can't remember where, but it's true. I need more alcohol. I need to get drunk so I fall asleep and don't do anything stupid when we get back. I head back inside as the girl's finishing up her murderous song.
'Everything OK?' Izzy asks.
I put my phone back on the table. I remember what my mom told me. 'Yes, funnily enough my mom's going to be in London in a few weeks. She's going there with my step dad on some business thing. She wants to know if I'll fly there and meet her.'
Izzy twists her hair around her fingers, looking at me. 'That's a great idea, will you go?'
'I don't know,' I say, pulling the bucket to me. It's almost all gone and she pulls a face that says oops.
'So you and your mom don't see too much of each other, I guess?' she asks.
'Not that much,' I say, finishing what's left of the cocktail.
You don't talk, either?'
'We don't have much to talk about.'
'Really? You have an amazing life out here, Ben!'
'I can't talk to her,' I say, trying to keep my tone even. 'It's not that simple. Time for another bucket? This one's broken.' I pick it up.
'By broken, you mean empty?' she says, raising an eyebrow.
'Exactly, I'll be right back.'
The karaoke guy catches me on the way to the bar, and again on my way back with the fresh bucket. 'I've seen you two trying to keep it on the down-low,' he says, beaming. He's huge, hot and sweaty and sounds like he's from Essex. His beer belly is bloating out under the ubiquitous Chang T-shirt. He's boozed up outside and in. 'I'm putting you down for Endless Love - the Mariah Carey version, yeah?'
'Um, no,' I say. 'Don't do that, buddy.'
'Ah, come on, we need a duet!'
I tell him no again, go put the bucket back down on the table. Izzy's smiling lopsidedly. 'Is he going to make us sing?'
'I hope not!'
She's buzzed already, I can see it in her eyes. She's luminous in pinks and greens and sparkles from the lights and the glitter ball. Three girls are dancing, holding a bucket each, wearing nothing but bikinis and sarongs. I'm guessing they've been in here since the rain started, straight off the beach.
'You know,' Izzy says, contemplatively, watching them twirling each other round in an epileptic's nightmare, 'if you're in London while I'm there I'm going to take you to this deli near my office. They have the best hot cross buns, you need to try them.'
'Hot cross buns?' I say, drawn to her mouth again.
'Usually they're an Easter thing in Britain,' she says, 'but this place has them all the time, we go there most days. It's near Covent Garden. You'd love it. You'd love London. I can't believe you haven't been.'
She talks and I lose myself in her voice, the way I did when I first met her. I don't know what the hell hot cross buns are, but she makes them sound like something I could feast on and live inside and be happy with for the rest of my life. I can see her coming back more every day; the confident her, the vibrant her, the adventurous her. I imagine walking round London with her, holding her hand, riding one of those big red buses and taking photos of Big Ben. I'd be little Ben next to Big Ben; that's what she'd say. I smile. I've zoned out. Damn, this rum is strong.
We're halfway through the second bucket when our names are called - or rather, 'Girl in green dress, guy in green shirt! Get up here!' We look at each other, only just realizing our colors match.
'I can't sing,' Izzy says now. Her tongue is pink from the juice.
'Can't because you're full of rum?' I laugh.
'Can't because I really can't!'
She tries to cover her face and bury her head in her arms but everyone's cheering for us now, stomping on the floor, clapping their hands. The three girls are wolf-whistling and one of them has taken off her sarong so she's literally standing on the dance floor in her bikini, doing some kind of weird hippy welcome dance as she beckons us forwards with her hands.
'OK, OK, come on,' I say, holding my hand out to Izzy. She groans dramatically as she lets me pull her up but we're both grinning like drunken idiots three seconds later when we get to the mics. The music's already started. It's a slow one but it doesn't stop the buzz in the room.
My love, there's only you in my life. The only thing that's right.
My first love, you're every breath that I take, you're every step I make.
The rum's rolling round in my brain but I can see it's getting to Izzy, more than me. She can protest all she wants but she's animated now, like she hasn't had this much fun in forever. Maybe she hasn't. She reaches for my hand. I twirl her around obligingly, like we're doing a slow dance. She gets caught for a second in the mic wire and I help her untangle herself as she cracks up, still singing, while the room whistles and whoops and dances.
'Another drink?' a guy from the bar asks us. Obviously he thinks we're too sober.
I pause. 'I don't think so...'
'Yes please, we'll have one more,' Izzy cuts in. 'And maybe one more after that.'
'Are you trying to get me drunk now?' I say.
'It was your idea!' She sticks out her pink tongue, spins again next to me in a kaleidoscope of color and in my mind I'm pulling her in and kissing her sugary lips. In my mind I'm carrying her right out of this bar and right back to that bed.
Two hearts. Two hearts that beat as one. Our lives have just begun...
My love, my love, my love, my endless love.
