Cona Island

Chapter 4

The waves lapped at the shore at a steady rhythm, the seagulls mewled in the sky. The sun was ascending, painting the sky with blues, oranges and pinks, but not quite peeking over the horizon yet. The cool morning breeze caressed his skin as he lazily strolled to the lighthouse. His stump hurt from all the work he’d been doing, but he ignored it. It had to get stronger. That was the end of it. The lighthouse was a while up ahead, but his mind didn’t protest the long walk, even if his leg did.

The steady sound of the waves seemed to balance his sluggish system and set his head on straight for the day. But even then, he could feel the gloom lurk just underneath the surface, like a hidden iceberg. He would have to go back to the bungalow eventually, at the end of the day. And then he’d face his demons again. Sometimes he thought that it wasn’t good for him to be there alone, that maybe it aggravated the problem. But by the end of the day, the few people he’d come across had already exhausted him.

"Fancy seeing you here!"

He paused and glanced over his shoulder. And there she was, dressed in a soft pink tank, shorts and white running shoes, with the morning just glowing on her skin. Or was that her halo he was seeing? Just the sight of her eased that dull heaviness in his chest. And made him feel guilty for tainting her space with his presence.

"I try to walk every morning." He answered, his voice coming out in a dry croak. It suddenly felt like he was floating a little, the haze in his mind was sluggishly dispersing.

She caught up with him with her jogging and he started walking again.

"Yeah, I need to jog more often, I’m out of shape," she was a little out of breath, holding out a blue travel cup. "Coffee?"

"Thanks, were you expecting to find me here?" He took the cup from her.

"You're the only one who lives here besides Cliff and the Finklesons. And the others don't go walking. Black and bitter, did I guess right?"

You have no idea. "Yeah. It's perfect."

She sipped her coffee. He looked at her, noticed the scar above her eyebrow. She seemed so fresh and open, like she was ready to take on anything in the world.

And from that morning on, they kind of fell into a routine of walking together every morning. It became a goal of hers’ to make him smile at least once a day, one she didn’t always accomplish. Not while they were walking together, anyway. They talked about the everyday things in life, asked each other their favourite colours, their ages, and all the light-hearted stuff that two people talk about to get to know one another. And she was really liking getting to know him.

She could see him warming up as the days went on. Sometimes he seemed a little more light hearted, other times more haunted. And she started dreaming about him at night. How it would feel to be held by him, to kiss him, to wake up next to him even. She wanted to support him, to keep his heart safe and warm. Sometimes she thought that he felt attracted to her too by the way he looked at her. But she wasn’t sure.

Weeks went by. And he, to his own annoyance, came to rely on seeing her every day. Strangely, her presence chased away his shadows, and gave him the injection of energy he so desperately needed. He often found himself wanting to take her hand while they walked, and then he would just stuff his hands in his pockets. He wanted to touch her, feel the texture of her skin, her hair. He wanted to feel if she was as soft as the energy she radiated towards him. Sometimes when he looked at her lips, he thought of kissing her, then quickly tugged his mind back.

She was such a light. Why did she want to hang out with him? It just didn't make sense. You weren’t always this way, Abby would gently remind him from her seat in heaven. But it'd been a long time since he'd truly been happy. Or had he ever been?

He had been around Abby when they were together, or after her when he had his buddies in Crimson, the independent contractor that he worked for. But there was always the phantom of disappointment his parents cast over him. Even as a young child. Because they didn't really want a boy. They said so. And many other hurtful things he couldn’t remember, but he knew his mind held onto. Psychologists had often told him that he was so angry because he was blocking those memories. And one day, they’ll all spill out. He dreaded that day.

Heck, getting away from all that was the reason why he joined the marines and then Crimson in the first place. He had an innate desire to mean something in the world, to make a real difference. To prove that he was more than a disappointment. And then it all went to s**t. And now he was just trying to find something like that again, no matter how small.

Melody had invited him to hang out with her friends at a local joint a couple of times, but he'd said no. He felt bad about it, but it was a really uncomfortable affair for him to be around a lot of people because of his hearing. And in general, people exhausted him.

"Do you jog?" She asked one morning when they were walking again.

Not without my running blade. Not here. No one needs to see that. "Not really. I like walking."

