Khaleel chuckled, shaking his head to dislodge some of the water clinging to his face and hair. “Okay,” he said, twisting in the water and pointing at their destination. “Right ahead—no more than maybe forty feet.”
Aurora could see the shoreline easily in the late afternoon light; the island had a white sand beach, and stands of scrubby, tropical trees standing watch over the ocean vista. She followed in Khaleel’s wake, swimming a few feet behind him, thinking that if she ever went on another cruise in her life, it would be a major comedown to take a shuttle to the shore of her destination, as opposed to swimming there.
The sandy bottom of the ocean floor appeared underneath her, and Aurora got to her feet, wading the last few yards onto the beach. She hadn’t quite realized how restless she had been until she’d gotten the opportunity to burn off some energy swimming. As she stepped onto the soft, white sand, Aurora was breathing heavily from her exertions, even though she felt refreshed from the water.
“I am so going to need a shower tonight,” she told Khaleel as they sank down onto the beach. Her skirt clung in sopping folds to her legs, and she was briefly aware of the fact that her shirt was very white—and very wet. If Khaleel didn’t comment on it, she decided, she wouldn’t bring his attention to the fact.
“You will,” he agreed, nodding as he caught his breath. “The salt dries off on your skin, but your skin is softer and smoother when you shower it all off.” There was a fleeting look on his face in profile—something not quite like grief, but closer to regret—but it was gone before Aurora could accurately read it, so quickly that she wasn’t even sure she’d seen it at all.
“So is this your private island, or are you just borrowing it?”
Khaleel shrugged. “It’s a tiny little place. A nice getaway from time to time, when everything gets too stressful. It’s important to have somewhere like this.” Aurora nodded. “The sunset is amazing from here, too.”
Aurora glanced at the horizon and she could see, from the shifting oranges and pinks already present in the sky, that he was right. It was going to be absolutely spectacular.
“This place reminds me of something,” she said, leaning back and resting her weight on her elbows.
“Where’s that? Miami Beach?” Khaleel asked, sounding doubtful.
“Oh no,” Aurora told him quickly. “Not that at all.” She smiled slightly, looking out over the water. “I visited a beach like this in Thailand,” she explained. “I traveled through there a few months ago. Thailand, Singapore, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos…”
“I thought you told me you didn’t have a lot of privilege,” Khaleel said playfully.
“I don’t,” Aurora said. “Someone loaned me money for the plane tickets and the hostel stays, and I had just enough money myself for things like transport and food.”
“So what made you decide on Southeast Asia?”
Aurora glanced at Khaleel. “It was the next on the list,” she said with a shrug. “I have a list of places I want to see at some point in my life, and even though I’ve managed to knock a handful off of the list, I keep ending up adding more.”
Khaleel nodded. “There are so many places to visit on the planet; you could spend your entire life traveling and not get to see them all.” He smiled. “At least, not as thoroughly as they deserve. You could probably manage to set foot in every city, in every country, if you really tried.”
Aurora chuckled. “I don’t know if I want to go to every city of every country, but I want to see as much of this planet as I possibly can,” she told him. “I grew up in North Carolina. My hometown was so small, all I ever wanted to do was get out there and see what the world was like. The rest of it, you know?”
“That makes sense,” Khaleel said, nodding again. “I think I traveled for the first time when I was nine months old; my father had some summit to go to, and he convinced my mother to come with him and bring me.” He shrugged. “I don’t have any memory of it, obviously—but I’ve pretty much been on the move ever since.” He licked his lips and an expression flitted across his face that Aurora couldn’t quite read. “I never feel completely awake when I’m at home.”
“I know what you mean,” Aurora said. “The few times I’ve gone back home to my parents', it’s like falling into some kind of mental sleep.”
“Restful,” Khaleel pointed out, “but kind of unfulfilling.” He looked out over the ocean and Aurora followed his gaze. They watched the last purple-red spectacle of the sun descending beyond the horizon for a few moments in silence, and Aurora wondered what Khaleel was thinking about.
“What’s your favorite place you’ve ever been?”
Khaleel started, glancing at her and then shifting backward to recline on the soft, warm sand. “A family friend of mine, he has this little place, an estate in Sardinia. Up in the hills, a million miles away from anything. He lets me borrow it sometimes.” Khaleel smiled slightly. “It’s beautiful there; peaceful without being somewhere that makes me feel numb. Wine, delicious food, music…it’s just wonderful. What about you?”
Aurora considered the question. “There was this tiny town in Vietnam,” she said slowly. “I was stuck there a couple of days—transport was off for a holiday—but I almost didn’t want to move on by the time everything opened up again. I ate the best soup I have ever had, made by an old woman who sold it by the bowl in the streets. It was better than anything I’ve ever tasted.” Aurora smiled. “Everyone there just seemed to be…content, I guess. Everyone knew each other, everyone worked hard but they had plenty of time to relax and talk to each other. I’m probably just imposing my own idyllic notions on them…but it was nice. Quiet and noisy at the same time.”
Khaleel chuckled. “Someone from Vietnam could visit your hometown and say the same thing,” he pointed out.
“Point taken” Aurora chuckled. “I just think some people, like me, and maybe like you; I don’t know you well enough, are maybe just… We can’t fully appreciate the place we come from, because there’s this itch to look for more.”
“That sounds about right,” Khaleel agreed. “It’s not that I’m unhappy…”
“If you were unhappy with billions of dollars at your disposal, then there’s no hope for anyone,” Aurora pointed out.
Khaleel laughed. “Billions aren’t everything,” he told her. “But it’s not an unhappiness. It’s a feeling like you want something you can’t quite find. It’s there in the corner of your eye, or just beyond the tips of your fingers.” He looked out over the water again. “Look,” he said, his voice lightening.
“The stars?” Aurora followed the Sheikh’s pointing hand.
“I used to stargaze with my father sometimes,” Khaleel said. “When I was very, very young. Before the responsibilities started.” He sighed. “You know most of the stars have Arabic names, right?”
Aurora considered the question. “Which ones?” She tried to think of the names of stars she knew.
“Betelgeuse, there,” Khaleel told her, pointing. “It’s part of the constellation Orion. Alnilam, in the same constellation—it means ‘the string of pearls’. Alnitak, Orion’s belt.” Khaleel pointed to more. “Altair, the flying—the eagle. And there’s Deneb, the tail of the hen, part of Cygnus.”
Aurora listened and watched as Khaleel pointed out more and more stars, telling her the names and giving her the translations as the darkness deepened around them. As the sky went pitch black with the pinpoint stars twinkling on the velvet-looking backdrop, lights came up on the yacht.
“Ugh, that makes it harder to see the stars,” Aurora said irritably.
Khaleel chuckled. “It’s the signal for us to get back on board,” he told her. “The tide will be coming in soon, and that makes it harder to swim back.”
He rose to his feet and Aurora suppressed a feeling of annoyance at the prospect of going back to the yacht. Only hours before, she had looked at the vessel as her chance to get away from all of the troubles plaguing her; now it was a reminder of the
frustrations of her situation. Aurora sighed and got to her feet, dusting the sand lightly from her clothes and following Khaleel back into the water.