The Castaway

A hand reached out from the boat to steady me as I stepped over the gunwale. I grasped the outstretched fingers tightly and looked up to see the captain smiling kindly at me.

“Bet you’re glad to see us. How long have you been here?”

I couldn’t answer. I gazed at the island for a last look. After arriving, I tried to count the days, but it only took a night or two before I lost track of time. I shook my head in response at the boat captain and took the bottle of water he offered me.

“Let’s get you home then," he suggested.

Home. What a nice thought. I think I missed home. I instantly pictured my husband, my kids and our little dog. Did I miss them? Did they miss me? I ended up here because of them. I will see them soon, but I’m sad to be leaving my island. As the crew pushed the boat out into the ocean, and the captain set our course for civilization, I dwelled on the past few days.

The day I arrived, I marveled at the beautiful weather. The bright blue sky had just a few clouds. It hurt my eyes to look at it. A gentle breeze rustled the palm fronds. My skin was filmy with salt as the ocean water dried on my legs. I stood on the soft white sand beach and tried to decide if I should go left or right. I chose right and stepped over seashells and seaweed that washed up on the shore. I kept to the beach and walked until I ended up back where I started. A double row of leaning palm trees lined the edge of the beach and low-lying vegetation stretched up to cover a hill in the middle of the island. I noticed a space in the trees with a small path through the forest. I stepped off the beach onto the path and explored my way to the top of the hill. From up there that pristine beach and the line of trees made a postcard perfect picture. Seriously. My island is a cover photo for a travel magazine. I saw the entire island from that vantage point. I remember wondering if it was possible for me to swim out to the breaker rocks where the turquoise water crashed with frothy white waves.

That first day, I was restless. I knew I needed to do something, but what? I turned around in circles before I realized there was nothing for me to do. My days back home were busy, filled with the management and insanity that comes with four small children under the age of eight, a tiny lapdog named Hercules, and a husband of fifteen years. Except for the wind in the palm trees, a few birds and insects chirping, and the distant crashing waves, the quiet was disconcerting. I could actually hear myself think. Our family home in the suburbs was a constant din of noise. The kids were fighting, bickering, teasing, or screaming with laughter, sometimes pain, at all hours. Our dog barked at any movement—a leaf falling off a tree, the mailman, and every critter in the yard. Someone’s phone rang or chirped with incoming messages. My life was never quiet. I forgot what Mother Nature sounded like.

The silence here opened the floodgates on my stream of consciousness. The thoughts came at me in a rush. Standing there on top of the hill, I realized that this was the longest amount of time I’d gone, without someone touching me, for almost two decades. If a kid wasn’t tugging on a limb, my husband was groping me, or the dog was running in between my ankles. My skin tingled, and my arms twitched with freedom.

I didn’t know how much time passed while I stood there, but I snapped out of it and noticed a perfect place to shelter. The forest thinned at the crest of the hill. I discovered a small clearing off to my left, with a sharp cliff of rocks at the edge. A small alcove was hewn into the side of that cliff, just bigger than me. Two palm trees crossed paths with each other right behind the alcove and hung down over the opening, forming a canopy for shade and protection. The clearing was large enough for a fire. It was a ready-made spot for a stray like me. I sat down in the alcove, took a deep breath, and leaned back against the cool rocks. I was so relaxed and comfortable. I couldn’t remember the last time I got to sit still this long. I remembered feeling tired, but I fought the urge to sleep. I must have dozed off despite my efforts. The quiet, the lack of distractions were too much for me to resist.

That first night was scary. I wasn’t used to being alone in such deep darkness. I didn’t think to start a fire before falling asleep. The night sounds startled me awake, and my heart raced with fear. I forgot where I was. There was no nightlight to show me the way to the bathroom. No husband to wake up and go check out the noises I heard. So I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them and rocked back and forth until my eyes adjusted to the night. The rustling was really just the wind blowing in the tree leaves. The squeaking sounds were some sort of bug or frog, maybe. Not someone creeping up behind me. And, the roaring was only the sound of the waves.

I smiled to myself, when I realized that I didn’t have to deal with a puking kid, or someone else’s nightmare. I could go back to sleep and stay asleep as long as I wanted. Nobody was waiting for breakfast. Somebody else would be driving the carpool in the morning. I laid down on the sand floor of the alcove, crossed my arms under my head, and went back to sleep.

I slept like the dead. I bet I snored, too. The bright sunlight woke me to another breath-taking day. I had no idea what time it was, and I didn’t care. There was nowhere to go, nothing to get done. The growling in my stomach woke me that first morning. I hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours and my body was screaming for food. But, I struggled to get food. Find it, cook it, and eat it. I was unprepared and ill-equipped. I steeled myself for the task ahead and by the time the sun was high in the sky, I had found some fruit trees and had my fill.

