Maing Trouble in Paradise

NOTE: This is my first posted story. It's part of a longer series, describing a young woman's adventures in Tahiti, where she explores herself, her sexuality, and her perspectives on living a balanced life. If you like and would like to read more, please vote and comment. Thanks!

CHAPTER SIX

After an extra long hot shower, Jennifer put on a new neon-green bikini, light cotton half-sarong, grabbed her credit card, and ambled down to the dining room for some breakfast. A field of gray clouds had moved onto the horizon overnight, making for a colorful sunrise but an increasingly overcast morning.

It was still relatively early for the honeymooners, so most of the tables at breakfast were empty. Jennifer grabbed a cup of coffee and filled a plate with sliced melons and berries, a chocolate croissant, and a pat of butter. She chose a table out on the deck where she could enjoy the tropical breeze off of the lagoon. Jennifer slathered the butter on the croissant and took a big bite, genuflecting on the crisp, flakiness of the crust and the sweet, semi-bitter chocolate within.

From across the deck, Jennifer noticed another young woman sitting at a table by herself. Her hair was long and blond, pulled back into a ponytail through the back of a white baseball cap that read "Bride" across the front. She looked to be in her late 20's, fair-skinned with a thin build, dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and white tank top. The plate in front of her held a bagel with only a single bite missing. She was staring absently across the water, and as Jennifer watched her, the woman lifted her hand to her eyes, wiping them. Jennifer watched her for several minutes, torn between wanting to help and respecting the woman's privacy. Finally, her compassion won out and she walked over to the woman's table, coffee cup in hand.

"So quiet out here, huh?" Jennifer mused.

The woman quickly wiped her eyes and nodded.

"Very peaceful," she said softly.

"I've been eating a lot of meals by myself this trip. Care for a little company?"

"I'm not sure I'd make very good company," the woman answered. "Sorry."

"Everything alright?"

"Oh yeah," the woman answered quickly, sniffing and wiping her eyes again. She waved a finger at her face in a circle. "Allergies."

Jennifer cringed.

"Yikes, hell of a place for those to flare up ... So you're a honeymooner, huh?"

The woman opened her mouth to ask, but Jennifer pointed to her cap.

"Oh yeah."

"Where are you from?"

"Arizona," she answered.

"Really, what part?"

"Phoenix. Well, Scottsdale."

"I've driven through there. I'm from LA," Jennifer explained.

"So what brings you to Tahiti?" the woman asked. "Honeymooner?"

"No, no thank you," Jennifer answered. "Mind if I..." She pointed to the empty chair across from the woman.

"Oh, go right ahead. I'm Rachael," she said, extending a hand.

"Jennifer," she answered with a shake.

"So no husband snoring back at your room, I take it?" Rachael said with a little laugh.

"No..." she briefly considered resuming one of her aliases, but decided that the woman needed someone genuine to confide in. "I flew out here because my boyfriend wouldn't."

"So you just left him?" Rachael asked. She immediately blushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"No, that's pretty much it," Jennifer said, now the one staring out at the lagoon. "I just left him."

The two women were quiet a second, letting it sink in.

"But it was a great decision," Jennifer continued. "He was more committed to his job than to me. And I've been having a great time, except at meals."

Rachael smiled.

"I wish my life was that easy," she answered with a sigh.

"Is that why you're crying?"

Rachael nodded with a sob and fresh tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

"What happened?" Jennifer asked, leaning across the table.

"We had a fight," Rachael burst out, followed by a string of sobs. "He wanted to go ziplining and I said I couldn't because I was too afraid, and he said there was nothing to be afraid of and I was being irrational and he wanted to go by himself," she choked, "but I said the point of a honeymoon is to spend time together instead of taking off and leaving me behind and he said that if I loved him I would get over my fear, which he said was ridiculous, and he said I would need to get used to him doing things on his own and I can't hold him down, and he said I was suffocating him and he needed his space, and I said if he wanted to be by himself then maybe we shouldn't have gotten married, and he said maybe I was right and he stormed off. That was last night and he didn't come back until almost morning, and I was awake all night crying and when he came in, he didn't want to talk to me. He just laid down in the bed and pulled the covers over his head. So I came out here."

In the course of the confession, Jennifer reached over and began stroking Rachael's arm.

"Let me guess -- first married fight?" she asked.

Rachael nodded through fresh sobs.