"Ah, that's too bad. I would've raced you to the lighthouse." Maybe having some fun will lighten you up. "But walking is fine too. Is your foot still sore? Or is it the ankle? I can’t really tell. Gosh, it’s so hot I don’t know how you can stand wearing long-sleeved pants."

The sun rose, and in its light she noticed the changes in the skin colour on his arms. There were many scars all over his arms of varying sizes. She wanted to kiss every one of them, especially if they were what was causing him this pain he’s carrying around. And she silently wondered where they all came from.

He cleared his throat and sipped coffee. "Yeah. Foot's not so great."

"Well it’s almost been a month now. You should see a doctor. We have Doctor Red here on the island. His name is kind of a weird joke. Red, like blood. But he's really nice. If you have to go to the hospital, you'd have to go to the mainland, though he has a procedure room and a small surgery. Most people here have at least a little knowledge of traditional island medicine or first aid even. Not me though, I'm useless with all that stuff."

He glanced at her and couldn't help but smile. He’d learned in the past month that she was a babbler. He didn’t have to say a thing, and she would just continue talking. It was nice. Some days he felt too drained to talk, and it’s like she sensed that.

She beamed at him and his heart squeezed with affection. "Tired again today?"

"I had a rough night."

A warning prickled at the back of her neck, and she decided she wouldn’t ask why. "I’m sorry. Anyway, you should really go see him. He's really nice. You've probably just sprained it or something. Maybe he can give you something to help you sleep better, too."

This was becoming dangerous territory now. His pulse leapt up. "I'll see."

She slanted him a look. "Come on. You want me to make an appointment for you? I have his number," she whipped out her cellphone.

"No!" Drake all but yelled. Now nervousness had turned into full-blown panic. This was the point where everything was about to be ruined.

Her eyes went wide. "You don't have to be scared of him, I promise."

"Melody," he rubbed his hand over his face. "Look, he can't help me, okay?"

She laughed a little. As much as he loved the sound of it, it scared him now. "You don't know that! Come on, give him a chance."

"Mel," he sighed, defeated. He didn't even have time to think about the fact that he'd called her the nickname. She was pulling the truth right out of him. And the odd part was, for some reason, he felt like he could trust her with it even while his nerves were all but frying with stress about it. His defences just kind of crumbled whenever he was around her, and he figured it must have had something to do with the fact that she’d wormed her carefree self into his black heart for the past month.

"What's wrong?" She asked, concerned now.

He looked out over the sea. The sun cast glints of light over the waves, like jewels. Just say it. There’s no way out now. He turned back to her, seeing the same light in her eyes. A memory flashed by his eyes as he saw himself and Abby, making their special twin gesture whenever they told each other their secrets. And it was such an odd thing to remember at this very moment, that somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought that she must be sending him a sign from heaven. Panic eased.

"Mel, I lost my leg, okay? I limp because I wear a prosthetic leg."

"Oh,"

He searched her face for signs of repulsion, like his mother had. But she frowned a little, then drew her mouth to one side, then shrugged her shoulder. "Okay then. That makes total sense."

He was gobsmacked. He might as well have told her it was Wednesday today. "Wait, you're not freaked out?"

"Why would I be? Lots of people have prosthetic limbs. Well, not on the island but, you know, in the world."

He managed something that almost sounded like a laugh. Suddenly, it felt as if a heavy block had lifted off his chest. Here was this beautiful girl who had just heard he was only half of himself and she didn't even give a damn. His own mother had told him that no one would look at him the same way again. He would find it difficult to ever connect with anyone because of how he looks now. Abby laughed in his mind at the ridiculousness of it. But no matter how absurd, it was his mother who’d said it. And his father. His parents. And it hurt. Yet somehow he was connecting to her, as naturally as breathing.

"Good to know, actually. I won't try kicking you in the shin when you piss me off. I might break my toe." Melody said cheerily. "Any other secret superpowers?" She continued walking, and he automatically followed.

"It's no superpower, Mel. It's a damn tragedy. And yes. I'd like you to walk on my right side."

She shifted without hesitation. "Why, though?"

