Unseen Messages

It wasn’t depression that debilitated us or made us hate our life. It was depression knowing that, no matter how happy we were, Conner was at an age now where the island wouldn’t be enough.

He needed friends and girls.

He needed freedom to experiment and space to get into mischief.

We could give him many things; we could teach and care, but we couldn’t give him the complexities of adolescence.

Marking such occasions and sharing life events confirmed what we’d known for a while. Despite Galloway’s progression with the life raft (it was half-finished and filled with potential), we were stuck here until fate decided otherwise.

Some days, it was all too much. Days when the sun irritated and the sticky salt frustrated. But luckily, those down days were soothed by happy ones, and those were what I chose to remember.

As life ticked on and Galloway and I spent more and more time in bed together, I slowly relaxed into my new world.

I allowed Galloway to learn who I was.

I no longer wanted to hide.

I told him about my family, my singing, my home.

I glossed over the tour in the USA, and only briefly mentioned the record deal because that part of my life had been so new and it was over now.

Singing and song writing were a part of me. Performing and wealth were not.

He didn’t need to know about that when I had so much else to share.

In return, he told me about his dead mother, his grieving father, and the fact that his dad might not make it now he’d lost a son as well as his wife. He told me he’d studied his final months in the USA with a world-renowned architect and loved working with wood almost as much as I loved scribbling in my notebook.

My personality was no longer afraid of companionship. I was free. Which meant I no longer hid my music or songs.

I sang often.

I shared lyrics.

And the fear of getting pregnant slowly faded as my periods came irregularly, just like always. The womanly affliction didn’t last for long (which I was thankful for), but at least, it showed that my body had enough nutrients to continue operating correctly and also meant, that, despite the number of times I cornered Galloway for a quickie or he dragged me from my bed in the dead of night, we were being as careful as we could.

I knew he wanted to come inside me.

I knew he struggled to pull out some nights, and when the silvery liquid jettisoned from his body to soak into the sand, he had mixed emotions.

But unless we could figure out how to make a condom, he would never come in me.

It was the price we both had to pay.

.............................

MAY

As weeks turned to months, we continued to adapt and evolve. Conner constantly grew as his body underwent teenage upgrades. Some nights, he was an opinionated asshole where I would happily strap his backside and turf him outside. However, others he was the sweetest kid.

He played with Pippa.

He brought me flowers.

He questioned and listened when Galloway taught him with such keen intelligence, my heart fluttered with gratitude for such a great man.

Pippa, on the other hand, stayed quiet. I couldn’t compare her to the previous little girl before the crash because I didn’t know her, but I did worry about her.

She argued or acted out very rarely. She smiled but not fully. She seemed wiser and braver than any eight-year-old was but at least, she had us. She was still young enough to only need our company and not that of punk boys or bratty girls.

Galloway continued to infiltrate my soul with how capable, strong, and incredible he was. Constantly surprising me with glimpses into his past and personality. He’d changed so much from the surly, snappy douchebag when we’d first arrived, but one thing hadn’t changed.

He still refused to tell me what hung over him—what he could never run from.

It had to be something huge.

Something monstrous.

But I could never believe he was a monster.

He might’ve done something to justify the term...but I trusted him with my entire existence.

He wasn’t a bad person.

He’s not.

Some nights, I encouraged everyone to the wet sand and scratched messages for the incoming tide to steal.

Things like:

I’m grateful for fresh water and look forward to the next rain so I can have a bath. (Mine).

I’m pissed off that I can’t get off this island but at the same time don’t want to leave. (Conner).

I miss the turtles. I wish I could’ve kept one. I want a pet. Puffin and Mr. Whisker Wood aren’t cutting it anymore. (Pippa).

I hope bad luck never visits us again. (Galloway).

Sharing our troubles and having them wash way helped ease our burden (I didn’t know why, but it did), and I also remained faithful to documenting our life with photos and videos, becoming more selective on what to save as the memory card slowly filled up with our sandy existence.

Overall, we weren’t doing too badly.

Until Galloway’s fear of bad luck returning came true.

.............................

“Goddammit, Estelle, come back here.”

Galloway’s arm lassoed around my middle, pulling me back in the waves.

I giggled, pinching his forearm as it wrapped tightly around my hips. “Let me go, you sea-beast.”

“Sea-beast?” His lips captured my ear, yanking me hard against his front so his erection dug into my lower back. “I’m a sea-beast now? All right, let’s see what you think of said sea-beast when it wants something from you.”

His hand disappeared down my back, ripping open the Velcro of his board-shorts and shoving them down his hips.