I want to help her become that person.
“Daisy!” I yell again, as the elevation gets slightly higher, the stream bringing me closer to the pool.
When I finally get there, I see a couple of crested iguanas on the rocks. They look at me with idle surprise, but don’t dart off. Daisy is nowhere to be found.
I could have sworn she would have come here.
Maybe she went to the old camp?
To the boat?
The image of Atarangi sitting on the reef hits deep.
I’m about to run in that direction when I swear I hear her voice.
I stop and listen.
There’s just the running water, the birds.
My heart pounding in my throat.
I will find Daisy.
And once I find her, I’m not going to let her go.
I mean that.
Not on this island, not when we get back to Fiji. Whether I have to go to the States, whether she’ll come to New Zealand, I don’t know, but I know that she’s worth fighting for and that we can make it work, whatever it is.
If she wants to, I remind myself.
Other than the sex, she’s given no real indications that she sees something long-term with us. Or perhaps I’ve been too afraid to look closely, to read into the wrong thing. We’re both people who had our hearts broken and our trust shattered by the last person we were with. Just because I’m feeling one way doesn’t mean she feels the same.
But it’s worth the shot, anyway.
I cup my hands around my mouth and try again. “Daisy!”
Silence, except for the waterfall. Even the birds have stopped.
Then I hear it again, coming from the east, the direction behind the waterfall.
A very faint, “Tai!”
I take off, running alongside the pool, the iguanas scattering, then I’m scampering up a slope to where the stream runs and plunges over the edge.
I haven’t explored this area yet, but I don’t let that slow me down.
I keep running, battling through overgrown vines, wishing I had a machete.
“Daisy!” I yell again, catching my breath.
“Tai!”
I pick up her direction, head away from the stream, running deeper and deeper into the jungle.
“Tai!”
I see her. Standing in a thicket of ferns.
Her red head stands out like a flame amongst all the green.
“Daisy!”
I run right over to her and bring her into my arms, squeezing her tight.
“I’m so sorry.” She’s babbling into my chest. “I got lost, I didn’t know where I was.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, running my hand down the back of her head, smoothing her hair. “I’m here now. You’re fine.”
She shakes her head.
Because no. That’s the point.
Of course, she’s not fine.
I pull back just enough to look her over, keeping my hands on her shoulders. She looks well, other than the puffy red eyes and the tears streaming down her delicate, freckled face.
“Gingersnap, you’re breaking my heart here,” I whisper to her, cupping her face in my hands. I pull her in and kiss her forehead, then the top of her head, and she throws her arms around my waist, holding me tight.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffles.
“Don’t be sorry. Whatever you’re feeling is valid. Just…don’t be afraid to feel it.”
“I know. Or…I don’t know.” She takes in a deep breath that shakes her whole body. “Once upon a time I was that person that if anything remotely negative happened to me or to people I know, I’d push the negative feelings away. ‘Focus on the positive’ was my mantra. Count your blessings. Be grateful for what you have. Those were my stock answers every time I was presented with something less than happy, less than perfect. And you know what?”
She pauses, resting her cheek on my chest. “It was all bullshit. All it did was invalidate my feelings, and the feelings of my friends. It made it so that the bad feelings were pushed away and buried, never to be dealt with. I made it so the only feelings we should ever have are good ones, as unrealistic as that was. It was…tiring. I am so fucking tired of pretending that I have it all together.”
“It is tiring,” I tell her. “Believe me, I know. And those feelings never stay buried, they always slip back out. You can’t hide from them. You have to face them head on.”
“Yeah.”
“Hey, listen, I’ve been there,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. “I have. And I know I’m not the one to spew advice. Because maybe I’m still dealing. I can’t tell you the number of times I would try to console my mother after my sister’s death and tell her, ‘Hey it’s okay, because I’m still here, and dad’s still here.’ It was stupid. Inconsiderate. Because she knew we were there. She was grateful for us, but that wasn’t the point. She just wanted to feel what she was feeling because it was real, and it was honest, and Atarangi deserved that. And I didn’t know how to deal with her grief. Or my own. The easy solution was to get her on pills, so she didn’t have to feel the pain.”
“Yeah, but it’s your mom. You can’t blame yourself for wanting that for her either. No one wants to see someone they love in pain.”
“No. I don’t blame myself. I would do anything to ease her suffering, and I guess I also hoped it would ease mine. If I told my mother we were okay, it meant we were, even if we weren’t. But the result was, we never fully grieved. We sucked it up. Put on a brave face. Pretended we were strong and fine when we weren’t. They kept her room the same because to take it down would mean they’d have to face some ugly feelings. And, I mean, look at me. I’m not fine.”
“And how does it make you feel, to admit that?”
“Good…” I close my eyes and let myself feel it. Really feel it. “I’m not fine.”
“Louder.”
“I’M NOT FINE!” I yell into the jungle.
“I AM ALSO NOT FINE!”
“I AM NOT OKAY! AT ALL!”
“I AM A HOT MESS! HEAR ME ROAR!”
I start laughing at our screaming match. “I’m pretty sure they heard us back at the barracks.”
