islands

when we arrived on the island and climbed off the small speed boat, the heat and oppressive humidity told me we were in the tropics. leon held my arm for me as i tottered uneasily onto the rocks of the beach. the five people we were with were more sure-footed, having lived there for some months prior to our arrival. the two girls were clad only in bikini tops and short shorts; the young men in longer shorts and tank tops with thick cords of hemp and beads around their tanned necks. everyone was so young and beautiful and ready for adventure. i knew i was out of place.

it was a short hike to the main buildings, though a thick stand of jungle trees and vines, and wet rocks covered in a lush moss i'd never seen before. we set about the business of having fun immediately. we had brought no bags, no supplies. everything was to be provided by the "resort". reggae music filled the common room, almost as completely as the ganja smoke and beer vapour. leon and i relaxed together on a pile of huge colourful pillows, made out, and felt at peace. it was a wonderful beginning. the building we were in was completely round, windows on all sides, and out the left side we could see the moon rise, full and glorious. we had huge fun hiking and swimming plans for the next day and we started to nod off slightly in one another's arms.

suddenly the two girls sprang into action in front of us. they grabbed leon by the hands and pulled him into a standing position. "we heard you know how to make absinthe!" they cried. "come on! show us!" he was tugged into the kitchen. i remained on the pillows, feeling stoned and sluggish. the boys were laughing amongst themselves and one of them came over to where i lay, nearly comatose. "hey, lynn," he whispered, "we are going to go down to the beach for a little moonlight swim. you wanna come?" i nodded and allowed them to pull me up to a standing position. "the hike there is kinda long and there's a chasm we have to cross, but there's a bridge. look alive!" he smiled. i shook my head and allowed them to lead me out of the building.

the night was close and damp and hot feeling. they led me along a very thin, clausterphobic path that was nearly overrun with vines and thick with old mossy trees. they had brought no light with them so it was like being nearly blind. i kept looking up at the sky to keep track of where the moon was. she blinked in an out of sight behind the tree line, beckoning me. the boys ahead of me kept calling back, and one trudged back through the dark and appeared in front of me like a magician's trick, and took my hand. "it's okay, it's not much farther," he said, gently. his hand was damp and warm. he led me on through the trees, until finally we reached the chasm they had spoken about. it was narrow, maybe only five or six feet across, but deep. so deep and dark it was impossible to see to the bottom. vines and moss trickled down it's jagged edges and vanished into blackness. i tried to not think about what lurked beneath what the pale moonlight revealed within it's crevice.

"here's the bridge," the boy said. "you go first. i'll stay behind you."

i looked at "the bridge", which was little more than two grey and fraying ropes as hand-holds, and some thin, rotten-looking planks of wood stretched across two other, lower, more frayed-looking ropes. "i don't like rope bridges," i muttered. "it's okay," he assured me, "it's completely safe." i took a deep breath and took a step out onto it, gripping the hand-ropes with hands so shakey and sweaty i was sure i'd lose my grip and be swallowed up by the dark maw of the chasm. the bridge swayed and undulated under me in a nauseating fashion. the boy behind me was saying soothing things, seeing that my fear of falling was overwhelming me, but it didn't matter. my heart was pounding and it felt like the night was closing in on me. i fell to my knees and the bridge swayed and rocked and i let my hands fall to the boards on the floor and started crawling, very slowly, across. the boys on the other side were laughing at me, but i didn't care. all i cared about was getting to the other side alive.

finally i scrambled onto the other side of the chasm, tiny rocks and clumps of moss uprooting themselves from under my feet and tumbling down into the abyss. the other boy deftly crossed the bridge, light, like an elf, and helped me to a standing position. "it's just beyond this ridge," he said, smiling kindly. "come on!"

we climbed up and over a rocky outcropping and suddenly the rainforest gave way to the most stunning view of the ocean. the moon glowed like a hard, white opal and cast one rich beam of rippled light over the waves. i could see across the water to the other shore, where lights from tiny houses glittered and headlights from passing cars streaked across the hillside.

the boys whooped in delight, and immediately ran down the rocky shore and plunged themselves into the water, hollaring and splashing each other. i felt tentative and strange and uncomfortable, and took tender steps down the stoney slope towards the water. i wasn't wearing a suit, and in fact had only the clothes on my back to wear the entire trip, and i wasn't sure about the water. it looked inviting but the waves were bigger than i expected and my mind sent out warnings, irving-style, about the "under toad". i slipped my sandals off and dipped my toes in the salt water. it was warm and felt as though it was kissing me. the boys called out to me, "lynn! come in! it's amazing!" i took a deep breath, stripped down to my underwear, and slid into the water. the waves forced me towards the shore, but they were warm and soothing. i took a few strokes out towards the young men who were busy dunking one another and sputtering and playing like children. i lay on my back, looked up at the whirling heavens, and for the first time, wondered how i'd gotten there. the moon shimmered above me and i felt as though my mother was watching over me, protecting me. i think i slept a little, as i drifted.

