I Know You're There: Bane's Next Step
Spoiler Alert! This chapter is a bridge between I KNOW YOU'RE THERE and its sequel, BY THE SOUND OF THE CROW, now available.
Bane parked his Jeep on the side of the road and sat there. Slowly he rolled himself out and trudged through the narrow sandy path overtaken by brush. He didn’t seem to feel the scrapes of the branches or the thorny jabs from the Rosa rugosa shrubs. When he broke free from the path, he stood and surveyed the blanket-sized patch of sand that leads to the sea. He plucked a strand of dune grass and began to chew on it. He would wait here.
As he waited, he sat down and allowed himself to lean back resting on both his elbows, legs outstretched. He looked above and watched the fluffy white clouds morph into shapes. A lone pelican flew by, eyeing the water for fish.
As he heard the roar of the jet, he braced himself. It flew right over him, near enough that he could have tossed a shell at it. He watched the jet that Jill was on climb higher.
A tear dripped down the side of his face and he leaned forward to wipe it away before it reached his chin. Another one gone, he thought. This one was different, though. This woman touched him deeper, more intimately somehow. Was it possible for two people to feel so connected in just one week? Perhaps it was because they both shared something in common, they were both running away from something. Escaping to Triton as a way out of life’s problems.
As the roar of the jet whispered away, Bane was once again left with just the sound of the waves lapping along the shoreline as he traced a heart in the sand and then stood up. He brushed the sand away from his shorts and looked down again at the drawn heart. There was a part of him that wanted to get on the next plane to New York and straighten things out with Jill. He really hated the way things ended between them; he had a big rotten feeling in his stomach.
The time Bane spent lost out at sea made him think and confront a lot of things he was trying to avoid, especially the reason he came to Triton.
“Please, please, come home,” his mother begged him on the phone this very morning. Home, back to Hawaii.
Tom had called his parents when it got dark that first night when they weren’t sure if they would find Bane again. Luckily he was found before his family took the long journey from Hawaii to Triton. Originally Bane planned to come to Triton for just a three-month commitment to be a dive instructor. Three months, turned into a year, then two….
His mother was at first supportive of his adventure. “Spread your wings a bit; see some other parts of the world. But come back soon. Hawaii is the most beautiful place,” she said with her warm smile that made her eyes melt into her pudgy dark skin.
His dad said nothing, his way of saying he wasn’t happy at all with Bane’s decision to go to Triton. Bane, long awaited son.
With his hands firmly planted in his pockets, Bane gently swept the heart away with his right foot until it was once again just one big pile of miniscule crushed coral. He pushed away the thought in his head; maybe it would have just been easier if I had drowned out there. Easier for him, he realized, but it would have broken his mother’s heart. No, if Jill had the strength to go back and face the troubles she left at home, maybe it was time for him to do the same.
-----
He shared his decision first with the person he knew would be overjoyed about it, his mother.
“Thank God!” she screamed in the phone. “Joe, Bane is coming home,” Bane heard his mother tell her husband who was sitting at the kitchen table reading a paper. There was silence in return. “He’s very excited too,” she reported back to her son enthusiastically.
Telling his mother cemented his decision. There was no turning back now; he would never break her heart. As he hung up the phone, he looked at the view outside the window of the cottage he shared with his mates. Sunny, with a gentle wind whispering through the fronds of the palm trees as usual. The bright blue-green water of the bay shimmered in the distance. Yes, Hawaii was beautiful, but it didn’t have water as crystal clear as Triton’s.
He meandered over to the refrigerator, filled a glass up with cold milk, then leaned against the counter in the galley kitchen that was way too tight for five guys to fit in all at once. The house was silent except for the wind trying to sneak in the cracks of the windows. The welcome silence gave him time to think how he would tell his friends that he would be leaving. They had become close, like brothers over the years from living together.
It was Tom’s idea for them to pool their money together and get a place of their own. Tom had been living on the island the longest. Bane gathered he came from fairly wealthy family in Miami. Being the last of five kids, a mix of boys and girls, his parents seemed like they ran out of expectations for their children and allowed Tom to follow his passion, which was scuba diving. They came to visit him on occasion and the guys were always thrilled when they did because it meant a few nights of really good dinners out.
