Left on Paradise (38 page)

“I thought they didn’t know any outsiders.”

“They don’t, but they believe the gods sometimes send gifts from beyond the waters.”

“If we’re the fulfillment of their prophecy,” Karla joined in, “then we aren’t intruders. We fulfill the essence of their faith.”

“That’s how I see it too,” Morales said. “They’re some type of cargo cult and we’re ... we’re bringing the cargo.”

Even Deidra was pleased with this turn of events and said so. She and the anthropologist continued to talk as Steve pushed the boat into deep water and Karla started the engine with a single pull of its cord. A minute later, the boat was cruising home at fifteen knots. As all four islanders reminisced about the places, people, and customs they’d observed, the trip passed quickly—reaching the shores of the State of Paradise an hour before dusk.

Heather sat alone on the bridge. The evening shadows already stretched to their limit as the sun slipped behind the horizon. She used a steel-tipped brush to untangle the wet strands of her long hair and water poured from a halved coconut shell to rinse away the soap. Soon she turned to the sound of footsteps coming from the village and saw her parents emerging from the dusk.

“There she is,” Charles called out.

“Clean of body, clean of mind,” Joan said as she looked at her daughter. “That’s our Heather.”

Heather didn’t laugh.

“Lighten up, daughter,” Joan said. “You are undoubtedly the most serious girl I’ve ever met.”

“What do you need, mother?”

“Your father and I need to talk to you.”

“Now what’s happened?” Heather asked. “You’ve decided on sex change operations? Maybe a his and her deal for married couples. Complete with matching monographed towels—this week only. Maybe I can save some money by just calling mom dad and calling dad mom and treating you like cross-dressers. Of course, since sex changers can’t bear children, you’ll have to tell everyone I’m adopted.”

Charles laughed.

“Very funny, Heather,” Joan said. “You’re not too far off the mark.”

Heather scowled.

“As you know,” Joan continued, “your father and I have an open marriage. That said, our affairs aren’t working out very well on this island.”

Heather shrugged.

“The problem is ... how can I say this nicely?” Joan paused for several seconds. “I’ll just be frank, Heather. The problem is you.”

Heather glared at her mother.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Joan continued. “We love you and mostly we’re very proud of you. Especially your good grades and good manners. But young people around here see us more as parents than as sexual beings in our own right. Sometimes we even have to limit our appetites to protect you. Not to mention you sneaking in my tent, you naughty girl.”

“Even kinky,” Charles added.

Heather’s face went pale.

“Tell her about that girl, Charles.”

“Last week,” Charles explained, “I could’ve enjoyed one of the choicest young women from the south. I saw in her eyes she was interested in what I had to offer. Until, that is, she said I looked like Heather’s dad. When I admitted I was the culprit, she gasped, giggled, and got away. I suffered a great deal of frustration on your account after almost having that bird in hand.”

Heather opened her mouth but no words came out.

“And it’s the same in our neighborhood,” Charles said. “I have no doubt the least interest would get me Olivia. And I’d like to try her once or twice—she has nice hips. But I just can’t motivate myself in front of you.”

“We never could,” Joan said. “I guess that’s why we hid ourselves from you for so long. It’s one of our hang-ups.”

“Rather like the incest taboo,” Charles said. “It may be nothing more than a meaningless custom, but a custom it remains and we feel bound by it.”

“To be honest, Heather,” Joan continued, “we expected you to set yourself free here. We thought to free you from the dictates of patriarchy. However, we now find conservatism is entrenched in you and you in it.”

Heather’s lips curled and her cheeks went taut.

“And that’s why,” Charles concluded, “we’d like a divorce.”

“You ... just married,” Heather said, her voice cracking.

“Not from each other,” Joan said, “but from you. We’d like to end our parental association.”

Heather’s knees buckled. “I’m not ...”

“I’ve already checked with the staff,” Charles said, “and it’s perfectly legal. And we’re confident it’s for your good. Even birds push unwilling chicks from the nest.”

“You can’t stop being my parents.”

