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The book club is gathered on a Friday evening so that they can listen to more of Molly's stories and also so that Patty Dallarosa, Harlow, and Athena can join in, as they're all on the island and have been hearing snippets of Molly's big journey from Ruby.
Molly shrugs casually. "The men were lemur trainers. They were taking their traveling show on the road, apparently." She pauses. "Did you know that lemurs are a female-dominant group? The women are in charge."
"As they should be," Patty says. She's sipping a cup of tea, but Molly saw her furtively tipping a silver flask of whiskey into it. Patty winks at Molly when she gets caught slipping the flask out of her purse by her feet for another shot.
Ruby gets up to pace around the circle of women. With the extra guests, it's starting to feel like a real party and not just a small gathering of friends who pretend to talk about books while really just chatting and supporting one another.
"So," Ruby says. "You've landed in Madagascar, and you're working at a resort. But I have to ask--it's the romantic in me--" Ruby picks up a cookie from the table and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully, "what happened to Adi? Did you ever see him again? Or even talk to him?"
Molly laughs. It fills her with joy to have her friends so invested in her life story, and it feels oddly invigorating to be reliving it all after so many years. Life and time have a way of helping you to box up your memories and to just get on with things; compartmentalizing and forgetting become survival skills. But this sharing of her life is giving Molly the opportunity to unearth her memories of Rodney, of Adi, of sailing, and of being young and both carefree and terrified at the same time. And it feels good. It feels right.
"I'm nowhere near done with this story," Molly says. "Are you all along for the rest of the ride? Do you want me to keep going on and on and sharing all of this with you?"
"Yes!" the women shout in unison. It's a resounding affirmative, and they're all nodding and leaning forward in their chairs.
"We want to know what happened in Madagascar." Sunday is sipping a cup of tea as she crosses her legs and looks out the window at the evening sky. It's a beautiful early June evening, and the sun has just dropped out of sight, leaving its last streaks of color behind. "Knowing you," Sunday adds, "there's another spicy man hiding around the next corner."
Molly laughs again, but this time there's a tinge of sadness to it. "No," she says, shaking her head. "No men in Madagascar. No men at all. That period of my life was a different journey entirely."
Patty recaps her flask and slides it into the pocket of the lightweight linen blazer she's wearing. "We all have those periods where men are not on our radar. Sometimes life keeps you so busy with everything else that you forget romance exists altogether. Let's hear it." Patty lifts her teacup at the group and takes a sip.
At this point, the liquid in Patty's cup has most likely shifted from tea with a splash of whiskey, to whiskey with a splash of tea. Molly smiles at her fondly.
“Okay,” Molly says. “Buckle up. This part of my adventure was one I didn’t take alone…I had someone else who needed me, and I think that made it the most important leg of the journey.”
* * *
A young girl was sleeping by the pool at the Mantasaly Resort one morning. She was curled up on her side, wearing a pair of tattered cut-off jean shorts and a t-shirt with holes in the shoulders. Her skin was tanned a deep brown, and her hair was dirty but brushed. Molly and Faniry stood over her and watched her breathe deeply, then Faniry nudged Molly and lifted her eyebrows in question.
She wasn’t a guest; that they both knew. Molly wasn’t sure that the girl was American, but beneath the deep tan she was clearly white and young—very young. Molly cleared her throat and reached down, touching the girl’s warm, bare arm lightly.
“Hi,” Molly said. “Good morning.” She tried to sound as non-threatening as possible so as not to startle the girl. “I’m Molly.”
The girl sat up with a jolt. Her eyes were wild and she scanned the pool area, which was empty but for the three of them.
“Hi,” Molly tried again. “Bonjour.”
The girl blinked a few times and tucked her reddish brown hair behind both ears. “Hello,” she said, sounding distinctly British. “Molly?” Molly nodded, confirming. The girl glanced at Faniry.
“Je suisFaniry,” she said, touching her large bosom with one hand and dropping her chin slightly as she gave the girl a huge grin. Molly had worked with Faniry long enough by that point to know that she thrilled at any unexpected turn of events, be it a loud, drunken guest throwing up on the pool deck, a lemur taking up residence in a guest room, or a family of white blonde Swedes with long, toned limbs and big, toothy smiles.
“I’m Helena,” the girl said, standing up and shoving her dirty-soled feet into a pair of Birkenstock sandals. She’d been using a beat-up leather purse with long fringe as a pillow and she picked it up hastily and put the strap over her head, pulling it across her body like Faniry or Molly might try to steal it.
They both took a step back from her to let her know that they weren’t a threat in any way, though Molly doubted that two women in faded brown housekeeping smocks and dirty white sneakers looked like they might be there to rob her as the sun rose.
“Are you staying here, Helena?” Molly asked, putting her hands into the front pockets of her smock. “Don’t worry—we won’t tell anyone if you’re not,” she added hastily.
Helena looked back and forth between the two women. “I’m not,” she admitted. “But I can leave now. I’ll go.” She started to walk away from the pool and Faniry reached out and grabbed Molly by the elbow.
“Wait,” Molly said. She knew instinctively that Faniry, a mother of three girls, wanted to do something to help Helena. “Have you eaten?”
Helena stopped in her tracks but kept her back to them. “Not recently,” she said. Finally, she turned to look at them, but dropped her gaze so that it landed on the concrete of the pool deck. “I’d work for food—if you had any, that is. I can clean. I can tend bar.”
Faniry held up a hand and walked away quickly towards the main building. Molly watched her go and knew that she should keep Helena talking for a few minutes.
“How did you get here?” Molly looked around the edges of the resort, which was a mile and a half walk from the edges of the city. She knew the distance because she herself walked it twice a day—once in the morning and once in the evening.
“Walked,” Helena said simply. “Actually, I ran.” She looked right at Molly. “I needed to get away from someone.”
