Her heart drummed against mine, our bodies as close as we could get. “What if I said there is no challenge. That whatever you’re doing...it’s working.”
Whatever I was doing? I wasn’t doing enough. I’d reached my limit mobility-wise, and spent my days hobbling or resting. I was of no use to her.
To say there was no challenge; that she was falling for me just as surely as I was falling for her.
Christ.
I kissed her again.
Hard.
Fast.
Brutal.
She matched me lick for lick, turning a simple kiss into a complex sin.
Breaking apart, she breathed, “I’m glad it’s you on this island. I’m glad it’s you beside me.”
I had no defences left. All I could do was cling to a raft of wishes and potential possibilities. Potential possibilities of actually winning her, of seducing her, of calling her mine.
“Eww, what are you guys doing?” Conner’s hair was plastered to his head.
We pulled apart.
“Nothing, silly.” Estelle recovered first. With a quick glance, she jogged down the beach and took Pippa’s hand. They danced around the pot, filling quickly with water. Pippa’s back had scabbed and scarred, slowly erasing the method of how we’d arrived.
“Come on.” Grabbing the discarded coconut shells, I gave one to Conner and hopped down the beach to my stranded family.
Scooping the half-shell into the pot, I filled it to the brim with drinkable liquid. Holding it aloft, loving the way the heavens drowned us, I said, “To us and surviving.”
Everyone followed suit, filling up their fancy goblets and toasting.
“To rain and drinking.”
We drank. Fast. And repetitively.
We drank as quickly as the rain refilled.
We drank until our stomachs bloated.
We drank until we replaced every hydration.
And still it rained.
It poured and stormed; lightning flashed and thunder boomed until midnight turned to midday, and our island glittered with droplets in the new sunshine.
.............................
“What are you doing?”
Estelle hid something behind her back, guilt washing over her face.
Three days had passed since the storm and we’d finally dried our clothing, relined our beds with fresh leaves, and grown accustomed to having a reservoir of water where we could drink when we wanted without waiting for the trees to provide.
Our supply wouldn’t last forever, but for now...we were reckless with our thirst and drank often.
“Nothing.”
I hauled myself to my feet. I’d spent the morning plaiting flax into rope. I had a plan to put a roof over our head and four walls around our bodies, but in order to do that, I needed something to build with. I didn’t have screws or nails (the ones from the chopper wouldn’t work), so rope would have to do.
Once I knew how to create using island fare, a raft was on my agenda.
“It is something. Show me.” I hopped toward her.
“Don’t. Forget it. It was a stupid idea.”
“No, show me.” I moved as quick as I could, hoping she wouldn’t dart away. Holding my hand out, I glared until she pulled whatever she was hiding and placed it into my palm.
My heart wrenched to a stop. “Your phone.”
She nodded.
“Did you manage to call someone? Is that what you’re doing?”
Her eyes widened, filling with apology. “No. I’ve tried every night and nothing.”
“Then why torture yourself?” I ached to comfort her. I would never say it aloud, but here, on this island, even with the trials of surviving and the fear of what would happen, I was happier than I’d been in a long time. The thought of Estelle pining for a life where I wouldn’t be welcome hurt me a lot more than I could admit.
Since our kiss in the rain, we’d kept our distance. Partly for the children’s sake, but mostly because, if I kissed her again, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
And Estelle wasn’t ready for more.
She wanted me; I knew that. But she was hesitant about how far to go. I hadn’t figured out why yet, but I respected her desire for slowness.
“That isn’t what I was doing.” She flinched as if telling me her secret physically pained her.
“I don’t understand.”
She dropped her head. “Go to the gallery. You’ll see.”
Propping myself up with my crutch, I navigated the menu and pulled up the pictures. My mouth fell open as the first image exploded in vibrant pigment. “Why did you do this?”
I’d expected images of her past life, perhaps photos of a past boyfriend (who I would like to murder) or friends who thought she was dead. Not this. Not...me.
“Why?” Her eyebrows rose. “Why not? Isn’t that what humans do? We store memories to look back on later. Happy, sad, it doesn’t matter. We gather them for future use.”
“That’s what you’re doing?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know if we’ll ever get off this island, and I don’t know how much longer my phone will last, but I wanted to honour whatever we lived through with the same cataloguing as I would any other adventure.”