Max, the chap from Australia, came to Triton just a month after Bane did. His thick curly hair and Down Under accent were a big hit with the ladies.
Max was their resident mechanic. He maintained all the boats and equipment at the resort. A real guy’s guy. They were glad to have him as part of their group, especially when their cars needed fixing. Having cars repaired on an island with scarce resources was no easy feat.
Yosef from Israel really knew how to cook and had an easy-go-lucky, peaceful presence. When the guys began scouting for a fourth housemate, his name made it to the top of the possibility list quickly. The four of them were eager to break free from always being on call at the resort, something that was hard to say no to since they were paying for the roof over your head.
It started out as the four of them, each with their own rooms. Then along came Mason.
Mason always claimed California to be where he was from. But Bane knew different. California was actually the last place Mason was from before he came to Triton two years ago. Originally from the Midwest, Mason was born to an unwed teen mother who gave motherhood a half-hearted attempt. It wasn’t long before he was being passed around in foster homes. By the time he was 15, he had lived in over a dozen places and knew he was coming to the age where it was highly unlikely he would ever find somewhere to really call home.
It was the big storm of 1994, just after his seventeenth birthday, that finally pushed him over the edge. Shoveling three feet of snow as more barreled down, surrounding his frozen popsicle toes was the final straw. After the storm subsided and the sun broke out, Mason packed a duffle bag, headed for the highway and hitched a ride going west. The old-timers in the diner always talked about California, “I should have moved there, sunny every day,” Mason heard them say. That’s where he would go, goodbye snow.
It took four different truckers to get him to sunny California; the final one dropping him off at Venice Beach. “You should fit in here, son,” the old codger of a driver told him. There was Jesus pictures, crosses and biblical sayings tucked all around the inside of his cab. Mason took it as a sign that his luck might be turning and got out of the front cab and stepped into the promised sun.
The truck driver was right; Mason did fit in the Venice Beach scene, at least for a while. The quirky group of people from all over, who didn’t ask a lot of questions, was easy for him to blend into. With only a few dollars to his name he took residence on a park bench using his sweatshirt as a pillow. The outdoors shower faucets on the boardwalk that were meant for people to rinse sand off allowed him to shower daily. He learned the gift of gab, especially with the girls on the beach who would share their coolers filled with healthy food.
The surfers that owned the waters along the beach mesmerized Mason. He knew how to swim thanks to one of his foster families who insisted that every child know how to swim. After watching their moves, he eventually got brave enough to go and start talking with them, when they retreated from the waves.
“Those were some really cool moves,” Mason would toss to a lone surfer.
“Thanks, man,” or something along those lines was the most they would typically say in return. Until one day, a lanky guy only a little taller than Mason, and just a few years older said, “Do you want to try it?”
Mason was a natural at surfing. He was instantly hooked. For the first time in his life, he felt like he belonged on the planet, like he was a part of it. Being in sync with the natural rhythm of the ocean gave him a high he had never experienced.
It wasn’t long before his natural abilities were noticed and he got to know some of the established regulars catching the waves. He was keenly aware of the looks coming from the beach from people curious about the sport. He took advantage of their longing and started offering surf lessons. It didn’t pay enough for him to get a room, but he ate better and upgraded his surfboard from the second hand one an older surfer gave him. Mason had finally found a home: the sea.
Rummaging through the trash one night looking for recycle cans to return, Mason found himself a copy of a dive magazine that must have just been thrown out. He rolled it up and tucked it in his back pocket. Later that night, under the light of a lamppost, he leafed through it. Other than sharks, which they all kept an eye out for, he didn’t give much thought to what lived below him as he buoyed on his surf board waiting for the next perfect wave. Apparently there was a lot, and he was intrigued.
As he flipped to the last couple of pages, he noticed a want ad: “All inclusive resort on Triton Island looking for help: dive instructors, boat captains, waiters, housekeeping, front desk clerks and more. Contact us for details.” Mason didn’t
bother contacting them. He up ticked his surfing lessons until he had stockpiled enough money for a ticket to the island. How could they say no to him for a job if he were already there?