"Sweetie, it was a fight, that's all," Jennifer assured her. "It's just your first one since you got married. It had to happen eventually."

"But here we are on our honeymoon and he's already wishing he hadn't married me!"

"Do you really think he feels that way?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Sounds like he was just frustrated," Jennifer suggested.

"You think?"

"That's what it sounds like to me."

There was a pause. "So what should I do?" Rachael asked softly.

"My advice? Short term -- let him go ziplining. It's your honeymoon, but you don't need to spend every waking moment together. Sometimes time away can make you appreciate each other more."

Rachael slowly bobbed her head, absorbing the idea. "Okay, that sounds fair."

"But don't just give in -- make a trade. He wants time to himself and you want time together. What's something you want to do together?"

"There's a pineapple farm I saw in the guide book..."

"Okay, then there's your trade -- he goes ziplining in the morning, and then you both tour the pineapple farm in the afternoon."

"But he's not talking to me," Rachael said with a fresh sob.

"I assume he was out all night and didn't sleep either, right?"

"I don't know."

"Had he been drinking?"

"Um ... maybe."

"So he was tired and drunk. Let him sleep it off. My guess -- he'll come looking for you in a couple hours. Just stay by the beach and I'm sure he'll find you."

"So that's the short term -- what's your long term advice?" Rachael asked.

Jennifer laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Not sure I have any. I'm batting zero in the romance department. I walked out on a long term relationship over a vacation. You don't want real relationship advice from me."

"Well, I'm sure it's not that simple. You seem to have pretty good advice anyway," Rachael assured her. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"Thanks. I'll see you around."

Jennifer stood to leave, then paused.

"Long term -- I think ... maybe ... be as happy by yourself as you are together," Jennifer said. "Does that sound right?"

Rachael nodded, wiping her eyes again.

Easier said than done, Jennifer thought, as she walked out of the dining room.

---------

If the point of the trip was to get away from my flaming wreck of a love life, it's failing miserably, Jennifer thought. While she felt better for having helped Rachael through a sleepless-night-induced marital anxiety attack, Jennifer knew she just needed time to escape from reality. What she needed was some trashy fiction. On her way out of the dining room, she asked a waiter for directions to the resort gift shop.

Across the courtyard, behind the open-air main lobby, she found the gift shop tucked away near the entrance. Through the window, she could see racks of sunscreen, visors, swimsuits, sarongs, and various island knick-knacks and souvenirs. Unfortunately, the shop didn't open until 10:30 a.m. Without a watch and with no clock in sight, Jennifer had no idea how long the wait would be. She paced in front of the door several times, then decided to wander back down to the beach.

As she passed the resort entrance, she saw two men flying down the street outside the gates on a bicycle, one of them seated on the handlebars. The bike braked suddenly in front of the gate and the man on the handlebars hopped off, then took a second to smooth his resort uniform. He looked up and waved at her -- it was Ricki.

"Ia ora na, Miss Jennifer!" he called.

"Morning Ricki," she answered with a wave.

"Going to the beach?" he asked, jogging through the narrow passenger gate with a wave to his friend, who continued biking down the street.

"I guess. I was going to buy a book from the gift shop, but they're closed. Do you have the time?"

Ricki showed her his bare wrists.

"Sorry, no watch, but it's close to 9," he answered. "Start of my shift soon."

"Hmm ... guess I need to find something to do for the next couple of hours."

"You want to shop, you should just take the water taxi to Vaitape."

"How do I do that?"

"Front desk. Follow me."

Ricki led Jennifer back to the front desk, where a young woman in a long white dress smiled graciously.

"Sophie, Miss Jennifer needs the water taxi please," Ricki said.

"Of course," she replied. "And what time will you be returning?"

"How long does the taxi take?" Jennifer asked.

"Fifteen to twenty minutes or so."

Jennifer thought a moment. So if they picked her up by noon, she should have plenty of time to grab lunch before the dive.

"Noon please."

The young woman picked up a walkie-talkie and began speaking into it rapidly in French.

"You are all set," she said to Jennifer. "You can meet Sam at the dock -- he will take you to town."

"Thanks, but which way is the dock?"

"I'll show you," volunteered Ricki. The young woman said something chidingly to him in Tahitian and tapped her wrist. Ricki smiled back disarmingly and gave her a short response. From his tone, Jennifer presumed he was laying on the charm.

