“You don’t know what I want, Anna. Besides, I don’t think about the future anymore, and I haven’t since that plane didn’t come back. All I know is that you make me happy, and I want to be with you. Can’t you just be with me, too?
“Yes,” I whispered. “I can do that.”
I wanted to tell him I’d never do anything to hurt him again. But I was afraid it was a promise I might not be able to keep.
***
T.J. turned nineteen in September. “Happy birthday,” I said. “I made you mashed breadfruit.” I handed him the bowl and leaned in to give him a kiss. He pulled me onto his lap and insisted on sharing.
“Why don’t we ever celebrate your birthday?” He gave me a sheepish look and said, “And when is it, again?”
“It’s May twenty-second. I’m just not into birthdays, I guess.”
I used to love celebrating my birthday until John ruined it for me. When I turned twenty-seven I was convinced he was going to propose because he’d made reservations, told me to dress up, and invited our friends to join us for drinks before dinner. I pictured him down on one knee holding a ring, and I could hardly contain my excitement when the cab dropped us off in front of the restaurant. We went inside and everyone was already there, almost like a surprise party. When the champagne came, John pulled the Tiffany box out of his jacket and presented me with a pair of diamond stud earrings. I kept a smile on my face for the rest of the night, but Stefani pulled me into the bathroom later and hugged me. I set my expectations as low as possible after that which turned out to be a smart move because for the next three birthdays he didn’t even buy me jewelry.
“I want to celebrate your next birthday, Anna.”
“Okay.”
***
The rainy season ended in November. Thanksgiving came and went like any other day, but on Christmas T.J. found a huge crab near the shore. My mouth watered as he poked and prodded it toward the fire, one giant claw pinching the end of his stick, the other snapping at him the whole way. He dropped it onto the flames and soon we were gorging ourselves, cracking the legs with the pliers and pulling the meat out with our fingers.
“This reminds me of our first Christmas, when we caught the chicken and celebrated with something other than fish,” T.J. said.
“That seems like such a long time ago,” I said, blinking back tears.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I just thought we might be home for Christmas this year.”
T.J. put his arm around me. “Maybe next year, Anna.”
In February, I woke up from a nap. A bouquet of flowers gathered from the various bushes and shrubs scattered around the island lay on the blanket beside me, a small length of rope wound around their stems.
I found T.J. down at the shore. “Someone’s been checking the calendar.”
He grinned. “I didn’t want to miss Valentine’s Day.”
I kissed him. “You’re sweet to me.”
Pulling me closer, he said, “It’s not hard, Anna.”
I stared into T.J.’s eyes, and he started to sway. My arms went around his neck and we danced, moving in a circle, the sand soft and warm under our feet.
“You don’t need music, do you?”
“No,” T.J. said. “But I do need you.”
A few days later, T.J. and I walked along the shore at sunset. “I miss my mom and dad. I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately. My sister and brother-in-law, too. And Joe and Chloe. I hope you get to meet them all someday, T.J. They’d like you.”
“I hope so, too.”
By then, I knew if we were ever rescued, T.J. would have to be a part of my life in Chicago. In what capacity, I didn’t know. He’d missed so much, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to take up too much of his time. The selfish part of me, however, couldn’t fathom not falling asleep in his arms or being with him every day. I needed T.J., and the thought of being away from him bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
Chapter 30 – T.J
“Anna.” I whispered her name. “Are you awake?”
“Hmm,” she said.
“Do you still love that guy?” I knew his name, but I didn’t want to say it. I was wrapped around her, my chest against her back. She rolled over to face me.
“John? No. I don’t love him anymore. I haven’t thought about him in a long time. Why?”
“I was just wondering. Never mind, go to sleep.” I kissed her forehead and settled her onto my chest.
But she didn’t go to sleep. She made love to me instead.
***
Anna turned thirty-three in May, and we celebrated her birthday for the first time on the island. A light rain was falling, and we lay next to each other in the life raft listening to the steady rhythm of the drops hitting the roof of the house.
“I didn’t actually get you anything. You told me a long time ago that the island mall sucked,” I said.
She smiled. “It’s a little low on merchandise.”
“Yes. So we’ll have to pretend. If we were home, I’d take you out for dinner and then I’d give you these gifts. But since we’re not home, I’m just going to tell you all the awesome stuff I got you, okay?”
“You shouldn’t have,” she teased.
“You’re worth it. Okay, your first gift is books. All the current bestsellers.”
Anna sighed. “I miss reading.”
“I know you do.”
She snuggled closer. “You’re great at this. What else did you get me?”
“Ah, someone is enjoying her birthday. Your next gift is music.”
“Did you make me a mix tape?” she asked.
I grinned and started tickling her. “With all your favorite classic rock songs.”
She squirmed and giggled, rolling over on top of me trying to trap my hands underneath her so I’d stop tickling. “I love it,” she said. “Books and music. My two favorite things. Thank you.” She kissed me. “This was the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
I pulled my arms out from underneath her body and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I love you, Anna.”
