Chapter7
It had been a day after she had moved back to her home, and David found his own house quieter than ever. She had been a source of conversation, no matter how “controlled” their conversations were. He had to get to know her better, he felt compelled to get to know her better. How was he going to do it without jeopardizing himself? He knew that emotions could be controlled, but to what extent -- he wasn’t willing.
Their mere silence together made him feel comfortable. He knew she was a deep thinker, as much as he was. How was it possible to be attracted to someone without even knowing who she was? He was sure she was attracted to him, but to what extent? Physically? He had been blessed with his biological mother’s good looks, looks that had become wasted after excessive cocaine use.
He swore he would never go down that path, and being straight-laced was a promise he had kept to himself, and to his adoptive parents. If they found out about Caryn, he knew they would be overjoyed. His mother’s solution to his emotional well-being was for him to date again, and he hadn’t done that, until two nights ago. It wasn’t even a date-date, was it?
He didn’t enjoy the emotions that toyed within him, and he felt vulnerable. It was as if he wanted to be vulnerable, but his mind said something else. She wasn’t going to be good for him, and he wasn’t going to be good for her. I guess I know what masochism feels like now, he thought, staring at his LED computer screen, one of the many that surrounded him in his office. He hadn’t worked as well as he’d have expected, since she took lodging in his home. He wasn’t that backlogged though, as he had subordinates checking on his work.
Still, it irked him. He needed to focus, and focus he would. He would ignore her for a few days, just to indulge himself in his pride, a pride that he had relied on for survival since childhood.
*
Caryn’s brows were furrowed. He was doing this on purpose, he was ignoring her. She didn’t want to visit him, it would make her look too needy. How many days had it been since she had seen him? No, how many days had it been since he had touched her? She had taken the pretense of walking around the beach on the third day of solitude, but he was nowhere to be seen. She saw Leilani sweeping over the balcony, and Leilani waved at her. She fought the urge to ask where David was.
What was going on with her? It wasn’t like she had never enjoyed the pleasures of intimacy before. It wasn’t that he was the first, it was that he was the last, and for a split second, she imagined that she could never sleep with anyone else again. This island romance had gotten to her head, if it was even called a romance. She could blame it on the weather, blame it on human need- it was still her choice in the end. Temptation Island, she thought wryly. She was here for an assignment, and assignment she hadn’t even started with yet. Caryn had been in this island for two weeks, and in those two weeks she had slept with someone. Where was her self-control? She forced herself to write at least a paragraph or two. She had written a total of twelve words.
He has reached the unforeseen brink of the world’s newest information database.
It didn’t even seem like a proper introduction. She didn’t want to give up without the pertinent data she needed. While she had been welcomed into his personal space, there were still many things she didn’t know about him, many things that could win her literary prizes, even a Pulitzer. She was hungry for a story, but not as hungry as she was with him.
It wasn’t like she was desperate for it, now was she? She had had partners before, two, to be exact, and love was just a disappointment, and she was sure he echoed her sentiments. It was past eleven in the evening, and she didn’t feel the strings of sleep tug on her. She had found it difficult to sleep once more, and she realized she had had a great sleep in his house. The bed couldn’t have made the difference, her recently acquired bed was nearly identical as the one she used in his home.
She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the cool breeze play on her skin as she tried to write with the windows completely open. The ocean was calm, but her heart was not. There was a wave crashing inside her, and she knew it was a bad sign. Her mother used to say to her that “people meet people for a reason,” and Caryn knew her reasons were ugly enough to be warranted selfish.
Her mother had been kind, before the depression took its toll. Then drugs didn’t sit well with her, and it rendered the once stunning Tamara Porter into an empty shell, a complete nervous breakdown had done the job.
That was what love did to people, she thought, remembering how she saw her mother’s lips were bluish, pills and a bottle of wine scattered about in her room. She had waited for Caryn to finish her exams, at least. It hadn’t been easy. The days and nights were blurred.
She was alone in the world, even after her father had half-heartedly offered for her to live with them until she graduated high school. She preferred her solitude, she had told him, and she received a monthly stipend from her father’s family’s lawyer, only to be cut-off during her junior year; courtesy of her father’s mistress turned wife.
She wanted to be legally emancipated, but that would cost time and money. In the end, her father’s lawyer met up with her, proposing to lodge her under her mother’s distant relatives. Tamara Porter had been an orphan, and she was the orphan who had taken the fashion world by storm, only to stop upon getting pregnant with her two years later, at the age of twenty-two. Her father had been thirty, an eligible bachelor according to archived news.
“We were going to live together,” her mother had once told her, “but they were going to cut him off the will. He doesn’t know much about the real world, where people have to work and bleed and sweat to survive. That’s why we live in a different house.”
It had been a simple enough explanation for the despair that was to come to them. Caryn never forgot where she came from, and while she had moved on, she knew she could never welcome her father into her heart completely.
