The Islander

…most men walk around in quiet desperation.
Henry Thoreau

Mar. 2: 13.43: 80 degrees: 29.27 F: 10-20 SW

 Mr. Lowry just radioed to warn me about the storm that is heading here. He reminded me that I needed to stow away the lawn furniture and double-check the radio mast tethering and get the launch secured and put away in the boathouse and make sure all the shutters are closed and locked down before I go to bed tonight. He should know me better. What is here is here and no wind will blow it away.

The storm will breach the long calm I have enjoyed on the island for the last month or so. The surface of the dark blue sea is already textured by a rash of agitated whitecaps and stretched out along its horizon is the ominous bank of thunderclouds billowing upward like goofy balloon characters in a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.

Even Henrietta has been anxious about the change in weather and has been underfoot all day nudging me to take shelter. There is still plenty of time before the storm hits, I keep telling her, and we will keep working at the falls this afternoon before shutting down for the evening. I had promised Mr. Lowry that I would finish the foot bridge over the falls before he returns this spring. He wants the whole superstructure of the bridge made out of bamboo so it has a jungle look as though it was built by natives. It will be extra work, but it will look nice when it’s done.

Mar. 2: 20.32: 74 degrees: 28.13 F: 25-40 SW

I made the final rounds this evening making certain everything is tied down and sealed up tight as a drum. It took a while to locate Big Cat and Little Cat and get them safely put away in Mr. Lowry’s house. I found Big Cat in a new nesting place beneath the bird’s nest fern and Little Cat was under the porch behind the bougainvillea.

The wind has kicked up quite a bit, but no real rain yet, just a fine drizzle swirling about in the breeze. The pall of the storm has given the evening an uncanny darkness. You can’t really see a storm at night, but you can hear its commotion stirring all about. I feel pretty safe and sound here in my room, but somewhat anxious about how bad the storm will get. I have the windows open as the room is still quite humid from the afternoon heat and the ventilation is soothing. I’ve been playing with the window blinds, opening and shutting them. I guess I’m bored. I’ll lock the shutters up soon and close the window before I go to bed.

Maurice radioed just a while ago to tell me that he and Janice will not be able to come over tomorrow because of the storm and that we will try to get together next year when they return. The static from the storm really raised havoc with the radio reception, making it very difficult for us to understand each other. Maurice had to keep asking me to repeat what I had said, though I didn’t have much trouble hearing him. I was looking forward to their visit. I haven’t seen them for a long time, ever since their wedding. It was nice of them to have invited me.

I have my little bottle of champagne, some crackers and cheese. This won’t be the first birthday I spent alone. Maybe Maurice and Janice have left a card for me on the mainland. I’ll check when I go in. Henrietta has curled up snugly on her rug and is sleeping. All my chores are done and I can rest and enjoy the evening. It would be nice to have someone to share it with, though.

Mar. 3: 7.18: 70 degrees: 28.08 S: 26-58 SW

 I woke up this morning to find the storm in full fury with gale-force winds and torrential rain running off the roof in sheets. Outside, it’s dark and gray and the clouds hang low and brush the tops of the flailing palm trees as they stream by. The dark-green gloss of the vegetation is being blown about by the winds and pummeled by the rain. I will have to venture out later this morning and check on the boathouse and the launch since the visibility is very limited and I need to check on them. Everything else looks okay.

I had to get up last night and close my windows and shutters that I left open. What an idiot! I forgot to close my own windows. I thought I had dreamt getting up closing the windows, but it wasn’t a dream; I had left them open. I should have known better. I remember I did dream that I was listening to a party going on somewhere in the distance. I remember hearing the tinkling of ice in glasses and the muffled chatter of voices. It’s funny how dreams can fool you.

There won’t be much I can do today except weather it out. I have a book to read though I’m not much in the mood for that. There is no one to radio and even if there was, the storm would make any communication with the mainland difficult at best. I’ve always found it trying to communicate with the mainland even in good conditions.

