Lovewrecked

I could have sworn she would have come here.

Maybe she went to the old camp?

To the boat?

The image of Atarangi sitting on the reef hits deep.

I’m about to run in that direction when I swear I hear her voice.

I stop and listen.

There’s just the running water, the birds.

My heart pounding in my throat.

I will find Daisy.

And once I find her, I’m not going to let her go.

I mean that.

Not on this island, not when we get back to Fiji. Whether I have to go to the States, whether she’ll come to New Zealand, I don’t know, but I know that she’s worth fighting for and that we can make it work, whatever it is.

If she wants to, I remind myself.

Other than the sex, she’s given no real indications that she sees something long-term with us. Or perhaps I’ve been too afraid to look closely, to read into the wrong thing. We’re both people who had our hearts broken and our trust shattered by the last person we were with. Just because I’m feeling one way doesn’t mean she feels the same.

But it’s worth the shot, anyway.

I cup my hands around my mouth and try again. “Daisy!”

Silence, except for the waterfall. Even the birds have stopped.

Then I hear it again, coming from the east, the direction behind the waterfall.

A very faint, “Tai!”

I take off, running alongside the pool, the iguanas scattering, then I’m scampering up a slope to where the stream runs and plunges over the edge.

I haven’t explored this area yet, but I don’t let that slow me down.

I keep running, battling through overgrown vines, wishing I had a machete.

“Daisy!” I yell again, catching my breath.

“Tai!”

I pick up her direction, head away from the stream, running deeper and deeper into the jungle.

“Tai!”

I see her. Standing in a thicket of ferns.

Her red head stands out like a flame amongst all the green.

“Daisy!”

I run right over to her and bring her into my arms, squeezing her tight.

“I’m so sorry.” She’s babbling into my chest. “I got lost, I didn’t know where I was.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her, running my hand down the back of her head, smoothing her hair. “I’m here now. You’re fine.”

She shakes her head.

Because no. That’s the point.

Of course, she’s not fine.

I pull back just enough to look her over, keeping my hands on her shoulders. She looks well, other than the puffy red eyes and the tears streaming down her delicate, freckled face.

“Gingersnap, you’re breaking my heart here,” I whisper to her, cupping her face in my hands. I pull her in and kiss her forehead, then the top of her head, and she throws her arms around my waist, holding me tight.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles.

“Don’t be sorry. Whatever you’re feeling is valid. Just…don’t be afraid to feel it.”

“I know. Or…I don’t know.” She takes in a deep breath that shakes her whole body. “Once upon a time I was that person that if anything remotely negative happened to me or to people I know, I’d push the negative feelings away. ‘Focus on the positive’ was my mantra. Count your blessings. Be grateful for what you have. Those were my stock answers every time I was presented with something less than happy, less than perfect. And you know what?”

She pauses, resting her cheek on my chest. “It was all bullshit. All it did was invalidate my feelings, and the feelings of my friends. It made it so that the bad feelings were pushed away and buried, never to be dealt with. I made it so the only feelings we should ever have are good ones, as unrealistic as that was. It was…tiring. I am so fucking tired of pretending that I have it all together.”

“It is tiring,” I tell her. “Believe me, I know. And those feelings never stay buried, they always slip back out. You can’t hide from them. You have to face them head on.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, listen, I’ve been there,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. “I have. And I know I’m not the one to spew advice. Because maybe I’m still dealing. I can’t tell you the number of times I would try to console my mother after my sister’s death and tell her, ‘Hey it’s okay, because I’m still here, and dad’s still here.’ It was stupid. Inconsiderate. Because she knew we were there. She was grateful for us, but that wasn’t the point. She just wanted to feel what she was feeling because it was real, and it was honest, and Atarangi deserved that. And I didn’t know how to deal with her grief. Or my own. The easy solution was to get her on pills, so she didn’t have to feel the pain.”

“Yeah, but it’s your mom. You can’t blame yourself for wanting that for her either. No one wants to see someone they love in pain.”