Page 35 of Anyone But You
“A while,” he answered roughly.
Hours.
Knox had developed insomnia shortly after our arrival. He was always on the lookout for potential predators that would come and drag us out of our lovingly crafted hut by our ankles.
That’s what Knox calls our little shanty… lovingly crafted. The man has a way with words when he wants to.
It took three days and a shit ton of mud, sticks, and palm fronds to piece it together. Truthfully, it took three days becausewe had different opinions about where to set up shop. I didn’t think it was logical to build our shelter on the beach only to make six-hour daily trips to get water. I voted to build our shelter closer to the water source, and Knox reasoned that we needed to stay on the beach in case a ship passed or a helicopter or plane flew over. In my opinion, we were both right—we needed accessible drinking water and to remain visible.
“Lie down and get some sleep,” I said, pulling him down so his head rested on my chest. His arms wrapped around me tightly, and like every morning, I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t have to wake up to inconsiderate phone calls, fight through traffic, or ensure that briefs were printed and tucked into their padfolios for a meeting, but work still had to be done. His stomach growled loudly.
“I’m so fucking hungry,” he groaned.
“I’ll tell you what my mom said when I was up past my bedtime and wanted something to eat—you can’t be hungry if you’re asleep.”
“Please don’t tell our future children that. Just call me, and I’ll make them a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” he said teasingly. I smacked my lips and shoved him off me.
“That peanut butter and jelly sandwich might be hard to conjure out here.”
“Funny you doubt the sandwich but not the children,” he whispered, voice growing heavy with sleep.
“I am not having children by you on this island for them to come out like Donnie Thornberry.”
“Who is Donnie Thornberry?”
“Go to sleep.”
I moved to leave when he grabbed me. “Don’t go too far,” he insisted.
“I won’t.”
He nodded sluggishly before passing out and giving me some peace and quiet. I “brushed” my teeth before leaving the hut by furiously rubbing my teeth with a piece of cloth and some coconut paste I made. I contemplated what Knox said about children and snorted. I didn’t see that happening. My Depo shot would only last two more months, but I doubted my body could sustain a pregnancy given the lack of nutrition and rapid weight loss. We’d only been on the island for a month, and I had probably dropped thirty pounds.
I’m not really tripping about the weight loss because I look good as fuck, but a bitch is starving and malnourished.
We’d been surviving off nuts, hermit crabs, coconuts, and some unidentifiable-to-me fruit we found further past the waterfall. We caught two fish, but they were both on the smaller side. By the time the fish were cleaned and cooked, they were barely worth the work it took to catch them. We attempted to kill a few parrots by throwing rocks at them, but we had no such luck.
Knox had also lost noticeable weight. The bulk that took dedication and early morning hours to obtain started thinning out, leaving behind lean muscles, taut abs, and single-digit body fat.
The man also needs sunscreen because he’s starting to look like a leather handbag.
I undressed, tossed Knox’s dress shirt onto the sand, and submerged myself in the ocean to relieve myself and give myself a precursory scrub down. I rolled onto my back, floated underneath the pink and peach sunrise, and prepared for my morning devotion. I didn’t grow up in a religious household, but I had to give thanks for the land, plants, ocean, sea life, and… That Man Over There. I prayed for my friends, who were most likely mourning my disappearance. I prayed for my mother’s health, and saved my little prayer for my sisters.
I hope they’re doing all right, I guess.
Finally, I prayed we were found, but if we weren’t, we were blessed with knowledge and adaptability to survive the island.
* * *
I’d been foraging for nuts in the jungle for a while when I heard a sound that made my heart pump twice as fast. I looked up and grinned when I found a bird’s nest above my head.
“Ohhhh, you precious… little… babies,” I whispered, dumping the nuts onto the ground. I counted eight birds in total. They were young—barely past the hatchling stage, but protein was protein. I eyed the nest that was precariously perched on the branch and drooled. It was a lot lower than the previous nests we’d found. “Mommy didn’t tuck you in the tree so good, huh?” I cooed, looking for a long stick. “That’s okay. She’ll learn next time.”
I took a few steps back, mindful not to get too close to the trees because of snakes, and jabbed at the nest. My tongue stuck out as I stood on my toes and worked my magic. “Come on. Don’t fight it,” I grunted.
I grinned stupidly when the nest full of squawking baby birds tumbled to the ground. I pumped my fist like Tiger Woods at a PGA Tour and rushed to grab the birds before something jacked our meal. Three of the birds had died from blunt force, and three more were injured. I snapped all their little necks with the quickness.
“Knox is going to be so happy,” I murmured, filling the nest with the nuts I’d dropped.