Mar. 3: 17.12: 72 degrees: 28:58S: 25-55 SW

 I found a woman today. Her dinghy crashed up on the shore last night in the storm. I think she was trying to run the beach, but missed and landed in the rocks. I’m not certain why she was out on the ocean at such a time. I had gone down to check on the boathouse and the launch and as I stood on the beach in the gale, I noticed a rubbery sheet flapping over in the rocks. When I got there, the dinghy was badly tattered and looked like a huge cowry shell with the girl covered beneath its deflated tubes. She was all crunched up near the bow, wearing only a two-piece bathing suit with a rose-colored sarong scrunched up around her body. She is a trim woman, fit as a fiddle, and was unconscious, so I gave her mouth-to-mouth to resuscitate her, then I carried her up to my room, where she has been the whole afternoon. She has a lump on her forehead and some scratches and bruises, but otherwise, she seems okay. She has tattoos, one on her shoulder blade and one just above her ankle. She has been resting quietly most of the time, but once in awhile she tosses and turns restlessly, mumbling something about just being left alone, or just leave her alone. I’m not sure exactly what she’s saying.

I went about my work for most of the afternoon, checking on the girl from time to time. I drained the pool and cleared the filters of debris and did the same for the pond and checked on the carp there to make sure they were okay. Fish don’t mind a storm. I checked Mr. Lowry’s house and made sure it was sealed up and not leaking or damaged by any palm branches that had been blown off in the wind. I couldn’t keep my mind off of the girl the whole day. Having her here is so unreal and unbelievable. When I got back in, I made some tea and baked some biscuits in case she needed nourishment. She has been resting very quietly lately, occasionally stretching herself out. I’m not sure if she is just lollygagging or recovering. She is waking now.

Mar. 3: 20.38

 Her name is Cynthia, but she said I could call her Cindy. She’s from a prestigious family and is an actress and was at a party on a yacht when a man there wanted to have his way with her and she just doesn’t tolerate anything of that sort, so she took the dinghy and headed off toward the mainland, but the storm came up and swept her away. She doesn’t like to be manhandled and she really wanted me to understand that. She insisted a few times that she just isn’t that type of girl and I guess she’s not.

She wanted to know all the details about her rescue. She wanted me to tell her everything down to the smallest detail. I told her everything, even that I had to let her sleep in her wet clothes for fear of disturbing her. She seemed to like that and appreciated my “discretion.” She was astonished that I had carried her all the way up the hill in such terrible weather. She said that was so romantic. We talked for quite a while. She sat, like an Indian squaw, in the center of the bed and seemed quite at home and assured of herself.

She is showering now and singing a sweet melody. I suppose she is happy just to be alive. I gave her one of my tropical shirts to wear and some sweatpants. The brunt of the storm has passed though it is still showering off and on. I have opened up the shutters to let some fresh evening air in. There is a spectacular sunset painted across the sky and a huge solo cloud suspended in the air just offshore. The cloud’s flat base and fleecy top has a marbling to it of black and crimson and white and it seems like a huge sea bird gliding in to land on my island.

I have baked fish and made salad with mangoes for dinner and I will serve her tea with mint leaves floating in it when she is ready. I hope she finishes soon so she can join me on the lanai and enjoy this glorious sunset.

P.S. The inflatable boat had “Property of City Marina” stenciled on it (?)

Mar. 4: 4.32: 77 degrees: 29.90R: 5-10 S

 I could not sleep so I am writing now by a light from a lantern on the lanai. I just want to record everything that was said and done last night. It is all so extraordinary. This is truly a whole new experience for me.

Cindy told me how she was adopted by a rich family and grew up in a chateau in southern France that played host to a parade of worldly figures, larger than life, was her description of them. She was taught art and classical dance and different languages and grew to be very sophisticated in her opinions and affairs. She is a dancer now performing at some of the swankier clubs on the mainland. Sadly, her adopted parents have disowned her because of her wayward lifestyle and bohemian friends and she is on her own now. I told her I wish I had been a dancer like Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly, they’re so graceful and smooth, but I’m klutzy and look awkward out on the dance floor. She laughed and told me anyone can dance and that she will teach me some day. She was sketchy about the rest of her upbringing and we talked about her life on the mainland and all the parties and social events that went on there. She told about a lavish party she just gave at her place and how everyone was there, though someone made off with some of her CDs and how you can’t trust anyone anymore, even friends. She’ll have to move soon, though, as her landlord has raised the rent again and indicated she could pay the increase by doing certain favors for him, but that’s out of the question and she’ll get the extra money somehow. She relished being part of the “in” crowd and really wanted to share that with me. I would like them, she told me. They were all quite “chummy.” As I listened to her, I felt how wonderful and exciting her world sounded and how much I was missing here on the island. I suppose I should make the effort and get out and meet more people. She told me that what she really wants to do is organize an actors’ troupe and tour the world and perform in the grandest theatres of the world. She sees herself as a leading lady that simply needs an audience.

