Page 24 of Hate Wrecked

ROWAN

The sun is beginning to rise, and light is slowly creeping over everything when I see it: the cat. It’s standing by the tree line, near the water, as I open the tent door. I glance back at Riley, who’s sleeping. I’m going to let her sleep in—she needs it. She deserves all the good things.

I crawl out of the tent on my hands and knees, slowly coming to a crouch. “Hey there, little guy,” I coo, though the cat isn't little. He’s Maine Coon size. His eyes are wild, his fur sticking up in odd places. That’s no house cat.

I make myself as small and unthreatening as possible as I get to my feet. The cat twitches as if it’s about to bolt, but it holds its gaze on me.

I walk to it slowly, palms out like I have something, though I can offer the cat nothing. Not until we catch some fish.

When I’m within fifteen feet, the cat darts off, but not due to my proximity; behind me, I hear rustling. I turn around to see Riley coming out of the tent, her eyes squinted. She yawns and then jerks her head, seeing the orange fluff of fur running away.

“Oh fuck, did I scare him off?”

“I think he would have run away anyway,” I say.

Riley strides over to me, her hair wild. “You almost got to him. Maybe he isn’t that wild.”

“I don’t know. His stare looks a little like get the fuck away from me, man , I will claw you to death. ”

Riley laughs, stretching. My shirt stretches across her chest, and I can tell she isn’t wearing a bra. The cool morning air makes her body react in a way that makes me want to warm her.

I brush the thought away, walking to the fire that simmers by our tent.

“Want some breakfast?” I ask, crawling back into the tent.

“Yeah. I’m starving,” Riley replies, walking toward the glowing embers.

She sits down, pulling a hair tie from her wrist, gathering her dark, wild locks.

I can’t help but watch her while she’s taciturn, before the avalanche of words.

She volleys between both. The shock of what we had to do—an unthinkable thing, burying a man in the ground all on our own—and our reality.

I know it weighs heavy. It’s in us, and I’m not sure where it goes within her—how deep.

The remnants of Gerald’s life linger around us. He lived alone on this island for eight years. I envy him in some ways. What would it be like to live here for years, to escape reality and society, to be wild?

I’ve read the articles about his time here. I’ve read everything about this place: the disappearances, the ghost ships, and the vessels that never returned. It was once theorized that this island was like the Bermuda Triangle.

Myths and legends can often be more alive than reality.

I blink, pushing everything away, focusing on Riley again. I hand her a breakfast bar and then sit, listening to the waves. We have another big day ahead of us. But first, we need to find better shelter. Perhaps in the so-called Hilton.

It’s ramshackle, but it’ll be good enough for us since Riley doesn’t want to live in Gerald’s old quarters.

Stay. Not live. Stay.

Riley keeps her eyes on the tree line as we eat.

I watch the goosebumps on her arms and how her mouth moves.

All glances, all moments I hope she doesn’t see.

I notice that she pulled something out of the tent and set it next to her.

Riley has her mother’s book out but doesn’t open it.

I don’t say anything, afraid to scare her off.

I just watch her silently, the warmth of the morning waking me from the softness of sleep.

The light of dawn paints Riley in romantic hues.

There is something primal in this situation we are in—two humans alone in the world. There is a loneliness in me that can only be filled by her. I’ve tried. I’ve failed. Then I walled myself in. I haven’t had sex in...years.

I’ve been busy, dedicated to my work, to honing my body into a skilled machine.

And being near her makes me want to use my body in another way.

I shake the thought away as I eat the last bit of my breakfast.

Before us is a ramp leading into the ocean, into the west lagoon. Today, we will test the waters here to see if it’s the best place to fish or if we need to move to another part of Falcon Island.

I go over the plan in my head before securing our tent. Finally, we change into clothes suited for exploration and travel.

Riley has on a bikini top and cut-off shorts. I change into shorts and a white T-shirt. I need to protect myself—I’ve always had fair skin. I’m going to burn out here if the sunscreen runs out. Riley has a tan, but we both apply sunscreen generously.