-----
One by one, Band told his housemates that he would be leaving the island, moving back to Hawaii. Tom was bummed but he understood. Max, as expected, grabbed his hand firmly and slapped his shoulder as he said, “Best of luck to ya, mate. We’ll miss ya around here.” Yosef subdued his joy, as he would no longer have to share his room with Mason.
Telling Mason would be the hardest, so he procrastinated until he could no longer avoid it. He contacted him and made arrangements to meet for lunch at the Harbor Side Café.
Mason was already there when Bane arrived sipping an ice tea. Bane ordered the same and his usual, conch salad roll with fries. He was trying to eat as much conch as possible because they didn’t have it in Hawaii. They chatted casually about Mason’s dive group that morning until the waitress served their meals. Bane let Mason get a few bites in before he shared the news.
“What about all the plans we were making? What about owning our own dive company? What about me?” Mason continued, his fork firmly clenched in his hand.
“I’m sorry, Mason, I really am. I need to do this; I need to go back home. Why don’t you come with me? We can start a dive company in Hawaii,” Bane pushed his plate away, no longer hungry.
“Easy for you to say,” Mason stood up, grabbed the napkin from his lap, threw it on the table and stormed out of the restaurant.
Bane leaned on the table with his elbows, wiped his eyes and sat holding his head in his hands as he gazed out over the railing onto the harbor. That was a stupid thing to say, he thought. Bane knew it wouldn’t be easy for Mason to return to the States. He got on the island with a fake driver’s license he had made in California before they required a passport. He had no idea where his original birth certificate was and no money or contacts to find it. The two of them had dreamed of creating a business of their own on the island. For Bane, it was always more of a dream, for Mason apparently it was a reality.
He wished Mason had taken the news as easily as the others. Why did it seem like he was always leaving people disappointed?
“Check?” Eloise asked softly as she started to gather the plates on the table.
“Ya, sorry,” Bane saw she had been watching their table during their confrontation. He reached in his pocket for his wallet. It was time to go and start packing.
BY THE SOUND OF THE CROW IS NOW AVAILABLE
Copyright: Susan Allison-Dean, 2013
Bane parked his Jeep on the side of the road and sat there. Slowly he rolled himself out and trudged through the narrow sandy path overtaken by brush. He didn’t seem to feel the scrapes of the branches or the thorny jabs from the Rosa rugosa shrubs. When he broke free from the path, he stood and surveyed the blanket-sized patch of sand that leads to the sea. He plucked a strand of dune grass and began to chew on it. He would wait here.
As he waited, he sat down and allowed himself to lean back resting on both his elbows, legs outstretched. He looked above and watched the fluffy white clouds morph into shapes. A lone pelican flew by, eyeing the water for fish.
As he heard the roar of the jet, he braced himself. It flew right over him, near enough that he could have tossed a shell at it. He watched the jet that Jill was on climb higher.
A tear dripped down the side of his face and he leaned forward to wipe it away before it reached his chin. Another one gone, he thought. This one was different, though. This woman touched him deeper, more intimately somehow. Was it possible for two people to feel so connected in just one week? Perhaps it was because they both shared something in common, they were both running away from something. Escaping to Triton as a way out of life’s problems.
As the roar of the jet whispered away, Bane was once again left with just the sound of the waves lapping along the shoreline as he traced a heart in the sand and then stood up. He brushed the sand away from his shorts and looked down again at the drawn heart. There was a part of him that wanted to get on the next plane to New York and straighten things out with Jill. He really hated the way things ended between them; he had a big rotten feeling in his stomach.
The time Bane spent lost out at sea made him think and confront a lot of things he was trying to avoid, especially the reason he came to Triton.
“Please, please, come home,” his mother begged him on the phone this very morning. Home, back to Hawaii.
Tom had called his parents when it got dark that first night when they weren’t sure if they would find Bane again. Luckily he was found before his family took the long journey from Hawaii to Triton. Originally Bane planned to come to Triton for just a three-month commitment to be a dive instructor. Three months, turned into a year, then two….
His mother was at first supportive of his adventure. “Spread your wings a bit; see some other parts of the world. But come back soon. Hawaii is the most beautiful place,” she said with her warm smile that made her eyes melt into her pudgy dark skin.