I told her that I want to buy a party boat someday and take people out scuba diving and snorkeling. It would be wonderful to be skipper of my own boat and ferry people off to spots where they can dive below the surface of the ocean and see the exotic creatures below. I had to repeat some of the things I said to her as it seems that the wreck the other night has impaired her hearing somewhat. She told me how she used to see this island from the mainland on really clear days and had always wondered who was living here. I told her that I look over at the mainland sometimes and wonder the same thing. She told me I was sort of cute and that she was really exhausted and needed to get some rest. She grew drowsy and began to drift off. She wistfully mumbled something about dreams were all we had, then rolled away on her side and fell asleep.

I curled up on the rug to sleep. Henrietta came in around 2 and nudged me and snorted in mystification, then went back out to her burrow.

I had forgotten to feed the cats last night. I’ve never forgotten that before. I’ll do that now. Then I’ll go down to the beach and clear off the wreckage and dispose of it. Mr. Lowry wouldn’t appreciate such an eye sore on his beach.

The early morning sky is still black and is perforated with bright twinkling stars. There are twinkling lights on the horizon that could be from the mainland, but, then again, if they were stars they’d be so much farther away.

Mar. 4: 17.10: 84 degrees: 30.01S: 5-10 W

 Cindy is down at the cabana sunbathing on a chaise and I’m resting here on the lanai with two doves pecking about my feet. Cindy must have fed them this afternoon as they normally do not show up for feeding until the sun sets. I spent the day cleaning and grooming the grounds, removing the debris and clearing the pathways and lawns. Even though Mr. Lowry will not be back here for a long time, I want him to know that his island remains as clean and beautiful as when he left it. Cindy had picked some blossoms and made flower arrangements for my bungalow and did some light cleaning for me. She is still exhausted and recuperating from her ordeal, but is doing much better now. The whole island has been cleansed by the storm and now shines and glows in the radiant sunlight. Off in the distance, there is a rainbow arching over the veiled clefts of the mountain and here nearby is a floral explosion of cranberry, maroon, pink and pure white velvety blossoms from the hibiscus and orchids that are all around me. Tiny beige finches hop about the branches of the ficus tree and two perched cockatiels preen themselves on one of the limbs.

Cindy had made a mid-day meal for us from fruit and vegetables left in the refrigerator and bread and cheese and a tropical punch for drink. At lunch she told me that the mainland wasn’t as great as it was cranked up to be. It’s a mixed-up crazy world that is best to be avoided at all cost. She was glad that she had gotten away from there, glad she crashed the boat here. Good riddance! It was Providence, she said, and asked me if I believed in Providence.

I guess there was this singer she liked and they had a falling out of some sort. She has been hurt and I’m not certain how she’s handling it. She quickly changed the subject by asking about Mr. Lowry’s house and if she will get a chance to go in and see it. She is very impressed by it and would love to see the inside. I guess she had walked up to the house in the morning and peeked through the windows. I told her that Mr. Lowry does not permit people in his house when he is not there, but perhaps he will be back soon to show her around. She wanted to know more about my shell collection that I keep in my wooden specimen cabinet. She thought it was puzzling how I have just one shell in each little drawer. I told her that I keep a sample of each shell subspecies I find on the island in a separate drawer until I find a better one to replace it. I have been doing that for years now. I’m not sure if I could have explained to her what I meant by a better one and she politely didn’t ask. She was curious about my journal and why I keep it locked. I told her it was just a record I’ve been keeping and, yes, it’s probably foolish to keep it locked.

I will take her down to the beach tonight and make a bonfire for her.

Mar. 5: 8.48: 83 degrees: 30.15S: 5-10 W

 What a glorious night! There are no words that could ever capture it, at least none that I can come up with. I made the largest bonfire imaginable. The flames soared high into the night shooting off sparks and cinders like a volcanic eruption. Cindy said she loved bonfires, they are so dangerous and exciting, creation and destruction all rolled into one. It was a brilliant bonfire, quite spectacular. I think even the mainland must have seen it.

