A Sudden Crush

  “Where are you sleeping?” I ask, still yawning. “The sand can get pretty humid at night.”

  “We have bunk beds below deck. Will you be fine sleeping another night out here?” Matthew looks at me, concerned.

  “I already did how many?” I turn towards Connor; he’s the accountant.

  “One-hundred and forty-two,”

  “One-hundred and forty-two,” I repeat. “One more won’t kill me. See ya tomorrow, big bro.” I get up and kiss him on the cheek.

  He pulls me in for a bear hug. “I can’t believe you’re really here,” he whispers, close to tears again.

  “You’ll be annoyed with me again in no time, don’t worry,” I tease him.

  “Do we have to put out the fire?” Matt asks, rising to his feet.

  “No, it’ll die on its own,” Connor says, getting up as well.

  Connor and I say our goodnights to the rest of the crew and go to the hut for our last sleepover. It feels weird to go to sleep with Connor now that there are other people on the island. It seems somehow too intimate. But it would probably be even more awkward if I said something or made a fuss about it.

  So I just lie on my side of the cushion mattress like every other night of the past five months.

  “Good night,” I say, turning to Connor.

  “Night, Anna,” he replies, staring at the ceiling.

  It will be weird not to see him the day after tomorrow. After all the time we spent together on this island, I’ve become pretty accustomed to his presence. I hope we’ll be able to remain friends also in the real world. He may be a grumpy caveman, but I have a feeling I’ll miss his grumpiness.

  I don’t have the time to dwell on any more wistful thoughts as I’m soon overwhelmed by tiredness. I feel my lids drop heavy over my eyes, and in a matter of minutes I’m asleep. A little while later I toss in my sleep, and register Connor’s arm wrapped around my chest. It’s so saddening, as tonight is the last night this intimacy between us will be possible. I don’t push him away. I simply drift back into sleep, comforted by his reassuring presence next to me.

  21

  Ashore

  “Um, Sis?”

  “Mmm?”

  “What’s the monkey doing on board?”

  “He’s not a monkey, he’s Manny. And you don’t expect me to leave him here, do you?” I ask.

  “Jo.” Matt is using his older brother voice. “You can’t bring a wild monkey back to the United States. And I don’t think Chicago would be a good living environment for him.”

  “I will not leave Manny here. You’re a smart guy. You’ll figure something out.” I hold my furry baby closer and assume my I-won’t-be-persuaded younger sister pout.

  Matthew looks at Connor for manly support.

  “Don’t look at me.” Connor lifts his hands in surrender. “I had to sleep with the flea sack for five months.”

  “Don’t listen to the caveman.” I cover Manny’s ears with my hands. “We know you are a clean little monkey,” I whisper to him.

  “You were right— you’re already driving me crazy.” Matt throws his hands in the air and moves into the cockpit.

  Connor frowns at me. Breakfast was a bit awkward. I kept catching him throwing me furtive stares, but other than that, he has kept his grumpy, serious scowl since we woke up, so it’s hard to read him. What’s he thinking? Is he sad we’re not going to see each other that much, or ever, anymore? Am I sad? Yes, of course. But I’m happy more than anything. I’ll be with Liam soon, I’m ready to begin our life together in our new house, and my ovaries are more than ready to start a family.

  “How long will it take to reach the coast?” Connor asks, following Matt inside the cockpit.

  Distantly, I hear Matt answer, “Two or three hours, depending on how the sea is.”

  Two hours. Two hours, and I will be with my husband again. I’ll see Liam for the first time since our wedding day. A knot of anticipation ties itself in my lower belly. Two hours. Oh, Liam. After this, I am never going to leave you ever again.

  ***

  As we reach the port, I don’t wait for the customary safety measures to be over before disembarking. Silly things like staying seated until the boat is completely still and tied up. I manage only to restrain myself until the hull is near enough to the wooden pier for me to make the jump, and I literally fly into my mother’s outstretched arms.

