Page 97 of The Castaways
There was one night that stood out in Delilah’s mind, though she couldn’t remember if it was their third night or their fifth night or their seventh. They were drinking the bewitching margaritas, they were watching the sun sink into the water, Greg was strumming his guitar, Tess had a hibiscus in her hair. Jeffrey was sunburned, Addison was sore from his surfing lesson. Phoebe had wrapped her pareo in a way that made it a fetching dress. The Chief had been on a secret errand in town. He’d cut a deal with the fisherman and came back with a bag full of marinating snapper and all of the other fixings for the fish tacos. Delilah would make them!
Margaritas, fish tacos, tiki torches, the eight of them sitting around the outdoor table in their usual order. They played Scrabble using only Spanish words, then it got too dark to see the tiles and none of them properly spoke Spanish anyway, so they switched to cards, but they were so high from the magic tequila that all they could handle was Go Fish. They abandoned the cards and Greg played his guitar and they sang Peter, Paul & Mary songs—”If I Had a Hammer,” “Leavin’ on a Jet Plane,” “Blowin’ in the Wind”—until they all agreed it was time for bed. Tomorrow was another day.
The couples floated into the house, holding hands.
Jeffrey and Delilah.
Phoebe and Addison.
Eddie and Andrea.
Tess and Greg.
They headed to their own rooms.
Closed the door.
Climbed into bed.
And turned off the light.
Good night.