“Now that’s an interesting point,” Charles said, “especially since it’s accepted law in every nation that a child can be unparented. Essentially, that’s what adoption does. It removes one set of parents and replaces them with another set. What we propose is simply to perform the first half of an adoption.”

Neither Heather nor her parents spoke for a long time. Heather’s face was pale and her hands trembled while her parents just appeared embarrassed.

“Will she be an orphan?” Joan asked after a time.

“I don’t think so,” Charles said. “We haven’t died.”

“I’m glad,” Joan noted. “I’d hate to make her an orphan. It’s so sad.”

“Who are you people?” Heather said with a shake of her head. “Has the sun bleached your brains?”

“No,” Charles said, “but we’re finally free to live in total freedom here and to live without constraint or restraint or any other hypocrisy.”

“My name is Heather,” Heather snarled, “I’m a seventeen-year old hypocrisy.”

“That’s an interesting observation,” Joan said as she touched her ex-daughter on the arm, “Understand that we still love you, but it’s best for us not to be your parents any longer. You’re ready to fly on your own and we’re tired of being objectified as parents rather than accepted as sexual beings in our own right.”

“You can’t do this to me,” Heather declared as tears now washed her cheeks. “It’s not right for you or me or anyone else. It’s horrible and you’re horrible parents. The worst ones in the whole world and I wish I’d never been born.”

Joan forced a smile.

“That’s a profound metaphysical question,” Joan said, “that we could discuss for ...”

“For goodness sake,” Heather shouted, “stop your damned philosophizing.”

“Listen to me young lady,” Joan growled with squared jaw and steeled eyes. “It’s not your place to lecture the woman whose choice brought you into the world. Show a little respect.”

Heather dropped her head and Charles stepped between the quarreling mother and daughter.

“By the way,” Charles said, “we’d really appreciate it if you called us by our proper names from now on. Charlie or Charles will do for me. Your choice.”

“You know I prefer Joan,” Heather’s mother said, “but you can call me Joanie for old time’s sake.”

“No more mom and dad or mother and father,” Charles said.

“I’ll try to remember, Pa,” Heather said with a hollow tone.

“We don’t hear you,” Joan replied, clapping both hands over her ears as she and her ex-daughter’s ex-father turned for camp, strolling hand in hand.

Heather dropped her bag of toiletries to the ground and folded her arms across her chest, digging fingernails into her forearms until they bled. She waded into the Pishon River, muttering to herself as she splashed through the darkness. When she reached the first bend, she broke into sobs.

Ryan threw the core of a half-eaten mango into the fire. It sizzled and burst into flame as he watched it steam and smoke until it burned to a blackened crisp. He wondered how many trees wouldn’t grow and how many birds wouldn’t be nested in its limbs and began to count the number of seeds in a second mango when two slender hands reached from behind his shoulders and clasped over his chest.

“Hi, Ryan.”

Ryan said nothing as he took the woman’s hands in his own, rubbing thumb to thumb and palm to palm as he allowed the woman to nuzzle her cheek to his own.

“You seem somber,” Maria whispered.

“We burn up so many chances,” Ryan said as he closed his eyes. “Love. Happiness. The future is just fuel for our passions. Burn, baby, burn.”

“I’ve never seen you so full of thought.”

Ryan looked toward the fire.

“Men are thinking animals,” Ryan said after a long pause. “Or maybe just animals.”

“You’ve become quite the philosopher tonight,” Maria answered as she squeezed Ryan’s hand.

“I don’t know myself, let alone philosophy.”

“How many chances have you burned up?”

“Too many,” Ryan said. “I really did love her. She was everything to me once and now I’m throwing her away like a mango core. And her children with her.”

“She doesn’t have children.”

“She might have.”

“People grow apart,” Maria said. “Over time.”

Ryan nodded and Maria looked at her own slender legs, warmed by the fire and glowing in its light. She stretched them as far as she could, toes pointed toward the horizon and thighs parted a little.

“Maybe they don’t have to,” Maria whispered. “Maybe we don’t have to.”

Ryan looked away. “We eat the fruit,” he said, “and throw away the seed. We taste the pleasure and dispose of love.”

“Did you tell her?”

“We burn life up.”