Ricki led her across the resort back to the original dock where the water taxi had dropped her on the first day. As she and Ricki approached, a teenage boy came running down the path behind them, then realizing how noisy he was being, he skidded to a halt and walked quietly behind them. Ricki looked back and grinned.

"Ia ora na, Sammy," Ricki said, then turned to Jennifer. "Miss Jennifer, Sammy here will take you to Vaitape. I'm heading off to the bar. Stop by and see me later, 'kay?"

"Sure thing, Ricki. Thanks again."

Ricki gave a playful salute, then jogged back up the path to the resort.

Sammy led her down the dock to a small boat sitting at the edge. He hopped off the dock into the boat, where he grabbed a gang plank and extended it back over the span between the boat and the dock. Because there were no rails, Sammy extended his hands toward Jennifer to assist her aboard. Precariously in her sandals, Jennifer climbed aboard and quickly took a seat at the back of the small boat. Sammy quickly stowed the gang plank, untied from the dock, fired up the engine, and away they went, jetting across the lagoon.

The ride in the small boat was not nearly as smooth as the first day. The gentle breeze kicked up small waves and the boat managed to hit every bump. Most of the time, Sammy kept his eyes forward, but would occasionally sneak a look back at his passenger. After a minute or two, Jennifer realized his glances back were timed to a particularly large bump, that caused her bikini top to jostle. Suddenly self-conscious, she untied the sarong from around her waist and, scooting it out from under her seat, tied it across her chest. Seeing that he had been caught red-handed, Sammy blushed and kept his eyes forward for the remainder of the ride.

As they approached the dock at Vaitape, the boat traffic increased and Jennifer marveled at Sammy's skill guiding the small vessel between other passing water taxis and fishing boats, easing up to the dock with only a slight bump. Sammy jumped onto the dock and quickly tied up, then jumped back in to grab the gang plank.

"Don't worry about it," Jennifer said, stepping up onto the gunwale, then onto the dock.

"Midi? Douze?" Sammy asked, then flashed both hands, then two fingers.

"Oui, merci," Jennifer answered. "Bon jour," she added with a wink.

"B-bon jour," Sammy stuttered, blushing fiercely, then put his head down and intently untied the lines from the dock. Jennifer watched him launch the boat back into the lagoon, then disappear across the water. Ah, teenage hormones, she mused.

From the dock, it was a short walk across a busy street to the marketplace. There was a broad open area with tables and benches in the center, ringed by small buildings with green tin roofs. Colorful signs at the entrance advertised jewelry, beachwear, and carved wooden sculptures. Down the street, a building was having a thatch roof installed and several men were climbing ladders with thick rolled bundles of dried palm thatch over their shoulders. The scent of fresh brewed coffee and toasted bread wafted through the air.

Jennifer ran across the street between the few oncoming cars, again regretting her choice of footwear. As fashionable as her sandals were, they weren't practical. She also knew that the half-sarong may have been appropriate for lounging at the resort poolside, but she needed something more modest if she was going to do a little shopping. She identified an island-wear boutique and ducked inside.

The middle-aged woman at the counter smiled broadly as she entered.

"Ia ora na," she said.

"Good morning," Jennifer answered. "Do you speak English?"

"Yes, I do," the woman answered. "How may I help you?"

"I'm looking for a dress, or a full sarong, and some shoes, and a bag," Jennifer answered.

The woman led her to a short rack.

"Here, they are called 'pareo'," the woman told her. "We have many types and styles. Do you know Gaugin?"

"The painter?"

"Oui. He spent much time in the islands and was deeply moved. We have pareo with his paintings." She pulled a wrap off the rack and held it up, revealing several island girls sitting near a pond. "Very nice?"

"Yes, it's beautiful."

"You can wear, or you can hang on your wall, or give as a gift to friends back home."

"It's very nice," Jennifer commented, flipping through the others on the rack before finally pulling out a beautiful blue and purple pareo, printed with frangipani and tiare.

"Ooh, that one is very pretty," the woman said as Jennifer held it up to her chest.

"Do you have a mirror?"

The woman led Jennifer to a full-length mirror in a dressing room.

"I think we have a keeper," Jennifer said, folding the delicate cloth over her arm. She meandered around the shop, browsing the displays, picking up a woven reed bag with embroidered hibiscus on it and a pair of light blue plastic flip-flops. She charged them all to her credit card, then stepped into the dressing room to change into the new pareo, dropping the half-sarong, sandals, and credit card into her new bag.

