Page 48 of Home to Christmas Island
That was all delicious. I’m stuffed as well, Alistair says, handing me the last pan to put away.
Well, you better make room for dessert! I spent hours toiling away in this kitchen to bake it, I say, but I’m only half-joking. And actually, I think Rose made a trifle too.
Please tell me there will be time to digest first, he says, a look of something akin to panic flashing across his face.
Don’t worry, I pat his shoulder reassuringly. I’m pathetically desperate for an excuse to touch him. There will be plenty of lounging time first.
I kind of fancy a walk, to tell you the truth. Want to join?
I love this idea and I tell him exactly that. The others boo us—literally boo us—when we tell them we’re going for a walk.
How can you even think about moving at a time like this? Alba demands from where she’s sprawled out on the couch.
It doesn’t take long for the two of us to get bundled up to brace the cold. It’s so quiet out and already pitch black, even though it isn’t that late in the day.
There’s a path up this way, Alistair says and motions his hand towards the woods behind the cabins.
Oh, I know it, I say, a smile curving on my lips.
He sighs, almost exasperated. Do I even want to know?
I can’t help the manic laugh that peals out of me, ringing through the night air. No, probably not.
We start walking up through the trees. It’s a few minutes before he says anything.
So what is it about the adrenaline rush then?
What is this, an interrogation? I laugh.
He smiles down towards me. No, I want to understand it, that’s all. Oftentimes when people take part in those kinds of activities, especially in childhood, it can be about rebelling or acting out. But I don’t get the sense that’s the case here.
I shake my head. It wasn’t that, at least I don’t think so anyway. When I was a kid, I always jumped right into everything, both feet first. I liked feeling like I was brave or fearless. But as I got older, I did learn to start thinking before I acted, even if it was only for a split second. Not that anyone believed me, I huff out that last line. I felt like I was getting a bad rap. I was getting in trouble a lot and noticed that people were treating me differently, I guess. And I didn’t like that.
Differently how?
Alistair always seems to put me on the spot. He’s not shy about getting to the root of everything. If it was anyone else, this would feel like prying or even judgment, but there’s something about his tone that’s always so open. It knocks down my defenses. So I let it all come out.
Like I wasn’t smart, that’s the only way I can really explain it. That I was being reckless, a word you know I hate, because I wasn’t smart enough to think things through. It was never about the danger piece for me. It was about the joy. I have a lot of energy, and that thrill-seeking urge seems to be wired into me. I couldn’t change it if I wanted to.
In thirty-two years, I have never tried to explain this to anyone. No one’s ever really asked.
We get to a thin section of the path that’s so narrow, we’re forced to walk one person in front of the other. Alistair motions for me to go ahead.
I’ve noticed that he never walks ahead of me. This is a big pet peeve of mine—when men go charging out in front of you. I went on a date once with a guy in New York who, when we left the restaurant, strode off ahead of me. I was so annoyed I turned around and went the other direction. It was several minutes before he noticed and came running after me, but that was our first and only date.
I don’t know if it’s this realization that has softened me up, or if it’s the chill in the air or the stillness of the forest, but I feel like I can be honest. The words come out more quietly than I expect.
I think in my last relationship there was a bit of feeding into that energy, in a way… I trail off, trying to gather my thoughts. The path widens again, and I can feel Alistair tense a little beside me.
In what way?
He was really hyper-critical of me. The baking especially, but honestly in every aspect of my life. And I think trying to do things perfectly, having to walk on eggshells around his moods, produced a similar kind of adrenaline rush. I was on the edge, in a way, but there wasn’t any real joy.
Alistair takes my hand, never breaking his stride. Both of us are wearing gloves, but I can still feel the warmth coming from him.
So why keep dating him?
I’ve never really looked at the relationship with Justin under a microscope like this. It takes me a few seconds to answer. I almost have to force the words out.