We sat on the beach and talked about how fortunate she was to be from such a wealthy and worldly family and how special her life must be. She told me about the places she has been and the people she has met and how easily it is for her to be part of something so massive and seductive. I had to confess that I missed that part of life, but people just didn’t seem to take kindly to me and I find it hard at times to make friends. She told me how people think she’s a real enigma too, modestly bold, impetuously cautious, suspiciously trusting, that sort of stuff, and people have trouble understanding that. Then she stood and asked me to dance with her, but I shied away and told her I would just look awkward and she would just laugh. She told me anyone could learn to dance, that you just had to feel the rhythm that is in you and let your body go. She urged me some more, but I couldn’t. So she began to show me how she danced on the mainland and told me she didn’t care if the whole world saw her dance that way. She ran her hands up and down along her body as her slowly gyrated her hips, swaying her body in serpentine waves. Once-in-awhile, she would slowly twist herself down into a squat, then rise back up again in refrain. She is a willowy woman of flesh and bones, a vision of such pure delight. I was captivated by her as I watched, spellbound. She drifted into a trance as though dancing with some imaginary partner and spoke to me with her eyes closed. I can’t remember much of what she said. I can only remember her shadowy form flowing there in front of the towering flames.

Then she suddenly stopped and fell to her knees on the sand next to me, laughing in mischievous merriment. She suggested that we go up to Mr. Lowry’s house and enjoy the rest of the evening there. I told her I couldn’t disobey Mr. Lowry’s instructions about strangers in his house and he would probably dismiss me if I did. I told her we could still enjoy the rest of the evening here on the beach. She was disappointed, but told me I was an amazing guy, the way I stick to my guns, and she really likes men like that. I described Mr. Lowry’s house for her and told her how it was furnished with all sorts of rare and exotic pieces from around the world and how the central breezeway has beautiful hand-painted murals along it. We settled in on the beach and lay on our bellies next to each other and talked softly about our likes and dislikes and hopes and dreams until she fell asleep.

I did go to Mr. Lowry’s place this morning and gathered up some clothes and toiletries for Cindy from the guest pavilion. I’m sure it will be okay, as Cindy is a guest and Mr. Lowry would want me to be hospitable. She was appreciative, but said something about it not being the same, whatever that meant. She is going with me to the falls today and picnic while I work on the bridge.

I have to quit writing now as Cindy wants me.

Mar. 5: 20.18: 85 degrees: 30.16S: 5-10 SW

We went to the falls today. I worked on the bridge as Cindy rested at my favorite spot, the clearing by the basin beneath the cooling canopy of the forest. It’s a secluded spot, dappled with filtered sunlight and enclosed by huge feathery ferns and geraniums. She loves the setting and told me it is so lush and fresh and unlike the scraggly parched places on the mainland. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her the whole time I worked; she fitted in like a gorgeous flower.

I spent most of the day hauling timber beams up to the top of the falls and placing them on the other bank of the stream where the bridge span will connect. I have to admit that I made certain Cindy saw me carry each bulky load up the path. It’s funny, but the timber seemed so light today. I have never felt so strong and bold. Cindy sat below and amused herself with Henrietta for the better part of the morning until a large peacock emerged near by to entertain her. He put on quite a show for her, strutting his stuff as though courting, fanning out his train and talking to her in his cocky cries to get her attention. He was a magnificent bird with luminescent green and gold feathers adorned by those curious blue-green “eyes”. I couldn’t help but stop and toy with the bird myself, mimicking his strut and cries and circling around with him for Cindy’s attention. Cindy couldn’t control her gleeful chuckles from the silly antics; though admonishing me off-and-on to behave and let the bird be. The peacock finally trailed off after a peahen and I finally went back to work, leaving Cindy alone and somewhat melancholy.