“Did,” Maria spoke a little louder, “you tell Kit about us?”

Ryan said nothing.

“Did you tell her?”

“It wasn’t the right time.”

“Why not?”

“She’s been depressed.”

“So have I,” Maria lay her head on Ryan’s shoulder as she let him stroke her hand. “I dream of us building our own house someday and of being known as yours.”

“Kit once said the same.”

“Love’s not static,” Maria said as she lay her hand on Ryan’s knee, “or eternal or absolute. People love and people change. You don’t love her any longer and it’s not fair to hide it from her. Duty isn’t love. Pity isn’t love.”

Ryan didn’t reply.

“Would you make her stay,” Maria asked, “if she no longer loved you?”

Ryan shook his head.

“No,” Maria said, “you’d never make such a hateful demand. You’d never ask Kit to live a lonely and loveless life for your sake.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then why ask it of yourself?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Ryan said as he straightened up.

“Do unto others,” Maria said. “Isn’t that the law of love?”

“Spare me the sermon,” Ryan said as he moved one hand down Maria’s thighs and the other across her chest. “What I need is a kiss.”

When Maria unbuttoned her shirt and dropped it to the earth, Ryan jumped back.

“Not here, for goodness sake,” Ryan protested.

Without a word, Maria took his hand as Ryan followed without protest to his tent—their love muted and quick. After they finished, the couple kissed goodnight and Maria returned home without retrieving her blouse.

29

The Incident on Turtle Beach

Heather rose before dawn, her eyes blackened by dark rings of sleeplessness and bad dreams. She found a blouse near the cold ashes of the fire pit and placed it beside Maria’s tent, then sat in the darkness as the sun rose. When Kit woke a few minutes later, both women worked for an hour, though Heather remained pensive despite Kit’s efforts to humor her. Only a quip about Linh-inspired fish gut pancakes finally brought a smile to the teenager’s face. Thereafter, the two women stirred pancake batter and cooked until the aroma of breakfast awoke the camp and a line queued for flapjacks—a line that dispersed only after everyone finished seconds and some took thirds before the batter ran dry. Only Lisa missed out, having gone to inspect the beaches for pollution and litter. Despite her absence at breakfast, lots were drawn during an impromptu meeting to select new officers: with Hilary being made Chief Neighbor and John chosen to serve on the Executive Council.

Following breakfast, Heather and Kit spent an hour cleaning before taking a seat in the mess tent to talk over tea as they watched Linh’s daughters sunbathe and the twins shower themselves with dirt.

Heather pointed at the boys. “Do you,” she asked, “want to clean them?”

“Not me,” Kit laughed. “I scrubbed the griddle.”

“I know. But they’re filthy today.”

“They’re little boys.”

“I was never one of those.”

“A warm bath,” Kit said with a laugh, “would make it so much easier. And a bar of soap.”

“I’d give my virginity for a hot shower,” Heather said before quickly blushing at her own quip. “I mean, I’d marry the man who bought me a shower.”

Kit fell silent for a time.

“I’ve known,” Kit said after a long pause, “women to give it for less.”

“Give what?”

“Their virginity. You said you’d give it up for a hot shower.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Still, I know women who married—as you say—for a lot less.”

“I’ve had friends who first gave themselves up,” Heather said, “for cheap beer and bad lies from skinny boys.”

“You’re not like the others your age,” Kit said. “You’re like the girls I knew when I was young.”

“My ex-parents call me old-fashioned.”

“Your parents are very modern.”

“Ex-parents.”

“They’re just a little confused,” Kit said. “Like teenagers. Give them time and they’ll come home.”

“No,” Heather said, “they meant what they said. Their words were chosen with care. Whatever else they are, they’re truth tellers—as best as they can see. It was they who always taught me to lift the veil, expose the lie, tell the truth.”

“Your choices aren’t theirs.”

“We have different ends.”

“I don’t know,” Kit said with a little smile, “whether you and your parents will have different ends, but certainly you’ve had different beginnings.”

“Philosophy,” Heather said, “teaches that an end isn’t just what follows a beginning. It’s also an aim or an aspiration.”

