Liz sat on her bed. A week in middle-of-nowhere, naked. There were people who spent their own good money for this kind of experience, she thought. James' boss was paying her pretty well to do this, for pretending to be James' wife, to help make sure they'd take him as a guest. Even by herself in the room, she undressed only hesitantly. She resisted the temptation to check herself in the mirror. She walked to the door, contemplated the doorknob for a moment, and eased open the door. It was cooler outside than in the cabin, but the sun felt warm, and drew her out. She closed the door behind her. She was relieved to see that she was completely alone.
She walked back the way they had come, toward the airstrip and the little reception office. A gentle wash from the lagoon was sweeping over the runway - no one could fly in or out at high tide, she realized. The door to the office was open. Liz climbed the steps onto the porch and peeked inside, but Malia and Afitu, who had welcomed them, were not there. No one was there. The porch offered a place out of the sun, and there were a few folding lawn chairs. She'd forgotten she was supposed to bring a towel, but found a stack of them inside. She helped herself, and stretched out to watch the ocean sparkling in and out over brilliant white coral sand.
James. He'd been a friend since their first year at Pennsylvania, before they were lovers, and was a friend now. Cool British accent, goofy sense of humor. Well, goofy for a business major. After their marriage it didn't take long to realize they weren't going to make a life together. Once he had his degree and his immigration papers, they let it go. She was glad he'd thought of her for this.
The jet lag washed over her in rhythm with the waves.
story continues: https://www.truenudists.com/group/the-island-fiction
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- STSteveOriginal PosterFeb 27, 2021
There was little breeze, and there were few clouds. The view across the lagoon and to the ocean horizon was clear. Behind Liz and James, afternoon clouds were forming in the island's daily updraft. Birds circled in the updraft. Large, black gliders with long, narrow wings bent sharply in the middle for streamlining. Their striking profiles circled lazily over the lagoon, and occasionally back into the rising cloud. Smaller white shorebirds dotted the ground and the air, and added their calls to the sound of the gentle, lagoon-side surf.
Suddenly, one of the dark profiles above sharpened and dove, swooping to the surface of the water to snatch up some small creature, succeeding without so much as a splash to swoop back up into the rising air. The waves lapped the sand, and occasionally one lap would exceed all that had come before. The tide was coming in, making work more difficult for the shorebirds, some of which began to retire from foraging.
A small powerboat, conspicuously laden with fishing gear and bearing two figures, eased across the reef into the lagoon and made its way to the village.
Then all was quiet, the quiet of lapping water, joined soon by the sound of rain, watering the village gardens while the shore lay in sunshine. The shore breeze grew stronger; the leaves of the coconuts began to rattle with a sound very much like rain.
Was it time for lunch, or for dinner? They stood to go.
ReactReply - STSteveOriginal PosterFeb 28, 2021
It was nearly dinnertime. Afitu was tending the kitchen and bar. Mark was in the pavilion when Liz and James arrived, drinking a Coke out of the can. Heather came in soon after, and sat with Mark. "He's given us access to the whole catalog. Today and tomorrow I'll physically verify that all the art here is included and well described." Mark wondered, "Why?" "Because he doesn't want to be on the black market with the stuff. Either we find a reason to give a piece back to somebody, or we tacitly bless its sale on the open market, where it's more valuable. He's sincerely looking for a way to get unhooked from the whole mess."
Mark asked, "If he just want to get unhooked from it, why is he thinking about its value?"
"He's not going to profit from it. He's not planning to, which makes our work easier. He'll be giving the collection away. Part to Eisenthal, for our trouble with all this -which our board will probably refuse, but he's made the offer - part to a trust to benefit the islanders here." Turning to Afitu, who had not appeared to be listening, "And this is not a secret. He's committed to complete transparency over this. Part of the deal. We are not going to keep his secrets."
Anjelo appeared, from the gathering dusk to extend an invitation to James. "Mr. Nakamura has invited you share an aperitif with him before our dinner. Would you care to join him?" "I would like that. Is the invitation for just myself, or for the two of us?" It was a rude and difficult question, but James trusted Anjelo with it, and Anjelo trusted James with his answer. "Just for yourself."