In the afternoon, Cindy sauntered up to my work site to talk. She had gathered some white orchid blossoms that were tinged with pink and wore them in her hair. The blossoms glistened with droplets from a passing rain shower. She told me how amazed she is that I could domesticate a wild pig like Henrietta and how sweet Henrietta turned out. She asked if I could build her a bench there at the spot by the basin so she could come and enjoy such paradise. She told me there was such tenderness there, a tenderness that she would never find on the mainland or even dare to look for, but then she quickly changed her thought and said perhaps we shouldn’t disturb such a place. She asked me if I had every jumped from the top of the falls. I told her no, it would be foolish. Then she gave me a smug wily grin, stepped past me to the ledge and jumped off into the basin. When her splash subsided, I could see nothing but her sprawled-out body sinking slowly into the depths of the water and petals floating on the surface. I had no choice, and plunged in after her. When I emerged, she was there waiting for me, laughing, and she quickly wrapped her arms around my neck. She wanted to know if she had scared me and I told her she was a wild impetuous nymph bent on destruction. She burst out laughing even more and wrapped her legs tight around my waist. We clung to each other there as thick drops of rain thudded and splashed off our skin.

This evening we dined on the lanai and had fresh fruit, poi, fish and tea with mint leaves. Cindy wants me to help her write a letter. It seems that she was up for the leading role in a play and was passed over. She wants to write a letter to the producer, who she knew, and let him know what a terrible mistake he made. Since I do so much writing, she wants me to help. I told her I would, though I don’t think I’m that good with words.

Later this evening, I got Cindy roaring hilariously. I told her about Henrietta and how, when she was a piglet, she used to hang around with Big Cat and Little Cat and learned to stalk birds just like the cats. One day I caught her slowly sneaking up on a bird and I clapped my hands to stop her in her folly. She angrily sat down on her hind legs and turned her head and glowered at me for interrupting her hunt. She was really pissed. Cindy really enjoyed the story, she has such a gorgeous and infectious laugh, and even Henrietta snorted and squealed mirthfully along with us.

Mar. 5: 23.55

I love her. I love everything about her. She is the most beautiful woman in the world. She is so full of life and vigor. She’s all I could have hoped for. Oh, what a glorious feeling to know I’m not just her servant, but her lover.

What greater good can there then to please her?

She is waking now and is moseying over to me.

Mar. 7: 8.05: Saturday

 I left Cindy alone yesterday when I went to work on the bridge. In the afternoon, when I returned, I found her on the veranda in front of Mr. Lowry’s house. She had a bath towel wrapped around her head like a turban and was wearing one of Mr. Lowry’s terrycloth robes. She was curled up on a chair with Mr. Lowry’s telescope in front of her. The sliding glass door was open and the curtain was flapping out through it. I asked her what she was doing and she told me she’d just taken a bubble bath and was sitting on the veranda, spying on the mainland. She told me she felt so much better and that she has never felt so clean and refreshed. I couldn’t get angry at her, as what was done was done and I may as well make the best of it. She wanted to really show me Mr. Lowry’s bathroom, how extravagant and immense it was. She took me by the hand, like a giddy schoolgirl, and led me through the house. The bathroom was so luxurious, she said, the whole place was so luxurious, a spa fit for a queen. It’s a marvel what wealth can buy. She told me to shower and clean up, then join her on the veranda for champagne and hors d’ oeuvres and we can watch the sunset together. As I showered, I could only think about what I have gotten myself into. I scrubbed down and cleaned up the best I could, but couldn’t clean the stains around my fingernails, nothing seemed to work and so I had to just let it go. Cindy left one of Mr. Lowry’s terrycloth robes there for me to wear and I finished up and joined her there on the veranda.

