I sniff again and nod. “Okay.”
Wiping my cheeks, I feel my despair give way to shame. I stare at the ground, trying to compose myself. “Sorry. I don’t normally fall apart like that.”
When I finally look up at him, his face is filled with compassion. “Can I tell you something?”
I nod and dab daintily at my eyes.
“The first night is always the worst. I promise. And it really will get better from here.”
“Not if we die.”
“We’re not going to die. I won't let that happen,” he says, putting both hands on my shoulders. “Now, look around you. We are surrounded by not only one of the most beautiful and untouched places on Earth, we’re also surrounded by an abundance of food and water. You’re going to be fine, I promise.” He rubs my arms up and down reassuringly. Hmm, well that feels rather nice, actually.
“Okay.”
“I’m going to get you set up to use the loo. Then, start the fire. Then all you need to do is sit here and keep it going while I get us food. But first, let’s get you some fresh water. I’m pretty sure you’re dehydrated.” With that, he walks over a tall stalk of bamboo and with one quick slice of his machete, cuts it, then holds it sideways while he walks over to me. “Here, open your mouth.”
I do as he says, and a second later feel cool refreshing liquid pouring into my mouth. I gulp down as much as I can before I feel like I'm going to choke, then hold my hand up to let him know I need a break. He drinks some, then offers me more, which feels oddly intimate. Once the entire bamboo shoot is emptied of water, he sets it down.
“Thank you. That tasted kind of like carrots.”
He grins. “I've never noticed that. But now that you say it, I think you're right.”
Twenty minutes later, I've taken care of my biological needs, and am sitting on a rock in front of the fire, watching Will turn the bamboo stick into a spear. He describes what he's doing into the camera while he works quickly. My stomach growls and I feel weak and hungry and tired. But he was right because somehow, sitting here feels infinitely better. He disappears into the bushes for a few minutes, then comes back with the bottom of his shirt flipped up, carrying some fruit. “I thought you could use a little amuse-bouche while I make dinner.”
He crouches and unpacks the load onto the ground next to me. Holding up one of the oranges, he says, “These are monkey oranges. They have a tough outer shell, but they’re very juicy and full of vitamins. Eat up. Oh, but not the seeds. The seeds’ll kill you. I’ll see if I can get us a catfish.”
When I look up into his eyes, gone is the smug, angry attitude, and in its place is kindness. Something about it makes me feel much worse about my tirade. And about giving him a hard time in the first place when, in reality, I’m making his life much harder. “Thank you,” I say with a smile.
“Don’t mention it.”
Reaching out, I touch his hand, which is resting on his knee. “No, really. Thank you. I’m sorry I imposed myself on you like this.”
“That’s okay. If you hadn’t applied, it could have been someone much worse.”
“Like that woman who stalks you online?”
His head snaps back. “Who?”
“She has a website dedicated to you. She and your fellow groupies call themselves Will’s Wild Fangirls.”
A look of understanding crosses his face. “Oh, right. Them.”
Nodding, I say, “The head super fan applied for the show.”
He smiles at me. “I suppose I should be happy I’m not stuck out here with her.”
“Yes, she seems like the type to go total Fatal Attraction on you.”
“Good thing I don’t have a pet bunny.” He chuckles and stands. “Will you be okay for a bit while I go down to the river?”
I nod, and for the first time since this morning, I believe I will be.
Maybe.
It's dark by the time we eat, which I don't think is necessarily a bad thing. Dinner is wild yam tubulars and bony white fish. We’re using banana leaves as plates and our table is the tops of our knees. The outside flesh of the yams are charred black and they smell of coals, but at least they’re warm and soft enough to scoop with our sporks. There’s plenty for both of us, and with every bite, I feel more like myself again. Instead of feeling angry, I feel grateful for this simple meal. There’s a shift in the feeling between us. It’s no longer a tension-filled hatefest, but a calm, tentative truce, which feels infinitely better.
“Will, I want you to know I’m sorry about all the awful things I said earlier. It was uncalled for.”
“Me too,” Will answers, glancing up at me. “I was being a judgmental prick, and I didn’t mean any of it. Especially not the bit about leaving you here to get eaten by leopards. I’d never do that to anyone.”
“Thank you. That means a lot,” I say. “And you’re not more smug than Kanye.” I grin a little, hoping he’ll know I’m joking.
He offers me a half-smile in return. “Thanks, that’s very kind of you.”
I give him a teasing look. “It’s close, but he really is more arrogant than you. By a narrow margin, but still…”
We both laugh, and it feels like we’re starting over. Relief fills my body as we sit in a comfortable silence watching the fire.
Adding another piece of wood, Will says, “I cried the first time I spent the night out in the wilderness.”
“Really?” I ask.
He clearly wants to make me feel better about my meltdown earlier. Huh, that’s sort of nice of him. “That surprises me.”
“Well, it's true.” He gives a little half grin. “Mind you, I was seven at the time.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle a little. “Of course you were.”
“My parents had died a few months earlier and our uncle took us in. He moved us all the way from Valcourt to the Caribbean—talk about culture shock. He was a real outdoorsman—I think he assumed everybody lived that way—snorkeling, scuba diving, surfing, sailing.”
I stare at him, my heart tugging a little at the image of him as a young boy with no parents. I say nothing because I know from experience, there’s really nothing to say.
Will continues, shifting his gaze to the fire. “There was this little uninhabited island that we went to one night, not that long after we moved there. He thought it would be a great adventure for us kids, but I was terrified. I’d never slept out under the stars before, and I kept thinking I was going to get eaten by a crocodile, even though he kept telling me there were no crocodiles there. Only iguanas and birds.”
He pauses and smiles, seeming to be far away in his mind. “Every little noise woke me for the first part of the night, but then I must have gotten so exhausted, I finally fell asleep, tucked in between my sister and brother, with our uncle sitting by the fire, keeping an eye out for crocs for me. The next morning, we hiked all the way to an amazing waterfall with a lagoon that was like something out of a movie.” Will grins at the memory. “We had the greatest time swinging into the pool from vines and splashing around. As an adult, I understood what he was trying to do for us. He wanted to help us return to our roots. Our long-forgotten, cave-person roots. Humans are animals and we’re meant to be outside—even the royal ones.”