Beyond the Sea (16 page)

With the bottle refilled, Brian returned. “Drink this one too. We’ve got plenty. The rain last night filled the suitcase and then some.”

“
Thanks.” Troy drank most of it before settling down again, aware of the weight of Brian’s gaze on him. “I’m really not hungry. I’ll eat in the morning, okay?”

After a few moments, Brian sighed. “Fine, but drink.”

Troy nodded and closed his eyes, listening to Brian leave. He shouldn’t have been able to sleep, but soon enough he went under, hoping he wouldn’t dream.

A raindrop splattered his nose.

Troy wiped at his face. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but likely around midnight. That seemed to be when the rain came, and as before, it was a torrent. Their shelter kept off most of it, but some leaked through the sides and low, narrow doorway.

He’d always liked the sound of rain. Like most people, he supposed. Troy wondered if Brian did, and rolled over to look at him in the gloom, hip aching from being on his side for too long. God, he missed his pillow-top mattress. He scratched at an insect bite on his ankle.

The torrent of rain was so loud he couldn’t hear if Brian was sleeping or not since he faced the other way. Brian hadn’t tried to get him to eat or come out again, and had silently put a fresh bottle of water by Troy when he came to bed several hours earlier.

At least I’m stuck here with someone cool.

“
Cool” really wasn’t the right word, but he didn’t know what was. Listening to the thrumming of the rain and watching Brian’s shoulder rise and fall as he breathed, a wave of gratitude struck Troy. He wanted to close the distance between them so he could thank Brian.

But he stayed put. When the rain tapered off as quickly as it had started, Brian sat up.

“
I’ll go,” Troy said quickly.

Brian blinked at him in the dark. “I don’t mind.”

“
I have to piss anyway. You can go back to sleep.”

After a few moments, Brian stretched out again. “Okay. Thanks.”

Troy crawled out into the wet sand. He had sand stuck to him somewhere twenty-four-seven now, and had almost gotten used to it. The fires were out, the wood still smoking in places. The moat around the teepee was full to the brim, and he’d have to dig it a little deeper in the morning.

Because they really weren’t coming.

The cavalry he’d somehow expected to materialize despite the odds hadn’t found them. This was actually his life now. Maybe forever. So he’d better dig the moat deeper.

A mystery shriek echoed faintly from the jungle, making him jump. They still hadn’t figured out which animal made that noise, which only seemed to come after sunset. He thought of that first endless night in the jungle, crammed together into the crevasse, aching and terrified. How had that been only two weeks ago?

As Troy zipped the suitcase and took the bottle caps out of the front pocket, tears overflowed. He screwed on the caps one by one on the dark beach, the stars and sliver of moon twinkling into view as the rainclouds disappeared. Then he walked down to the water’s edge and let the cool tide wash over his ankles, snot in his throat and his lungs hitching as he wept.

He cried for his family and friends who thought he was dead. The need to hug his mother and brother and family tugged at him. God, he had to see them again. Smell his mom’s sweet perfume and eat chicken adobo and play video games with Ty and get up on stage for thousands of screaming people. He needed to go home.

Troy gazed at the field of stars and galaxies. Was God watching? Was his dad? He could have been the last person alive, utterly alone. But he glanced back at their camp, reminding himself that Brian was inside their nutty, cobbled-together teepee.

After pissing into the shallow water, Troy took a deep breath and returned across the clumpy sand.

Inside the doorway, they kept the T-shirt Troy had been wearing on the plane, using it as a towel to get the worst of the sand off their feet. Troy brushed the cotton over his arches and between his toes, then shimmied under the net, slapping away a mosquito. He got as comfortable as he could on his stomach, watching the faint outline of Brian’s profile a foot away. Brian was on his back, but Troy couldn’t tell if his eyes were open.

Troy had the sudden urge to grab the flashlight from its spot by the door to make sure Brian was still breathing, panic suddenly gripping him and shaking mercilessly. But no, Brian was fine. Brian was right there. Troy reached out until he almost touched him.

“
I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For checking out.”

“
Don’t be.” Brian’s voice was clear and focused; he hadn’t been sleeping.

Troy sighed in relief. “I really thought we’d be rescued.”

The white net fluttered in the puff of Brian’s exhale. “I know. We can’t give up hope. We have to believe we’ll be found eventually.”

“
How long is ‘eventually’?” He rubbed his puffy eyes. “That’s a dumb question. It’s not like you have some crystal ball.”

“
Not enough room in my carry-on. Sorry.”

Somehow, Troy found himself smiling. “S’okay. Left mine at home too.”

“
We’re going to get through this. We’ll keep using the signaling mirror, and start the big fire every day. Someone will spot us. That boatload of your fans, remember? They’re out there.”

Soft laughter warmed Troy’s chest. “Right. With paparazzi in tow.” He traced a finger over the flannel blanket beneath him on his bed of fronds and sand. “You’re so much better than a volleyball.”

Brian snorted. “Thank you. The feeling’s mutual. Maybe Tom Hanks can play me in the movie. Although I guess he’s too old and has been there, done that with desert islands.”

“
Maybe…Ryan Reynolds.”