  Our first words to each other are a jumbled tangle of muffled I-love-yous intertwined with sobs and incoherent speech. It takes five good minutes before we can speak in complete sentences. My dad approaches us almost timidly; he has tears running down his cheeks. I’ve never seen my dad cry.

  “Dad…” I murmur, choked.

  “My little girl, you’re finally home,” he mutters, equally emotional while holding me close and caressing my hair.

  “Auntie Jo.” A ball of childish energy shoots at us and hugs my legs from behind.

  “Sophie!” I turn around to pick her up and swirl her high in the air. She’s my brother’s older kid. “You’ve grown so much.”

  “I know, auntie, I’m already seven. Daddy says you have a monkey. Can I meet her?”

  “Manny is a boy, and he’s still on the boat. You can pick him up with your daddy.”

  “Yaaayyy. Can I go now?”

  “Sure,” I say, kneeling down and hugging her again.

  “Auntie?”

  “Yes?” I release her.

  “You should take a shower. You’re smelly.” And with that, she chuckles happily and runs away.

  Ah, kids, the voice of truth.

  I stand up and feel a twinge of disappointment as I see that Liam isn’t standing on the pier.

  “Where’s Liam?” I ask my mom. “Wasn’t he able to catch a flight last night?”

  “No.” She shifts uncomfortably on her feet and looks at my brother with an interrogative expression.

  He shakes his head.

  “What’s going on?” I ask him, feeling a crust of ice forming around my heart. “Give me a phone, I want to talk to him.” I turn to my dad.

  He looks at me uncertainly.

  “You told me he was all right!” I say, launching myself at my brother and pounding his chest with my fists.

  He catches my wrists to stop me.

  “He is all right,” he says, his voice carrying a ring of steel.

  “What is it then?” I look at all of them in turn.

  Nobody utters a word. They just stand there, petrified.

  I steady myself. “Tell me,” I order, looking my brother in the eyes.

  “He’s married,” he whispers, almost inaudibly.

  “Yeah, duh!” Relief washes over me. “I was there, remember?” I try to move away but Matt doesn’t let go of my wrists.

  “No, Sis, he…he’s married to someone else.”

  I blink at him. What is he talking about?

  “What do you mean? That he divorced me while I was missing without me knowing and married someone else? That’s ridiculous. It’s impossible.”

  “Sweetie, your marriage was annulled,” my mom says, gently caressing the small of my back with slow circular movements.

  “What do you mean annulled? I’m sure it takes a little longer than five months to declare a person dead.” Why are they doing this to me? I don’t understand.

  “That’s not why it was annulled,” Matthew specifies in a heavy tone.

  “Why then?” I ask him challengingly.

  “The marriage wasn’t technically consummated,” he explains simply, while staring at his feet.

  “So what are you saying, exactly? That the minute he thought I was dead, Liam divorced me?”

  “He didn’t div─”

  “Annulled us, whatever.” I don’t let him finish. “And married someone else right away. I don’t believe you.”

  “Jo,” my dad says. “He thought you were dead. Everybody did. We were the only ones to believe you were out there somewhere.”

  “Didn’t you
tell him about the phone’s signal?” I turn to my brother accusingly.

  “I did, but he said that I wasn’t there during the crash. That he’d seen your seat explode, and you fly away in the sky. He told me that if I’d seen it, I wouldn’t have had any hope either.”

  “The crash affected him,” my mom chimes in.

  “How?” I screech, barely able to control my anger.

  “A near death experience can have─”

  “Mom, cut the crap,” I snap. She’s a psychologist, and can’t help herself from wrapping the things she has to say within a million other useless words.

  “He reacted to the shock with a Carpe Diem attitude.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “He had a mix of survivor’s guilt, and a life-is-too-short-to-be-wasted attitude. He was a bit detached from reality.”

  “And that’s why he married the first woman he met? And who would this new wife person be?”

  “She was sitting on the plane next to him,” Matthew says, not looking at me.

