Page 111 of Mark

“Let’s sit down for five,” she yells over the music.

I spot a bench under the shade of a palm tree across the narrow road. “Come on,” I call back, tugging her hand.

We both take a seat, sipping on our cocktails.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Freya breathes in awe.

I glance around, seeing the residents of this island all in their element. Each one of them has a smile, and all are in high spirits as the festivities continue on.

“I could definitely see myself coming back here,” I muse, placing my ankle over my knee as I lean back.

“Even with the eight-hour flight?” she teases.

My eyebrows dip down as I put my arm around the back of her. “Why would you bring up a traumatic experience of mine?”

“Why are you scared of flying?”

I arch a brow. “Are you really wanting a list, because I have a million reasons, so we could be here awhile.”

She rolls her eyes, her attention going back to the dancers. “Then recognise common sense makes no sense.”

I draw back, repeating the words in my head, over and over. Until… “Thatmakes no sense.”

Snorting, she twists in her seat until she’s facing me. “Anxiety tricks the brain. It tricks common sense. It makes youthink you are in danger when in fact, you are utterly safe. If you listen to that gut feeling every time, all you are doing is reinforcing the fear that is stemmed from anxiety,” she replies before taking a breath. “Have you ever done bungie jumping, or gone on a tight rope, or a scary ride?”

“Yeah, lots of times,” I answer.

“When you’re up there, you fight against the fear because the adrenaline is always pumping, right?”

“You could put it that way, yeah.”

“So do the same with the plane. Fight against what your anxiety is telling you to do and just embrace the discomfort.”

“It’s that easy?”

“It’s that easy. Mind over matter,” she replies, her reply so sure and confident. “Plus, you drive, and statistically speaking, you are more likely to get in a car crash than a plane crash.” She holds her hands up when I glare. “Just saying.”

“You should have been a counsellor,” I tell her.

“I wouldn’t be able to handle everyone else’s problems. I believe something like that would shred my soul. I’d probably end up balling like a baby. It would be a disservice to those who need help.” A twinkle sparkles in her eyes. “Plus, if a woman was discussing an ex, I would want to see a picture. I’m that nosey.”

I snort because that is something I would do too. “Do you like teaching?”

“I love it. I got introduced to the children I will be teaching before term ended, and they are amazing. I can’t wait to spend more time with them.”

“So what made you learn sign language?”

“I had a friend at university who had a hearing impairment, so she would teach me. Then because I hate not knowing something fluently, I took a class in the evenings. I hated how sad she would get not being able to join in during conversations at lunch.”

“I’ve been to the classes and I’m still not picking it up. There have only been a few times where I’ve really needed it, but I hate that I’m not getting as good as the others.”

“For Bailey, right?”

“Yes. She was basically a shut in for years because of cruel bullies. When we went to court with her, it made me realise how alone she felt not being able to hear. She was present, but she was alone. Do you know, she would lip read instead of telling people she was deaf?”

“I did. She told me how her and Aiden met,” she admits. “She doesn’t seem to like the hearing aids.”

“She doesn’t, but I can understand why. She spent so long not hearing that it must be unsettling to be able hear every little noise. It would be like a blind person being able to see for the first time. They’d have to learn to read, understand what the signs mean. They’d have to learn a whole other life.”

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