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My time is up now. They can all see the expression forming on my face.
I open my mouth but I am too scared to say his name.
Finally, my mouth forms the word and as it leaves my lips I hear collective sighs around me.
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‘Bruno.’ I say his name and his face breaks into a huge smile. Jane joins me on the sofa, takes my hand and squeezes it hard.
‘Darling, you remember.’
Feelings and emotions hurl themselves at me. Of feeling alone, powerless, and scared. He looks nervous, like he is gulping a lot. Is he actually crying?
After some more hand squeezing and watching my parents shift about the room uncomfortably, Bruno finally walks towards me.
Then he falls to his knees and pulls me into him. The familiar smell of him makes me want to retch.
‘I should never have let you go,’ he whispers into my ear. Then he clears his throat and lets me go. I look at Bruno and then at Jane.
Bruno stands up and so does Jane. Bruno takes his place on the sofa next to me and I am mesmerised by this man. It’s like I am seeing him brand new but also as if I have seen him every day for the last few months because he has never really left my mind. I shift in my seat and Jane gives me a quick smile. She hadn’t known what Bruno was like. None of them had. I had left so quickly after he attacked me that I never had a chance to explain it all to them. I had always worried that they would be disappointed in me, for letting the relationship end. I was too scared to tell them I had let him treat me so badly for so long. I was too scared to shatter their illusion of Bruno.
‘There is so much to talk about,’ he says through a snotty laugh and Jane hands him a tissue. I wonder how he has managed to make himself cry that way. I have never seen Bruno cry. He blows his nose. A loud trumpeting sound echoes through the room and there is a smattering of laughter from everyone.
‘When you say you shouldn’t have let me go, what do you mean?’ I ask loudly, with little expression to my voice that I can see has startled my mother as she begins wringing her hands. Jane shifts on the sofa. Another throat clearing and a rattling of the newspaper from my dad this time.
‘Darling. You’ve had quite the adventure, haven’t you? I imagine you need a lot of rest.’ Bruno looks at Jane for confirmation. ‘She probably needs a lot of rest.’
Jane nods firmly. ‘Doctors’ orders.’
I feel my whole body tense up listening to Bruno talk. The sound of his voice makes my jaw tense.
‘You did not let me go,’ I say quietly at first, and when no one seems to notice me I say it louder.
‘You did not let me go,’ I say again, this time attracting the attention of everyone. And then I am back there again on that day, the smashed wall, the red face, the enraged look in his eyes, the fear quickly replaced by pure relief that I was alive. That I had made it. But then the fear again, because I knew I might not next time. And then I remember vividly, that it was I who walked away from Bruno.
I must have shown signs of distress because Bruno was up and Jane took his place, holding a glass of water. I can hear Bruno’s voice in the background as he mutters something to my father who grunts in agreement. Then I feel like I am wrapped in a tornado of voices and images from the past.
It is Fiji. It is Totini. There are so many women, and the men, they are caged. They are shouting and screaming; there is a fire. More screams. Then the roundabout begins to slow down, but the images of flawless white beaches are distorted because where I had only seen light colours before, I can now see a darkness amongst the golden beach, the colour of red blood as it runs in streaks across the perfect white sands.
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Journal entry
Things were pretty okay before I got here weren’t they? I’m not saying I’m going to go home or that I’m even considering leaving, I was just contemplating the time I was at home, and what drove me to come here. I took hold of the idea and began to roll with it. Soon it became my reality too and when we found the island, well then it was easy. We just booked the flights and found our way here. But life is very different here but there was no one at home who is missing me. I had to get away from all the anger, all the fighting.
I am happy here; it just takes some getting used to, and I am still adjusting to their way of life. But I can be honest here, can’t I? This is my journal; these are my words. No one will read them but me. This thing that happened, it happened to me. I was drunk on kava. I don’t remember consenting. Andnow I feel as though my body is trying to tell me things, and if I don’t speak about them, I might go mad. But I am scared to write the word because then that makes it real, and then I will have to admit it, and then I will have to face it and deal with it. And that’s not easy here when life is so insular, and there are only chickens and coconuts to talk to. There really is nowhere to escape. There is no discussion about life outside of the island and I am really quite desperate to talk to someone about things.
But it’s been several weeks. I just need to suck it up, right? It will be like one of those TV reality shows where they get dropped off on a remote island for twelve weeks and have to do insane challenges. I should just see it like that. Except for the thing that happened. That guy, that wasn’t supposed to happen was it? But I had drunk way too much that night and I wasn’t sure what I was doing, so I suppose I am partly to blame. Aren’t I?
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Even in the dark I could see Cupcake’s eyes had lit up when I produced the cigarette and the matches.