Chapter 15

Brandon wasn’t out for long before the smell of the burgers he’d picked up penetrated the darkness and helped him will himself back to the world of the living. He opened his eyes slightly, still too afraid to move his head or anything else for that matter, and could barely make out Eve standing over the single burner stove, her back to him.

“Are you okay?” He murmured as he sat up. Eve dropped what she’d been holding and span around to face him, her face visibly relieved.

“Am I okay?” She nearly yelled, “You had me worried to death!” She crossed the floor and was kneeling beside him on the bed in no time.

“You were crying…” Brandon began, but wasn’t sure how to finish his line of questioning or how long ago that was.

“I don’t think now’s the time to talk about it. Can you can eat?” Eve’s eyes, slowly coming into focus, grew distant upon his questioning. He decided not to pursue it, though not because she’d requested that, but more because he didn’t think he had it in him.

“I could eat a cow,” Brandon’s stomach rumbled in agreement. He sat up slowly and Eve, still hovering over him, put her hands up as though she wanted to help him but was worried touching him would only make things worse. She was probably right. From his new vantage point, Brandon saw that Eve had disassembled the burgers and was warming the hamburger patties up in a frying pan.

“How about just the ground up parts of one?” Eve slid back off the bed and returned to her work. In just a second she had his meal reassembled and on a plate for him. She left hers cooking as she delivered his.

“You’re an amazing woman,” Brandon meant it as a replacement for simply saying ‘thanks’ but her face betrayed a sadness his comment seemed to remind her of. Brandon wondered if she’d actually come here to tell him she couldn’t see him anymore. It was a reasonable assumption.

“I’m a lot of things, Brandon. Amazing isn’t really one of them,” it was the first time Brandon had ever heard her make that tone of voice. It felt oddly intimate, to experience someone’s sadness like that. It wasn’t how she would talk to a stranger on the street, and to Brandon, that meant something.

“Agree to disagree,” he replied chewing, wanting to drop it without making it seem like he was accepting her response. He shoved the burger into his mouth and took another huge bite. His head throbbed a bit at the exercise, but it was worth it. Eve made herself a plate and then dumped the fries into the still heated pan. She sat beside him and they ate in silence until Brandon’s burger was gone.

“I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” Brandon observed, mouth watering at the smell of the fries on the stove.

“What the hell happened to you?” Eve asked him. She was still visibly upset.

“I guess I just pushed myself a bit too hard today… I really need to get my hands on some pain killers,” Brandon considered standing up and getting the fries for himself, but opted instead to wait patiently for Eve’s able body to retrieve them.

“Jesus Brandon, you have to let yourself heal up,” it had been a long time since he’d had a woman speak to him like that.

“You’re right… you’re right,” even if she wasn’t, he wasn’t going to argue with her and add further stress to their situation. Eve looked into his eyes for what felt like the first time ever. There was something different to them tonight, not just sadness, but concern and stress. He wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that she’d been crying for a better part of the day. She was emotionally exhausted.

“How’s the pain now?” She stood up and took his plate over to the pan full of French fries.

“It’s a little better,” which was his polite way of saying it was awful, but not bad enough to lose consciousness again.

“Good,” she poured all the fries onto his plate and left hers on the counter. Brandon understood her relief. She didn’t want to feel like she had to keep coming back to take care of him.

“Listen… if you want to go, I mean, if you don’t want to be here,” he fought back the twinge behind his eyes that he knew would lead to tears. It’s been two days you drama queen, he thought angrily at himself.

“What? No, I… I’m sorry, I know what this must look like,” she acknowledged at least that something was certainly wrong, “it’s… complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Brandon didn’t care that his voice betrayed his sadness.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I feel awful about what happened to you and part of me is scared I only feel this way because of that,” her emotions began to pour out and her eyes welled like Brandon had been afraid his were going to a minute ago, “I have a boyfriend, Brandon. We’ve been together for five years; I don’t do things like this, this isn’t me.” She put the plate down on the bed next to her as she sat. Through the emotional turmoil, he wondered how insensitive it would seem to grab a few. He decided not to try.

“I understand… Eve… I,” he wanted to tell her the truth, admit that he stood to lose a lot too, have her say his real name out loud just once, they could run away together and start a new life where he didn’t have to be unhappy, “I don’t want to be a problem. Maybe you’re right. We’ve both got lives to get back to,” he placed his hand on hers, “your life is still back there waiting for you just the way you left it.”

