An Unexpected Friend

Sixty-seven days.

I was lost, presumed dead for sixty seven days before a rescue boat passed. I don’t know whether it was the hysteria caused by prolonged heat exposure or dehydration from the lack of water I had consumed. All I knew for sure was at that moment the boat touched the island, I felt scared. I was scared to go back, to leave this place that had brought me such comfort in our months together. Sixty seven days.

The moment we first stepped on that cruise, I knew I could never look back. I knew I would say goodbye to Davey, kiss his forehead, and wish him an amazing life as I sank to the bottom of the sea. He would remarry quickly, but not too quickly to make it seem like he had been waiting for this very moment - even though he most definitely had been. They would pop out adorable babies with lush, blonde locks and freckles splattered across their faces. He would finally be able to be happy.

As I lay my note on my pillow, I gazed at him and his long lashes that just barely grazed his cheeks. I had once fallen so deeply in love with those lashes. He had once made me swoon with excitement and lust and now made me ache with exhaustion. I took a deep breath and grazed my lips on his blonde waves. I mouthed I love you as not to wake him and swiftly took myself out of our cabin.

The moments leading up to me standing on the bow of the ship are blurry. I know I passed a chef who asked if I was alright, and I nodded with great enthusiasm. I don’t think he cared enough to wait around for me to tell him how I was actually feeling. As I stood on the bow of the cruise ship, I thought of writing more letters for my sister and parents. I couldn’t. If I wrote them letters, I wouldn’t go through with it. They were the only people who kept me going this long, and they would understand why I was doing what I was doing.

I grabbed the weights I had taken from the gym and tied them with rope firmly around my ankles. I stared death straight in the eyes as I took one final breath in this world and plummeted into the sea. The ship continued sailing above me as I sank deeper and deeper into the dark abyss. I let out my final breath.

People say all the time that they experience miracles. Christians harp on them as some message from God, usually telling people they have another chance at life. Well, I don’t believe in God or miracles, but I will tell you I believed in something the moment I first caught my breath again.

It hurt to breathe again. The water from the sea had filled my lungs, and I tried my hardest to cough it out onto the wet sand beneath me. I coughed so hard that I threw up more salt water that had filled my stomach. The waves from behind me hit me forward, pushing me further onto the land. The sun beat down on my back and shone brightly from the sand in front of me. I squinted forward to see nothing but sand and a lining of trees. The sand seemed to go on for miles, and I wondered if I had been swept to the coast of Mexico. Davey would know I was missing by now, but with the note explaining everything, would he even bother looking for me?

My stomach growled beneath me, and I took more deep breaths. If Lost had taught me anything, it would be that I’m not just going to wait around for rescue. I have to survive while I can with what strength I can muster. I pushed myself up from the soggy sand and stood. I tried to walk only to realize that the ropes must’ve come loose in the water and released me from the weights. I was free.

I stumbled forward before feeling my stomach lurch, and I spewed more salt water into the sand before me. It hurt to breath through retches, but I continued until I was sure there was no more in my stomach. I held my belly in my hands as I looked around me. I turned to the ocean that didn’t seem to have an end in sight. No land on the other side and no boats to scream to. I was completely and utterly alone.

After going into the treeline for shade, I looked around for any signs of fresh water or edible food. If I was going to be here until I was either found or dead, the least I could do for myself would be not to die from starvation. I made my way into the forest. Another thing survival shows have taught me: know how to get back to your base. I found a sharp rock at the entrance to the forest. As I moved forward amongst the trees, I made sure to carve an arrow into trunks along the way with the rock. I doubted I’d be able to see the arrows in the dark, but this worked for now.

It only took a short time before I reached the other side of the island. For a few moments, I thought I had accidentally gone in a circle and ended up quickly back at the beach I’d just left. It soon dawned on me that I was indeed on an island, and with a couple more hours of exploration, I would discover it to be a deserted island. It was just me, a couple of coconut trees, and a small forest in the middle of a small island in the Pacific.

My first night on the island was difficult, to say the least. It wasn’t so much that I was alone or scared, but that I wanted to call my family. I wanted to hear my sister’s voice and talk to my parents about their days. Their days were usually mundane, but that’s what made our talks so exciting. They were comfortable, and they made me feel comfortable on my most uncomfortable days. I missed them. I cried myself to sleep that night.

The first week felt the longest. I was hungry, thirsty, and tired from the sun. My feet were cracked and cut up from walking over sticks and sand in the blazing sun. It seemed like every inch of my skin was sunburnt, including my lips. The only thing that really kept me going was knocking down coconuts from the trees and breaking them open with all the strength I had left in me. I soon got the hang of opening them, which made for easier times ahead. I had a whole pile of coconuts at my disposal by the end of the first week.

On the first day of the second week, I decided to try my hand at fishing. I didn’t have any nets or sticks large enough to catch them, so I decided to try my best with my hands. Without much luck, I left feeling discouraged. The fish were just too quick. I’d never be able to catch one with proper equipment.

It wasn’t until I emerged from the water when I first saw it. At first, it seemed like a mirage - like a trick of the eye. Its tall, muscular body aimlessly standing in the treeline. It was bulky and black, with large horns that must’ve been at least an arms-length each. It didn’t make sense. Bulls don’t belong on islands. I’d never seen one when walking around the perimeter.

As I slowly stepped out of the water, I took a deep breath before easing my way over to him. Just as I stood about forty paces from him, he turned to me. He took a quick breath before turning and running into the forest. I let out a breath of anguish before stepping where he had stood. His hoof prints had stuck. I wasn’t crazy. There was a bull on this island.

I didn’t see him again until my third week. I had put together a makeshift net with palm leaves and small sticks, and I had finally caught my first little fish. I toasted it on a stick in a fire just beyond the forest, and I heard the crunch of sticks behind me. I spun quickly to see his large horns stick out from a dark figure. His dark eyes glared at me. He breathed deeply and firmly, making his place known. I nodded at him slowly and rested the stick of my first catch on the side of my fire. Part of me thought he might charge me. I didn’t know what to expect from a creature this large. Another part of me though, thought he might be like me: alone.

It wasn’t until my ninth week on the island when I finally touched him. I awoke to his breath on my legs. I tried not to jump as his warm air covered my lower half. I thought he might eat me. It would be a little bit of a different ending than drowning off of a cruise ship. He nibbled at my knees and moved down to my feet. My once ticklish toes kept still as they had numbed over the course of my time on the island. All of the calluses and scrapes had done them dirty, and I doubted I would ever be able to feel ticklish again.

He moved his breathing up to my arm, my chest, and then my head. He nibbled at my hair, and goosebumps rose on my arms. After moments of warm air going down my back, he finally stopped and moved. As I opened my eyes again to see him leave, his large body lay aggressively down beside me, his back to mine. I held my breath as he let out his.

He was my survival companion - my friend.

The engine of the rescue boat woke me the next morning. He had gone sometime in the night. I wanted to stay here with him or somehow bring him with me. Who knows how long he had spent on this island. For all I knew, he had been there years without anyone. We had brought comfort to each other in the most unlikely place imaginable.

As the rescue team jumped off their small boat and rushed to my aid, I fell in some sort of trance. I didn’t know if I wanted to be saved. I wanted to see my sister and parents, but that comfort was different from this new comfort I had found on my island.

The boat zoomed away from the island quickly. I mouthed thank you as we disappeared over the horizon. It was as if someone had woken me up from a nightmare into reality. My mundane life at home would never look the same mundane way again, but would it ever be the true comfort I had found with him?