Tick tock, you know.

Chapter 22 – T.J.

I was in the woods when Anna screamed. It came from the direction of the house, and when I cleared the trees I ran toward the sound.

She staggered up and collapsed on the ground. Gasping, she said, “Jellyfish.”

The outline of its tentacles had left red welts on her legs, stomach, and chest. I didn’t know what to do.

“Get them off me,” she yelled. When I looked down, I saw a few clear tentacles still attached to her stomach and chest. I pulled on one, and it stung me.

I ran to the water collector and grabbed the plastic container on the ground next to it. I filled it, ran back to Anna, and doused her with the fresh water. The tentacles didn’t rinse off and she screamed in pain, as if the fresh water made it worse.

“T.J., try seawater,” she said. “Hurry!”

Still holding the container, I ran down to the shore and filled it with water from the ocean. I sprinted back and this time, when I poured seawater on her, she didn’t scream.

She whimpered on the ground while I tried to figure out what to do next. I knew she still felt pain by the way she moved back and forth, struggling to find a comfortable position.

I remembered the tweezers and hurried to Anna’s suitcase to get them. When I returned, I pulled off the tentacles as fast as I could. She closed her eyes and moaned.

I had removed almost all of them when Anna’s skin started turning red, not only where she had been stung, but all over. Her eyelids and lips puffed up. I panicked and poured more seawater on her, but it didn’t help. Her eyes swelled shut.

I ran into the lean-to and found the first-aid kit, then flung myself back down on the sand next to her, opening the lid and dumping everything out. When I picked up the bottle with red liquid inside, I heard her voice in my head.

This can save your life. It’ll stop an allergic reaction.

Anna’s face resembled a balloon by then and her lips were so swollen the skin had split. I struggled with the childproof cap, but once I got it off I put my arm under her, lifted her head up, and poured the Benadryl down her throat. She coughed and sputtered; I had no idea how much I’d given her.

Her bikini top shifted when I lifted her. It was too big on her, since she’d lost weight, and when I looked down I saw a few tentacles inside it, still stinging her.

I yanked her top off, wincing at the marks on her chest. I laid her back down, poured the last of the seawater on her, and removed the tentacles with the tweezers.

I took off my T-shirt and covered her with it, tucking it gently underneath her. “You’ll be okay, Anna.” Then I held her hand and waited.

When her skin wasn’t as red and the swelling had gone down a little, I looked through the contents of the first-aid kit scattered on the ground. After reading all the labels, I chose a tube of cortisone cream.

I started with her legs and worked my way up, rubbing the cream onto the welts. “Does this help?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Her eyes weren’t swollen shut anymore, but she didn’t open them. “I’m so tired.”

I didn’t know if I should let her fall asleep, afraid I’d accidentally overdosed her. When I checked the bottle of Benadryl, there was still a lot left, and the label said it would cause drowsiness. “It’s okay, go to sleep.” She passed out before I finished speaking.

I rubbed the cream on her stomach, but when I got to her chest I hesitated. I didn’t think she realized I took her top off, or maybe she didn’t care.

I lifted my T-shirt off her chest and cringed.

Her boobs were a mess. Raised welts covered her skin, some of them already crusting over with dried blood.

I stayed focused, thinking only about helping her, and I applied the cream carefully with my fingertips. When I finished, I checked her over to see if I’d missed any welts.

Her skin color was back to normal and the swelling had disappeared. I waited a bit longer, and then I picked her up and carried her to the life raft.

Chapter 23 – Anna

I opened my eyes and sighed in relief at the absence of burning, stinging pain. T.J. slept beside me, his breathing deep and steady. Naked from the waist up, something soft covered my chest like a blanket. I sat up and slipped the T-shirt over my head, inhaling the familiar smell of T.J. I rolled over on my side and slept again.

In the morning, I woke up alone. I pulled the hem of my T-shirt up. The faint red outline of the tentacles remained and probably would for quite some time. Raising it higher, I cringed at the condition of my breasts. Dark red streaks covered them, crusted and bloody. I let the T-shirt fall, stepped into shorts, and left the house to go to the bathroom.

T.J. was making a fire when I returned.

He stood up. “How do you feel?”

“Almost back to normal.” I lifted my T-shirt a little and showed him my stomach. He traced the marks with his finger.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, not really.”

“What about?” He pointed at my chest.

“Not as good.”

“I’m sorry. There were some tentacles inside your top, stinging you, and I didn’t notice right away.”

I had no recollection of him taking off my top, only the burning pain. “That’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“You turned red and swelled up.”

“I did?” I didn’t remember that either.

“I gave you Benadryl. It knocked you out. “

“You did exactly the right thing.”

He walked into the house and returned with the tube of cortisone cream. “I rubbed this on your skin. It seemed to help. You told me it did before you fell asleep.”

I took the tube from his outstretched hand. Had he rubbed it on my breasts, too? I pictured myself lying on the sand, wearing only the bottom half of my swimsuit while T.J. rubbed the cream onto my skin, and suddenly I couldn’t look at him.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Did you see the jellyfish before it stung you?”

“No, I just felt the pain.”

“I’ve never seen one in the lagoon.”

“Me neither. That one must have taken a wrong turn at the reef.” I walked into the house to get my toothbrush, squeezing a miniscule amount of toothpaste onto it. When I came out, I said, “At least it wasn’t one of the deadly ones.”

T.J. looked at me with an alarmed expression. “Jellyfish can kill you?”

I pulled the toothbrush out of my mouth. “Some of them.”

We stayed out of the water that day. I walked along the shore, squinting into the distance and checking for jellyfish, reminding myself that just because we couldn’t see the dangers of the ocean didn’t mean they weren’t there. I also wondered if the first-aid kit would someday cease to contain the one thing we needed to save either of our lives.

***

In June of 2003, T.J. and I had been living on the island for two years. I had turned thirty-two in May, and T.J. would be nineteen in a few months. He stood at least six-two by then, and there was nothing boyish about him. Sometimes, when I watched him fish, repair the house, or emerge from the woods that he knew like the back of his hand, I wondered if he thought of the island as his own. A place where he could do whatever he wanted and anything was acceptable, as long as we stayed alive.

***

We sat cross-legged, facing each other near the water’s edge so I could shave him. He leaned forward, resting his hands on my thighs for balance.