by J G Alva
“Really?” She held him with her eyes. “If she is alive...how long has it been now? Two years, almost? Do you think she’s waited for you? If she’s half as pretty as you say she is, she won’t be lonely for long. Now, all there is of her, all that you really have of her, is what’s in your head. She’s a dream, she’s not real, but I am, and I’m right here, and I need you, I need you like I need to breathe. Let me in and I’ll give you everything, all that I am.”
“No, Rebekah,” Nick said. His tongue seemed swollen in his mouth and it was hard to talk, hard to breathe. The sweat was pouring off him. His need for her felt like a real thing, a weight on his chest that he couldn’t push off. “No.”
“No,” she said softly, a confirmation of sorts, and hung her head. “But there it is. I can’t help it, it’s already happened.”
“This is puppy love,” Nick said. “That’s all it is. Puppy love. A stupid infatuation.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not.”
“How do you know?” Nick said desperately. “Huh? Christ, if you were stuck on this island with any other man, you’d probably be in love with him too. Fuck, if you were stuck on this island with a washing machine that had a dick you’d probably be in love with that.”
“That’s not true. You know it’s not true.”
I do, he thought. Damn it, I do know it. Sweat seemed to be pouring from every pore on his body. If he could just hang on until she walked away, soon now, he’d be alright.
“This can’t work. I’m an old man, and I’m married, and what you say about Jessica might be true, but my marriage still means something to me.”
Rebekah nodded.
“I know. It’s okay. That’s why I can’t stay. You understand, don’t you?”
Nick wiped the sweat from his brow. He didn’t want to be alone. He was terrified of it. He had nightmares about it.
“This is...this is ridiculous.”
“I can’t stay, Nick. I just can’t. You’re killing me.”
Nick swallowed thickly. He wanted to grab her, to take her, he would do anything to keep her here, but he also wanted her gone, go, for God’s sake, go, get out of my sight, before...before...
“Alright,” he said hoarsely.
Rebekah was crying.
“You’d let me go, wouldn’t you. You asshole. You’d let me go. You complete asshole.”
One of her fists came looping out of the dark and hit him on the chest, and then another, and another, until she was pelting him, crying and hitting him, and Nick put his hands out to stop her, and one of her fists caught him on the nose, the burst of pain exploding behind his eyes, he saw sparks for a moment, and with that his anger boiled over, little brat, fucking little brat, and he grabbed her arms, moving to pull her down, his weight on top of her, both of her arms pinned to the ground, she bucking to throw him off but he too big and heavy for her and then –
He was kissing her. He had no memory of it, no idea how long it had been going on, and a small part of him watched in wonder as almost without any conscious control he tore at her clothes, getting her white shorts down, his hand delving in to her, she bucking again but not to throw him off, she was coming, coming and screaming and he was wild, he wasn’t Nick anymore, he was a wild man, and he had to get in to her, he had to put himself inside her, all of his life had been for this moment, and he freed himself and he had never been so hard and he was in her, she cried out, part ecstasy, part pain, and he thrust at her, he had to get inside her, he had to get as far inside her as he could, and she was tight, God she was tight, and the feeling was exquisite, cancelling out everything else, and it was going on and on, subtly building until it was going to happen, his hands were under her buttocks, got to get in her, got to, as far in her as I can, and he was biting her, biting her neck hard, and her arms were around him and she was crying out and –
When it came, the conclusion, it seemed to blot out everything, a blackness of ecstasy unlike anything he had ever experienced before.
When he came back to himself he felt strangely unconcerned. No guilt. There it was. It was done. For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. He found that he was on his back, naked, with Rebekah a foot or so to his right, curled on her side, turned away from him, crying. He sat up, feeling like he had woken from a fever. Well, he thought, it was a fever, a fever of lust, and he turned to touch her. She flinched.
“Rebekah?”
The crying continued. It tore at him.
“Hey,” he said. She didn’t flinch this time when he touched her. “Hey.”
He put his arms around her. That smell. My God, the smell of her was something else. He couldn’t understand how she could have such an effect on him.
“You okay?”
She sniffed, the crying abating.
“You hurt me, Nick.”
“God, I’m sorry, I couldn’t...I don’t know what happened. I lost it for a moment. Are you...does it hurt bad?”
She lifted her head up and looked down at herself.
“I’m bleeding.”
He looked down also and saw the blood on her thighs. It hit him then suddenly. Christ, what had he done? She was only eighteen. Not young, not by today’s standards, and he had assumed...No, that was a lie. He knew she was a virgin. It was in her every move, her every look. And that had made him want her more.
He got up.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet.
“What – "
“Come on.”
He led her down to the water’s edge and, naked, they waded in, up to their knees. The water was pleasantly cool in comparison to the close heat of the night.
Carefully, gently, he washed the blood from her thighs as she stood there, and he couldn’t help marvelling at her, the shape of her, the small almost invisible pubic thatch, the flat stomach, the breasts, big breasts for such a small frame, my God, she was beautiful.