Cindy was in a jubilant mood and savored each and every sip of champagne and each morsel she ate. I was uneasy about the whole thing, sitting on Mr. Lowry’s veranda and having his champagne and food and I got the funny feeling that I was somehow Cindy’s guest. She told me she missed the mainland and needed to get back there as she had some important business to take care of. I told her there shouldn’t be any problem taking her over soon. She told me about a restaurant there where the “in” crowd goes, Crusty Jake’s, and how the seafood cassoulet with an eggplant salad is so divine. I kidded her that it probably wasn’t like the real thing, but she didn’t catch my drift. She has been a waitress at many of the upscale restaurants on the mainland and knows all the best places. You have to experiment, she told me, try new things. She asked if I ever dreamed of owning a home like Mr. Lowry’s. I told her if I was fortunate and things worked out someday I could see myself living in such a place. She thought it would be difficult on a custodian’s salary and I wasn’t sure what she was getting at. I told her that I have a good job; it’s why I’m here. She then starts talking about the house décor; she doesn’t like it and thinks it is too formal. She would do the whole place over in a more casual style so people can feel at home. She said she would keep the mirrors though as they really brighten the place up. Cindy was curious about why there are no photos of Mr. Lowry or anyone else in the house and why there are no books. It’s as if he didn’t even live here. I explained that Mr. Lowry is a private person who doesn’t care much for other people’s opinions. Cindy was talkative, mostly talking in riddles as though she had something else on her mind. I suppose the champagne made her tipsy and talkative. Cindy finally excused herself and went off to sleep in Mr. Lowry’s bed. I sat and watched the sunset alone, trying to sort it all out, then joined her in bed. She was drowsy and snuggled her backside up close to me so I can hold her, which I guardedly did. She seemed like she just wanted to be held for awhile as though savoring some tenderness and comfort she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for quite some time. I felt, though, she was somehow drifting away from me, like sand running through my fingers. I’m not sure what to make of it.

Mar. 8: 15.30: 86 degrees: 30.15S: 5-10 SE

 We hiked to the rim of the crater today. We followed the cocoa-colored trail up around the bend and rested at the spot that looks out over the shimmering reach of the sea. It’s a beautiful spot where you can see the shadowy coral reefs beneath the aquamarine waters of the coastline and follow the ocean floor as it drops off into the deep blue waters. Cindy was quiet and wistful as she gazed out at the view and we lingered there for a spell before we headed on. We hiked up through the thick vegetation of the ravine, through the drizzle of clinging clouds, and reached the sunlit crown of the crater by noon. I showed Cindy my favorite place to stand. I told her I call it the “pedestal of the world” and if she stood there she’d feel she was towering over a world that had come to a complete stop. Cindy sort of felt that, but wanted to just sit and rest.

She told me I should think about changing my hairstyle as the gnarly look was out. She said I was a quiet man and I should talk more if I can and show more interest in people. I would make more friends that way and be more successful. She told me I was too animated at times. People who are successful are more composed, like a photo. She told me that the yacht she was on had rented the extra dinghy from the city marina and that was all there was to that. I’m not sure what she was getting at, except she wanted me to know. She asked me what I thought about all this and I told her that I was happy she was here and enjoying the island with me.

We took some photos of each other and then headed back. We were quiet and didn’t speak much on the way down. We were tired and probably wanted to watch our steps on the rugged path. Cindy walked ahead and kept to her distance.

Cindy is exhausted and resting now. I’m preparing a soup for dinner tonight. It’s just a hodge-podge of leftovers and vegetables. It’s looking like a muster-colored pasty broth and I’m not sure how it’s going to turn out. The peas I’m using have an odd taste, I can’t figure if they’re bitter or sweet, but I’m sure they will be okay. We’ll have some bread and cheese to complete the meal and then I’ll clean up for her so she can rest some more.

Mar. 9: 23.55

We took our walk on the beach this afternoon and it was there that she insisted that she needed to get back to the mainland. She told me she had her apartment and job there to get back to. She wore a broad-rimmed sun hat that shaded her eyes and she kept her arms crossed as though chilled. I told her I can take her back and, perhaps, I’d move there too so we could be together. She was insistent that that was not a good idea. She told me how I was a sweet guy, but the mainland would eat me alive and that it is best I stay on the island. I’d be a sap if I went there, she told me, and give up all this.

 I finally found the nerve to ask her to stay here, stay with me on the island. I told her that she would be safe here and cared for and we could travel the world if she liked. I reminded her how she told me she wanted a man who really loves her and would respect her no matter what and that I am that man. She smiled and told me that sometimes it’s not what she wants, but what she is used to and it would be best to get back to her own kind. She loves the island. She loves its soft intimate breezes and perfumed air, the vistas and warmth, strolls on the shore, and the peace and quiet. She told me she’d miss Henrietta and Big Cat and Little Cat and the birds that eat out of her hand, dining on the lanai and watching the sunset, and the mint leaves in her tea. She told me she loves the island, but that she just didn’t love me.

