Uncharted (5 page)

Owen

I found the cave in January. Strangely, in the eight months I’d been on the island I’d never noticed it. I happened to be looking down when I walked by, and the pile of sticks and rotting leaves that had blown up against the opening caught my eye.

I cleared them away and cautiously stuck my hand in, trying to feel around. I walked back to the beach and returned with a flashlight, then crawled forward enough to poke my head all the way in. It smelled musty and I realized just how small the space was. I had to wedge the flashlight under my arm and wriggle through on my stomach. The area wasn’t much larger than my two-person tent. There wasn’t anything interesting inside, just more leaves. Something scurried slowly across the floor, but when I pointed my flashlight at it, it darted away. I shone the light onto the roof of the cave, hoping I wouldn’t see hundreds of bats hanging upside down. Fortunately, there wasn’t anything above me other than a few of those giant brown spiders that I still hadn’t gotten used to. I was lucky there weren’t any bats, because if the cave was where they hung out, I probably would have crawled right into a big pile of their shit.

I backed out of the cave and stood up, taking deep breaths to clear the musty smell from my nose.
No reason to go back in there,
I thought.

No reason at all.

•   •   •

For the next four months I focused on finishing the house. I’d never call myself a great carpenter, but as the house took shape I felt like I’d done a pretty good job, considering my lack of training. The house had two rooms, with a door between them. The hardwood floor felt too rough to walk on with bare feet, so I spent hours sanding it by hand, wearing out sheet after sheet of sandpaper. I had to thatch the roof because I wanted to save my lumber supply for the walls and floor, but I’d had enough to build a framework of wooden beams, which I then covered with intersecting layers of palm fronds. I moved all my belongings inside the house, and I tried sleeping in it for a few nights, but I preferred my tent on the beach and the sound of the crashing waves. The sounds were much different at night when I slept in the house. There was a constant drone from the bugs and a scurrying sound from the rats. Lots and lots of rats. It wasn’t horrible, but I still liked the ocean sounds better.

It was the dry season and the weather had been mild, so I didn’t know how well the house would stand up to a storm. Because it didn’t rain as much, I depended on the water that was flown in more than I had in previous months. And every thirty days or so when I heard the seaplane’s engines, I smiled because it meant I’d have company for dinner.

When I wasn’t working on the house I was in the water, swimming laps. I had no doubt that I was in the best shape of my life. I could swim for a long time without getting winded, and I felt stronger than I ever had. I knew I’d gained weight, and that it was pure muscle.

When I wasn’t swimming laps I was snorkeling. I’d finally grown comfortable in the open water. There was so much to see that sometimes, when I ventured into the deeper depths of the ocean, out where the light blue water turned dark, I forgot about just how low on the food chain I really was. It was on one of those days that I experienced a truly incredible encounter, although when I first caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye I froze in terror, certain that I would be swallowed whole by this massive creature.

I realized suddenly that it was a whale shark, frighteningly large but not interested in eating anything other than plankton. It must have been forty or fifty feet in length, and I swam next to it, one hand on its side. It glided through the water, its mouth open until it turned and swam away. I watched it go, certain that I’d just seen something that not many people ever would.

•   •   •

In May, just before the rainy season began again, I decided I wanted to visit the mainland. I really needed a haircut; I didn’t mind wearing my hair long, but it had gotten to the point where it was constantly in my eyes and made the back of my neck sweat. Plus I’d been craving a cheeseburger and a beer, and I felt like taking a real shower and sleeping in a bed for a change.

And for the first time in a year I started to think that maybe it was time to figure out what I wanted to do next.

•   •   •

After I checked in to my hotel room I got my hair cut and then stopped at the hardware store to stock up on nails and screws in case I needed to make any repairs to the house. I wandered the streets of Malé for a while, just people watching. I could tell the locals from the tourists and the tourists from the expats with ease by then, just by what they were wearing. The locals were partial to T-shirts with business logos while the tourists wore bright surf wear or clothing with the logo of their resort. The expats seemed to always be dressed in worn and faded clothing, and the ones I’d struck up a conversation with had usually traveled extensively throughout Asia.

I made my way back to the hotel so I could drop off my stuff before heading down to the bar on the main level. I sat inside instead of at my usual table on the deck because it was raining. The weather suited my mood, indifferent and slightly depressed. I told myself to snap out of it.

“Hello, Owen.” The waitress, a local woman who looked about my mom’s age, set a menu and a bottle of beer down in front of me.

I smiled at her. “Hi, Donna.”

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said. “I almost didn’t recognize you with that short hair. Where’ve you been hiding?”

“Oh, you know. Just hanging out on the island.” I never said which island, and Donna never asked.

“Burger and fries?” she asked.

“You got it,” I said. “Thanks.”

She scooped up the menu and said, “Coming right up.”

•   •   •

After I finished eating I pushed my plate away. When Donna took it I relocated to an empty stool at the bar, hoping a few more drinks would put me in a better frame of mind. The place was packed that night, and I’d been lucky to snag a seat. One of the seaplane pilots I’d met a few months back walked by.

“Up for a game of pool?” he asked.

“Maybe in a little while,” I said. I didn’t feel like playing; I didn’t feel like doing much of anything at all. Maybe now that the house was done I needed a new goal, something to work toward, to occupy my time and my mind. I wasn’t sure if the island could provide that any more. Equally frustrating was the fact that I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking for. But whatever I decided, I needed to figure it out soon.

I took a drink of my beer and looked around. A girl sitting at the end of the bar caught my eye. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she was laughing and gesturing wildly with her hands, whipping her head back and forth as if she was telling a story to the people sitting on either side of her. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d come across anyone who seemed so genuinely happy.

When was the last time
I’d
been happy like that?

