(Author's note: This story is an entry into the third Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge (FAWC). The true author of this story will be kept secret until Wednesday, November 20, 2013, when the author will be revealed in the comments section following this story. There are no prizes awarded during FAWC; this is simply a friendly competition.)
(Inspiration for this and all FAWC 3 stories was taken from a single picture, which can be found
here
(The tags for this story are FAWC, incest, brother /sister, Maldive islands, bungalows, tsunami, swimming, traveling, romantic, green flash)
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The bright red bathing suit draws my eyes back to my sister, swimming in the crystal clear waters. Looking from the photo to the real thing I can not see that ten years passing as affected her much. Those few passages around the sun have meant little to her beautiful face or body. However, other things than time have taken their toll upon her. In ways that don't show, at least not to those just meeting her. She still smiles and laughs but there is a inner shadow of sorrow that only those who knew her before... before the waves came, can see.
Asleep in the seat next to me, even I don't see the inner damages that years of therapy and pills have patched with emotionally thin plaster. They hide only behind those blue-gray eyes. But even when dreaming, as she is now, I can see that there is an edginess to her. Her eyes snap open when she feels my gaze lingering on her. Patrica, looks at me with uncertainly slowly fading. She swallows, then forces a smile.
"Are we there yet?"
The question heard so often on trips like this one when we were children, makes me smile.
"Almost."
She nods, looks past me out the window for a moment, then begins to fold up her blanket. The stewardess seeing this, comes to take it.
"We'll be landing soon, " she tells us unnecessarily.
"Thank you."
I can hear the nervous tension in my sister voice. Patrica is trying to keep the tears in check, but she's been doing that since I called her three days ago. It's begun to fray her nerves. The emotional explosion I was expecting at the announcement didn't come to pass, but I can see that the brutal memories have turned and turned in her mind, tearing her to shreds. I saw the medications nearly leaking out her eyes when we met at the airport. My sister is just holding it together.
But then... so am I. The empty glass I hand the stewardess still reeks of vodka fumes.
My sister isn't the only one to have undergone psychiatric care to get back into mental balance. She simply had needed a lot more of it than I did. Years more care need to heal, destroyed in moments by a phone call. So simple a thing as a phone call has her falling back into her meds for comfort.
As the passengers around us start getting ready to land I spend my angst by looking out the window. Watching the water turn into small coral surrounded islands. Some hardly big enough to park a boat on. Then the rows of raised bungalows start to appear. I have to look away. That I will soon be staying on one of those again is beyond imagining. Memories both wonderful and terrible come rushing at me as I slide the window shade down. I try to focus on the ones that don't involve running in terror so I find myself thinking of my friend, Eazier.
At first our local guide, while we were first staying here, he became so much more than that... in those horror filled days that followed. Even more so in the years that have followed. He and I have kept in touch by phone and computer over the nine years since my sister and I left the island.
But that tear filled goodby cannot even begin to rival the tears that I shed when I got his phone call three days ago.
"Your mother is alive," he had told me softly. "She is here."
Six words. Just six. Six words that started so mad a dash across the world. My sister and I were on a plane within hours, with hardly a travel bag to our names. Eazier promised us a bungalow to stay in for free. Being the manager of the ClubMed Kani has it privileges.
Unlike being a B-movie actor and failing screen writer. I had to loan the money for the plane tickets from my life insurance. Feeling the plane banking I open my case and drop the old photo into it, the image sliding down my most recent attempt at a screen play.
"Selling anything?" she asks.
"A couple of pieces. Nothing spectacular yet," I shrug. "The acting's paying better."
"Then why continue writing?" she asks as she snaps her seat-belt together. I can see that she's wanting to talk to keep from crying... or screaming... or both.
"It's still a pay check, and sometimes it's a bit more steady."
"I saw your movie. You're looking good," she smiles.
Chuckling I shake my head. "It was a bit part."
"But it was a big movie. Did you get to met some of the famous names?" She giggles, knowing my loathing for the Hollywood names dropping types.
"A few," I hedge with a grin. "I got you a couple of autographs."
"Who?"
"Not telling," I chuckle at the look she gives me. She's about to demand an answer when the pilot comes on announcing the landing we all know were about to be making. It's funny the pilot is probably from India... but sounds like he's from somewhere in Texas. But then I think that must be part of flight training world wide.
Traveling with our dad through out our childhood my sister and I have landed in some strange airports. Some of them down right scary, but the short runway at MalΓ© International Airport on HulhulΓ© is more than scary. The pilot has to hit full reverse even as his wheels at touching down, then the breaks can only just manage to stop the plane before it reaches the end. All I can say is I'm glad I don't have to watch the water coming at me, like a growing blue line, from the cockpit.
Our small bags in hand we leave the plane and start towards customs. At the end of the concourse I see Eazier. He gives us a huge smile, then throws open his arms. Rushing forward I almost knock us both down as I wrap him in a hard hug. He returns it equally.
"Corbin! Hello, my friend. It does my eyes good to see you," as I turn him loose he turns to Patrica. "but you my beautiful, Tracia. You are a wonder to the heart!"
With her eyes gleaming my sister steps into his hug.
"It is so good to see you, Eazier. And how is Sori?" she asks.
Eazier's smile could make the sun envious.
"She is as ever, the Joy of my life. She would be here to meet you as well but our youngest had to go to the doctor," he waves off the concern. "She is fine. Bumps and bruises like any child will get... but Sori can not help but be a mother and worry."
Patrica nods, but her smile slowly fades.
"Our Mom?" I ask.
Eazier, sighs.
"She is here. She arrived five days ago. She is with a man. A much younger man if my eyes are not being liar." he pauses for a second. "They are both wearing rings."
* * * * * *
The bungalows are as I remember them from before... before the waves came. Beautifully built out on long piers that stretch into the clear waters of the shallow tidal shoal. They run out hundreds of feet from shore, like giants palm fronds. Each 'leaf' capped with a hut built to look like the ones the natives use to live in, but with all the modern conveniences. The waters surrounding them are as crystal clear as memory and photos showed them to be.
I barely notice them.