13.3
Most of the villagers had returned home to their loved ones. They didn’t need to work or live in a big hotel. They didn’t care about air conditioning.
The German and Japanese tourists did though. They liked air conditioning. They liked being comfortable. They tried to get off the island and when they couldn’t - when the last plane with the last pilot left them stranded on the island - and the one’s who didn’t want to steal a boat or for that matter, couldn’t sail one - they stayed.
And so Jayson and Kylie were not alone anymore. The hotel had guests. Guests without staff.
Jayson didn’t have any reservations though. He grew up being waited on hand and foot, and liked doing things for himself when ever he possibly could. He loved cooking. He was going to be chef once, among all the other things he was going to be when he grew up. He rummaged through the hotel’s freezers and cooked up a feast. Just a little something he thought Kylie would find impressive. Everyone else, well they’d have to fend for themselves. They found the complete season one of ‘Survivor’ on DVD and watched it on Jayson’s laptop while sitting on the beach. They had taken wine, Champagne and beer and ate their feast. They were both vegetarians but they liked seafood. Fish don't have any feelings. Jayson heard that in a song once.
Jayson remembered he had season two off the American version of "The Office" on his laptop. He downloaded the entire season one night, all twenty something episodes, and forgot he had it on his hard drive. He suggested watching it, but Kylie said "Maybe after Survivor." She had seen the British "Office," and she couldn't get the original characters out her head when she watched the American one. And, the truth was, she was a sucker for reality TV.
“Yucky, go back. Rewind it Jayson.”
He did.
Richard Hatch was nude all the time. Jayson and Kylie both agreed it was gross. “You know he went to prison for tax evasion.” “Good,” said Kylie. "Yuck!" He probably deserved it with his body. She wore her favorite red California Zip Fleece Hoody, from American Apparel™ over her halter. She couldn’t stand being cold, and she was always cold, especially at night – even if it was 81 degrees Fahrenheit.
“There! See how Rudy does that, we have to do that.” “Alright,” he hoped he didn’t have to do what Rudy had to do. He hoped he didn’t have to meet a tribal council somewhere
“Fuck, pin dick, put some clothes on,” Kylie was adamant about this. “Uhhg. I’m glad you shaved. Men are sexy for two days then they’re hairy and gross. You’re not going to fuck me, if you’ve got a beard like that.” “Alright,” he was glad he shaved.
He really liked fucking her.
“You know, in ten days I’ll look like Richard Hatch.” “I know. If the power goes out, I’ll make sure you have scissors.” “I really like Gretchen.” “Yeah?” “Did you watch after the first season?” “No.” “Who the fuck cares. Bring back a good sitcom.” As she said it she realized, they never would bring back a good sitcom. “Yeah. I liked Cheers. What about M*A*S*H. Magnum P.I., The Simpsons.” “I love the Simpsons.” “Yeah. Me too. Me too.” Then they were quiet.
What else could they say. They would probably never see Bart, Maggie, Lisa, Marge or Homer Simpson ever again. The white sands and the blue waters weren’t as pretty as they once were.
When there’s no TV, nothing would ever look as pretty.
"Let's watch "The Office" now, she said. And so they did. Eleven episodes worth in twenty-one minute chunks.
During the night, the rains came. Kylie and Jayson hurried to get dressed, their naked bodies being caught in the down pour. “My laptop. Kylie get my laptop!” She ran back to grab Jayson’s aircraft grade anodized aluminum MacBook Pro. The power light breathing faintly brighter, then dimmer as the machine slept. “Eeeeeeiiii!,” Kylie squelched as the torrential shower hit her. “Come on, girl, hurry up, you’ll melt.” “I’m coming, hold on for Christsakes!” “No, way!” Jayson ran as fast as he could. He carried his bag and a bottle of 1999 Chablis Grand Cru la Moutonne, Domaine Long-Depaquithe aimed to drink very slowly back in his room with Kylie.
In the entrance of the hotel they were met by a concerned Japanese man enjoying a drink as he watched the rain.
“Oh, no good. No good,” said the Japanese man, waving his hands at the couple. “No good. No good.”
“What’s no good,” Jayson said. “You all wet. No good. That’s what no good.” “So what? It’s none of your concern fellow.” “Ah, but it is. It is. Lain no good.” “Why is it no good?” Kylie said. The Japanese fellow took a sip of his drink and then leaned in close to Kylie smelling her hair.
“Fuck off!” She pushed him away.
“Lain smells bad. Farrout,” the Japanese man said. He was drunk, and his English was worse off for it. “Far out. What?” Kylie was confused. “Not far out. Fawout.” The man tried hard to say. “Fallout?” Jayson sounded worried. “You mean the rain? The rain smells no good.” The Japanese man spoke very slow, so the very slow American and very slow Australian girl would understand him. “Yes, yes. Falllllllllllll-ouuut.” “Faaalll-out,” she pronounced. “Fawout. Yes. You better wash up quick.” “What is fallout?” Kylie wasn’t sure. “Nuclear particles. Radiation, ash,” said Jayson. He looked at his arm and could see a fine powder on his skin. “Yes, ladiation. Ladiation. Fawout!”
They left him and showered, separate and for a long time scrubbing the rain out of their hair and pores. Jayson decided to leave the wine for a better day and hoped as he went to sleep that tomorrow would be it. Kylie put on her white head phones to her pink iPod Nano, and went to bed listening to the beautiful repetitions of Philip Glass.