“What exactly,” Kit asked as she lowered her voice, “are you aiming for in your life?”

“Not cheap beer and lies. Or skinny boys either.”

“My grandma told me to make a man swear his love with his hand on a Bible. She said nothing else cures them of themselves.”

“Do you believe in the old-time religion?”

“I like what it brought.”

“What’s that?”

“Honor and loyalty. And love.”

“You think so?”

“I can remember it. Though I was only a girl, I remember my pious aunt as a bride—so pure and innocent. It’s a wedding I’ve never forgotten.”

“Were all weddings like that?”

“No, but they were closer than today. Love itself seemed deeper and more demanding.”

“What was love like when you were young?”

“William Shakespeare,” Kit said with evident glee, “and Cotton Mather used to tell me ...”

Heather rolled her eyes. “I’m serious,” she said. “What was dating like when you were young?”

“You’ve read the books and seen the movies.”

“I’m sorry to say,” Heather explained, “I don’t get my history from Hollywood, even if you and Ryan made the film. Can you tell me what you saw? I’ve always wondered.”

Kit leaned back and took a deep breath and thought about the question for a long while.

“Well,” she finally said, “I guess that always depended on the girl.”

“For nice girls,” Heather said.

“I had several high school friends who married before they got pregnant.”

“I know a girl who has two babies by three men.”

Kit looked confused, her cheeks scrunched and nose wrinkled.

“The girl couldn’t identify one of the dads,” Heather explained, “and the courts didn’t demand a blood test.”

“Which of them paid support?”

“Neither.”

“She supports herself?”

“No,” Heather answered, “her uncle provides for her and the children.”

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“Her Uncle Sam is very generous.”

Kit laughed out loud. “He must be—to help promiscuous nieces. My uncles would’ve have called me a tramp and sent me packing.”

“That’s horrible.”

“You asked what it was like when I was a girl. Though we’d given up believing in witches and ghosts by my day, we still believed in illegitimate births. At least when I was a girl. A few people still believed in virgins.”

“And unicorns?” Heather asked as she blushed.

Kit said she wasn’t quite that old.

“Today,” Heather said, “they tell us to live and let live.”

“That’s what men say.”

“Women do too.”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“When Ryan swore loyalty to me, I knew he’d be faithful. Not because he was all that reconciled to monogamy or so utterly devoted to me. I knew it because Ryan is a man of his word. You realize he gave up his career and brought us to this island because he felt compelled to uphold his public pronouncement to leave the United States if the Republicans won the election?”

Heather looked down. “You expect him,” she whispered, “to live his whole life as a perfect husband because of a single promise?”

“I’m not that naive,” Kit answered, “and our vows weren’t foolish. Ryan scripted the ceremony himself; he promised to love me as long as he was able and to honor me with truth if he wasn’t.”

“That’s not very romantic.”

“No, it isn’t. But it’s true.”

“Still, it’d be hard to hear at your wedding.”

“It wasn’t stated quite so crassly,” Kit said. “Ryan is good with words and made it part of the joy of our special day.”

“I don’t want just a special day,” Heather said as she looked up, “I want love that’ll last an eternity. I want a man who will love me forever.”

“A Mormon?”

“I like my cola,” Heather said with a smile.

“You may have to give it up,” Kit said, “to get the man of your dreams.”

“I’m not sure which I’d prefer.”

“I know exactly what you mean. A bottle of cola can be as satisfying as a husband. And I’ve haven’t much of either for a long time.”

“I can’t really compare them.”

“Someday,” Kit said with a grimace, “you’ll find the right guy. Or at least the right soda.”

“I think I may be diet soda,” Heather whispered after a loud laugh. “Every guy I’ve ever gone out with has wanted to fool around the first date. I won’t and they don’t call back. Not one of them.”

“It’s their loss.”

“I’m not gaining much myself.”

“You’ve kept your self-respect.”

“How much happiness does that bring?” Heather’s face slumped forward as hair veiled her face.

“You’d be surprised,” Kit said as she closed her eyes tight.

“It’s not like,” Heather said, “I’m some pious miss wanting to wait a week after the honeymoon. All I want is to love the first man who touches me. To really love him and to have him really love me. And to be really sure. Is that asking so much?”