The surprised look on her face told me she hadn’t seen that coming.
“You weren’t supposed to fall in love,” she whispered.
“Well, I did,” I said, looking into her eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for months. I’m telling you now because I think you love me too, Anna. You just don’t think you’re supposed to. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. I can wait.” I pulled her mouth down to mine and kissed her and when it ended, I smiled and said, “Happy birthday.”
Chapter 31 – Anna
I should have known he was falling in love. All the signs were there, and had been for quite some time. It was only after he got sick that I regretted not telling him he was absolutely right.
I loved him, too.
A week after my birthday I lay down in bed next to him only to discover he was already asleep. I had gone to the bathroom and filled our bottle at the water collector, but I’d only been a few minutes behind him, and T.J. never went to sleep without making love first.
He was still sleeping the next morning when I woke up, and he wasn’t awake by the time I’d gone fishing and gathered the coconut and breadfruit.
I crawled into bed. His eyes were open, but he looked tired. I kissed his chest. “Do you feel okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”
I kissed his neck, the way I knew he liked, but then I pulled back suddenly.
“Hey, don’t stop.”
I put my hand on his neck. “T.J., there’s a lump here.”
He reached up and felt it with his fingertips. “It’s probably nothing.”
“You said you would tell me if you noticed anything.”
“I didn’t know it was there.”
“You seem really tired.”
“I’m fine.” He kissed me and tried to take my shirt off.
I sat up, just o
ut of reach. “Then what’s with the lump?”
“I don’t know.” He got out of bed. “Don’t worry about it, Anna.”
After breakfast, he reluctantly agreed to let me feel his neck again. I pressed my fingers gently under his jaw, discovering swollen lymph nodes on both sides. Had he been sweating at night? I wasn’t sure. He didn’t look like he’d lost any weight; I would have noticed if he had. Neither of us said anything about what the lumps might mean. He seemed exhausted so I sent him back to bed. I walked down to the lagoon, waded into the water, and floated on my back, staring up at the cloudless blue sky.
The cancer is back. I know it, and so does he.
He woke up for lunch, but after we ate, he fell asleep again and he was still sleeping at dinnertime. I went into the house to check on him. When I bent down to kiss his cheek, his skin scorched my lips.
“T.J.!” He moaned when I placed the back of my hand against his hot forehead. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get the Tylenol.”
I found the first-aid kit and shook two Tylenol into the palm of my hand. I helped him swallow the Tylenol with water, but he threw up all over himself a few minutes later.
I cleaned him up with a T-shirt and tried to shift him over a little, to a drier part of the blanket. He cried out when I touched him.
“Okay, I won’t move you. Tell me what hurts.”
“My head. Behind my eyes. Everywhere.” He stayed still and didn’t say anything else.
I waited a while and then I tried some more Tylenol. I worried that he would throw up again, but they stayed down this time. “You’ll feel better in a little while,” I said, but when I checked a half hour later, his forehead felt even hotter.
All through the night, he burned with a fever. He threw up again, and he couldn’t stand for me to touch him because he said it felt like his bones were breaking.
The next day, he slept for hours. He wouldn’t eat and he’d barely drink. His forehead felt so hot I worried the fever would fry his brain.
This wasn’t cancer. The symptoms had come on too suddenly.
But if it isn’t cancer, what is it? And what the hell am I going to do about it?
His fever didn’t go down, and I never wished for ice more than I did then. He was so hot and the T-shirt I dipped in water and wrung out was probably too warm to cool his forehead, but I didn’t know what else to do.
His lips were dry and cracked, and I managed to get some water and Tylenol down his throat. I wanted to hold him in my arms, comfort him, smooth the hair out of his eyes, but my touch caused him pain so I didn’t.
He broke out in a rash on the third day. Bright red dots covered his face and body. I thought maybe the fever was close to breaking, that the rash signaled his body was fighting the illness, but by the next morning the rash was worse, and he felt hotter. Restless and irritable, he slipped in and out of consciousness leaving me panic-stricken when I couldn’t rouse him.
The blood started trickling from his nose and mouth on the fifth day. The fear washed over me in waves as I wiped the blood away with my white tank top; by late afternoon it was red. I told myself the bleeding had slowed down, but it hadn’t. Bruises covered his body where the blood pooled under the skin. I lay next to him for hours, crying and holding his hand. “Please don’t die, T.J.”
When the sun rose the next morning, I gathered him in my arms. If he felt pain at my touch he didn’t show it. Chicken scratched at the side of the life raft, and I leaned over and picked her up. She plopped down next to T.J. and wouldn’t leave his side. I let her stay.
“You are not alone, T.J. I’m right here.” I brushed the hair back from his face and kissed his lips. Drifting in and out of sleep, I dreamed that T.J. and I were at a hospital and the doctor told me I should be happy because at least it wasn’t cancer.