Tomorrow would be Christmas, the day her world had shattered, the day she became truly alone, even if her mother had been a fleeting presence while under medication and her depressive episodes.
What was she going to do tomorrow? She couldn’t escape the island. Caryn had always gotten over every Christmas, because she traveled around alone, taking long train lines until they ended in remote stations, taking lonely bus rides into remote towns, just to sit in silence. That was how Christmas was. She could drive here and finish everything in two hours or so.
She would walk, then, she thought. She would walk to kill time, just for Christmas to be over and done with. She hadn’t visited her mother in years, and the grave had had moss and weeds growing around it. Perhaps, she could be morbid and visit the island’s only cemetery.
There was an exclusivity to the island, she realized, there was a single billionaire actually living in it, there was just one hotel, there was just one hospital, one cemetery, and one unsure, black and white byproduct- that was her.
She sighed and got up from her desk, and was about to close the windows, when she heard a knock on her door. Her heart leapt, hoping against hope that it was him… She didn’t say anything, but she peered through the window by the door, and she saw his figure, underneath the lamp.
Taking a deep breath, Caryn opened it.
His face was solemn, as were his eyes, but as soon as she said hello, his face lit up into something beautiful.
*
“Hi, why are you here?” she asked him.
Why? For real? Wasn’t it obvious, he was here for her? He cleared his throat. “It’s almost Christmas. I figured we both needed company,” he said carefully. “I brought a some stuff along,” he added, jerking his thumb towards the wooden table on her porch, where a large wooden box sat on it.
“What is that?”
“Stuff we need to tide this holiday over,” he said begrudgingly. “I think it’ll last us until morning.”
“But I”-Caryn began, and he frowned a little, which made her stop. She opened her door wide, and let him in.
Grunting, David lifted the box into the house, setting it down her new dining table (good for four people), with little difficulty. Man, those home-based workouts are really working, he thought. There was nary a Christmas decoration in sight. She was just like him, he thought.
“Want some champagne for later?” he asked her.
She nodded, clearly still overwhelmed by his sudden appearance.
“I’ve got chips, healthier chips, three bottles of red wine, a bottle of whisky, too; some sandwiches, sliced ham and three types of cheese; and a pineapple. Which one will it be first?”
He saw the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile, and something told him it was her first smile today. Her eyes were far more soulful than he remembered, and her posture made her look tiny. It didn’t help that standing inside her cottage made him feel taller than ever beside her, either. She was about 5’3, compared to his easy six feet, and even if she was way shorter than him, her legs were well proportioned enough to make her seem like she was beyond 5’7.
He noticed she did a little arranging, a product of her writer’s block, he guessed. She didn’t seem to be the obsessive-compulsive cleaner.
“What does the island do for Christmas?” she asked him, taking out the stuff from the box and arranging them on the table.
It made him think for a moment. He had spent two Christmases here, and in a few hours, it would be his third. People didn’t do much, he figured. He didn’t want to pry on Leilani’s and her family’s celebrations. He always gave them double pay during the holidays, and they didn’t even have to work until January 4th. Yes, what did the people from Lānaʻi do?
“It’s quiet during Christmas, even New Year’s. There’s no fireworks, it’s damaging to the environment,” he added. “I guess the biggest event here is the festivals of Aloha.”
“Which I’m guessing you don’t even attend,” Caryn told him.
“I support them in my own ways,” he replied, not mentioning he gave the city council a fat check. Basically, it was more than the money needed by the people, but he had given explicit instructions for discretion. So, it ended up being reported that some random millionaire from the mainland gave them $100,000 for that annual soiree.
“You’re anti-social,” she said.
“Look who’s talking,” he retorted with half a smile. “There are just some people I prefer to be with.”
“Like yourself,” she murmured.
David couldn’t help but laugh out loud, the first good laugh he had had in days, since his family left. He saw the look of surprise on her face, which was replaced by delight in seconds. He felt vulnerable and yet it made him strangely happy to see her face like that. He hadn’t felt this pleased to see someone pleased because of him in so long, someone that wasn’t family.
She grinned, while he grabbed a bottle of the chilled champagne. “Let’s ring in Christmas, shall we?”
She nodded, grabbing plain water glasses. “Sorry, I don’t have anything fancier. That looks like expensive champagne.”
“It’s not the glass,” he told her, “it’s the company.”
He put her glass in front of her. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Caryn responded, taking a sip of the golden liquor.
He took a seat on her new couch, a couch good enough for three people. She made sure to give him some space before sitting down. Still as awkward as I am, he thought. Perhaps, more liquor would do them good, and he had told himself beforehand that they were going to have a drunken Christmas celebration, or a sober one without sex. The thought briefly flashed in his mind, as he packed his little box of goodies to bring over.
It was a sudden idea, after he had ended his conversation with his parents and siblings who were together in California for the holidays. He was alone, she was alone. Might as well be alone together, right?
