25
Day 60 – Tack
I almost dreaded Garvey’s visit, but he brought fresh supplies and occasionally new linens. I hadn’t mastered washing sheets that well. He never brought letters. I wasn’t allowed communication with the outside world, but I had to ask.
“Has anyone asked about me? Has my dad?”
Garvey looked up from admiring my small boat. I was proud of my first attempt at building something. I’d had some trial and error in the design but it felt amazing to build something. I hadn’t worked on anything like that since my grandfather had me help him sand an old wooden boat in the back dry dock. The thought was so ancient in my memory, it was hazy, but I saw the outline of my grandfather, working slowly as he pushed the sanding block along the grain of the wood.
“You treat her right, stroke her like she needs, and she’ll skim like a dolphin through the sea. You’re a lucky sailor then,” he whispered in my recollection. His reverence spoke of the boat, but now as a man myself, I sensed he was trying to impart some deeper wisdom on me.
“You know I can’t tell you anything,” Garvey said softly, letting his hand coast over the curve of the canoe. “You built this yourself?” he asked.
Irritated that he couldn’t even hint about my parents, I snapped in response. “Nah, my monkey minions helped me.”
“Anger still lives, I see. But I’m impressed.” His hand cupped the outrigger float.
“I don’t think it’s ever going to leave,” I retorted, ignoring his compliment.
“It won’t,” Garvey said, creeping his fingers along the outrigger on the port side. “But what you need to learn is to control it. Without anger, we cannot know peace. Without hatred, we do not know love. It’s about recognizing one and controlling the other.”
“That sounds kind of negative,” I snorted.
“It isn’t. It’s opposites. We cannot appreciate one thing without knowing the opposite of it. Love. Hate.” He held up two fists and moved them back and forth as if they struggled for balance. “Anger. Calm.” He flattened his hands, and slid them away from one another as if he smoothed out a bed sheet. Garvey’s analogies made me irritable. Anger still lives, Garvey’s words rang through my head. I hated when he was correct. Maybe my irritability was because it took me away from Juliet. She seemed to be the calm I needed. She was taming me, and we were becoming friends. It was a foreign concept, and one I’d begun to relish, but my body ached for hers. I wanted to take things deeper but didn’t trust myself. Not yet. I looked off toward Juliet’s tree house.
“There’s a storm coming. I don’t know that it will reach here, but you might want to take precautions. Tie down some things. Save up others. You haven’t been fishing or gathering food like I expected.”
I hadn’t gone into forager mode, although after building my own boat, I imagined anything could happen next. Some moments I worried I was going native, but I had Juliet to keep me in check. She kept me sane. I don’t know that I’d fare well on the island alone. She’d been my opposite. My balance.
“I’m assuming you haven’t danced yet.”
I rolled my eyes to the sunny sky overhead, wondering how he detected a storm from this beautiful weather.
“I don’t dance alone,” I said.
“Then you better summon your imaginary friend,” Colton snarked. Anger certainly lived when he was near. In fact, it roared to life with his presence.
“Yeah, shut the fuck up,” I snarled. It was clear he lacked balance, or he’d understand better. Imaginary or not, Juliet had become my other half.
+ +
I tried. I did. But dancing around the campfire was just asinine. I was a grown man, and even though no one could see me, I couldn’t comprehend what I needed to discover from prancing around a circle of logs. Ironically, the trees appeared to dance as the wind picked up, and they swayed side to side. Some of them even bent gracefully backward, as if they were being dipped by a lover. I’d been taught to dance, as all young men in my social category had, so I knew the tango, the merengue, and even a salsa dance or two, but I wasn’t about to dirty dance with myself.
I stalled from my attempt as a loud crackle of lightning came from up the mountain. The sky had grown dark and the stars were missing, hidden by angry clouds. Suddenly, the heavens opened and water beat down like the gods turned on a faucet. Another sharp rumble of thunder followed a second spark of lightning rippling up the sky. My thoughts immediately jumped to Juliet, and what she’d told me about her parents. She feared the lightning. While I should have taken cover into my dry tent, I raced for her tree house instead.
To my surprise, the ladder hung down as if she were expecting me. It kicked out in the increasing wind and I struggled at first to climb. The rungs were slick, and the rain was nearly sideways as if it scooped up the bay and flicked it at me. Something slammed above my head, and I hastened my climb.
“Juliet,” I yelled, as I crossed onto the porch platform. It only took one large step to reach her door. I opened it against the force of the wind and slammed it behind me after I entered. Looking at the empty bed, I yelled again.
“Mouse!” My eyes quickly surveyed the small enclosure before finding her huddled on the floor near the table. Her knees were drawn up, and her head tucked against them like she’d been the night of the snake attack.
“Mouse.” I breathed a sigh of relief as I squatted before her. I was soaking wet, and I reached sideways for a towel hanging over the back of a chair, swiping it over my face and my hair. She didn’t look up at me.
“Hang on,” I said, lifting the wet T-shirt over my head. I shifted to sit next to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and setting the towel over my lap.
“Come here, Mouse. We’ll stay right here, but you’re going to let me hold you, so you know you’re safe.” I gently nudged her to move forward, slipping her onto my lap. She tucked her head into my shoulder and her palm flattened on my chest. My arm curled around her lower back, resting my hand on her hip.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered, pressing my lips to her forehead as she flinched against me after another crack and shock of light. My other hand smoothed up and down her arm.
“Want to talk?” I asked, stretching for something to distract her. She shook her head against my shoulder.
“How about we kiss?” I teased, but she shook her head again, letting out a squeak at another snapping sound outside the tree house. I momentarily thought our position in a tree might not be the safest place for us, but I didn’t risk moving her. I liked that she let me hold her. I liked that I felt she needed me. I liked trying to protect her.
“Okay, baby. We’ll just sit here. All night, if that’s what it takes.” I pressed her closer to me. Her arm snaked around my neck, and she pulled herself flush against my chest. Her face buried in the space between my neck and shoulder, and she kissed me briefly.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Her appreciation pleased me. In that moment, I was more than a little prince. I was king of the jungle.