“Am I still bleeding?” She asked, sniffing, her crying done with for now.
“No. It’s stopped.”
He kissed her. He wondered how he had denied himself for so long. She seemed to complete some part of him, a soothing balm on a wound he didn’t know he had.
“How do you feel? Does it still hurt?”
She shook her head.
He looked at her. Her arms were crossed self-consciously over her breasts, cupping her elbows. She looked so small and defenceless, and as he studied her this overpowering urge to protect her came over him, the feeling that he could never let any harm come to her rose up in him, so strong he felt overwhelmed by it.
He took her in his arms, kissed her again, and held her.
“Let’s go back,” he said.
They went back to their camp, the moisture on their bodies evaporating quickly.
They lay down beside each other, and Nick put his arms around her again. She tucked her head in to the hollow of his throat, and Nick thought to himself everything’s alright. Right here, right now, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the world, and trying to recall how miserable he had felt only half an hour ago he couldn’t, she had put a spell over him, a good one but a spell nonetheless, and he found that he didn’t mind, and even though he didn’t know how long it was going to last, for the first time in a long time he felt at peace with himself, and was, of all things, grateful to her for this respite.
Rebekah mumbled something into his throat.
He pulled back.
“What?” He asked.
“This is nice,” she said.
“Mm.”
There was a comfortable silence between them.
“My God, what happened?” Rebekah asked eventually.
“You’re asking me,” Nick said, amused.
“One minute I hated you, no, I loathed you, the next – "
She stopped.
“I’m sorry,” he said then.
“No.”
He could feel her shaking her head against him.
“The way I treated you...” He sighed. “You’ve put up with a lot.”
She pulled back from him and held his face in her hands.
“You’re a good man, Nick. You held on to your marriage a lot longer than most people would have, I think. That was part of what made me love you so much, that you were good and faithful to your wife even after all my best attempts to...change your mind.” She stared at him. “Do you feel bad? About what we’ve done?”
Nick shook his head.
“Strangely enough, no. I know she’s moved on. I can feel it. She’s with somebody else. Anyway, this feels too right to be wrong.”
“That’s not what you said an hour ago,” she said, her expression sly.
He made an unhappy face.
“No.”
Rebekah reached up and kissed him, gently, almost a child’s kiss. Her lips were as soft and delicate as butterfly wings.
“So, you like me then,” she said.
Nick smiled.
“What do you think?”
“I thought you...didn’t find me attractive. I wasn’t even sure if you…liked me, you know, as a person.”
It was his turn to hold her face.
“I always have. And the way you look...I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful. That’s why I was so...rough. I’ve wanted you for so long...”
“God,” Rebekah said, smiling. “If I’d only known...”
“I thought you did.”
Rebekah shook her head.
“If I had done, I’d have made the offer to go away sooner.”
They laughed at that softly, the sea gently crawling up the beach a perfect accompaniment to the sound of their voices.
“The first time,” Rebekah said, and paused thoughtfully. “It was nothing like I thought it was going to be. God, you were like...you were like an iron bar or something. God.”
“I don’t think I was in control of myself. If I had been in control of myself, I wouldn’t have...been quite so rough.”
“No. It’s okay. I wanted it. Not that rough maybe but...I wanted it.”
“Do you think you’ll...want it again?”
She smiled.
“I’m almost sure of it.”
There was more silence. His hand traced the line of her back, up to the nape of her neck, and then down to the rise of her buttocks. How long had he wanted to touch her like this? It seemed like forever. He was suffused with the wonder of her.
“The boat,” she said haltingly, and then stopped.
“What?”
“I saw the boat. You know that. The reason I didn’t start the fire, or call you is...I didn’t want you to leave.”
“I wouldn’t have left you...”
“No, I mean, I thought, if we left the island, I’d never have you like this. That this...this would never have happen.”
Nick sighed, and there was an edge to it.
“Please don’t be angry with me. Please tell me you’re not angry.”
He waited, feeling inside himself, but he was too satiated to be anything but comfortable.
“No, I’m not angry with you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s okay.”
He held her again. She lifted up her head and they kissed, slow and tender at first then hotter, hungrier, and he could feel himself getting hard once more, and then she felt it too.
“My God, you want to go again?” She said.
Nick felt mildly embarrassed.
“It’s okay, it’s just you, I can’t seem to control myself when you’re around.”
She thought for a moment.
“I don’t think we should, I feel sore – "
“No, it’s okay,” he said quickly. “This is fine.”
“But,” she said, and hesitated. He could see her biting her lip. “But I could do this for you. If you want.”
She scooted lower, and he felt her hands on him, and then her tongue, and then her mouth was around him, back and forth, the tongue, my God, and it started again, building and building, up and up and up.
◆◆◆
And that was how it was for them for the next four months.