“What if that doesn’t feel good enough anymore?” She looked over to him. Brandon didn’t know how to respond. He opened his mouth slightly, hoping the right words would come to him but before they could, Eve leaned in and kissed him deeply. Brandon focused on how it felt to be this close to her, assuming this was to be a goodbye kiss. When it was over, they both looked back to the floor quietly. He wondered if she was as confused about what just happened as he was.

“I thought that I was happy,” Eve didn’t seem to be talking to him. A single tear rolled down her left cheek and Brandon fought the urge to brush it off her.

“Now what do you think?” He was terrified to ask.

“Now all I can think about is laying around a shitty apartment with a man I barely know,” she looked up from the floor and over at him with an expression that begged him to understand.

“It’s not that shitty, is it?” He kidded her. Brandon gave her a little shove with his good hand.

“It’s pretty shitty,” Eve laughed through the tears that were starting to pour. Brandon wrapped an arm around her, unsure that it was the right thing to do, but trusting his gut. She didn’t pull away, that was good enough for him.

“So now what?” He asked her.

“I have no idea,” her eyes were fixed on a point on the floor.

“You wanna eat some re-warmed French fries off a dirty plate with a guy you barely know in a shitty apartment?” Eve laughed again.

“Yeah… I think I do.” Her smile was beautiful, even amidst the tears, maybe even more because of them. Brandon brought the plate up and set it down on his leg. They each grabbed a few and filled their mouths.

“What do we do when the fries are gone?”

“I guess we’ll just play it by ear.” Eve spoke with her mouthful. It was too adorable for him to stand.

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” Brandon replied, “but you better believe I’m gonna eat these fries as slow as I can.” Eve laughed and leaned into him. It hurt, but he wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Eve spent that night in Brandon’s apartment. The following morning, Brandon awoke to the sound of thunder, only to find her gone. The sound of rain falling on the tin roof that usually did so much to relax him sounded different to him now as he lay in his empty bed. It had never felt empty before.

He felt certain he wouldn’t see her again, or worse, he would in passing on the street. He’d look at her, unable to hide the sadness her absence created and she’d look back. Maybe she’d be sad too. Then he’d go back to reading his newspapers and writing his reports, drinking himself to sleep and caffeinating himself back to life. She’d go home to her boyfriend, a man that may never know that in the game of life, he’d won. They’d love and fight, he’d get sick of her and fall in love with her all over again. They could raise a family, buy a house and spend Christmases with grandkids that would have to fly in from out of state. An entire life she’d have had to give up to be with him, how could he ever have expected her to do that? No, it had never been an option. All Brandon would ever be to Eve was a couple days in Honduras. A story she’d never tell.

Life is never quite what we hoped it would be, that was something Brandon had learned a long time before, but over the past few days he’d realized that his unhappiness wasn’t because life didn’t turn out right… life had simply never turned out at all. He’d spend the past two years waiting, but never knew what he was waiting for. He did his best to just get through each day, never realizing that eventually, when you string enough days you “managed to get through” together you find yourself thirty-two years into a failed life. Brandon grew up certain that one day he’d be a man he could be proud of, it lead him to join the Marines, to go back to school, to take this job that felt more and more like a prison each day lately. Now, laying there on his uncomfortable mattress, sore and swollen, broken and alone, Brandon realized that Eve was exactly what he didn’t know he was waiting for. She was the answer to the question he’d worked so hard to keep himself too drunk or too busy to ask… she made him realize that he was still a person: a person with dreams and aspirations that extended beyond the shoreline of this shitty little island. That wouldn’t bring her back though. Maybe, if Brandon was willing to extend his beliefs in a way that was large enough to encompass the idea of fate, or a God with a plan, he’d be able to recognize the value of the hurt, the lesson loneliness has to teach, but as Brandon watched the alarm clock flip over to six, a single tear rolling from the corner of his eyes down to his pillow, he didn’t believe in any God. Alone is an infinite term… and Brandon was alone.