Chuckling, Brian said, “That’s extremely generous casting. You can play yourself, naturally.”

“
Dunno. I think I deserve a better actor than me.”

They laughed and threw names back and forth until the silences grew longer and Troy’s eyes got heavy. He listened to Brian’s breathing even out.

When Troy drifted away, he felt lighter, as if the weight lodged against his ribs had shrunk away to hardly anything, at least for the night.

Troy had just finished jerking off in the gentle ocean swells when the parrots announced their arrival in a flurry of color and piercing cries. Brian crawled out a minute later, his dark hair standing up. He stretched his arms, then idly scratched his bare chest, boxers low on his hips. He was thinner than he had been, skin darker over his lean muscles.

Watching, Troy wondered if the hair on Brian’s pecs would feel any different than his own. It was definitely thicker and there was more of it…

Troy’s balls hummed with the aftershocks of orgasm, and as Brian’s gaze found his, Troy whipped his hand to the surface of the water, not realizing he’d been touching himself again. Brian smiled widely, waving. Troy waved back with his own smile and burning cheeks. He watched as Brian disappeared into the jungle, presumably to go to the bathroom.

When the sun was up over the trees and they were dressed in their shorts, they went to work on the fires. Troy waited for Brian to ask if he was okay and try to get him to talk. But he only handed Troy two coconuts before wading out near the black rocks at the end of the island with the fishing pole.

Smiling, Troy drained the juice from one and drank it before cracking it. Strange how he didn’t mind the taste now. His stomach rumbled as he went to work on the second coconut.

Sitting on one of the flannel blankets, Troy was slicing a breadfruit when Brian returned with two fish. Yawning, Troy scratched his chin. “Man, I practically have an actual beard. It’s itchy as freakin’ hell. Feels so wrong. I guess we’ll have to deal with having sweaty lumberjack beards soon.”

As Brian scraped the scales off the fish, he smiled softly. “I have a straight razor, actually. I’ll get it out after we eat.”

“
Seriously?” Troy grinned. “Dude, that’s amazing. I need to get this crap off my face. Maybe I’m just not used to it, but I hate it. Never had more than a few days’ stubble. Of course I wasn’t allowed to in the band, but it was fine with me. This feels like I’m growing a wool blanket. Ugh. Too hot.”

When their bellies were full, Brian unzipped a leather container and unfolded a straight razor from its dark, protective wooden handle. He held it almost reverently. “It was my grandfather’s.” He glanced up. “A running theme, I know. But really it’s just the hat and the shaving kit. He was a barber, and he taught me how to use this when I started shaving.”

“
That’s so cool. Can you show me?”

“
Of course.” He hesitated. “Hard without a mirror, though.”

Troy picked up the signaling mirror from its place on a rock. “A little small.”

Brian chuckled. “How about I give you a shave first and see how it goes.”

While Brian fiddled with something, Troy turned this way and that to get the right angle to flash the emergency mirror along the horizon. They had to keep vigilant.
And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they’ll find us any minute.

Another voice, dark and greasy, hissed:
No one will ever find you. You’re going to die here.

Huffing, Troy shook his head as if to tumble loose his inner Debbie Downer.

Brian sat back on his heels. “What is it? We don’t have to do this if…”

“
No, no. I was thinking and getting annoyed with my gloomy self. Not with you.”

“
If you’re sure.” Brian pulled out what looked to be half a leather belt from his shaving kit. “Can you hold one end of this?”

Troy took the fancy leather strip. “What is this? Oh, for sharpening?”

“
A strop.” Pulling it taut, Brian scraped the razor up the leather, flipped his hand, and came back down. He quickly repeated the motion over and over. “Stropping aligns the edge of the blade to make sure you get a clean shave. About fifty or sixty strokes. Sharpening is called honing, and it’s done on a whetstone. Only need to do that every few months or so.”

“
Huh. Cool. This stropping business is quite the operation.” Troy watched Brian’s arm flying with practiced ease. It was somehow soothing.

Brian smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s one of my favorite rituals. Feels good to do it again.” He ran his fingers over the leather strop, his gaze loving. “Even though Grandpa taught me this when I was a teenager, I usually used crappy disposable razors and cheap shaving cream. Thought this was old-fashioned. Didn’t have time for it, you know? Before my first commercial flight as a pilot, I pulled out this kit he’d given me. I don’t really know why. But after that, I started bringing it everywhere.” He blinked and shook his head. “Sorry. Don’t know why I’m babbling.”

“
I don’t mind.” On the contrary, it was reassuring to listen to Brian talk about something with that passion in his voice.

Brian gazed around. “Hmm. Usually I’d shower or use a hot towel. Steam opens the pores and all that. Hold on, I know.”

He took one of the empty coconut half shells, filled it with ocean water, and set it at the edge of the fire. Hanging the washcloth over a stick, he held it to the steam when it began to rise.

“
Obviously wouldn’t normally use saltwater for a shave, but I think the steam should be okay. Close your eyes.”

Sitting cross-legged, Troy did as he was told. The warm, damp cloth pressed against his face. “That’s nice,” he mumbled.