"Because I'm near deaf in my left ear, and I’m straining to hear you over the sound of the waves. And while I'm at it, I might as well tell you that the reason this happened was because of an explosion on my last mission. There was an accident. The scars you see on my arms are from the shrapnel. I have scars all over my body. The blast damaged my hearing, and what's left of my leg is mangled like a goddamn corkscrew." He blurted out.

Good god. How the hell did she do that? He felt utterly vulnerable just then, but also lighter, having shared it with someone. And he tried to remind himself that this wasn’t Willow Greens. It was Cona Island. And this was Melody, who didn’t seem to have a care in the world. She would’ve made friends with dwarfs if they existed. But his heart started racing in panic anyway.

"I'm sorry," she didn't say it in the way she knew some people would. There was a very subtle but important difference between pity and sympathy. The latter made all the difference.

She remembered how demeaning it was to have other people see her as a victim all the time while she was with Jason. Somehow, they thought her brain was incapable of working because she was beaten, or she wasn't strong enough to do certain things anymore. It went on until she stood her ground and told them she didn't want to be babied. Yes, she had a hard time. But she wasn't useless. Understanding, however, was always welcome.

And just like that, she figured out a good part of his darkness. He got a huge blow to his ego. He felt somehow less, because of his disability. Cliff did right by him in giving him that job. Because it was a man's work - not that women couldn't do it equally as well. But there's that.

"I've never just outright told that to someone I don't know so well." He said, confused.

She smiled. "Are you kidding? You know me. I’ve been walking with you for a month. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. I know how people can be. Want me to tell you something dark and secret?" She waggled her eyebrows in a silly way.

He laughed, really laughed, for the first time in more than a year. It felt almost foreign, but good. She saw a light come on in his eyes, and made a silent promise to make it appear more often.

"This is becoming a dangerous game."

"Well, it's no secret on the island, so you might as well know, too. I was engaged to this jerk called Jason. He was a cop with a god-complex and he was really abusive. I spent two years with him. This scar here," she gestured above her eyebrow,

"Was when he got so mad one night that I made beef stew instead of lasagne, that he threw the wine glasses on the floor. The shards shot up into the air and cut me deep enough that I needed stitches."

Drake stiffened slightly beside her. His protective urges soared, and a wave of heated anger rose up into his throat. How could someone abuse this beautiful woman? What kind of a d**k was this Jason guy? And a cop no less. The kind, he thought, that thinks a gun and a badge made him something. He knew the type well. He could only imagine what she had to go through to get free. The uncertainty, the fear of him following her, he might even have abused his badge to try and get her back.

The stares and the gossip... He frowned pensively. Was that it? Was that why she didn't freak out? Did they have something in common, after all?

"I eventually dug up the courage to tell people about it. Jason was well-liked in the community, and at first, people didn't really believe me. He wore this mask out in public of being this caring, considerate guy. But my Aunt never liked him. And she can spot bad vibes from an ocean away. It's kind of her super power. Anyway, eventually I got away. And he went to jail.

I went to therapy, and it didn’t work. And everyone started treating me with kid gloves, sort of dancing around the elephant in the room, which only made me feel like more of a burden to them. I had to explain that to them, tell them why it bothered me. I didn’t throw their sympathy back in their faces, I just told them that I needed to find my own two feet again. Or I would have been so scared that I’d never be independent again. They understood after that, even encouraged me to try new things I was afraid of. And hell, they talked about it. I hated that everyone tiptoed around me like that.”

"I'm sorry about what you went through. I wish I had been here then so I could have smashed that f**k's head." Drake bit out.

Melody eyed him. Inside she wanted to scream Yay! He cares about me! He likes me! She smiled. "I think I understand how you must feel with your leg around people, but if you just tell them, they'll leave you alone. People only want to dance around things like that. Sometimes it's better to just tell them outright how you want to be treated. But see it this way, I’ve laid the path out before you got here. At least now, I think, they’ll have a good grasp on how to handle you."

She took a deep breath, and unbundled the fist he made, then took his hand. His warm skin sent surges of electricity through her, and when he gave her hand a little squeeze, she went to mush inside.