ReactReply - STSteveOriginal PosterMar 1, 2021
Anjelo led James into the dark central hallway of the house. An open door led into a sitting room, windows open but curtained against the growing darkness. Mr. Nakamura did not stand. "Welcome. Please, have a seat. What would you like?" James took a seat opposite a small table from his host and asked for the martini which had become his daily habit on this trip. Anjelo disappeared, and shortly a server brought James' drink. Mr. Nakamura picked up his own, something dark in a whiskey glass, and raised it "to this island."
"You had a good talk with Malia and Elena today." James agreed, a question in his look: What had Nakamura heard?
Nakamura saw the question. "I spoke with Derek earlier, and I have been speaking frequently with Malia. I want to add one thing. This is probably the last time I will be here. Perhaps by force of circumstance. But if not that, then to take myself out of the way, whenever the islanders make a fresh arrangement. For the rest of my life, I have enough to attend to at home."
"Malia trusts you to understand the island's needs, well enough to begin a conversation if someone you or Peter know might be interested in negotiating with her. I don't believe Peter would be the right person to step in, and I don't believe he would want to."
"That's true," James answered.
"Peter cared more taking on the burden of my and my father's collection from Germany. In the way too many people have thought I cared for it, an illicit bargain, a compromise. Maybe I thought of it that way once. I've made many compromises over my life. When the only way to open a factory in a country was to make generous gifts to its leaders, I have done that. Even when the leaders were not good people. Even when it was done in secret. That is how business was done. I've had a long career, but I have outlived that time. I do not belong in today's world, and today's world has noticed. But Peter does business that old way, too, and he is a generation younger than I am. If he had come here, I would have warned him myself. If you can ever speak to him of these things, pass along the advice of an old man, will you? You understand."
James did understand. He could not imagine such a conversation with Peter.
Anjelo reappeared to lead James away the moment the men had finished their drinks.
Anjelo, the barefoot messenger, the bartender kid, leader to be. As they went to the landing, James chose to address the leader. "He is ready to leave." "He is," Angelo answered. "He is leaving tomorrow morning. You are here for several more days. Please, be our guest. Lie on the beach, take it easy."
ReactReply - STSteveOriginal PosterMar 2, 2021
It's been over twenty years since Liz and James first visited the island.
Mr. Nakamura lost his ownership stake and leadership position in Matsumoto Industrial, spending time in house arrest while that was decided. He spent the rest of his life comfortably in Japan. Peter Prost sold much of his ownership share in Haverford on learning that its mines in Kandara were going to be seized, and before that news had spread. An insider-trading crime for which he forfeited his own position and gains, and spent several years in jail. Richard Branson was knighted by the Queen, and remains in possession of Necker island, on good terms with its government.
The staff in the concrete house now wear clothes, the preference of the new lessee. The wooden buildings of the resort were washed away. There are fewer buildings now, raised on cinderblock foundations. The village itself is still plywood and coconut leaves.
Angelo earned an MBA in California. He and Hiva have three children. He now manages the resort, and greets visiting dignitaries.
Elena went back to Aukland for her law degree once she'd nursed her last. She works for her national government, but spends as much time on her home island as she can. And she drives a careful bargain.
Malia watches children, and gives advice when she's asked. This happens more and more with each passing year.
The island never did install telephones. They have cell phones now, and the best satellite uplink available, but they still send their children running with messages.
Mr. Nakamura's trust holds most of his art collection, and money from the sale of his house in Japan. Helen and Elena are its trustees.
James stepped up a notch at Haverford after Peter's departure, and is now Vice President for Development. He and his wife live in Connecticut, but he still manages to visit the island. He helped them rebuild after the storm.
Liz found work as HR manager of a packaging plant in Long Beach, and love among the crowd at one of Mark and Wolf's stage pieces. She and her husband have a house in west Los Angeles, with a yard and a pool, where Liz can sit naked under a palm tree, without a care in the world.
ReactReply - STSteveOriginal PosterMar 3, 2021
Thanks for reading. It's been a trip serializing this, basically putting the first draft of each page out. Any feedback appreciated.
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Gordy57Mar 8, 2021I enjoyed it. Thank You
Gordy
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