I swam awkwardly back to shore, with one arm keeping the radio components above water and the other propelling me forward.Exertion burned my muscles when my feet touched the sand, and my arm throbbed with each heartbeat.
Janet spotted me from our campsite and jogged down to meet me.
“What happened?”She took the equipment from my arms, examining it critically.“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.”I tried to sound dismissive, but the pain had intensified.“Just a scratch.”
She set the radio parts down and grabbed my arm, turning it to inspect the wound.“This isn’t a scratch.It’s a deep cut.”Her eyes narrowed.“How long ago did this happen?”
“Maybe twenty minutes.I was focused on?—”
“On salvaging useless electronics while sitting in bacteria-filled water with an open wound.”She tugged me toward camp with surprising strength.“Sit down.Now.”
I knew better than to argue when Janet used that tone.I followed her to our shelter, where she pushed me onto a makeshift seat and retrieved our first aid kit.
“You’re lucky we have antiseptic left.”She poured water over the wound, washing away sand and blood.“What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about getting us rescued.”I winced as she dabbed antiseptic onto the cut.“That radio might still have usable parts.”
“Not if you die of infection first.”She worked quickly, cleaning the wound with efficiency.“The radio was underwater for days.It’s corroded beyond repair.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And you don’t know when to quit.”Her fingers pressed a clean bandage over the cut, her touch gentler than her words.“There’s persistence, and then there’s pigheadedness.”
I watched her work, noting the furrow between her brows that appeared whenever she concentrated.After ten days together, I’d memorized her expressions, habits, and small movements that revealed her moods.
“I can’t just sit here waiting for someone to find us,” I said as she secured the bandage.“That’s not who I am.”
Janet sat back on her heels, studying me.“And who exactly are you, Jonathan Black?Because from where I’m standing, you’re a man who can’t accept when something’s beyond his control.”
Her words hit harder than they should have.“Is that so wrong?To fight instead of surrender?”
“It is when fighting could get you killed.”She packed up the first aid supplies with quick, angry movements.“What do you think happens to me if you die out here?”
I stared at her for a long moment.I hadn’t considered that angle—that my recklessness might impact her survival.
“I didn’t think?—”
“No, you didn’t.”She stood abruptly.“You were so focused on your goal that you didn’t consider the consequences.”She walked a few steps away, then turned back.“Sound familiar?Like ignoring the captain’s warning about the storm?”
I grimace as the truth gut punched me.
“You make decisions based on what you want, not what’s best for everyone involved.That’s why we’re here in the first place!”
The accusation sliced deeper than the metal that had cut my arm.And I couldn’t deny it.We wouldn’t be stranded if I’d listened about the storm and changed course when advised.
“You’re right,” I admitted quietly.
She blinked, clearly expecting more resistance.“What?”
“You’re right,” I repeated.“About all of it.The storm, the radio, my...”I hesitated, the word sticking in my throat.“My arrogance.”
Janet’s expression softened fractionally.She returned to sit beside me, close enough that our shoulders nearly touched.
“It’s not arrogance,” she said, her voice gentler now.“It’s how you’ve survived in your world.Making decisions, taking control, pushing through obstacles.”She gestured around us.“But this isn’t your world anymore.”
I looked at her, really looked at her.Island life had tanned her brown skin and lightened her hair.Her clothes, my salvaged shirt, and her cut-off jeans hung from her frame, yet she carried herself with a quiet dignity I admired.She’d adapted while I was still fighting against our reality.