"You're right. I don't want people to think I'm useless because I only have one leg. Though sometimes it feels that way to me. I went from being a soldier, top of my class, to nothing. It was all I had for a long time, my only anchor. And I can't ever go back. It was like losing a family. You do everything with your team. You live together, party together, watch each other throw up and put your lives in each other's hands." And suddenly it all just started pouring out of him, and he couldn't stop it, emotion clogged his throat even after months in therapy.

"I had no right to survive. I was just a disappointment before them. And now I guess I'm one after them, too. My parents told me this would happen. They said it was punishment because I didn't do the right thing and go to business school like my father wanted me to. I dishonoured them, and now life and God has dishonoured me. And no one would ever look at me the same way again."

Melody swallowed hard. She broke a little inside. How could parents say that to their child? Christ, no wonder he imprisoned himself away from the world. Parents are a child's foundation. If they can't support a child in their dreams...hell. Nanna and Uncle Dave steadied her world after her parents died. But they always loved her. Drake’s parents chose to leave him, even if just emotionally. She wanted to stop walking and draw him into the tightest hug he'd ever had. But she was afraid she would break his streak, and she wanted him to get all of it off his chest while he was at it. Sometimes, in the Haven, people started talking about what happened to them almost like they were kind of hypnotised. They were really thinking about other things, but the words just spilled anyway. But when interrupted, nerves kicked in and they’d catch themselves. She didn’t want that. So she kept quiet.

"So here I am," he continued, "The outcast of the Johnsons on an island where he is out of sight and out of mind. The embarrassment finally gone from their image. Had I been a girl and into business or teaching like my sister, I might have had better chances to fit into my own family. Though she had to walk a tight rope with them, too. But I was the nutcase who wanted to make a real difference in the world. If I couldn’t matter to them, at least I would matter to someone else. No one I saved ever had to see my face, it was enough for me to know that I helped them. And for that, I got handed a raw deal." There was a bitter, bitter taste in his mouth.

He stopped talking, and she let the silence hang for a moment, then turned to him. "You know that old saying about blood being thicker than water? Well, I've always thought that was bull. And just because your parents said all those things, doesn't mean they're right. And I'm sorry to say this but, to me they sound selfish. Let me guess, your father wanted to have a big multi-million dollar business but he ended up running some low-class grocery store. And then he had you, and he wanted to use you to achieve his own dream..."

Drake nodded, astonished at her level of understanding. "Exactly. He failed to be accepted into Business College and ended up opening a toy shop. Which was very ironic because he didn’t exactly like children. And he and my mother wanted only girls who could one day take over the toy shop, and they believed in some sick fantasy that girls would better bend to their whims. Then they had twins. Me and my sister. My mother probably pulled up her nose at me because I was a boy. And Abby was perfect – at least, they could attempt to make her perfect. Because she didn't really care about taking over the toy shop. She even had dreams of teaching part-time, which would have fit in so well. But she died in a car crash when we were fourteen, and then all they were left with was me. And I wouldn’t bend."

Tears welled in her eyes. He was doomed to disappoint them from birth. He was the boy they never wanted. He was never going to be good enough. She swallowed and wiped her eyes.

He was overwhelmed with the amount of emotion she showed for his situation. At that moment, he loved her so much his chest hurt, like it might burst open. But he also felt guilty for making her sad. i***t.

"I'm sorry about your twin. I bet she understood you better than they ever had. My parents died in a car accident, too. My aunt and uncle raised me and Bethany."

She wanted to pull him into an embrace, but he put his hands on her shoulders and lightly squeezed them. Big, warm hands that made her want to find a way to curl up into a little ball inside of him.

"I'm sorry about your parents. I didn't mean to stir up those memories."

She laughed a little as she wiped tears away. "I'm not crying about them. I was ten when it happened and Bethany was still a baby. I just can't believe that yours treated you like that. My parents loved me, and yours chose to leave you. It's just not right."

He shut his eyes for a moment and then ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry Mel, I didn't mean to upset you. I never should have let loose like this. I don't know why that happened. I never tell this stuff to people."

"No! You should have. It's dragging you down, carrying all of this with you. I'm glad you trusted me enough to share. I feel honoured. And I want you to know something. I don't know where you come from or how they do it there. But here, on Cona Island, you are needed. Cliff needs you. And he doesn't give a wet willy about your leg or any of this stuff. He's old and he doesn’t have the strength to do the work alone anymore.