The island wasn’t something to be borne; it was their home. They swam, they fished, they ate, they made love. Rebekah was a willing student, with a talent for picking up things that would please. Clothes became an inconvenience. At times Nick would look over at her, naked as the day she was born, splashing about in the sea, and he would be consumed with an aching tenderness; at other times, he would look over, see the reflection of the sun on her breasts, see the way the light danced on the incredible lines of her back and buttocks, and he would be overcome with desire. Nick had never been so glad that he couldn’t have kids; if he had been able to, this scenario would never have been allowed to happen. Instead, they could make love as often as they wanted, over and over, with no fear of anything. Nick often wondered if it would last forever, and on occasion was sure that it would. It was just too good to end.
“I love you,” she said.
It was early morning. They had woken and made love, a habit that Nick could certainly get used to.
“I know you do,” Nick said. “You tell me often enough.”
“I know.” She grinned foolishly at him. “I can’t seem to help myself. I wanted to tell you before. I thought I was going to explode with it. And I’ll tell you, one thing you don’t want with Paul Smith trousers is guts-of-young-girl. All that red...Err. That’s a real fashion faux pas.”
Nick looked around suddenly.
“Where are my trousers?” He asked.
Rebekah pointed vaguely.
“Over by the rocks, I think.” She paused, stretching in his arms like a cat. “Do you love me?”
“Rebekah,” he warned.
“I know I shouldn’t ask, but...”
He sighed. She waited.
“What I feel for you is...complicated.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to say anything back. I love you and that’s it. I don’t expect anything in return. It’s enough just to tell you that I love you.”
The truth was, he did love her, God help him. He tried to deny it, tried to tell himself it was only sexual infatuation, or obsession, or any damn thing except what it was, it was too strange a situation and she was too young and there were a million reasons why it shouldn’t be love, but...in his heart of hearts he knew that he loved her. At times he tried to torture himself with thoughts of Jessica, tried to stir up guilt within him, tried to feel some sort of purgatory for the terrible things he was doing that were just too delicious not to have a price, but he couldn’t. Jessica had faded from his mind, and sometimes he had trouble remembering what she looked like, brown hair, sure, he remembered that, and slender, but beyond that the details were fuzzy. In stark contrast Rebekah was as vivid in his mind as she was in the flesh, a dazzling display of blonde haired girl, all youthful abandon and whispered promises. He believed her when she said she couldn’t live without him, and he wondered himself if he could live without her. It was stupid, he tried to tell himself, these were the sorts of thoughts and feelings you had when you were an adolescent, but however much he tried to ground himself he could not. He was afloat, as was she. They were in love.
But there was this one thing: that Nick could not bring himself to tell her that he loved her. He didn’t understand where the reluctance came from, in fact knew that it wasn’t reluctance at all, that it was something else inside him that stopped him from uttering the words, some sense that if he told her he would lose himself somehow, his identity, and get swept up in her, and he had to hold on to himself, but he wasn’t even sure that was right, there was more to it than that, but the more he puzzled over it the less clear it became.
Maybe it was Toad.
He tried to tell her about Toad once, but those words became locked in his throat as well. Toad was real. Toad sat in the back of his mind, a bloated, wart covered amphibian, grinning like a fa
t boy that has eaten too many chocolate bars, small beady eyes of a cut throat businessman looking out from loose flaps of wart covered skin, a tongue occasionally flicking out to lance the odd lost fly. Toad’s time was night time, when Nick couldn’t sleep and he went walking up and down the beach, not even Rebekah’s soft embrace able to lull him in to unconsciousness.
When you get off this island, you find him, Toad would say. You find him and you destroy him any way you can. You take his life apart, the way he took yours.
And then you kill him.
It always came back to that. Fantasies were one thing, but could Nick actually kill Mike Ross? In the cold light of day, when Toad dozed, he thought about it, but as much as he hated the man, no, hate was too bland a word, there must be another one, loathed him? yes, although he loathed him, as much as a man could loathe another man, he just couldn’t see himself shooting him, or wrapping his hands around his throat, or stabbing him in that smiling, amiable face of his.
But at night the idea came alive in a way it couldn’t during the sunny hours of the day, and he delighted himself with all the ways he could hurt him, Toad’s persuasive baritone edging him on.
And your wife, Toad would say. What about your wife? Nick tried desperately not to think about it. Was Mike plotting to kill her, even now? Or were they cuddled up together somewhere, laughing and feeding each other grapes in front of a log fire, congratulating themselves on their coup?
He marvelled that he couldn’t let it go. That amongst all this beauty, with the guaranteed affections of a beautiful young woman at his disposal, he couldn’t relinquish his need for revenge. It was as if he was stuck in a particular section of time, and couldn’t move on until what he had to do was done. Was that why he couldn’t tell Rebekah that he loved her? That in the end he was more devoted to his revenge than to her?
“I’m going to be nineteen in about a month and a half,” Rebekah said pleasantly one afternoon.
“God, please don’t talk about your age,” Nick said. “That’s the one thing that makes me feel bad about what we’re doing.”
She looked at him keenly.
“Just that?”
Nick nodded.
“Just that.”