a cracking sound, a flash of brilliant light, and a shooting pain from my head shocked me from my reverie. i opened my eyes, bewildered to discover that dawn had crept upon us. the sky was light blue and pink and cool. i sputtered into a treading water position and touched my head at the place where i felt the pain. blood was trickling down my forehead. i had been thrust against a jagged rock on the shoreline and my scalp had split open. i looked around, panicking, for the boys that had brought me there, and they were up on the shore, dozing against one another in a huge, tanned and muscular heap. my head throbbed as i climbed out of the water. blood obscured my vision. "help," i said, weakly. "i hit my head."

one of them woke up and said, "oh shit,". he took off his shirt and gave it to me to press against my wound. "guys," he said, loudly, nudging the two others with is foot, "guys, wake up. lynn is hurt. we gotta go back."

they murmmered and woke up, rubbing their bleary eyes and looking at me as though i had pissed in the punchbowl at their party. "i'm sorry," i said. "i fell asleep floating out there. the waves. a rock."

"yeah, it's okay," the boy who had given me his shirt said, "it looks worse than it is, i'm sure. we have a first aid kit back at home."

the jungle was cool and wet with dew as we pushed our way back through the overgrown path and over the rocky ridge. i crawled across the rope bridge on my hands and knees again, but no one laughed at me this time. as we approached the roundhouse, we could see that it was dim and quiet within. my heart filled with dread. the shirt i had been holding to my head wound was already soaked in blood, useless and gory. i began to feel lightheaded and unsure of my steps. i didn't want to go in the building, but the boys beckoned me in hushed tones. i had no choice.

they led me into the roundhouse where it was quiet and dim. the morning light barely penetrated the trees that surrounded the building. it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness within. the air smelled of old smoke and liquor and i could hear the muted sounds of snoring and deep sleep breathing. one of the boys disappeared into the kitchen area to look for the first aid kit. i looked around the room for leon, and found him. asleep on the huge colourful pillows, like an infant, naked, and twined around the two beautiful naked young woman. none of them stirred. we had been quiet enough in our entrance that we didn't disturb them.

my stomach rose up into my throat. blood dripped down from my cut and left hot streaks on my cheeks that i mistook for tears. i swallowed hard and twisted the blood-soaked shirt in my hands, wringing it, until big fat drops of the red liquid squirted out onto the wooden floor. one of the boys saw my distress and said, "lynn. it's okay. this is a different world. this doesn't mean anything. you are both here to have fun."

i glared at him through a veil of red. the sound of his voice woke leon and the girls. leon sat up and rubbed his eyes. he saw me standing a few feet away, covered in blood. "oh shit," he said, leaping to his feet, and looking guiltily at the naked women still lying on the pillows. "oh shit, lynn. oh shit. your head. and i...uh..."

he turned and looked around the room for his pants, found them, and scrambled to get them on. "are you okay, honey?" he asked me, approaching me slowly. "what happened? where were you all night? i...i drank too much..."

"fuck you," i said, rage seeping into my voice.

"i know," he said, "i know. i just..." he walked slowly towards me, his hand outstretched, but i backed away, baring my teeth at him. "please," he said. "please don't..."

the one boy came out of the kitchen with the first aid kit, appraised the situation, and said, "lynn. don't be angry. there are different rules here than what you are used to. it's okay. it could have easily been you..."

"fuck off!" i shouted, whipping my head around at him. "there are no rules but the rules that leon and i agreed to in the beginning!"

"lynn," leon said, getting nearer. i took the opportunity to whip the sopping blood-soaked t-shirt at him. he dodged and it slapped wetly against the wooden floor, leaving a spattery trail of red drops in it's wake. "please," he said, sadly, "please listen..."

he got close enough to touch. i grabbed a hunk of his hair and yanked. i swear i could smell the odious funk of the other women on him. he yelped in pain and his eyes filled with anger. "fuck you, lynn!" he shouted at me, "we need to talk! you can't hurt me like that!"

i pulled harder and used my free hand to slap his face. "no, fuck YOU, leon," i spat, "you're a useless piece of shit. you've ruined my life." i gave his hair one last hard tug, spun on my heel, and walked out of the building.

at first i didn't know which way to go. i decided to head back to the beach we'd come from. the ocean would know what i should do.

the walk through the jungle seemed less scary than when i had been travelling with the others. the bridge didn't sway, the chasm, in the daylight, was only a few feet deep, and a small, singing stream gurgled in a friendly way beneath my feet as i crossed. the ridge wasn't as rocky as i climbed higher and higher. when i reached the top, however, i was stunned at how different the sea appeared to me from the night before.

it was grey and violent, swirling and foaming and crashing against the shore. it looked more like the ocean of the pacific northwest than the warm tropical salt bath it should have been. i approached the edge of the shore and put a toe in, and recoiled. it was cold. the waves slapped against the rocks and tried to suck me in. i began to slowly walk out into them. they overtook me. i was sucked under. everything became grey and black.