She found a shell on the sand and wanted me to tell her about it. I told her it was a Marlinspike Auger, a terebra maculata. It had a cinnamon-colored pattern to it that spiraled up the auger like a ribbon. It was a lackluster specimen, nothing special. I told her how shell animals are so soft and tender that they need their shells for protection. The ocean is a dog eat dog world and the shell is the only thing that can protect such a fragile creature. She asked me if the animal was still in it and I told her no. She looked at it for a while then tossed it back. She told me that shell creatures are such grotesque-looking creatures, but they do make pretty shells.

We ate on the veranda tonight. Cindy wasn’t feeling well and so I did all the food preparation and clean up. We didn’t talk much; speaking has become a burden, but we agreed that she would sleep there in Mr. Lowry’s place and I would sleep at my place.

Cindy dropped by later this evening to check up on me. She was tired and drained and leaned against my doorway with her slack torso resting atop those sturdy legs of hers. She asked me if it was understood then, and I answered “yes.” She told me to be a good sport and not make it difficult and then she left.

 Little Cat brought in a mouse he had caught and played with the poor doomed creature for the longest time until he left it there for me to dispose of.

I spent the rest of the evening staring at myself in the medicine cabinet mirror, telling myself that the truth is simple to see, it was just accepting it that was hard.

I’m such a fool!

Mar. 11: 3.12

 I brought Cindy back to the mainland today. She sat quietly at the bow of the launch and stared at the skyline as it grew closer. Once in awhile, she pointed at some distant landmark or building and asked what it was. She was amazed how so many things she knew there looked so different from the vantage point of the sea. She asked me how come I didn’t radio for help when I first found her. I was ashamed to answer, so I told her that the radio was on the blink due to the storm. We didn’t speak much after that.

Why didn’t she look at me? She just sat there, at the bow, like a passenger returning from a long trip. I should have told her that this was crazy, she belong on the island with me, that she loved me and I loved her, we were meant for each other, that this was wrong and she really didn’t want to go back. But I didn’t. I sat dumbstruck, choked up inside, afraid to speak. Would she have listened? I don’t know. If I could sing like a crooner or speak the words of a poet, then maybe I could have changed her mind. Either way, I have no talent for such things. Why didn’t she look at me? I’m not her damn chauffeur! I’m not an idiot!

I got Cindy to the marina and she asked me if I could walk her back to her place. I guess she didn’t want to walk back by herself. She led me through the center of the city to the dingy tenements. The city has a stench to it, unlike the fumes of brine at the marina. We reached a street lined with bars and cafes, many shops were vacant and boarded up. Above the stores were shabby apartments units with tattered curtains flapping through the open windows and loud music blaring out from inside. The street was filthy and the people there all seemed drab and listless. My heart ached, knowing she lived in such squalor and I wanted to whisk her away and bring her back to the island, but I felt she would want no part of that. Some acquaintances emerged and greeted her. She introduced me like a lackey she had just met. She asked them if a Marcellus had asked about her and I gather he hadn’t. She thanked me for helping and told me, dismissively, that she’d be okay now. She seemed ashamed and embarrassed, not of them, but of me! We said farewell and she walked off, disappearing into the crowd.

I had a tough time making my way back to the launch. I’m not use to that part of the city and all the streets and alleys look the same. I was disoriented and made a few wrong turns here and there. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, but I had to ask for directions. No one could help me or they weren’t sure where I was headed or didn’t want to bother. I walked around for quite a long time before I figured I’d head into the chilly breeze coming off the harbor. That would lead me to the marina. There were a lot of “for rent” and “job opening” signs in the windows and I was tempted to stop and apply. There were old men sweeping off their concrete sidewalks and old women lugging their groceries home. I thought that maybe if I lived on the mainland I would run into her again. Then I worried how I would tell Mr. Lowry about all this and if he would ever trust me again. I told myself that I can clean the place up and get things back the way they were. I, of course, will know. I worried about Cindy. Maybe she read my log. Maybe she was angry that I had doubted her about the dinghy. She should have known it didn’t matter to me. Maybe it was something I had said or did. I wasn’t sure. I knew my happiness has been snatched away and that scared me. I just figured that I needed to get back to the island, get things straightened out again and back to normal, the way they were. As I approached the marina, some of the local children came out to taunt and laugh at me. They think I talk funny and the more I tried to befriend them, the more they laughed at me. I finally had to tell them to go off and play now and leave me alone.