“Ugh,” she says, exhaling heavily. “I don’t want to go back there. I feel like I made a fool of myself. And Lacey is just going to rub it in my face.”
“She won’t. Richard gave her a talking to.”
She pulls back and squints up at me. “I don’t believe that.”
“Believe it. I may have stuck up for you as well, but I’d hope you’d think that’s a given with me.”
Her smile is amused. “I don’t think anything is a given with you, Tai. You have been the grumpiest motherfucker up until recently.”
“Maybe I just needed to get laid.”
She rolls her eyes and winds up, punching me in the chest. “You’re an ass.”
“See, back to basics.”
Tell her how you really feel.
She was brave with you, opening herself up for the first time, do the same with her.
Tell her you want her, not just for now, but for all of time after this.
I swallow the words down before I have a chance to say them.
Not yet.
A drop of water splashes on Daisy’s forehead.
“Please tell me that wasn’t bird poop.” She winces. “I’ve had enough bad luck lately.”
“It was water. And bird poop is good luck.”
“For who, the bird?”
A drop now falls on my head.
I look up.
It’s spitting with rain.
“I think the storm is here,” I tell her.
“Already?”
As if on cue, the sky darkens, opens up, and dumps a deluge of rain on us.
“Ahhhh!” Daisy cries out.
We are soaked to the bone in seconds flat. The noise of the rain is deafening, every drop ricocheting off the leaves.
I grab her hand. “Come on. I’ll take y
ou back.”
But she seems rooted in place. Not moving.
I give her a quizzical look.
“How are we going to get through this?” she asks, her voice quiet against the roar of the downpour, the rain running into her eyes, her mouth. “Not just this storm, but all the days ahead of us?”
“One sunrise at a time,” I tell her. “One sunrise at a time, and with me by your side. Okay?”
I squeeze her hand.
She squeezes mine back.
“Okay.”
* * *
The storm is a fucking monster, maybe even worse than the one that wrecked us.
It comes down on the Plumeria Atoll like it’s out for revenge.
Perhaps it is.
Maybe it didn’t like how lucky we got last time.
But it won’t get us this time either.
When Daisy and I got back from the jungle, the storm was already blowing something fierce. The conditions on the island changed in a second, from hot and sunny, to windy and wet, the pressure in the air heavy, alive, and crackling.
Fred was already halfway across the lagoon with Lacey and Richard, though I knew they’d come back for us. So Daisy and I went around collecting what we could for the journey over. The storm would probably last a day, two at the most, depending on how big it is.
We worked quickly, silently. Daisy was no longer panicking, she was handling things really well, considering.
Then Fred came back. By then the lagoon’s waves were whipped up and I knew it was going to be a bumpy ride. It didn’t help when some of the water started splashing up into the boat, and then Fred mentioned the sharks.
Oh, you could see the sharks alright, dark shapes right beneath the surface, in a frenzy because of the currents and the weather.
I thought Daisy was going to freak out, but to my surprise, she was calm. She looked more curious about the sharks than anything. Perhaps she’d be a great marine biologist after all.
Finally, we made it to Fred’s camp, and quickly got ourselves inside, where we are right now, in the mess hall.
Or at least, that’s what Fred calls it.
It’s really just a concrete building with a small, basic kitchen in the corner and a long metal table in the middle. For whatever reason there’s a faded poster of The Avengers on one wall. All of us are sitting around the table in folding chairs, sipping coffee. Our wet clothes are piled in the corner to be dealt with later, and we’re all in dry clothing, which is a small comfort, but still a comfort.
Outside, the rain and wind whistles and shakes, the concrete giving us extra protection from the elements. I only had a brief look at the camp before we hustled in here, but it seemed pretty standard with a small block for showers and toilets, five tiny freshly-painted raised bungalows, plus a research office. There’s a small dock where the dinghy is tied up, and the view faces the outer reef, plus the calmer expanse of the east lagoon.
No one is talking.
Lacey is sitting there with her arms crossed in a huff, Richard has his glasses off and is rubbing the bridge of his nose, Daisy is taking dainty sips of her coffee and staring at everyone, and Fred looks especially forlorn.
“Should we start with the airing of grievances?” I ask.
Everyone turns to look at me, confused.
Well, Daisy smiles. She gets it.
“The airing of…grievances?” Richard asks, slipping his glasses back on. That poor fucker, he’s been dealing with having half vision for the last week, plus his missing tooth. He probably needs a hug, a hug that Lacey ain’t giving.
“It’s from Seinfeld,” I tell him. “During Festivus. Never mind. The point of it is, I think we have a lot of things we need to say to each other, and I think this is as good of a time as any to say it.”
“Captive audience,” Daisy comments.
“Something like that.”
I look at Lacey, expecting her to have the most to say, but she just looks down at her nails.
“Richard?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I don’t really have any problems with any of you.”
Pretty sure that’s not true.
“Daisy?”
She shakes her head. “Everyone knows how I feel.”
“Fred?”
“I’m worried about Wilson,” he says with a sigh. “I had to leave him on the other island to get you guys. I should have gone back for him...just hope he stays put. Takes shelter.”
I frown. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Fred.”
He’s a feral goat, I add silently.