Kit poured hot water from a pot into her cup, dipped a tea bag, and stirred two sugar cubes while Heather waited for an answer.

“It’s funny,” Kit said after a time, “but once upon a time I remember hearing that songs of sex before marriage seemed scandalous—even for couples in love.”

“Now,” Heather said, “there’d be a scandal if they demanded love before sex.”

“It’s what we wanted, I guess.”

“Not me,” Heather said. “I want a man who’ll die to other women and live to me alone. Who will love the children I give him and stay at my side when I’m old and gray. I want a man who won’t run off with some girl when he turns forty and who won’t flirt or look around. Ever.”

“There never was such a man,” Kit said. “What you want is a husband without eyes or hands or even a ...” Now she paused.

“I understand.”

“I’m not so sure you do. Even Ryan looks and flirts, though he’s a completely faithful husband.”

“Until now,” Heather blurted out.

Kit looked Heather in the eyes and asked what the teenager meant.

Heather looked away until she found the right words. Only after a long pause did she speak. “He’s not,” she whispered, “your husband now.”

“I wonder,” Kit said with a frown, “if he realizes it?”

Heather said nothing.

A moment later they rinsed their cups and Heather told all four children to search the village for litter while she prepared their lunch—though she gave larger disposal bags to Linh’s daughters than to the twins. The sun already was beginning to climb to its midday heights when the children left the village.

By midmorning, Lisa reached the waterfall where the Pishon River poured into the bay, collecting litter as she hiked downstream. At the falls, she removed lab equipment from her backpack: eyedroppers, test tubes, and petri dishes. Filling three of the glass tubes with fresh water, she measured drops of testing solution into each. One tube turned blood red and another light blue. She observed no reaction in the third beyond the dilution of the earth-colored chemical. Lisa rinsed the equipment and returned it to the storage case. The stream remained unpolluted, with the exception of the occasional plastic bottle or torn garment tangled along the banks.

The young woman’s next task was to pick up litter strewn around the bay. She made two passes, one along the shore and the other several yards inland—filling a trash bag with biodegradable materials like banana peels, coconut husks, dead fish, a worn shirt, and even a frayed bra draped over a rock. The other bag remained empty except for a plastic wrapper and two dirty condoms. Lisa picked up the prophylactics with a stick since she didn’t know who they belonged to and didn’t want to find out. After securing the litter, she walked toward the beach and turned north.

As soon as she reached Turtle Beach, Lisa knew something was wrong. Fresh footprints stamped into the sand indicated trespassers had entered western territory. When Lisa saw that they led to dozens of shallow holes, she dropped her backpack and sprinted to the turtle nesting grounds, kneeling at the first hole she saw. There, a crushed shell was abandoned to the sand, its inch-long occupant dead in its own yolk. Every footprint led north, so Lisa followed them, quickly reaching a full run. When sand filled her shoes, she kicked them off—and her socks with them—and even when sand turned to soft mud and wet grass, Lisa continued to track the steps of the robbers. Only when she came to rocks did she move more carefully.

When she heard laughter ahead, Lisa redoubled her pace and found the poachers smoking a joint at the next bend, a little south of their own village. There were four of them—three northerners and Jason—and two wooden crates were stacked between them.

When the men saw Lisa coming, they greeted the young woman who now approached them—breathless and red-faced from her hard run.

“What’s going on, Lisa?” Jason asked.

“You’ve poached our eggs,” Lisa said as she caught her breath.

“You can cook yours however you like.”

The others laughed.

“Take them back,” Lisa said.

“We’re hungry,” one of the northern men said.

“You have to take them back. It’s illegal to hunt sea turtles.”

“Not by our laws,” the hungry man said, “and not by the law of necessity either.”

“They belong to our district. Your territory ends this side of Turtle Beach.”

The man shrugged his shoulders. “Waste not, want not. You weren’t using them.”

“The turtles were.”

“And we thank them for guarding our breakfast.”

“That’s our territory.”

“From each according to his means. To each according to his ability,” the man said as he motioned to the others it was time to leave.