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He walks over to the coconuts and picks one up. “There a few ways,” he explains, walking toward me. “Place the plant against your wrist to see if it irritates the skin. Or touch it to your lips. Or tongue.”
I watch on in awe. How does he know all this?
He reaches for the knife in his back pocket and stabs the coconut in its three holes. When he finds the one he’s most happy with, he inserts his knife, making a small hole. “If you develop a rash or feel a tingle, it’s usually a sign the food is poisonous or not suitable to eat.” He passes me the coconut. “Drink.”
“How do you know all this?” I ask, accepting his offering. When I place the coconut to my lips and drink, a rush of endorphins swarms me as my body sings in delight. I had every intention of sharing, but I can’t stop drinking. Once I’m done, I shyly wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
Saint smiles, gesturing I’m to give the coconut back to him. I do.
“It’s common knowledge,” he replies, walking over to a tree. When he smashes the coconut against the thick trunk, and it splits open, he cements his point.
But I scoff in humor. “Common knowledge for you maybe.”
He removes the meat of the coconut with his knife, offering me a piece of the white flesh. I practically lunge for it, stuffing it into my mouth. My ravenous stomach demands more.
“There are plenty of fish, so we shouldn’t starve.” He pries the meat off the coconut, popping a piece into his mouth. I am suddenly envious of that sliver.
“I can help fish.”
Saint pauses from chewing, not looking too convinced. “In fear of you naming every fish we find, I think it’s best you stay here.”
“I’m pretty sure we discussed this,” I argue. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
I’m expecting World War III to erupt, but it doesn’t. “Suit yourself,” he says with a languid shrug. A bubble of disappointment stirs as I was prepared to go head to head.
A squawk breaks the silence.
“Actually, I better make some sort of coop for Harriet Pot Pie. I wouldn’t want her running away.”
Saint nods coolly, not at all amused by her name.
His aloofness is pissing me off. I am so used to us arguing that I don’t know what to do with this apathetic Saint. “Her being here means this island isn’t as remote as we believed it to be.”
He chews his coconut, mulling over my claims. “Yes, that’s true. Though the fact there is rum has me believing this is a route for outcasts.”
“Why?” I question.
“Because rum is a common currency of the seas. If someone was sailing on a yacht, you wouldn’t think they’d leave something like that behind.”
He’s right.
“So we wait until a ship passes?” I don’t know what the next step is.
“No, we just wait and see what happens.” He offers me the last of the coconut, which I thankfully accept.
I don’t know what his comment means, but it’s clear this conversation is over when he places the coconut shells on the box and brushes past me. Both Harriet Pot Pie and I watch as he walks along the shoreline, picking up a thin branch which he no doubt will sharpen into a spear and use to catch our dinner with.
Well, that was awfully unsatisfying.
This meek version of Saint confuses me. Yes, I’ve wanted him to allow me freedom, but now that I have it, I don’t know what to do with it. Seeing so many sides to him leaves me constantly questioning which is the real him.
Sighing, I decide to focus on finding material to build Harriet Pot Pie’s coop. I need to keep busy before I say or do something I’ll regret.
I’m laying some leaves down for Harriet Pot Pie when Saint returns. He’s been gone all day. Not having an idea of time is horrible because the guessing is far worse than knowing the truth. The sun set hours ago. With no other choice, I was forced to make a fire. It took me hours, but I was impressed when the sparks came alive. My Girl Scout leader would be so proud.
I occupied my day by collecting branches, leaves—anything I could use to construct a coop. It took me all day, but when I placed all the pieces together, I was certain Harriet Pot Pie would love her new home.
She disagreed when she flapped her wings and flew over the wooden perimeter. Regardless, I decided to lay some leaves down and give her the option of returning if she ever changed her mind.
