Tatjana Soli - The Last Good Paradise

Wende bit her lip as Dex buried his head in her neck.

“Oh, baby, it was awful,” he said.

She stroked his back, distracted. “You fell out of a tree?”

“I thought it died. But it’s back. The best.”

“The tree?”

“The song.”

Wende rolled her eyes at Ann, with an I-told-you-so expression. “That’s great. Let’s eat.”

“This song changes everything. If only Robby could hear it.”

Ann looked pointedly at Loren, who kept passing dishes and offered nothing in the way of assistance.

Finally she got up. “Come with me,” she said.

The two couples went to Ann and Richard’s fare (Richard embarrassed that it looked almost threadbare in comparison with Dex and Wende’s), and they pointed flashlights into the plunge pool while Ann poked around the grassy bottom with her foot.

“Here it is,” she said, pulling up the dripping sat-phone. Thank God Javi had thought far enough to get a waterproof one.

“You could probably store it in a drawer,” Richard said.

Dex called Robby, and they talked briefly. Once Robby turned his recorder on, Dex played his guitar and sang into the phone. They all clapped at the end.

“Let’s celebrate!” Dex howled. “Where’s my herbalista? Cooked!”

* * *

The next morning they lounged around the breakfast table hungover. Loren had deigned to make an appearance after avoiding the partying the night before. He wanted to see Ann, but she had not come out yet.

“I’m bored,” Wende said.

“Do you know about the island’s cannibalism?” Loren asked her.

Field trip. Everyone would go, with Titi and Cooked bringing lunch later. At the last minute, Ann canceled, deciding to stay in bed for the morning. Loren took them the clockwise route around the island, slyly dodging the camera by turning inland and walking a few hundred yards into a palm grove in which stood a rubble of stones and a large cut block. He was irritated that he wasn’t seeing the one person he planned the trip for.

“What’s this?” Richard asked, brushing away dead leaves. He snatched his hand back as an eight-inch-long banana-yellow centipede went scurrying for cover.

“Be careful,” Loren said. “Those are poisonous.”

The place was clearly not on the list of must-sees for the resort’s regular clientele. Loren used a fallen palm frond to clear off the overgrown debris. The stone dais was big — the size of a mattress. On top were carved figures, the largest a whalelike fish on which there were cup-sized depressions.

“This is where they did human sacrifices. Those were used to collect the blood.”

“Yuck.” Wende turned away, hot, pocked with mosquito bites, sorry she had come. Why hadn’t she stayed on the beach, drinking like Dex wanted? But then she felt ashamed. That was the old Wende. She turned back and forced herself to stare into the stone cups, imagining them full.

“Real live cannibals?” Dex said.

“On the Marquesas. The last owner of the island had this brought here.”

“Why?”

“He bought it cheap from a chieftain over there. But then things got confused. He wasn’t allowed to send it out of the country to the museum that paid for it.”

“So he left it?” Richard asked.

“Yes. He left it. There was a lawsuit when he lost the island to me. The government forgot about it. Then he died. End of story. Ready for lunch?”

* * *

To “make nice” with Richard after the tattoo, Ann agreed to go out on the boat for a day of diving even though she was loath to lose a day full of solitude. Wende joined the men in the water, and all three came back with tales of black-tipped sharks whipping by.

Cooked assured them that the sharks were harmless. “They just check you out. Bump, bump,” he said, grinning at Wende.

When they motored to a sheltered cove for snorkeling, Ann still would not join in.

“Don’t be scared,” Wende said. “I’ll protect you.”

Ann bit her lip, not wanting to mention the unresolved shark circling her thigh that very moment. Wende seemed a bit weak in the execution stage. They finally convinced Ann to float in the shallowest part, but every moment in the water she was on the lookout for an approaching dark shape and didn’t rest until she was back safely in the boat. She missed the mysterious largeness of a day spent alone on the beach — the description of what paradise should be. What was Loren doing? She smiled, thinking he was undoubtfully grateful for the reprieve of an afternoon without entertaining.

Back on shore, evening came in another blaze of violet.

* * *

It was understood that Cooked and Titi were betrothed to each other from childhood and would marry in the future. It was also understood that Cooked fell for the tourists once in a while. As per custom, both were allowed to have outside casual relationships before marriage, but Titi had already had her experience and wanted no more. She pretended Cooked’s excursions didn’t bother her, but this time, especially, Wende did.

The locals working the hotels were used to coddling tourists like spoiled children. Foreigners had the most outlandish ideas about life on the islands, as if it were some kind of paradise, another Eden. As if Tahitians didn’t have all the regular problems that existed back home and then some. On vacation, tourists loved it when you fussed over them, brought them their favorite fruit all cut up and served in a pineapple boat for breakfast as if they were small children. Not only did they smile, but then they tipped big. They wanted you to stroke and pamper them in luxury. They pretended to want to know the history of the islands, but they did not want to know the reality. The businessmen from Papeete came and built, destroyed the ecosystems of land and water, made money and left. They drove the gods away. Some of their own people betrayed them, profited by pretending development meant progress. Instead, their home had become a ghetto in paradise. So why was this girl so nosy?

This was the first time Cooked had taken a tourist home. Taboo. Even if it was just to get away from the crybaby Dex, he had crossed an unspoken line. He had told the girl everything and included her in his crazy schemes that even Titi refused to have anything to do with. Why would a big-breasted blond American girl get involved in their trouble? It made no sense unless — Titi swooned — she had fallen in love with him. Women did crazy things for their men.

As much as Cooked complained about how the French cheated, he was flattered when one of the foreign women found him attractive. Besides everything else, this was bad for business. Titi was the one who charged on the manna line of Dex Cooper’s credit card every week. The nice lady’s bag of money grew smaller each week. He was keeping them open. Other tourists would be more demanding.

* * *

Titi had first started at the resort as the maid after being a poli-sci major in college. Cooked was the boat driver and dive instructor; he had been studying for a phys-ed degree. Now they also had added the chores that Loren had dropped over the last year. She became concierge, bookkeeper, and cook. She was even thinking of taking an online course in web design to build a new website for the place. Cooked took on the work of handyman and now, apparently, gigolo. What couldn’t be replaced, what Loren did expertly, was entertain foreigners. When he discovered Cooked’s plan, he would be furious. Titi had to stop it without getting Cooked fired, or causing the foreigners and their money to leave.

Loren had been drunk almost every day for the last five years she worked there. Sometimes he disappeared for days, and they covered for him as best they could. This sickness was a new complication they couldn’t keep hidden for much longer. What to do? Titi recalled Bette and Lilou from when they were all children together, playing on the beach. Her grandmother told her that one of the girls, Bette, had died from a disease. She supposed it was true because the only letters that had ever come over the years were from Lilou. None had come for a very long time now. Was it time at last to make amends for the past?