Later, we sat by the fire eating fish, barely keeping our eyes open. Thankfully, the life raft continued to hold air and when the sun went down T.J. and I went to bed. I fell asleep instantly, my head resting on my slightly damp seat cushion.

***

I swam back and forth in the lagoon. T.J. was working on rebuilding the house, but he promised to join me as soon as he finished nailing a few more boards.

His desire to get a roof over our heads again consumed him, and in the six weeks since the storm, he’d made remarkable progress. He’d finished the framing and shifted his focus to putting up the walls. Having already built the house once his pace was faster this time around, and he would have worked around the clock if I didn’t convince him to take a break.

I was treading water when he appeared on the beach. Suddenly, he ran toward the shore, yelling and motioning for me to get out. I couldn’t figure out why he was so upset, so I turned around.

I spotted the fin seconds before it disappeared below the surface. I knew by the size and shape of it that it wasn’t a dolphin.

T.J. ran into the water yelling, “Swim Anna, swim!”

Afraid to look over my shoulder, I swam faster than I thought possible. I still couldn’t touch the ocean floor, but T.J. reached me, yanked me by the arm, and pulled me to shallower water. I found my footing, and we ran.

I shook all over. T.J. grabbed me by my shoulders and said, “You’re okay.”

“How long do you think that’s been swimming around in our lagoon?” I asked.

T.J. scanned the turquoise water. “I don’t know.”

“What kind do you think it was?”

“Reef maybe?”

“You can’t go fishing, T.J.” He often stood in waist deep water, since our fishing line wasn’t very long.

“I’d get out if I saw the fin.”

“Unless you didn’t see it.”

We spent the next few days by the shore, watching for the shark. The surface of the lagoon remained unbroken, and the water stayed calm and still. The dolphins came, but I wouldn’t go in. We took turns bathing, but we agreed to stay near the shore, only going in a few feet to rinse ourselves.

A full week passed without either of us seeing the shark. We thought it had gone away for good, that its appearance in the lagoon had been an anomaly, like the jellyfish.

T.J. started fishing again.

A few days later, I sat near the shore shaving my legs. T.J. walked up with the fish he’d caught, watching as I dragged the razor slowly up my leg, nicking my knee and drawing blood. He winced.

“The blade is dull,” I explained.

He sat down next to me. “You can’t go near the water right now, Anna.” And that’s how I knew the shark was back.

He told me he had just pulled the last fish in when he spotted it. “It swam back and forth parallel to the shore, with just the tip of its fin sticking out of the water. It looked like it was hunting.”

“Don’t fish anymore, T.J. Please.”

There were days I could hardly choke down the fish that made up the bulk of our diet. We checked the shore daily for crab, hoping for a little variety, but we almost never found them and neither of us could figure out why. The breadfruit and coconut would sustain us, but I realized how hungry we would be as long as the shark lurked in the lagoon.

Another two weeks passed without either of us seeing it. I still wouldn’t go near the water, except to bathe and then only up to my knees. Our stomachs growled constantly. T.J. wanted to fish, but I begged him not to.

I pictured the shark, waiting patiently for one of us to venture in too far. T.J. believed the shark had moved on, that it had finally decided there was nothing in the lagoon it wanted. Our conflicting theories caused more than one disagreement between us.

I had long since abandoned the notion that I held any kind of rank over T.J. I may have been older and had more life experience, but that didn’t matter on the island. We took each day as it came, addressing and solving problems together. But placing yourself in the natural habitat of an animal that could eat you struck me as the epitome of stupid, and I told T.J. so which is probably why, when I saw him fishing near dinnertime two days later, in waist deep water, I went ballistic.

I waved my arms back and forth to get his attention, jumping up and down on the sand. “Get out right now!”

He took his time getting out of the water, walked up to me, and said, “What is your deal?”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m fishing. I’m hungry, and so are you.”

“Hungry is not dead T.J., and you are not invincible!” I poked him hard in the chest after each word, and he grabbed my hand to stop me from poking him again.

“Jesus Christ, calm down!”

“You told me not to go in the water the other day and now you’re standing in it up to your waist like it’s no big deal.”

“You were bleeding, Anna! And you wouldn’t go near the water now if I begged you to, so don’t act like you need my permission,” he yelled.

“Why are you so determined to put yourself in danger, even after I asked you not to?”

“Because whether or not I get in the water is my decision, Anna, not yours.”

“Your decisions have a direct effect on me, T.J., so I think I have every right to weigh in when those decisions are asinine!” Tears sprang to my eyes, and my lip quivered. I turned my back on him and stomped away. He didn’t follow.

T.J. had finished rebuilding the house the week before. I walked in the door and lay down in the life raft. When I was done crying, I took deep, calming breaths, and I must have dozed because when I opened my eyes, T.J. was lying on his back beside me, awake.

“I’m sorry,” we both said at the same time.

“Jinx. You owe me a Coke,” I said. “I want a big one, with extra ice.”

He smiled. “It’s the first thing I’ll do when we get off this island.”

I propped myself up on one elbow, facing him. “I freaked out. I’m just so scared.”

“I really do think the shark is gone.”

“It’s not just the shark, T.J.” I took a deep breath. “I care about you, very much, and I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, or dying. I can only handle being here because you’re with me.”

“You could survive, Anna. You can do everything I can, and you’d be okay.”

“I would not be okay. I’m fine being on my own back home, but not here, T.J. Not on this island.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I imagined the isolation and pain I would feel if T.J. was gone. “I don’t know if you can die of loneliness, but after a while I might want to,” I whispered.

He sat up a little and put his hand on my forearm. “Don’t ever say that.”

“It’s true. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

He didn’t say anything at first, but he wouldn’t look directly at me. Finally, he nodded and said, “After the bat bit you.”

Tears poured from my eyes and ran down my face. T.J. pulled me down onto his chest and held me while I cried, rubbing my back and waiting for me to finish. Neither of us wore much – a pair of shorts for him and a swimsuit for me – and the skin-on-skin contact soothed me in a way I didn’t expect. He smelled like the ocean and that was a scent I’d forever associate with him.

I sighed, content in the release that came with a good cry. It had been so long since anyone held me I didn’t want to move. Finally, I raised my head. He cupped my face in his hands and wiped my tears with his thumbs.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

He looked into my eyes and said, “I’ll never leave you alone, Anna. Not if I can help it.”

“Then please don’t go in the water.”

“Okay.” He wiped a few more tears. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out. We always do.”

“I’m just so tired, T.J.”

“Then close your eyes.”

He misunderstood me. I meant tired in general, from always having a new problem to solve and constantly worrying about one of us getting sick or hurt. It would be dark soon, though, and it felt so good being in his arms. I put my head back down and shut my eyes.