When I woke up, I put my ear to his chest, crying in relief when I heard his heartbeat. Throughout the day, his rash faded, and the bleeding tapered off and finally stopped. That evening I started to think that maybe he would live.
The next morning his forehead was cool when I touched it. He made a sound when I tried to rouse him, which I thought meant he was sleeping and not unconscious. I left the house to gather coconut and breadfruit, filling several containers with water from the water collector and stopping frequently to check on him.
I made a fire. I didn’t have any way to time myself but if I had to guess, I’d say it took less than twenty minutes.
Not bad for a city girl.
I brushed my teeth. I really needed a bath – I hadn’t been near the water in days – but I didn’t want to leave T.J. alone that long. In the late afternoon I lay beside him, holding his hand. His eyelids fluttered, then opened all the way. I gave his fingers a gentle squeeze and said, “Hi there.”
He turned toward me and blinked, trying to focus. He wrinkled his nose. “You stink, Anna.”
I started laughing and crying at the same time. “You don’t smell so hot either, Callahan.”
“Can I have some water?” His voice was scratchy. I helped him sit up so he could drink from the water bottle I had waiting for him.
“Don’t drink too fast. I want it to stay down.” I let him drink half the bottle and then eased him back down on the bed. “You can have the rest in a few minutes.”
“I don’t think the cancer is back.”
“No,” I agreed.
“What do you think it was?”
“Something viral, otherwise you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll get you some coconut. Sorry, there’s no fish. I haven’t been down to the water lately.”
He looked surprised. “How long was I out?”
“A few days.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Tears filled my eyes. “I thought you were going to die,” I whispered. “You were so sick and there was nothing I could do except stay by your side. I love you, T.J. I should have told you before.” The tears ran down my cheeks.
He pulled me close and said, “I love you too, Anna. But you already knew that.”
Chapter 32 – T.J.
I drank water while Anna went fishing. When she came back, she cooked the fish and fed them to me in bed.
“You made a fire,” I said.
She looked proud. “I did.”
“Did you have any trouble?”
“Nope.”
I wanted to shovel the food in but Anna wouldn’t let me.
“Don’t eat too fast,” she said.
I paced myself, letting my stomach get used to having something in it.
“Why is Chicken in bed with us?” I asked. I hadn’t noticed her at first, but she sat in the corner of the life raft not making a sound and looking very comfortable.
“She was worried about you, too. Now she just likes being up here.”
Later, Anna and I walked down to the beach to take a bath, stopping twice so I could rest.
She led me into the water and soaped up her hands, running them over my skin. When I was clean, she washed herself. Her hipbones poked out, and I counted every rib.
“Didn’t you eat while I was sick?”
“Not really. I was afraid to leave you.” She rinsed and then helped me to my feet. “Besides, you weren’t eating either.”
She held my hand and we headed back to the house. I stopped walking.
“What is it?” she asked.
“That boyfriend you had must have been a complete dick.”
She smiled. “Come on. You need to rest.”
Taking a bath wore me out so much I didn’t argue. When we reached the house, she helped me into bed and stretched out beside me, holding my hand until I fell asleep.
I didn’t have much energy for the next week and Anna worried about a relapse. She constantly checked my forehead to see if I had a fever and made sure I drank plenty of water.
“Why do I have so many bruises?” I asked.
??
?You were bleeding from your nose and mouth and apparently under your skin. That scared me the most, T.J. I knew you could only lose a certain amount of blood, and I didn’t know how much.”
Hearing that freaked me out. I stopped thinking about it and concentrated on nicer things, like kissing Anna and pulling her T-shirt off.
“You really are feeling better,” she said.
“Yeah. You might have to be on top, though. I don’t have the strength for anything else.”
“Lucky for you I like being on top,” she said, kissing me back.
“Lucky’s my middle name.”
Afterward, when I held her I said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“What did you say?”
“I said ‘I love you, too.’” She snuggled closer and laughed. “You heard me the first time.”
***
In June of 2004, Anna and I had been on the island for three years. We hadn’t seen any more planes since the one that had flown over two years before. I worried they would never find us, but I hadn’t given up completely. I wasn’t sure if Anna could say the same.
***
“This is the last of the soap.”
Anna held a bottle of shower gel in her hand. Only a few ounces remained. The shampoo and the shaving cream were long gone. She still shaved me, but we were on our last blade and it was so dull it took a toll on my skin, drawing blood no matter how careful she was. We rubbed sand on our scalps – our version of dry shampoo – and it sort of helped. Anna talked me into burning off some of her hair. I torched the ends and doused her head with water, shortening it by eight inches. The smell of singed hair lingered for days.
We didn’t have any toothpaste either. We used sea salt to brush our teeth, scooping water out of the lagoon and waiting for it to evaporate. The chunks of salt left behind were rough enough to clean our teeth but nothing compared to toothpaste for making our mouths taste good. Anna hated that the most. Now we’d be without soap, too.