Everyone needs everyone here. And that includes you now. I know your immediate reaction after all of this is to stay away from people, because staying away means you can't disappoint them. And I can tell you now that that's because of the cruel things your parents said. They were supposed to be your foundation, and instead they were like a sinking boat at sea. You tried your best to scoop out the water, but inevitably you were sinking.

But I think you'll find that the people of this island are very lenient towards each other, because we're such a small community and practically on our own out here. You said the men you served with were like a family to you. Try to think of us in that way. Because that's how we think of each other. You just need to get to know them, give them a chance."

She was all but going on her knees and begging. She reached out and lightly took his arm.

Then she abandoned caution and threw her arms around his waist, drawing him into a tight embrace. She just wanted to hold him, to make him feel like he wasn't so alone. He rested his cheek on her hair and leaned into her. The warmth of her blasted the shadows away, and made him feel a deep yearning in his soul for something he thought was, since his accident, forever out of reach.

"You shouldn't bother with me, Mel." He'd turn her light into tar. And he didn't want that.

He felt her smile against his chest. "Let me guess. Your wonderfully supportive parents said no woman would ever lay eyes on you now that you've lost your leg and you’re a dreadful eyesore."

He swallowed past a lump. "Something like that, but that’s not all. I was unresponsive to therapy too, and my head’s not always screwed on right. I don’t want to drag you down with me into the muck."

Melody wished she could tell him how beautiful he was to her. And that she loved him as more than just a friend. But she promised her aunt and uncle she'd bring him to the house first. She trusted her own instincts and she knew, bone-deep, that he was a decent man. But her aunt and uncle would never let her be with him if they hadn’t seen him for themselves first. Not after what happened.

"Well, bad news Mr. Johnson. You're stuck with me. And no amount of muck you can summon up is chasing me away. I’m not letting that happen. Besides, it’s my time and my energy. And I’m choosing to spend it with you. So suck it up. And I'd like to invite you to the barbeque we'll be hosting on Friday at my uncle's house. It's just up the road, you know. It’s closer to you than the lighthouse…"

He pulled back from the hug, smiling at her. She wouldn't let up. She'd been asking him to do stuff like this ever since they met. "I can't, Mel. It's not because of the people," he added when she opened her mouth to object. "It's my hearing. When there's a lot of people and a lot of noise, it's not always easy to tell from which direction the sounds are coming. It gives me a kind of vertigo. It’s very disorienting and it makes me really anxious.”

She pressed her lips together and she took his hand. He wanted to kiss her, those full lips and all the sweetness of her. The glint of the sun created a halo in her hair that made her look like an angel. "Okay, how about you come over for dinner after work? It's just me and Bethany, and my aunt and uncle. Just the four of us. Plus, my aunt bakes the best cake on the island," she grinned and tried to drum up an infectious aura of eagerness to infect him with.

But he faltered, as she suspected he would, sending her efforts crashing down. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t, she loves cooking for other people. I think you’ll find my family is very sincere and welcoming. They’ve helped me through the toughest times of my life, including Jason. Hell, they did more for me than any psychologist ever did.” And they’re exactly what you need. “I’ve told them that I’ve been walking with you every morning, and they’re dying to meet you. Well, except Bethany. You’ve already met her.”

He sighed and stared out over the ocean to steady himself. He had the irrational fear that everything would change if he had dinner with them. They wouldn’t like him, and they’d tell her to stay away from him. He’d miss seeing her every morning, and now she was the only person who knew the real him. He felt like crap for doing this.

“I can’t, Mel.” he said softly. The disappointment in her face was immediate, though she tried to hide it. He felt like a failure. “I’m afraid, and I know its stupid,” he admitted, hoping to salvage something of their friendship. In his mind, when her expression darkened, it was already over.

But she surprised him and gave him a sympathetic smile, throwing her arms around his neck again. “I understand. Just promise me you won’t wipe the idea off the table? I don’t want to rush you into things. I remember what it was like to be frightened of silly things like that…”

She felt him relax against her, and she knew he probably thought that she was going to give up on him now and walk away forever. That’s why she wanted to demonstrate that that was absolutely not the case. “Okay. I promise.” He murmured.

They started walking back and each went their separate ways, for now.