I stare at the ocean and its vast expanse of waves.
It’s beautiful, but the happiness that normally fills me when I look at a beautiful sight doesn’t come.
“Cal!” A booming voice interrupts my thoughts.
I turn around, and there is Jason, thudding behind me. His skin is rosy, and yes, he’s definitely going to have a sunburn. He glares at me. “You left.”
“I was trying to find civilization so we can leave!”
“Did you find it? Where is it?”
My skin heats. “Well, no. Not yet.”
Jason gives an exasperated huff. “I’ll find it.”
“I can find it!”
“You’re...” He lowers his gaze. His sunglasses are firmly on, but I shiver like he’s undressing me with his eyes. “Indecent.”
“I’m not.”
“Your pants are see-through! And clinging.”
“So?”
“You can’t knock on someone’s door like that!”
I look down. Then blush. “Oh. Sorry.”
Jason’s chin is higher than before. “It’s okay. Just sit. I’ll, uh, find a telephone. I’ll get someone from the hotel to pick us up. Don’t worry, Cal.”
“That sounds expensive. Maybe there’s a ferry.”
“I’ve got it,” he blurts. “For both of us. Don’t worry.”
“But—”
“Your shoes are soaking, Cal!”
“They’re soggy.”
“So dry them in the sun.”
I open my mouth to protest, but think better of it. They’re definitely soggy.
Jason swirls around and marches away. I set my shoes on the sand, then find some shade.
Gentle waves glide against the shore, each movement so tender so as to make me wonder how I could ever have been afraid. But fear still grips me. Because swaying palm trees and blooming frangipani and sand so soft and pale I can imagine it existing only on clouds in heaven, don’t equal civilization. Hibiscus and bougainvillea and bird of paradise may be a feast for the eyes but do little for the belly. My throat remains parched, and I lower myself slowly, as if the slightest exertion might increase my thirst.
Finally, Jason returns.
His steps are slower.
“Well?”
His face is grim.
And I know.
