Cristelle Comby - Alone Together

Before I knew what hit me, Anne-Marie grabbed my arm out of nowhere and pulled me to my feet. The change in stance was jarring. It took me some time to be able to focus on her face. I noticed that she looked worried. She was talking, or at least she seemed to be. Only problem was that her words were garbled and distant. Even if I knew her dialect, it’d be hard to understand over the sound of blood thrumming in my ears.

She glanced down at the fallen mushrooms, then at me, then back down. And then she did the most stupid thing I ever saw. She started tramping all over them with her feet. I reached forward, tried stopping her, but the world spun around me and the lights went out.

I was barely aware of her helping me back to the crash site, pausing to lean me against a tree while I threw up. The next thing I knew, a blanket was being laid over me. Beneath my closed eyelids, I could see the world spinning and spinning and spinning.

Upon waking up, I looked over to see how Killian was faring. He seemed in a better disposition than last night, sitting crossed-legged against the back wall of our shack while writing stuff down on a napkin. His back was ramrod-straight, his hand moving jerkily on the fragile piece of paper. I didn’t need to catch his gaze to know this was going to be a difficult day.

Nonetheless, he looked up at me—just a brief glance my way—before returning his attention to the items in his hands. What little expression I caught from him was enough to tell me that he was angry at me… again… for whatever reason. It wasn’t like I’d been expecting thanks, but still… Didn’t Killian know those mushrooms were poisonous? That I’d saved his life when I’d made him throw them up?

Sometimes, the ignorance of this man astounded me. It was nearly as vast as his arrogance, which itself was comparable in size to the sea we were surrounded by. But this was our dance, wasn’t it? Every time it felt like we were making a little progress, something would happen that would make him take two steps back.

Well, I was getting tired of always being the one stepping forward. You’d think that in a situation as dire as ours, sticking together would be a bigger deal than his petty sensitivities. But no, it wasn’t, not for Killian. And there were only so many times I could have my good efforts thrown back in my face before I took it personally.

With my thoughts swirling and my anger simmering close to the surface, I decided that I needed some time alone today, far away from Killian. Without any attempt at communication, I walked off, spear in hand.

My anger started to dissipate once I’d put some distance between us. As I walked down the path to the beach, I started to think of how I’d begun to feel at ease on this island. This, after all, was my first big trip abroad, my first real holiday away from home, if you want to call it that. And what a holiday it’d turned out to be!

To think that before this trip, I’d only ever been on a plane once. It’d been for a school trip, a week spent in Italy visiting museums and old churches. Aside from that, I’d been abroad a handful of times, though never this far from home. This was all new to me, and so I breathed it in with refreshing vigour.

Chamoson had been my home all my life. I’d been surrounded by millions of green lanes of grapevines that thrived on the exposed mountainside. I enjoyed caring for them and they seemed to enjoy caring for me right back, going by the juice and later wine that they produced so fruitfully. I’d always liked it there. I knew every street and shortcut. I greeted all the food store cashiers by name, never had to explain to the hairdresser how to cut my hair because she already knew how I liked it. Everyone was family, living a you-scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch-yours way of life. What more could I have asked for?

We were such a tight-knit community. I knew almost everyone and almost everyone knew me—if not by name, then by sight. I was the Legrand daughter they’d seen in the vineyard shop or working in the fields. My parents owned one of the biggest wineries in the village and I’d been helping out the family business ever since I was old enough to do it. Sure, it was hard work, but I knew nothing else. I was raised picking grapes and hauling baskets in the expectation of keeping the family business going after my parents were dead. They always kind of sheltered me from learning about the outside world. Their biggest fear was that I would want to explore and no longer be part of their long-term business plan if I found something better.

Well, this trip was going to be a life-changing event. The awkward teen with family issues that’d left Switzerland was going to come back in a couple of months a changed woman. She’d be someone who’d ‘seen the world’. As fraught as this journey had been, it’d also been my chance to break free from home once and for all, to get away from the cycle of work that I had found myself born into. That was my true goal for going abroad: to come back a better person who would be proud of me for exploring and leaving in the first place. After that, I wanted to move on and keep on going. There were much brighter horizons in my future beyond my little village.

Or so I thought.

Instead, I was now stuck on a desert island, taking orders from a snappy old man with an attitude problem. Damn if this wasn’t turning out to be too much like home , I thought, readying my spear near the tide pool. Aside from a few brief moments of clarity, Killian was disrespectful, egotistical and narcissistic. His attitude was not something that was in either of our best interests for survival on this island. Every idea that I’d come up with so far had been brilliant enough to work out for our collective good, so he had no right bossing me around or lashing out at me just because he felt like it. I didn’t deserve his insecurity and jealousy and I wasn’t going to take it anymore. I’d stopped being a child a while ago, so it was past time I stopped acting like one.

I marched back to the cabin later that evening, five fish riding on my spear. My anger was back with a vengeance, motivating me towards a decision I’d needed to make for some time now: take charge. Either I had to take control of this pathetic, unhealthy old man’s negativity or it would be the end for both of us.

I found him sitting by the fire, still trying to tie pieces of rope together in a poor attempt at making a net. Since the sun had already set and I knew what a stubborn old goat he was, it was easy for me to guess that he’d been at it all day. Not only did he have nothing to show for it, I saw that he hadn’t even gone looking for berries.

I took out the piece of wood I’d been using as a carving board. I prepared today’s catch and laid it on the flat surface without a word. I caught Killian looking up just before his attention returned to that mess of tangled rope that would never be a net. Then I caught another brief glance, too little emotion attached to it.

“You’re not even going to thank me?” I asked, fish in one hand, a jagged piece of metal in the other.

My question was met with no answer. Given the language barrier, it was pointless to expect one. But I felt my temper flare regardless. Every time I’d try to motion out a thankful gesture to him, he’d look at me at first like a deer in headlights, then like I was headless—it was no use.

I finished emptying the fish, and then cooked all five of them as crispy as can be. I didn’t care that Killian liked his juicy and a little undercooked. Today, it was all about how I liked them, given that I caught them. Mister Insufferable was going to have to take what I caught, what I cooked, and what I decided was his share. And he’d better be thankful for that much.