Page 28 of Hate Wrecked

ROWAN

I notice a change in Riley's behavior as we navigate our daily tasks on the island.

Her usual vibrant conversations have tapered off, replaced by a noticeable silence that lingers.

Over the past couple of days, she's withdrawn into herself, speaking sparingly, keeping her thoughts close.

A barrier has risen around her, shielding her emotions.

I can't help but feel a twinge of worry, wondering what's weighing on her mind, wishing to bridge the growing gap I know I put there.

From my spot in the shade, I watch her with the cat. She has a long vine, and she’s pulling it in the sand. The cat runs after it diligently, excited to play. And Riley laughs as if each time is new. As if each pounce is a gift. And I suppose it is. For all of us.

I look back at my notebook, the scribbling erratic and rushed.

It’s been a long day of fishing, going through the motions.

I look forward to the evenings when we gather by the fire, even if the conversation has been limited as of late.

It gives me time to pour out my thoughts, document every moment here.

I don’t know how long I’ll have this time with her uninterrupted.

I see Riley look up at me, so I meet her gaze. “What’s up?” I ask.

She stands, the string trailing her, and the cat rushes to keep up with its prey. “What are you writing in there?” Her voice is pointed.

“Notes. Thoughts. Ideas. The usual stuff you put in a notebook.”

“Notes for your book?”

“I’m not a writer.” I scoff, annoyed with myself for being so blasé about my passion. “Or I am. Just for myself. I don’t know.” I do know she will reprimand me. And maybe I want her to. Maybe I baited her.

She takes it, and I pray that whatever has kept her quiet these past few days has passed. “Shut up. You are. It’s been…” I see her face change and watch her slip into the past. “It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

It goes hand in hand with her. My desires. I’ve always wanted to write, and I’ve wanted her since the first moment I saw her. I decide to change the subject. “What do you miss most?” I close my notebook and bring it close to my chest.

Riley takes a seat in the sand, and the cat crawls into her lap. She pets him idly. “Music. I miss music so much.”

“Why don’t you make your own?” It’s the question I should have asked when she shared songs with me.

Instead, I heard our past and walked away when all I wanted was to hear her sing, hear the beautiful talent she holds close to her chest. Few know her voice; she hides it away.

I look out into the water and smile. “C’mon Ariel,” I jest.

She looks at me and grins. “My hair hasn’t been this red in years.” And there she goes again, into the past.

“I miss hearing you sing,” I admit. I try to avoid the past whenever possible. It’s all part of my futile attempt to build some kind of friendship between us. But, sometimes, it feels pointless.

“Maybe tonight we’ll have a little…a concert.” She looks into the jungle. “I can bang some coconuts together for some rhythm, and I’ll sing.”

I nod, trying not to show too much excitement so I don’t scare the moment off. “I would like that.”

Riley nods, petting the cat. “You know, my parents can’t sing, but my sisters and I can. It always felt like this secret thing. This gift we had that we didn’t get from them. Something that could be just ours. And we really needed that sometimes.”

I nod, knowing about the shadow of their parents and the weight of their identities.

“Music is…I don’t know. Have you ever danced in the kitchen? Just really let go and shook your hair around and felt it?”

I laugh, reaching up to the white streak in my hair. “I hardly have hair to shake around.” It’s getting longer out here, though.

Riley smiles. “You know what I mean. Like head banged, then? I don’t know; you probably listen to piano jazz and drink tea when you listen to music at night.”

I nod my head. “Scarily accurate at times.”

“I know you. Anyway, I love doing that. And that’s the thing I remember missing when I was with him.”

I try not to flinch. We never talk about the relationship she had withBarry. We fight about the fall; I fight about how she should have chosen me. But this is new territory. I’m not sure I want to be on this subject. But I don’t stop her.

“There was so much silliness about my sisters and me in our house when I finally moved out. I loved dancing with them, singing, and turning everything up loud with the windows open. He made me feel foolish when I did that. Maybe loud music and letting loose was only appropriate when he deemed it fit—when we were using, and there were people to entertain. He loved throwing parties at my place. I felt like a figurehead, another chess piece in his plans for his life and career.”

“He barely has a career anymore,” I interrupted. “Don’t forget that part. He’s a nobody who clings to his fading fame. And the people who reminded him of all he was were young girls.”

Riley looks at me, and the cat jumps off her lap, into the jungle. I can see the wetness of her eyes, the lost look there. “I know. It doesn’t hurt any less, though. What he did to me, who he made me become. Or who I let myself become. I was weak.”

“You were…” I clear my throat. “You were groomed.” The word sits heavy in the air, the only sound the waves hitting the shore as Riley fiddles with the strings of her bikini.

“Then why are you the only one who will say that?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I admit.

“It’s why I haven’t forgiven her. Making amends isn’t something I’ve allowed myself to consider. I was too busy being so fucking mad. So mad at her. So mad at everyone, including you.”