Though we just ate, I’m starving. The breakfast bar didn’t fill me up, and we need to find an alternative to our stored supplies. There are coconut trees on the island, and my mind whirls as we walk, wondering how to harvest them. Unfortunately, the ones on the ground are likely starting to rot.

After we step into Gerald’s building for supplies, I call over my shoulder to Riley. “Are you ready to fish?”

Riley picks up what looks like a journal from a table by the door. “I’ve never fished before,” she says.

“It’s easy. And you like fish.”

“I do. You remember.”

“I remember everything, Riley.”

She smiles at me, setting the journal down. “I’m sorry I made everything so hard,” she says.

“You can make it up to me by not making anything hard now.”

She blinks at me, and I realize how that can be taken. I roll my eyes at her and reach for a fishing pole in the corner of the room.

We stay silent for a moment before I see Riley dart a glance out the window, to the trees. Before I can guess at what she heard, she’s running out the door.

I drop the pole, chasing after her, running into a table, cursing. “Riley, what the fuck?” I yell.

Her bikini top is yellow, and it’s the only way I can keep track of her as she disappears into the jungle.

She’s fast, long legs carrying her in a long arc. She’s behind the Hilton, circled back from the dense foliage, when I find her, eyes squinting into the trees by the shore.

“What the fuck, Riley? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“I heard the cat,” she whispers as she walks toward the trees. I grab her before she can get very far.

“You can’t go running off without a fucking word like that.”

“What’s going to get me? A bird? One of the rats?” She pulls her arm out of my grasp.

“Just, please don’t do that again.”

“I make no promises,” she replies.

Behind us, I hear something move, and we both turn. A fluff of orange races out from behind a dense crop of foliage toward our camp.

This time, we both take off running, and Riley looks back at me. “You stay back. You’ll scare it!”

I slow my jog and come to a stop. It’s a lost cause; the cat is skittish and too swift for us, and eventually, I head back to the building we were in, watching Riley dart around from the window.

I gather everything we need to fish, and when I see Riley run by again, slower this time, I call out to her. “You’re going to have to let him come to you.”

“I hate that idea.”

I smile, shaking my head. “I have no doubt you’ll wear it down. You always do.”

* * *

I’ve always loved working with my hands, building things, and moving.

Riley and I stand on the dock, poles in our hands, waiting for a bite. She’s uncertain, glancing at the spot in the water where her line has sunk and then at me. I can tell she’s also watching and listening for the cat.

No doubt she will want to save a fish, if we catch any, for the feline.

I’ve often fantasized about living off the grid.

That one day, I would retire alone on a small patch of land, a cabin somewhere remote.

I often imagine my future in solitary, with no one.

I am in love with aloneness, with the quiet of my mind.

With books and the place they take me, I am in love with the idea of disappearing with someone.

If I could be stranded on an island with anyone, why not Riley?

I imagine us in a story, living a life away from the world.

Riley’s voice cuts in, making the images dissolve.

“What?” I ask.

“I said, what are you saying?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were doing that thing where your lips are moving.”

“Oh,” I reply, looking down at my feet. I get lost in my head, far away, and sometimes I forget the outside world. As images and stories fly through my mind, I often move my lips with the story I’m creating. I do it when I write, as well.

It’s an intimate thing, something I only do when I feel safe. And often, I have felt that warm feeling with Riley. So I straighten, looking out into the lagoon, pushing everything away.

“I was just thinking,” I say, reeling my line in a little.

“About?”

“Retirement.”

“What?”

“In the future, years from now. I don’t know. I would like to live where no one can find me.”

“On an island?”

I shake my head. “I’ll hardly be rich enough to buy my own island.”

“You could still live on one.”

“I’m not fantasizing about living on an island right now, Riley.” I glare at her, and she presses her lips in a thin line.

“You might be retiring early here.”

I laugh. “Dramatic.”

“Always,” she says.

We stand in silence, our thoughts taking us away from each other. Then, when Riley’s line gets a tug, I coax her through the process of reeling in the fish.

She watches in horror as I take the lure out, placing the fish in our bucket filled with ocean water.

The morning goes by slowly as we catch a few more fish. Finally, we get enough for lunch and dinner.