No. What good would ever come from me starting something? Nothing good at all. But Izzy is another tsunami. She's sweeping me up, faster and faster now and I'm not entirely sure how long I can fight.
ISLA
'You're wearing Ghostbusters pajamas?' Ben says, the moment I step out of the bathroom. My hand reaches for the doorframe. I'm having a little bit of trouble walking straight. I don't actually know how many buckets we had but I have a feeling it was too many because the karaoke guy told us it was one a.m when we left. That was just before he said he couldn't play Bohemian Rhapsody again because we'd already sung it. I look down at my pajamas.
'What's wrong with them? I say.
'Nothing, I love Ghostbusters,' he smiles. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me, and he's only wearing red boxer shorts. I can see two of him and they're both way too sexy to be real. 'Wait, do those glow in the dark?' he says now, standing up. I see his torso coming right at me before he walks past me and switches off the light. My shirt lights up with the words I ain't afraid of no ghost, and he snorts, flicking it back on it again.
'You're too funny,' he says. I see two torsos again as he walks back towards me but this time he stops, puts a hand on my arm. 'Are you OK? You don't feel sick do you?'
'No, I feel good,' I lie, focusing straight at the fine patch of sandy hair at the top of his chest. In truth I feel terrible but I'm not about to tell Ben that. He chuckles again at my pajama top as he heads around me into the bathroom. I move to the bed. He pokes his head out with his toothbrush in his hand.
'Why did you bring bath salts?' he asks, holding one up. 'I wouldn't take a bath here, you might catch something.'
I groan as I stumble towards him again, take the bottle from his hands and put it back with the other two on the shelf, in a line. He watches me, obviously wondering what the hell I'm doing. I can't blame him.
'They were my mom's', I say simply. I don't have the energy to explain I take them everywhere. I also don't really want to explain that Colin has matching Ghostbuster pajamas, or that we bought them with coupons he saved up. When I told Amy, she didn't think it was as romantic as I did. She said he was a knob.
I frown to myself, walk back over to the bed and flop down. In seconds, Ben's sitting down on the other side. I realize how heavy my feet are, and that I might possibly still be wearing my flip flops. I shake my feet. One shoe goes flying across the room, hits the desk, and makes me stumble onto the bed. 'Sorry,' I say, but Ben's moved to lean himself up against the headboard now. His arms are folded.
'You're so cute when you're inebriated,' he grins.
'Stop insulting me.'
'I'm not insulting you, I think you're awesome.'
Something in his voice - real, genuine admiration - sends the butterflies surging through me again with the cocktails and I hold my breath, concentrate hard on sitting up straight against the headboard next to him. My squinting eyes fall to his abs - the sheer ridiculous perfection of them. I lift my shirt on my stomach and inspect my own. Are they that good? They're probably not because I haven't done my Pilates in about two weeks, and I've eaten a lot of Pad Thai.
'What are you doing?' Ben asks. I drop my shirt.
'Nothing.'
'Seriously, it's been a really long day, are you sure y
ou're alright? Here...' he climbs off the bed again, goes to the fridge under the desk. I watch him as he pulls out a big plastic bottle of water; then he comes right back and hands it to me. I unscrew it, seeing two bottles. 'Drink as much as you can, Izzy, OK?'
'I don't normally drink buckets,' I explain, screwing up my face.
'I know, shit, I was being irresponsible making you drink those...'
'I'm a big girl. You didn't pour them down my throat.'
'Well, no, you were doing that on your own.' He smiles and observes me drinking. I spill a little down my chin and he takes the bottle as I swipe at my face. I grab it back.
'No, I only had two!'
'What?'
'Two sips.' I take a third quickly and put the bottle down next to me, next to the photo of mom and dad I got back with my stolen stuff. When I turn to Ben he's frowning. I study the scratches on his face, still red, like my temper when I think of Kalaya attacking him. I open my mouth to say something but a buzzing sound in my ear makes me dart my head away and almost makes me fall off the bed.
'Damn mosquitoes!' Ben jumps up on the bed quickly in his red boxers. I watch every line of his tanned body spring into action on the green blanket as he lifts his hands in the air and claps them together ferociously. 'Ah haaaaa! Gotcha!'
'Colin wouldn't like that,' I say out loud as he shakes his hands off triumphantly and reaches them up to try and squish another one. He misses, curses, then fiddles with a tie till it comes undone and releases the mosquito net down around us. It puts us in a white mesh tent that makes us seem even more enclosed than we already are.
Ben looks down at me, eyebrow cocked. 'Why wouldn't Colin like me killing mosquitos?'
'Once when we hired a cottage in the Brecon Beacons... that's in Wales... there were some mosquitoes in the bathroom and he gathered them all up in a jar and put them back outside.'
'Wait, what?' Ben drops back to the mattress on his haunches in front of me. 'Are you serious?'