The aroma of fresh coffee led her to a small stand across the open air market. Unfortunately, the owner only took cash Euros and Jennifer had only brought her credit card. She shrugged her regret to the owner, who pointed down the street and said "ATM." Jennifer thanked him and walked off in the direction he had pointed.

The ATM was located in a small, nearly-empty grocery store. Rather than withdrawing cash (she was sure she would be punished with massive transaction and exchange fees), she instead decided to wander through the aisles. Near the registers, she discovered a tall rack filled with magazines in a half dozen different languages. She flipped through French fashion magazines, before noticing a small stand of novels nearby. As with the magazines, there were an assortment of languages available, but Jennifer succeeded in locating a tawdry romance novel in English, with a bare-chested titan towering over a scantily-clad supermodel on the cover. It was a shameless guilty pleasure. Continuing her shopping trip, Jennifer spied an assortment of cheeses in a case at the back of the store. She selected a wedge of brie, a bag of dried apricots, and a box of water crackers and took them up to the counter. She declined the plastic bag and dropped her purchases into her new purse.

With the goals of her shopping trip accomplished, Jennifer spent the next few hours meandering through the market, looking in small souvenir shops, a dive shop, and a camera store. As she passed a jewelry store, a string of black pearls in the display window caught her eye. Ordinarily, she was not one for fancy jewelry. She didn't wear rings or necklaces ordinarily, and though her ears were pierced, she only wore simple diamond studs on special occasions, a gift from her mother.

As she entered, a young woman in a silver suit greeted her. She had a strand of marble-sized white pearls around her neck and earrings with a cluster of small white pearls.

"Bon jour," the woman said. "Je peux vous aider à trouver quelque chose?"

"Um ... eh, I was looking at the strand of black pearls in the window..." Jennifer said, pointing to the window.

"Ah, a very good eye," the woman interjected. "Those are very popular, only found in the islands. Would you like me to take them out for you?"

"Yes please."

The woman opened the display case and removed the strand, which she handed to Jennifer. Setting her bag down, Jennifer held the strand up to her neck and looked in the mirror.

"Here, let me help you," the woman said, taking hold of the ends of the strand. Jennifer held her hair up on top of her head as the woman fastened the catch behind her neck. Jennifer released her hair and stared into the mirror, admiring the shimmering green and blue overtones of the silver orbs.

"They're beautiful," Jennifer said, fingering the pearls and adjusting the necklace. "How much are they?"

"These are 10 millimeter black pearls," the woman answered. "1,399 Euro."

Jennifer mentally did the math and realized that the strand was almost $1500. She had never spent anything near that amount on a piece of jewelry. As a matter of fact, it was approximately half the cost of her trip. She was torn and the clerk could see it on her face.

"Is this your first time in Tahiti?" she asked.

"Yes," Jennifer answered, still admiring the pearls.

"Welcome! Where are you from?"

"The U.S. Los Angeles."

"Oh, with the movie stars. How exciting! Do you ever see famous people walking around?"

"Not that I remember."

"Black pearls are very popular in Hollywood now. Lots of famous people who come here on vacation buy them. They're more expensive back home, yeah?"

"I wouldn't know," Jennifer answered. "I don't shop for jewelry very much."

"Well, it's such a long flight. I hope you like Tahiti and Bora Bora and plan on coming back very soon, right?"

"That would be nice, but it is a long flight," Jennifer responded distractedly, weighing the mental pros and cons.

"The necklace is so beautiful on you, such a pretty girl. It would be a good memory of your trip here, yeah?"

Hmm...I haven't bought any other souvenirs, Jennifer rationalized.

"Maybe your boyfriend can get it for you, save it for your birthday, yeah?"

It hit her like a bolt from the blue. Boyfriend. Buying jewelry. In their three years together, Matt had never bought her jewelry. Birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine's Day. Never. Once. Not that she would have wanted it or would have asked for it, and he knew she didn't wear jewelry anyway, but the fact that he had never even tried or even suggested it -- that son of a bitch. That's what guys were supposed to do. Real men were supposed to buy their wives and girlfriends jewelry, even if they don't ask for it, even if they don't secretly want it, because they deserve it, and by not even trying, Matt had told her -- he didn't think she deserved it. That lying, cheating, pathetic son of a bitch. She did deserve it. And for once, she did want it, because it was beautiful and it looked beautiful on her.