After a few minutes, Brandon made himself sit up and put his feet on the ground. He had a report to write and with the weather what it was, there was little reason to suspect much work would be getting done on the pier. There was no need to get dressed, no need to venture out into the rain on unsure feet and in pain, but Brandon didn’t care much about what needed to be done. He slid a pair of shorts onto his naked body and walked slowly to the door. The rain was coming down too hard to make out the sound of rain drops and instead all he could hear was the low static hum of a downpour that Brandon could feel in his chest. He opened the door and was hit in the face by sideways rain, blown about by the wind’s attempts to free itself from the valley his building and the others around it created. He stepped out into the elements and let the rain soak him. The faded and stretched tattoo on Brandon’s left arm that once had been the poem “Invictus” but now looked more like a simple line spiraling down toward his elbow shone black and shiny as when it was new as the rain embraced him. Brandon had an overwhelming feeling of change, as though this would be the day he got his life back on track… but knew it was nothing more than the short lived emotional fall out of heart break. Tomorrow, the world would keep spinning as it had, he’d keep living as he had, and eventually, Eve would be another memory, another story like so many others: that time he almost lived.

After a few minutes of standing in the rain, the water and wind began to wear through him and he decided to head back inside to get dry and warm. He toweled off and changed his shorts before sitting down at his counter. There was work to be done and no reason not to do it. He barely knew Eve and knew he had no right to be heartbroken. Knowing something isn’t the same as feeling it though, and Brandon’s mind was still swimming in the events of the night prior when his computer finished booting up. He clicked the mouse a few times, opened a new document, and got to work. He’d have his report in by noon today.

Eventually, Brandon knew he’d have to eat something. He’d only eaten once yesterday and despite the emotional turmoil of his morning, biology still had demands. It was late afternoon before he was able to convince himself to stand up and get dressed. His physical condition paired with the rest of the bottle of scotch made the process a bit longer and a bit harder than he’d hoped, but eventually he was ready to make the short trip to the local market. The rain had lulled to a light drizzle but Brandon was already pretty wet by the time he arrived. The small woman whose name Brandon had learned multiple times but somehow could never remember barely acknowledged his presence as he picked up a can of chili and a few bottles of water. She rang the items up without a word and Brandon didn’t wait for change after paying. As he walked back down the muddy streets of Roatan Island, the clouds opened up and began to pour once again. Brandon did nothing to alter his pace, not that he could if he had wanted to, and continued along in the middle of the road where it remained the most solid despite the deluge. He came over the crest of the small hill separating his end of the street from most of the shops and saw a slender figure sitting on the step of his apartment. There, holding her jacket above her head as an impromptu umbrella was Eve, soaked and shivering, waiting for him.

Brandon didn’t know he could move as quickly as he did when he saw her, his injured and healthy body parts worked together in a sync he wouldn’t have thought possible, allowing him to close the distance between them in just a few minutes. Eve looked up from her feet when he was only a few paces away and immediately stood to meet him in stride.

“I wasn’t going to come back,” she spoke as though he was coming into the middle of a conversation she’d already started.

“I didn’t think you would,” Brandon wasn’t sure what her being there meant.

“I choose this, whatever this is, whoever you are…” Eve was still deep amidst a conversation about the two of them Brandon was only now becoming privy to.

“You choose this?” Brandon raised his broken hand and gestured at the muddy streets and broken down buildings, “you have a life, Eve. It can be a good one, but it won’t be here,” Brandon found himself convincing her to do the opposite of what he wished she would.

“I don’t care. I don’t care, Brandon. Something about this is right and if I don’t give it a try I’ll always wish I had. You can think I’m just a silly girl with a crush or that I’m running away from something,”

“I never did once.” Brandon interrupted her.

“Well I did. I’ve been telling myself all afternoon that all of this was just some combination of those things, mixed with a handsome guy and a tropical country,” Eve trailed off and paused before continuing again, “maybe all of that’s even true, but what I want is to be right here in this crappy country with you right now. I don’t know what I want for next week, or next year, but this is what I want right now… but… I need to know, what do you want?”

Brandon stood silent, unable to think of the words to convey how he felt, unsure of words in general, and just stared at this beautiful woman. Her hair was soaked and clinging to the sides of her face, her jeans and blue tee shirt were dark with rain water and the jean jacket that she had used as an umbrella before now hung limp in her left hand. Mascara ran down her face either from the rain or tears or both and Brandon could have, given the time and a laptop, written a thousand pages about the way her lower lip quivered when she was upset, but still couldn’t bring himself to utter a single word. Eve looked down at the ground, her shoulders slumped as though she’d been defeated and as Brandon looked at her in a loving but confused stupor, she seemed so small against a backdrop of what seemed like an entire world poised to keep them apart. Brandon stepped closer to her, but she didn’t react physically to his proximity.

“I… I need you, Brandon.” She didn’t say it to him, but to the mud rising up around her pink and white tennis shoes.

“That isn’t my name.”