Once my hunger pangs were at bay, I had a whole day ahead of me to do whatever the hell I wanted. That warm, salty ocean was calling to me, and I was going to swim with no one following me, no one hanging on me. I was going to run all the way around the island with no one wanting to ride their bike along with me, knowing they would want to turn back after two minutes.

The days repeated themselves, just like that, until today when the boat showed up for me.

My adventure on the island started a few months ago at the annual PTA fundraiser. I had it up to my eyeballs with the family and the dog that day. I woke up to an awful stench in my nostrils. Either the dog pooped in my bedroom again, or my husband was breathing on me. I opened one eye to look at him and make sure it wasn't his morning breath. His back was to me, so that meant it was dog poop. Hercules noticed a change in my breathing and whined to go out. Great. Once I got up with the dog, the baby would hear me and start to cry. I rolled my head to the side in slow motion and looked at my clock. 5:00 am on a Saturday. Livin’ the dream.

I sighed and decided it was no use waking my husband to take care of this. He would let the dog out, ignore the poop and the baby, and rush back to bed, hoping for a quickie. At least if I got up now, I could get the little monster to go back to sleep, and enjoy my coffee in peace. I swung my legs off the side of the bed, stepped down into our plush new carpeting and side stepped the dog on my way to the hallway. I remembered the poop smell just as I stepped out onto the wood floor and felt an unpleasant squish under my bare toes. Found it. My day rolled downhill from there.

My oldest bit himself hard enough to draw blood, and the baby refused to take a morning nap. We were out of groceries, and my husband went to play golf with his buddies, leaving me to take all four children to the store. That was before 10:00 am. By mid-afternoon, the macaroni and cheese burned on the stove while I chased the naked toddler around the house. Hercules attacked the mailman, and my husband tracked mud into the new carpet with his golf cleats.

It was early evening before I finished up the last of the paperwork for the fundraiser. Yelling for my husband to keep an eye on the kids, I dashed into our bedroom and found him asleep on our bed. You’ve got to be shitting me. I hit him with a pillow and screamed at him to wake up.

He grumbled, but got up and stomped downstairs to watch the kids. I slammed our bedroom door and started the water in the shower. As soon as I stepped in, the door burst open, and two of the kids rushed in, naked.

"Mommy! Daddy sent us up to shower with you. He said we are dirty.”

Before I could push them back out, they clambered over the edge of the tub, plugged the drain and splashed in the water. Somebody was going to die.

I’m sure there was still shampoo left in my hair, but I got the kids cleaned up and out of the tub, I sort of dried myself off and got ready for the fundraiser. My husband left to get the babysitter, and I loaded the car with all my supplies. I wasn’t speaking to him.

I was overwhelmed and under-appreciated. My life was not what I imagined it would be. I loved my family, but I had no time for myself, and virtually no conversations with adults anymore. I never watched movies or TV unless they were animated, and I can’t even remember the last chapter book I finished.

By the time we got to the fundraiser, I had one nerve left. The principal of the school took the microphone to announce one additional item for the silent auction. One week on a deserted island all by yourself. Rudimentary lodging and food would be provided, but nothing else. The room got quiet, and then murmuring started. At first I thought this was yet another prize, targeted to the men. Doesn’t anyone think about the moms and what we want? The mom standing on my left was on her fourth glass of wine. She leaned over, a little too close, and fake-whispered, “I would gnaw off my left arm for a week all by myself. New York City would be better, but I’ll take a deserted island.” And then, it hit me. This was genius! No phones, no computers, nothing. After the day I had, I could easily go away for a week and be left alone.

I dreamed about shaving both legs on the same day. I didn’t remember the last time I slept through the night, undisturbed and without a subconscious fight for the covers. And, if I got up in the middle of the night, I wouldn’t have to put shoes on so that I don’t hurt myself stepping on a Lego or some other toy. I wouldn’t have to wipe any noses or butts, except my own, for seven days. I could eat a full meal before it goes cold. And, I could eat off my own plate, for a change. No eating out of the serving dish or finishing the kids’ meals.

I started to smile. On that island, by myself, I could go Number 2 in peace. I could take my time, too. The phone won’t ring as soon as I pull my pants down. I won’t have to risk a bladder infection because I had to pinch off the flow of urine to make sure that my son wasn’t actually murdering his sister. She screams like a horror movie victim, the minute I step out of her line of sight. Why am I always surprised to find out that he didn’t even touch her? He looked at her. He wouldn’t have riled her up in a million years until I sat down to take care of business.

So I ignored my husband and blew our vacation fund on purchasing that week on a deserted island. He deserved a week alone with his precious children. They could bond.

And now, my week was over, and I had to go back. I was refreshed and renewed, eager to see my family. The island was out of my sight by now. I turned my head back to the boat captain. He watched me watch my island disappear. “It’s always women that come out here. You’d think some guys would want to try their survival skills here for a few days, but no, always women. And, boy, you always look so sad to be leaving. What the hell happens out here, huh?”

I smirked at him. “You wouldn’t understand.”