I place a lid on the bucket before carrying it to our campsite. Riley collects our poles, securing them at Gerald’s house.

I venture to the building, looking for anything I can use for a stable table. Once I find a good spot to work, I filet the fish. Riley stands by at my request, watching. I walk her through everything, and after each step, I ask, “Got that?”

Eventually, I annoy her so much that she cuts me off with, “Yes, I got that.”

I stop asking and let her watch me.

Riley grabs a bowl from the supplies at my request and washes the fish. We need to collect more rainwater so we plenty to work with.

I divide the fillets into two portions. One for lunch and one for dinner.

In the distance, I can see the orange cat watching. I point to him, and Riley turns. Then, after a moment, she turns back, smiling.

“You gonna go chase him again?” I ask.

“No. You were right. I need to let him come to me,” Riley says as she sits down, watching me start a fire and set up a makeshift grill.

The smell of the fish cooking brings the cat closer. Riley doesn’t notice, and I don’t mention it as I see her pull out her mother’s manuscript.

* * *

After lunch, Riley and I pull mattresses out of the Hilton. It’s filthy, and just as I thought, spiders are everywhere. Riley is disgusted and terrified and grabs my arm more than once as she shrieks.

I enjoy it.

It appears Gerald didn’t care for this structure when he lived here. I read he lived wild, often going days without clothing. Becoming an animal. Howling into the sky. I wonder if I would become him if I spent enough time out here.

Would Riley let herself become wild with me? I look over at her as she eyes the mattress we just dropped on the ground. She observes it with disgust. Maybe not. But that’s okay. That’s just who she is.

I smile as she wipes her hands on her shorts, then brings them up to her face with disgust.“You okay over there?” I ask.

She looks at me. “I’m disgusting. I feel disgusting. I need a shower. I smell. I smell Rowan.”

I think she looks beautiful. Her hair, ordinarily straight, is wild and curly. The red is visible in the sun. Her skin is tan, and her face is flushed from the workout.

“Take a bath then,” I offer, walking toward the Hilton.

She follows. “Where?”

I glance at the lagoon. “The ocean.”

“My skin will just feel like salt when I’m done.”

“You have something in your suitcase to clean yourself with?” I ask as I enter the Hilton, eyeing another mattress.

“Yeah. But I wanted to save it.”

“For?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know how long we will be here, Riley. Rescue could show up any day, or it could be weeks. I don’t know. Without a way to radio home, we are at the mercy of whenever your parents get clued into you being gone. How long did you say you would be here with me?”

“Weeks?” she whispers, before looking at me. “What about your mother?”

I turn to Riley, hand on my hips, avoiding her question.

“We should be done here soon.” My skin feels warm from the sun, and I need to put a shirt on, but Riley’s eyes move over me, greedy, and a part of me likes how that feels.

“We can catch dinner, and you can take a bath in the lagoon. Be modest with the soap. Clean...” I hesitate.

“The important parts. You’ll feel better. ”

Riley nods. “I will tonight. No use doing it now if we’re just going to get filthy again.” She looks down at her dirty shorts.

We get back to work, pulling all of the mattresses out. There is a broom in the building, and Riley grabs it and then walks on the beds, cleaning them off. I hear her yell and jump around, dodging spiders as she goes. She glares at me each time as if I sent them after her.

While she’s busy with her task, I go through the supplies left by Gerald again. I find plenty of useful items: a Swiss Army knife, rope, buckets, and a tarp. And more soap, which will make Riley very happy.

Riley takes off into the woods once, screaming, and I see a giant rat run off in the other direction.

Her hands are in her hair when she walks back, and she is mumbling to herself.

I can’t imagine being here without her.

She always livened a space up, always kept me entertained.

I shake my head and get back to work.

When Riley is done, I take her broom and enter the building. I sweep for an hour. Dirt, bugs, and rat droppings fly out the door when I’m done.

I catch Riley outside, staring into the woods, her voice soft and inviting.

The cat still won’t come to her. But I know it will. She has a way of wearing you down.

She’s already wearing me down.