  “I don’t believe you,” I scream. “I don’t believe any of you. Give me a phone—I need to talk to Liam.”

  “Honey, that’s not a good idea,” my mom says.

  At that moment Judith, Mathew’s wife, turns the corner of the pier. She’s holding her three-year-old son in her left arm and has a phone in her right hand. I take advantage of my brother’s moment of distraction to wrench free from his grip and run toward her.

  “Joan.” Judith beams at me when she sees me running to her.

  “I need your phone.” I reach her in four quick steps and unceremoniously grab the phone from her hand. She’s too taken aback to react or protest.

  I see her looking interrogatively at Matthew while I run farther away with my booty. My heart is pounding in my chest at two-hundred beats per minute as I punch in Liam’s number. I wait with trepidation for the line to connect, but instead a recorded voice tells me the number does not exist.

  I try again. Nothing. I try a third time with the same result. Liam must have changed his number after the crash. I nervously pace around the marina. What now? I could try our landline. We had the line set up just before the wedding, and nobody had that number. I’m sure he didn’t cancel it. I take my cracked phone out of my bag to check the contacts, since I don’t know the number by heart, and I tap it on Judith’s phone. This time the call goes through. Aha, I knew it. I wait as it rings until an answering machine clicks in.

  “Hi, you’ve reached Liam and Adriana. We’re not at home right now. Please leave a message after the signal and we will call you back.”

  The recorded voice is female, with a South American accent. Adriana. Liam’s new wife. I feel my knees go weak underneath me. Two strong arms wrap themselves around me and catch me before I reach the pier. I struggle to stand, but I am having troubles. My body is not responding to my will. My legs refuse to hold my weight.

  Liam is living in our house with another woman. I don’t see the person who catches me. I stare up at him, but all I see is the white blinding light of the midday sun. Liam married that blonde girl. He didn’t come for me, and all this time I waited for him. I feel my heart break inside my chest and I stop struggling with my body. I give in to unconsciousness as the world around me disappears in a white blur.

  22

  Dark Is The Night

  I’m fine. Remarkably well. At least, according to the doctors. My vitals are good, I am normally hydrated, and have no infections or traumas. No traumas? Hmpf, I respectfully disagree.

  After I passed out, my family took me to the hospital. I have vague memories of doctors and nurses fussing around me with various instruments. They declared my heart healthy and strong. It isn’t. It is shattered into a million pieces, and it doesn’t have the will to beat anymore. The doctor said my lungs are perfectly functional and in good shape. Why am I having trouble breathing, then? Why is it every time I draw in air, I feel like I might suffocate? One of the nurses announced, satisfied, that my blood pressure is within range, almost athletic. Then why do I feel the blood incessantly pressing on my temples, pounding against my skull as if my head is about to explode?

  I’m in my hotel room, alone. After the hospital my family brought me here, to the resort they’ve been living at in the past months while searching for me. I took a long shower, but I wasn’t able to enjoy the hot water, the scented shampoo, or the new, clean clothes awaiting me afterward. I nibbled some dinner with them, but the feast they had ordered didn’t provide me any comfort. Shortly after the meal was over, I excused myself, saying I wanted to sleep. Their wary looks were impossible to bear.

  After they told me about Liam, my family assumed this schizophrenic behavior of alternating uncontrollable spurts of joy at me being alive and “well,” to an asphyxiating attitude of throwing me worried side-glances. They kept asking me if I was okay or if I needed something. The worst part was that every other sentence any of them uttered was seasoned by the odd insult for Liam, or the casual post-breakup cliché.

  “Everything happens for a reason.” Dad.

  Why? What reason? What did I do to deserve this?

  “That pompous bastard.” Mom.

  Didn’t you feel as if you had just adopted another son? Wasn’t he the perfect man for your little princess? I am quoting from her wedding speech.

  “Time heals all wounds.” Judith.

  How much time, exactly? Because I don’t think I can stand another minute of this crushing pain.

