One morning, a few weeks later, Anna said, “Today is Thanksgiving.”

“It is?” I didn’t pay much attention to the date, but Anna kept track every day.

“Yes.” She closed her datebook and put it down on the ground beside her. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten fish on Thanksgiving before.”

“Or coconut and breadfruit,” I added.

“It doesn’t matter what we eat. Thanksgiving is about being thankful for what we have.”

She tried to be cheerful when she said it, but then she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and put on her sunglasses.

Neither of us mentioned the holiday for the rest of the day. I hadn’t thought about Thanksgiving; I’d assumed someone would find us before then. Anna and I hardly ever talked about rescue anymore though – it depressed us both. All we could do was wait and hope someone flew overhead. That was the hardest thing, not having any control over our situation unless we decided to leave on the life raft, and Anna would never agree to that. She was right. It probably would be suicide.

That night in bed she whispered, “I’m thankful we have each other, T.J.”

“So am I.”

If Anna had died after the plane crash, and I’d been alone all this time, I wondered if I would have made it.

***

We spent Christmas Day chasing a chicken.

Early that morning, when I bent down to gather some sticks for the woodpile, I screamed like a girl when a chicken shot out of a nearby bush and scared the shit out of me.

I took off after it, but it disappeared into another bush. I thrust my hand in and felt around, but couldn’t reach it.

“Anna, that flapping sound we keep hearing is from a chicken,” I said, when I returned with the firewood.

“There are chickens here?”

“Yes. I chased one into the bushes but it got away. Lace up your tennis shoes. We’re gonna have chicken for our Christmas dinner.”

***

“It’s over there. I heard it. I’m going to kick the bush so get ready to catch it when it runs out the other side,” Anna said, as Operation Catch a Chicken went into overdrive. We’d been tracking it for over an hour, from one end of the island to the other, and we were finally closing in.

“There it is,” she yelled, when it came flapping out of the bush next to me.

I tried to tackle it and came away with nothing but a handful of feathers. “Goddammit, you motherfucker!”

I chased after it. Anna caught up to me and we cornered it in a cluster of bushes. It started to wiggle through a gap in the leaves, but Anna lunged and held onto it. I grabbed its legs, pulled it out of the bush, and slammed it down on the ground.

Anna didn’t miss a beat. “Good job, T.J.” She patted me on the back.

I slit its throat and hung it upside down until most of the blood drained out, then pulled the feathers off, trying not to look at its head.

Anna cut it apart with the knife.

“This is not at all what it looks like at the grocery store,” she said.

“It looks fine,” I said. She totally mangled it, but we put the pieces on several rocks and placed them close to the fire.

She sniffed the air. “Smell that,” she said, as the chicken cooked.

When it looked done, we let it cool and then pulled the meat apart with our fingers. It was burned in some spots, and a little under-cooked in others, but it tasted awesome.

“This chicken rocks,” I said, licking my fingers.

Anna finished her drumstick and said, “Yes, it does.” She threw her chicken bone in the growing pile next to the fire, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and said, “I wonder how many more chickens there are.”

“I don’t know. But we’re going to find every one of them.”

“This is the best chicken I’ve ever eaten, T.J.”

I burped and laughed. “No doubt.”

We picked the bones clean and spread our blanket on the ground, away from the fire.

“Do you open your presents on Christmas Eve, or Christmas Day?” I asked her.

“Christmas Eve. What about you?”

“Same. Sometimes Grace and Alexis beg to open them on the twenty-third, but my mom makes them wait.”

We lay side by side, relaxing. I thought of Grace and Alexis, and my mom and dad. They were probably having a hard time, celebrating their first Christmas without me.

If they only knew that Anna and I were alive and holding our own.

***

The rain returned in May, and Anna and I relaxed a little. But it stormed more often, and we couldn’t do anything but huddle in the life raft, listening to the crash of thunder while we waited for it to stop.

We had a bad one that brought down a tree, so I cut it into firewood with the handsaw. It took me two days, but by the time I finished, the woodpile filled the lean-to.

I went down to the beach afterward to cool off. Anna splashed in the water, playing with six dolphins. Wading in, I petted one of them on the head, and I swear it smiled at me.

“Six, wow. That’s a record,” I said.

“I know. They all came at once today.” The dolphins swam into the lagoon like clockwork, late morning and late afternoon. There were always at least two, but this was the first time there had been so many at once.

“You’re sweating,” she said. “Were you sawing again?”

I ducked my head under and shook like a dog when I came back up. “Yeah, it’s all done though. We won’t have to gather wood for a while.” I stretched, my arms aching. “Rub my shoulders, Anna. Please?”

“Come on.” She led me out of the water. “I’ll give you a back rub. Mine are world-famous.”

I sat in front of her and almost groaned when she touched my shoulders. She wasn’t kidding about being good at it, and I wondered if she rubbed the boyfriend down a lot. Her hands were stronger than I would have guessed, and she massaged my neck and back for a long time. I thought about her hands touching me other places, and if she’d been able to read my mind she probably would have freaked.

“There,” she said when she finished. “Did that feel good?”

“You have no idea,” I said. “Thanks.”

We walked back to the lean-to. Anna poured a capful of Woolite into the rainwater she collected in the life raft container, and swished it around with her hand.

“Laundry time, huh?”

“Yep.”

I had offered to split laundry duty, but she said she’d do it. She probably didn’t want me messing with her underwear.

She put our dirty clothes in the container and washed them. When she took them out one at a time and set them aside for rinsing, she said, “Hey T.J., where’s all your underwear?”

Speaking of underwear.

”It doesn’t fit anymore, and it mostly fell apart.”

“So you don’t have any?”

“No. I didn’t have a whole suitcase full like some people.”

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“It was at first, but now I’m used to it.” I grinned and pointed at my shorts. “Totally commando here, Anna.”

She laughed. “Whatever, T.J.”

Chapter 17 – Anna

We had been on the island a little over a year when the plane flew over.

I was gathering coconuts that afternoon, and the roar of the engines, so loud and unexpected, startled me. I dropped everything and ran to the beach.

T.J. exploded out of the trees. He raced toward me, and we waved our arms back and forth, watching as the plane flew right over our heads.

We screamed and hugged and jumped up and down, but the plane banked to the right and kept flying. We stood there, listening to the sound of the engines fading away.