Passengers were less excited in their ambient conversations, tired from a day’s worth of physical exertion. From her seat Zoe watched as the boat attendants performed a headcount, making sure everyone was on board and accounted for. It occurred to her that had her plan not been interrupted by a certain stranger they would be minus one passenger. What would have been the protocol? Call her name over the loudspeaker? Send someone to search for her on the island? She hadn’t considered any of the possibilities before and now, in spite of the change in direction her life had suddenly taken, she felt almost guilty that any extra effort would have gone towards looking for her.
She leaned back into her seat and felt her shoulder brush against Evan’s. She knew he was sitting next to her, and desperately wanted to barrage him with questions about what had happened, why he did whatever it was that he did. He didn’t move at her touch, but let her shoulder rest innocuously against his own. A few minutes later the boat pulled away from the dock and began the return to Ventura. The chatter increased around them and she felt certain they could speak with no one else listening.
“Evan,” she spoke. His name sounded foreign coming from her mouth. What could she possibly ask him that would make any sense of the situation? “I have questions, but...” she trailed off.
“I’m sure you do,” he replied when she did not continue. He turned to face her and the briefest of smiles stretched his mouth. Even he looked like he couldn’t make sense of the situation.
“I have no idea where to start.” An exasperated laugh escaped as she exhaled. She paused for a moment, trying to connect her thoughts into some sort of linear fashion. “Were you following me?” she finally asked.
His eyebrows creased again, creating a deep line between them. “Yes, I did follow you.”
“Before the boat?”
“No, after we arrived on the island.” His eyes explored hers plaintively. Why did this seem to be as difficult for him as it was for her?
“Why?” she asked. Despite her confusion she found herself scared of what his answer might be. He could be anyone; dangerous or sociopathic, a deviant criminal or someone completely unhinged. The truth of the matter was he was a complete stranger and the interest he took in her in just a few short hours should have been unwelcome. Of course, there was also the possibility that he was a Good Samaritan, a man who was in the right place at the right time, and who acted on instinct because it was in his constitution to do so. There was nothing about him that appeared dangerous or even malicious. He seemed kind and enthusiastic when they first met, and nothing about him set off alarms warning her to be cautious. A perfect stranger he may have been, but he gave no indication that he was a terrible perfect stranger.
“You seemed... sad, sadder than what I assume is normal. I had a feeling that you came to the island not to explore but to stay. Indefinitely.” He turned his head back towards the ocean, watching the island shrink as the boat drifted further away from it. The word ‘indefinitely’ had a sting of finality that sounded incongruous with her reasoning.
“Most people would have just gone on with their day,” she remarked. Amidst the emulsion of feelings within her one in particular rose to the surface. Shame. It was never her intention for anyone to be involved in her plans. Truthfully, she hadn’t considered what anyone would have thought after she was gone anyway. She was alone in the world, had no true friendships, and genuinely believed her absence would go largely unnoticed. Someone like Evan entering the picture was never a consideration.
“You’re probably right,” he replied softly.
“I never once saw you following me.”
“I never meant for you to.” He turned his head so he was looking at her, and there was expectation on his face. She knew the question she was dying to ask but felt was impossible.
“You watched me from the cliff?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“And you saw... what exactly?”
“You were standing at the cliff for a long time, just still and silent, and then you were running. I watched as you jumped off the cliff.”
It took all of her effort to swallow the unwelcome lump of shame that rose in her throat. She remembered the way the air moved around her skin as she ran towards the cliff and the smile as she moved through the air.
“If you saw me jump then how is it I ended up on the beach miles away?” She watched as the lines returned to his face, deepening in his skin. The crease between his eyebrows looked as though it might cut through to his skull.
The buzz of chatter quieted down some. All around them people were settling into their seats, eager to get back to the harbor and go on with their lives. She adjusted her position in the plastic seat, inching closer to him for an extra shred of privacy. Her arm and leg brushed against him again,, and the feeling was familiar, as though she had felt it intimately before. There would be no other choice than to accept the fact that, despite the absolute improbability of its truthfulness, it had been his arms she felt catch around her mid-air.