“How about I go first,” I say. “I care about each and every one of you. Yes, even you Fred.”
“And Wilson?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say slowly. “The most important thing, though, is that in order for us to get through this together, these next weeks or however long it takes, we have to learn to trust each other. And trust isn’t just about trusting someone with your life, it’s about being able to speak your mind, trusting that the other person isn’t going to walk away from you. I think that’s what we need right now. If we don’t have trust, we don’t have each other. Live together, die alone.”
“Tai,” Daisy warns me. “Stop ripping off quotes from TV shows to use in your speech.”
I wave dismissively, sitting back in my chair. “Fine, fine. Just trying to help.”
Richard clears his throat. “Okay. I do have something to say. This is the circle of trust, right Tai?”
I never used, and never would use, the phrase “circle of trust” but I nod anyway.
“Lacey, dear, my Lacey loo, Lacey lingerie,” Richard says. She looks up at him and he gives her a wane smile. “Sometimes you can be a real bitch.”
My jaw hits the floor.
With wide eyes I look at Daisy, who is gobsmacked, her eyes mirroring mine.
Lacey herself is stunned, gasping, blinking at him. “What?” she finally manages to say.
“Sorry, it had to be said. I love you sweetie, you know I do. But I let you get away with a lot of shit, and if I were a better husband, hell, a better friend, I would have let you know sooner that you need to be better.”
Lacey is still blinking, trying to compose her thoughts. Her face is going pink. “I can’t believe you just called me that,” she says, her voice shrill. “Asshole!”
Richard nods. “Now, I know it’s hard to hear from me because you’re not used to it, and perhaps the term I used was a bit harsh.”
You don’t say.
“I’ll accept the term asshole. But goddamn it, Lacey, you need to give us all a break,” he says, rubbing between his eyes. “I’ve had nothing but headaches since I got here because my glasses are compromised, so excuse me if my language is unfiltered at the moment. Lacey, you’re a good person with a big heart, but if you keep burying it with resentment, then that’s all that’s going to come out. I know we touched on this earlier, but Daisy wasn’t here. Now Daisy is. I think you know what to do.”
We’re all watching Lacey. The storm is raging outside and inside.
“Richard,” Lacey whispers, as if to say, don’t make me do this.
Richard just gives her a placating smile. “I’m not making you do anything.”
Lacey goes from pink to red. She looks away, down at her coffee mug.
We’re all waiting.
Finally, she turns to Daisy, though still avoiding her eyes, and says, “Sorry.”
It’s not quite the apology Richard was hoping for.
“That’s okay,” Daisy says automatically. Bless her for being so forgiving, but I want to see Lacey work for it.
“No,” Lacey says, after she’s had a moment to think. She looks Daisy in the eyes. “It’s not okay. I’m really sorry I haven’t been the best sister. I’m just…I want to be a good sister, I just feel like I’m a burden to you.”
“What?” Daisy exclaims. “A burden? Not at all. How could you think that?”
“Because I’m not as happy as you. Because I’m m
oody, and I take things seriously. I feel like a wet blanket, but I can’t help the way I am.”
“I’m glad you’re that way,” Daisy assures her. “You’re the realist. It keeps me on my toes. It balances me. Ying and yang.”
Lacey’s eyes well up. “I was so jealous of you, you know. Because mom and dad let you do what you wanted, when all they did was put pressure on me to be the best. I just wanted your freedom, I wanted how easily you seemed to handle each situation.”
Now Daisy’s eyes are watering. “No, no, I was jealous of you. Mom and dad only cared about you and what you did, they didn’t care about me at all. I felt neglected, you got all the attention.”
“That’s just not true,” Lacey sobs. Now she’s crying and Daisy is crying.
Then Lacey gets up and goes over to Daisy’s chair and puts her arms around her, and they’re both crying together.
Honestly, this was all I wanted. Atarangi and I didn’t always get along and though the last thing I said to her before she died was “good luck,” I wish I could go back to all those times we were fighting and erase them. You never really know how to appreciate your siblings until they’re gone and it’s too late.
Shit, man.
If I keep watching this sappy scene, soon I’ll be crying.
But a strange sound catches my attention, somewhere beyond the roar of the wind and the incessant patter of rain.
Fred suddenly gets to his feet, looking ill.
He stumbles toward the door, opens it to the storm, and runs outside.
“What the hell?” I get up, my chair scraping loudly on the concrete floor, and run after him.
The storm is intense. I’m soaked again in seconds and rain pours down in my face, tasting of the ocean salt that’s been whipped into the air. The palm fronds are waving violently, and the air is charcoal gray.
I turn and see Fred running down to the lagoon. He runs up onto the dock, almost slipping, then frantically tries to undo the knot to the dinghy as the dinghy keeps slamming into the wood.
What is he…?
Fred stops, cups his hand over his mouth and yells toward the lagoon, “Wilsooooooooooon!”
Wilson?
At first I think Fred is doing his best Tom Hanks impression, but then I see Wilson, the goat, in the lagoon. He’s only a hundred yards away, but he’s drowning, trying to move his legs, barely keeping his head above water.
Lovewrecked Page 22