when i woke up, i was lying on a different beach. my head ached. my body shivered. my heart had fallen in on itself. i lay for a moment looking up at the grey sky, feeling miserable. i was far away from the tropical paradise i had thought i would find joy in. i wiped leon from my mind, sat up, and decided to climb up the steep craggy wall of rock that was at my back. i could see the island i had come from in the distance. there was no one on that shore, looking for me, calling to me. it was desolate and foreign.

the climb up was difficult. shards of black slate rock slipped from under my bleeding fingers and scrambling feet. my head wound began to bleed again, obscuring my vision. i felt as though i had been climbing for hours. finally i reached the top. a quick scramble through a shrubby and scratchy screen of trees, and i was on a paved road. i began walking along it. no cars passed. birds circled overhead; black birds, crying at me, perching in the spindly trees, watching my progress. finally i came to what was the edge of a small town. i knew where i was going though i'd never been there before. i climbed through hilly suburban streets until i reached a small white house with many windows and a tidy front porch covered in a brilliantly coloured potted flowers and plants. i knew the house was empty, and would be until summer came again. i tried the door, and it opened easily beneath my hand.

the inside of the house was simple and decorated plainly in whites and blues. a single bed was tucked into a corner. a t.v. sat mute opposite it. it was immaculate inside, and i felt hideous and filthy and out of place. i found the tiny bathroom and stepped into the shower. i washed the grime and salt water and blood off of my body. the silence of the tiny house was overwhelming. i began to talk to myself. i began to clean each inch of the home, even though it was already spotless. i carried around a small spray bottle of window cleaner. i wiped each inch of glass with a soft, clean cloth. i wiped down the mirror. i scrubbed at every inch of table top and counter. i talked to myself the whole time. "this spot is already clean." but you must clean it again, i replied. "you just cleaned this mirror an hour ago." the dust is collecting as we speak, i responded. my voice sounded robotic. unnatural.

i spent months in the house. wiping. spraying. looking at my headwound in my reflections. i never slept. the bed remained untouched and made perfectly, the blankets pulled taut. i had visions of the young woman that lived there in the summer months. her name was annika. she would never know i was there; i would leave before she returned. her place would be shining and white. the flowers forever blooming. i cleaned and cleaned. i lifted bric-a-brac and wiped non-existant dust away. i never thought once about the island, my adulterous husband, or the beautiful young men and women there; not once. i was insane. i was my only companion. my skin became worn out and smooth from the constant use of glass cleaner and soft cloths. when i looked in the mirror, i saw a shining alabaster statue looking back. my hair grow long. i cleaned and watched myself. the front windows of the house had a perfect view across the channel, the island i had come from hulking there in the distance. it never called me back. i never felt heartache.

i waited out the winter. i shone like the house shone. i was alone, healed, and perfect.

there came a day when an old friend knocked on the door. a day just before spring arrived. he knocked on the door and the sound was so foreign to me i almost didn't recognize it. when i finally realized what was happening, i opened the door and there he stood, looking sad and somehow not surprised by my gleaming appearance.

"you need to come back now," he said.

i nodded.

i put away the spray bottle and the glass cleaner, under the bathroom sink, exactly where i'd found them. annika would never know i had lived there. i never slept on her bed once. i only polished her glass. i only looked through her mirrors. i never touched her television.

my friend led me back down the craggy cliffside to the beach where i had washed up. "we can swim this now, safely," he said. but i knew there was still under tow. i heisitated. "the channel is clear. you need to go back and talk to leon now," he insisted, pulling at my hand, urging me forward. i followed him into the water, and we swam. we swam hard against the current. the undertow yanked at me, tried to suck me under. i felt the overwhelming desire to give in, but my friend kept calling to me. he was a few strokes ahead of me but he paused and tread water, waiting for me to catch up. finally we made it to the other side. the rock where i had bashed my head was clean and showed no trace of my blood. we shimmied up the ridge, trudged through the jungle, and crossed the rope bridge, which had been repaired by someone over the months i was absent.

the roundhouse stood among the trees, illuminated from within by the light of a million candles. music and smoke drifted out. the laughter inside was deafening. everything seemed too loud, too dirty. my friend led me within. my eyes scoured the young tan faces of the inhabitants for leon, and i found him, sitting at a long, low wooden table, drinking from a large mug, alone.

his eyes found mine. he stood up suddenly, and the table kicked forward, and the mug fell and spilled it's contents all over the floor. "lynn," he said, not noticing the overturned table and mess he'd created. i clenched inside.

"lynn," he said, "you came back."

"i'm not the same," i said to him, blandly.

he blinked at me. he saw my polished white skin. he saw my gleaming glassy eyes. he saw how my fingerprints had been rubbed away by cleaning fluids. he saw how empty my brain had become, scrubbed clear of everything in the winter months of living in annika's house. his eyes filled with water.

"no," he said. "you're right. nothing is the same."

he walked away from me, then, back to where he had been sitting, righted the table, and wiped up the mess of beer he'd created. i looked out the window at the jungle trees. their vines reached out to the little roundhouse and wrapped us up into green darkness, like tentacles, blocking the light from the sun.

nobody noticed but me.