I watched her out of the corner of my eye and noticed the way she paid special attention to the blond guy to her right. How she rested her hand on his shoulder and shoved him. She must have been joking, though, because she smiled at him and he smiled back. I looked down at my drink. For a minute I felt lonely and it was the kind of loneliness that had nothing to do with spending my days and nights on an island by myself.

Two beers later, I had a nice buzz going and felt a little better. But it was getting late and I thought it might be better to stop while I was ahead. Get a good night’s sleep and shake off the remainder of this funk I was in. Hope that the sun would be shining when I woke up. I was about to close out my tab when the girl from the end of the bar slid onto the newly vacated seat next to me.

“Hi,” she said. “Is anyone sitting here? Bit crowded where I’m at. Can’t seem to flag down the bartender.”

She had an English accent, which took me by surprise, and she looked close to my age, maybe a little younger. It was hard to tell with girls sometimes. Her cheeks were slightly sunburned, her eyes were green, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

“No,” I said. “Go ahead.” Her glass was almost empty. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure. I should probably stop after this one, though,” she said, laughing. “I’m half-pissed already.”

I signaled the bartender to bring us another round. “I’m Owen.”

“Calia.” She reached out and shook my hand.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Where are you from?”

“Surrey,” she said. “A small town called Farnham. Been here on holiday for two weeks visiting a friend who works at one of the resorts. Fabulous time. What about you?”

“California.”

“Just arriving or heading home?”

I shook my head. “Neither. I’m staying on one of the islands. I came back to the mainland to get some supplies.”

She looked at me strangely. “Why do you need supplies? The resort should have everything you need.”

“I’m not actually staying at a resort. My island is a bit less . . . inhabited.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Is it completely uninhabited? I’ve heard you can visit those islands. They’ll pack a picnic lunch for you and everything.”

I laughed. “Well, it’s been a bit longer than a day trip for me.”

“How long?”

“About a year.”

“You’ve been living on one of those islands for a
year
? By yourself? Voluntarily?”

Great. When she said it like that it made me sound like some kind of fruit loop. “Yeah,” I said. “I felt like taking a break, getting away from it all.” I shrugged.

“Wow,” she said.

I didn’t know if she would understand that there was something about the remote location that spoke to me. That I had my reasons for the solitude. And I was suddenly aware of the fact that I did
not
want this girl to think I was weird. “I wanted to challenge myself. See if I could do it.”

She looked at me and smiled. “Well, I think it’s incredible.”

“Really?” I asked. My mood was improving by the second.

“Yes.” She leaned in and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is that why you visit the bar while you’re here? To pick up a girl along with your supplies?”

She seemed so genuinely curious, and so serious, that I shook my head and laughed. “No,” I said. “I’m not usually lucky enough to find a girl here.”
Especially one that’s so pretty.
“So thanks for giving me something other than these men to look at,” I said.

I could smell her perfume, and sitting so close to her at the crowded bar, our arms almost touching, stirred up all kinds of things in me. I might have sworn off most people in general, but I’d been thinking a lot lately about how I missed women in particular.

“You’re welcome,” she said. She smiled, and I couldn’t be sure but I thought I noticed a slight flush on her cheeks. “I know it’s not quite as bold as living on an island alone, but I’m moving to Kenya in the fall.”

“Why Africa?” I asked.

“I’m going to join a volunteer mission. I want to experience new things, but I also want to help people. I just graduated from university, but I don’t want to be stuck behind some desk. I mean, what’s the point?” The more she talked, the more passionate she became. Her voice got a little louder, a little more determined. She looked me in the eye and said, “Did you know that over one million children have been orphaned by AIDS in Kenya?”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true. And often kids as young as ten have to leave school to find a job so they can support their younger siblings.” She shook her head. “It’s tragic. There are so many people who need help. If I can make a difference in just one person’s life, it will be worth it. Especially if that person is a child.”

I admired her fervent desire to help people, unlike me and my desire to hide from them. “I think what you’re planning to do is very commendable,” I said. “Where will you live?”

“Another volunteer and I are teamed up. We’ll stay in a communal area in the village.”

“Is that safe?”

“The volunteer coordinators have assured us that it is,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

“When do you leave to go home?” I asked.

“I’m flying out tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh,” I said, nodding. Of course. Why else would she be in the airport hotel bar? “You must be ready to get back home.”

She shrugged. “I have the whole summer ahead of me. Not sure what I’m going to do with all the time, actually. I could get a job, but it would have to be temporary since I’ll be leaving again in three months.”

I realized as she spoke that I could sort of see down the front of her dress. Not a lot, but enough to remind me just how long it had been since I’d slept with a girl. That had been the last thing on my mind when I left California, but it seemed to be the first thing on my mind every morning when I woke up. And several times throughout the day. And again at night.

Maybe that’s why I said, “Come with me.”

“To your island?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe I will.”

I figured she was just blowing smoke, and she probably turned that killer smile on lots of guys. “Sure,” I said, laughing. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” She wasn’t particularly rugged looking. In fact, she was kind of slight. Delicate almost. Frankly, I couldn’t picture her on the island or in Africa or anyplace even remotely primitive.

She laughed and said, “You shouldn’t make assumptions. My life is temporarily lacking in adventure.”

“So it’s adventure you’re after?” I asked.

“Among other things,” she said.

What is that supposed to mean?
Jesus, I really was out of practice. What if I’d completely lost the ability to determine when a girl was interested in me? I’d feel stupid if I took her seriously and she was just kidding. I decided to call her bluff and see if she confessed that there was no way in hell she planned to join me on some remote island. “You know there’s no bathroom, right?”

Her forehead creased with worry, but just for a second. “No bathroom, you say?”

“No, so don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ve got a solar shower—which isn’t bad, actually—but there’s no running water. No electricity. No modern conveniences of any kind.”