Page 33 of Redemption Island

“It seems empty.” His voice echoed back to me. “Just a hollowed-out niche in the side of the island. Deep enough to block out the sunlight, but it doesn’t lead anywhere.” I finally reached him. We were surrounded by complete darkness, with only the thinnest trickle of sunlight streaming through to us. We stood close to one another, but not touching.

“Can you hear that?” he whispered. I giggled, but as the sound softened, I tipped my head.

“It sounds like a drum.” The surprising rhythm beat steadily, soothingly.

“It sounds like a heartbeat,” he whispered again. He reached for my hand and tugged me against him. He didn’t kiss me as he had on our walk, but his palm cupped my jaw. He seemed nervous, protective even.

“I’d never let anyone hurt you again,” he said softly, suddenly, and I questioned where the words came from. Just as quickly he said, “Let’s get out of here,” and slipped his arm around my shoulder, guiding me to the entrance. A breeze greeted us, and off in the distance we could see clouds rolling together.

“Maybe it was just the wind, vibrating off the back of the cave,” I suggested, trying to ignore the desperation in his tone.

“Maybe,” he replied, but he didn’t sound convinced. As we headed back in the direction we first climbed, I noticed him look over his shoulder. His brows pinched, and he shook his head before facing forward and following behind me.

+ +

We swam in the ocean. We kissed. We bathed in the pond. We kissed. We lay under the stars. We kissed. But he made no attempt to touch me deeper. I sensed he wanted to. He definitely wanted more from me, but he let me lead. We slept together most nights, taking turns at each other’s dwelling, and the sexual tension grew as he held me tighter and tighter each night.

One day, we spent some time separated. I needed to focus more on my thesis, piecing together the puzzling changes in my emotions toward him. Later in the evening, I walked to his place, following a path well-worn through the jungle, but I stopped short when I saw him crawling around the fire pit. Some nights it was too hot to have a blazing bonfire, but the heat was necessary for cooking, and so the fire was lit. He circled on his hands and knees, scampering around the rocks. His head lowered as if he were sniffing the sand, and then he paused. His forehead fell into his cupped fingers and he rotated his head side to side. A giggle escaped at the strange position of his body and his head shot up.

He sprung to standing, dusting off his shorts as I approached.

“Don’t laugh,” he said, biting back his own smile. “It was stupid, I know.” His voice lowered like a schoolboy caught doing something foolish.

“What were you doing?”

“Garvey keeps telling me I need to dance.” He swiped a hand through his hair and the sand from his palm mixed with the strands growing long once again. “I thought I’d try it, though I don’t understand it.”

Thoughtful a moment, I stared at the divot in the sand he’d made from his crawling.

“What are you supposed to be doing…in the dance?”

“Learning something about an animal.”

“What animal?” I bit my lip to prevent myself from laughing. On his hands and knees, I couldn’t imagine what animal he imitated.

“The one I am supposed to learn from,” he replied, indirectly answering me. The laughter could no longer be held back.

“It’s stupid,” he said, turning away from me. “Let’s read or something.” He took one big step toward his tent, but I reached for his wrist. Staring down at my fingers against his skin, he stopped. His eyes lifted slowly, and I saw a boy inside the man, one afraid to be laughed at, one afraid of failing.

“Try to explain it to me. What animal were you imitating?”

He sighed and looked away, swiping a hand nervously through his hair again. “A mouse.” He exhaled, lowering his eyes.

“You saw a mouse on the island?” I questioned, looking around us as if I’d spot one in the sand.

“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” He tugged his arm, attempting to release my grip.

“Hey,” I snapped. “I’m trying to understand.” He glanced up at me. “Why don’t you tell me what a mouse taught you? Forget the dancing part.” My fingers slipped from his wrist to his hand, loosely holding onto his fingers. His eyes shifted away.

“A mouse is small and appears helpless, but it is stronger than it seems. It’s persistent. It scrambles over the ground, looking for food, seeking shelter, just trying to survive. It is determined. It is smart and it senses fear. It recognizes power.” His hand reached for my jaw, a move I’d come to find affectionate in his continuous touching of me. “It’s so much more than I expected.” I sensed he was no longer talking about the mouse as an animal. I leaned into his palm and kissed him.

“See, unexpected.” The words were rugged and low, and his throat rolled as he swallowed.

“What animal would you select?” he asked, releasing me. He stepped back and took a seat on one of the upturned stumps.

“Does it have to be an animal, or could it just be something in nature?”

“I guess it can be whatever you want it to be.” He shrugged, growing bored with this concept.