He packed what he could, packed what was quick, and he made sure to have some liquor. No good conversation started with a salad, maybe a sandwich, but not a salad. He had a wine cellar in his home, something she hadn’t seen, as his father enjoyed his nightcaps quite often, as did his mother. He grabbed the champagne and the wine as an afterthought. He knew she was going to be just at home, where else could she go? She didn’t seem like the partying type. Even the island’s hotel didn’t have a great Christmas party, so he was going to her house so they could have one, just for introverts.
Caryn sipped the rest of her drink in silence, while throwing him furtive glances, glances he found quite endearing in all aspects. Perhaps, this was her way of flirting? A woman of the world who doesn’t know how to flirt. That is something new in my life, he thought. He refilled her glass, enjoying the breeze that came from the open windows. She didn’t even have a television set. They were going to talk, he told himself.
This was a good way to start a friendship. I’ve already slept with her, anyway, he thought. A friendship? What in the hell was he thinking? He hadn’t made friends since elementary. It was either be alone, or end up in a group project. It was like some social experiment, he thought. He was torturing himself in a way, but it was a torture that might just be worth it. What was a little vulnerability to be beside an attractive introvert such as Caryn X?
She was Caryn X. While working, he had resisted the temptation of looking her up once more. It was easy, it would take a few hours at most, but it would be easy. That was what his former colleagues did, anyway. A betrayal of public trust didn’t matter, as long as they made billions, and the government had millions of data for easier profile access. She would be Caryn X until when?
She didn’t even ask about him, he realized. She tried, but he always shut her down. Perhaps, they could start tonight?
“So you’re from New York,” he began, taking a subtle breath.
“Yeah.”
“And you’ve been writing for the same company since-?”
“Two years ago. I started as a beat reporter. Did boring articles. Gardening,” she said with a muffled laugh. “Can you imagine? Gardening? I mean I like plants, I like nature, but gardening for six months…ha.”
“And now?”
“I write for myself,” she replied. “I saved enough to survive for a while. Still write news articles, but it doesn’t pay as well as I’d want for it to, but I like learning.”
“About people?” he said, looking at her.
“That,” she admitted. “Among other things. What about you? Why are you here? You had so many awards-“
“Ah, now that we’ve come to that… there were certain parts of my life I didn’t quite enjoy. So I sort of became a recluse here. I still work, of course, but I prefer working with minimal physical contact.”
“You were with me…” her voice trailed off.
“That’s another thing,” he said mildly.
“I figured it was just a spur of the moment. Thrice,” she breathed out, visibly irked. “Same as you, huh?”
The sarcasm was palpable in the air. He cleared this throat. “We both knew what we were doing. And it’s not like you didn’t like it.” Then he closed his eyes, realizing it was a stupid thing to say.
Her eyes widened, and he quickly tried to placate her.
“Look, I’m not good with this. I avoid people as much as possible, especially people who are only after the things I’ve worked hard for, things I’ve wanted to achieve—"
“You’re not the only one with that problem,” she told him, “except some of us work hard, and still barely scrape by.”
“You make it seem like you’ve had a difficult childhood.”
“Every hood in my life has been difficult, from childhood to adulthood,” she commented wryly.
David burst out laughing. “Hood! Hood!” he sputtered out, unable to believe that she had said that.
“What?” she said with a frown.
“I had thought you meant for that to be funny, or punny, or whatever,” he said, still laughing. “Still, that was hilarious!”
She gave a shy smile, and continued to drink her champagne. She looked proud of her comment, even if she had realized it a bit late.
“I get why you write,” he said, “There’s so much you can say.”
“What is it that you do exactly?” she asked him.
“I’m in the internet business,” he replied hesitantly.
“Like Google?” she looked confused.
“Kind of like Google, but different,” he said, trying to break things down for her in a simpler manner. “I do know the founders,” he added.
“So, what is it? I don’t think I’m that ignorant.”
“It’s best you don’t know much about it.”
“Is that why you’re here? So you can work on it?”
“I’m working on something else at the moment,” David answered back carefully.
“Still on the internet?”
“Still on the internet,” he repeated. But tons nicer. “What are you going to write about while you’re here?”
“I’d like to work on my life story, if that’s even of interest. I can embellish it to make it interesting, but we’ll see how it goes. I’d hate to stretch the truth or fabricate a lie just for it to be published.”
He nodded. “I’d like to read that, someday.” He saw her eyes flinch a little, and he knew she wasn’t comfortable with the idea.
“You’re still not going to tell me your family name? This is based on trust, not some cross examination.”
She took a deep breath, as if weighing her consequences. “Caryn. Caryn Porter.”
“Caryn Porter,” he repeated, committing it to memory.
The grandfather clock sounded off, counting the seconds until twelve midnight. David quickly refilled their glasses with champagne.
He raised his glass in midair, as she did hers.
“Merry Christmas, stranger.”