I shake my head. “I never want to beg someone to choose me in his life. Never.”

“I know,” she whispers. “And you shouldn’t have had to.”

“I was close to doing it, though, in the end. When you chose him, I almost begged you to choose me instead. I practiced speeches in my little apartment. I imagined what it would be like to have you walk away from him. Maybe that’s when I fell in love with writing stories, because I was telling myself a fictional one starring you and me. Because I got reality wrong.”

“You didn’t, though,” she says, her voice a hush over the water.

“It serves no one to tell yourself lies, to tell me lies.”

“I was in love with you,” she admits, and at this, I grow angry.

I push off the ground, leaving the warmth of our fire drawing us closer. I hear Riley behind me. “Rowan…” she starts…but I don’t let her finish.

“You don’t pick someone else when you love someone. You don’t do that, Riley. That’s what my dad did. Or maybe not. Maybe he loved her more than my mother. I don’t know. I’ll never know. But you can be honest with yourself right now.”

“I am being honest,” she yells, reaching for me. I dance away, walking to the other side of the fire.

“Try again,” I say, crossing my arms. The firelight illuminates her anger and hurt.

We can’t escape each other here. Even in our waking life before this, we couldn’t escape each other. Despite the miles and the time, I felt her.

Riley looks up at the sky, her hands clenched at her side. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, Rowan.”

“Then tell me,” I dare her.

“I couldn’t stop. Every little meeting, every time I saw him, I fell deeper and deeper into it,” she seethes, and maybe I don’t want to fucking hear it.

I shake my head, and she says my name like a warning. “No, Rowan, you’re going to listen. This is what you wanted.”

I clench my jaw, letting her go on.

“It’s like you said. All the girls he dated were on the verge of eighteen.

And look at the girls after me—the drugs and the drinking.

The way they wanted to die after him. Do you think they fell for him because he felt safe?

Or because the thought of not having him felt like withdrawal?

He’s so fucking good at it. Feeding us just enough and befriending someone we love so he can get closer.

Your pride wants to make you angry at me for choosing him, but I don’t care.

I won’t take it. Maybe that’s not why you’re mad, anyway,” she seethes, hitting me in my chest with the truth.

I close my eyes, willing the tears away; but it’s in vain. I turn back to her, tears on my cheeks and my breath ragged. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” she asks, defiance in her eyes. Waiting for another lie.

“I regret it all, Riley. Okay? I should have protected you. It’s what I was trained to do.

I should have made sure you were never alone with him.

I should have made sure you never became his friend, fell into more.

It’s not jealousy; it’s fucking regret, okay?

I know what he does, and I’ve seen the aftermath.

We all have. The fucking world has, and you’re the one to blame in their eyes. ”

“And you let yourself do it, too!” Riley cries out.

“I can handle the fucking tabloids and the gossip magazines, but I couldn’t bear you blaming me too.

I needed someone, and I had no one. No one except my sisters and my warnings.

That’s why I’ve watched them like a hawk all these years.

I don’t want it to happen to them, too. I can’t let that happen. ”

I rush around the fire, pulling her into my arms. I could have watched her talk like that forever, rapt, a captive audience after days of coldness. I want to put my mouth to hers, to be drawn into her lifeforce. “You took care of them,” I say.

“I tried. Maybe I’m not always good at taking care of myself. But I take care of them. I miss it.”

“You have him here,” I say, pulling away, jerking my chin at the cat in the sand, batting the vine around.

“And you?”

“Okay,” I say, softly.

“Okay?”

“You can take care of me.” I can think of a million ways, and I can see in her eyes that she can, too.

“Starting when?”

“Starting now,” I admit, my body humming in anticipation.

I think of the water, when she wrapped her bare body around me, when I let myself go. And the way I retreated, ashamed and angry at myself. I let my guard down and let myself feel okay for a moment, and it made me feel weak.

Riley nods, pulling away. She walks to her blanket by the fire, beckoning me. So I move to the spot, warm from the fire and the body heat.

She lies on her back, staring up at the stars.

And after I’ve settled in, she doesn’t hitch her leg over mine. She doesn’t kiss my neck or tell me she wants me the way she has before. She reaches for my hand, threading her finger with mine.

The huskiness of her voice softens me. She becomes someone else when she sings.

She loved covering other artists, but I knew her secret.

She scribbled in notebooks, her own lyrics, her own thoughts and desires.

Two of us were hiding in plain sight. We found each other in the dark of that house, away from the prying eyes of the toxic people who came and went.

I want her body, the desires she pours out. But instead, she offers me comfort—a piece of the past that doesn’t hurt as much. I turn my face toward her and see her eyes are closed, but she knows I’m watching. Her eyelashes flutter, and she smiles as she sings, her beautiful lips pink.

I love you. I think. I forgive you. I think.

And instead, I look up to the sky, closing my eyes.