  “His new book is rubbish.” Matt.

  Hey, I edited it!

  “He doesn’t deserve you.” Mom.

  …you have all my love and support as a couple, and I am happy to welcome you, Liam, into the family… Again, from the wedding speech.

  “You’re still young.” Random nurse.

  Why does this statement make me feel most definitely old? And why does the nurse know about my private life?

  “He’s a loser. I never liked him.” Matt.

  Yeah, a rich, handsome, bestselling author…your textbook definition of loser.

  “There are plenty of fish in the sea.” Judith.

  Don’t talk to me about fish; I want to gag!

  “He is a dumbass.” Matt.

  With an IQ of 140.

  “It wasn’t meant to be.” Mom.

  …it was destiny that brought these two together, two real soulmates… You know where this comes from.

  “He will regret it.” Hotel receptionist.

  Does everyone know?

  “When one door closes, another one opens.” Dad again.

  Or the door slams in your face and you get a broken nose—or heart, in this case.

  The open slash closed doors comment made me think about Connor and what could have been… I felt a pang of regret, but consoled myself thinking that not giving in to temptation was the right thing to do. It wouldn’t have been right to be with Connor when I was still committed to another person. Even if it turned out that said other person wasn’t so committed to me after all. Now it’s too late, anyway, and I’m too screwed up to think about another man. The sole thought of a life without Liam is too much to take, and thinking of someone else is impossible. There is nothing like a break up to remind you how much you cared about someone.

  But I digress. Regardless of my family’s attempts at being supportive, I didn’t have it in me to reply to any of their sympathetic slash bashing comments. Well, at least not aloud. Or to make casual conversation, so I fled from the dinner as quickly as I could. And now I’m alone, staring at the ocean from my room’s balcony. The sun has set, and it’s getting dark pretty quickly. I asked for a phone, but my family adamantly refused to let me borrow one or get me a new one. They were probably worried about another fainting reaction, which only means that a phone could give me access to faint-quality information.

  However, they made a mistake. They let me keep my bag where my broken phone is still safely stowed. They didn’t realize the phone still works per
fectly, and that it’s not just an empty GPS box. Even if my provider disconnected my number, with the hotel’s Wi-Fi I can go online and see whatever there is to see. I turn the slim rectangle in my hands, examining the cracks spreading on the screen.

  I had better rip the Band-Aid off in a quick move. I input my pass code and enter Liam J. Grady in the browser’s search box. I immediately get thousands of results. At the top of the page there are some pictures. Mostly the serious, professional headshot we used for his back covers and author profiles. I never liked those much. I prefer him when he’s smiling, and those pics make him look older, which was the publicist’s intention. But they are more than enough to make my heart painfully pang with longing.

  Underneath the pictures, there’s the link to his website and retailer platforms, and finally some news articles. The most recent ones are about his new book. I click on the first one.

  Liam J. Grady’s new thriller, Dark Is The Night, was an instant bestseller. The title has claimed a spot in every major retailer’s top-ten bestseller lists, both in print and digital format since its release date. The story…blah-di-blah…

  I scroll down and stop when I see the words crash and wife.

  The crash in which Grady lost his newly wedded wife and previous editor Joanna Price granted a good deal of extra buzz around the release of Grady’s new novel. The author, named the Hero of Flight 4568 after his intrepid…

  The Hero of Flight 4568? Nobody said anything about this! There is a hyperlink on the words “the Hero of Flight 4568,” so I click on it.

  Liam J. Grady, renowned author of recent bestseller “Dark Is The Night” and thriller novels “A Lonely Shadow” and “The Burning Crest” was among the passengers of Flight 4568. The commercial airplane―en route from O’Hare International Airport to Caracas―sustained a mysterious system failure right in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle two days ago. Grady was heading to the Caribbean to spend his honeymoon at a private resort together with his late wife…blah-di-blah…

  Late, my foot. I skip the circumstantial, false, inaccurate account of my presumed death and move on to the hero part.