His dad said nothing, his way of saying he wasn’t happy at all with Bane’s decision to go to Triton. Bane, long awaited son.
With his hands firmly planted in his pockets, Bane gently swept the heart away with his right foot until it was once again just one big pile of miniscule crushed coral. He pushed away the thought in his head; maybe it would have just been easier if I had drowned out there. Easier for him, he realized, but it would have broken his mother’s heart. No, if Jill had the strength to go back and face the troubles she left at home, maybe it was time for him to do the same.
-----
He shared his decision first with the person he knew would be overjoyed about it, his mother.
“Thank God!” she screamed in the phone. “Joe, Bane is coming home,” Bane heard his mother tell her husband who was sitting at the kitchen table reading a paper. There was silence in return. “He’s very excited too,” she reported back to her son enthusiastically.
Telling his mother cemented his decision. There was no turning back now; he would never break her heart. As he hung up the phone, he looked at the view outside the window of the cottage he shared with his mates. Sunny, with a gentle wind whispering through the fronds of the palm trees as usual. The bright blue-green water of the bay shimmered in the distance. Yes, Hawaii was beautiful, but it didn’t have water as crystal clear as Triton’s.
He meandered over to the refrigerator, filled a glass up with cold milk, then leaned against the counter in the galley kitchen that was way too tight for five guys to fit in all at once. The house was silent except for the wind trying to sneak in the cracks of the windows. The welcome silence gave him time to think how he would tell his friends that he would be leaving. They had become close, like brothers over the years from living together.
It was Tom’s idea for them to pool their money together and get a place of their own. Tom had been living on the island the longest. Bane gathered he came from fairly wealthy family in Miami. Being the last of five kids, a mix of boys and girls, his parents seemed like they ran out of expectations for their children and allowed Tom to follow his passion, which was scuba diving. They came to visit him on occasion and the guys were always thrilled when they did because it meant a few nights of really good dinners out.
Max, the chap from Australia, came to Triton just a month after Bane did. His thick curly hair and Down Under accent were a big hit with the ladies.
Max was their resident mechanic. He maintained all the boats and equipment at the resort. A real guy’s guy. They were glad to have him as part of their group, especially when their cars needed fixing. Having cars repaired on an island with scarce resources was no easy feat.
Yosef from Israel really knew how to cook and had an easy-go-lucky, peaceful presence. When the guys began scouting for a fourth housemate, his name made it to the top of the possibility list quickly. The four of them were eager to break free from always being on call at the resort, something that was hard to say no to since they were paying for the roof over your head.
It started out as the four of them, each with their own rooms. Then along came Mason.
Mason always claimed California to be where he was from. But Bane knew different. California was actually the last place Mason was from before he came to Triton two years ago. Originally from the Midwest, Mason was born to an unwed teen mother who gave motherhood a half-hearted attempt. It wasn’t long before he was being passed around in foster homes. By the time he was 15, he had lived in over a dozen places and knew he was coming to the age where it was highly unlikely he would ever find somewhere to really call home.
It was the big storm of 1994, just after his seventeenth birthday, that finally pushed him over the edge. Shoveling three feet of snow as more barreled down, surrounding his frozen popsicle toes was the final straw. After the storm subsided and the sun broke out, Mason packed a duffle bag, headed for the highway and hitched a ride going west. The old-timers in the diner always talked about California, “I should have moved there, sunny every day,” Mason heard them say. That’s where he would go, goodbye snow.
It took four different truckers to get him to sunny California; the final one dropping him off at Venice Beach. “You should fit in here, son,” the old codger of a driver told him. There was Jesus pictures, crosses and biblical sayings tucked all around the inside of his cab. Mason took it as a sign that his luck might be turning and got out of the front cab and stepped into the promised sun.
The truck driver was right; Mason did fit in the Venice Beach scene, at least for a while. The quirky group of people from all over, who didn’t ask a lot of questions, was easy for him to blend into. With only a few dollars to his name he took residence on a park bench using his sweatshirt as a pillow. The outdoors shower faucets on the boardwalk that were meant for people to rinse sand off allowed him to shower daily. He learned the gift of gab, especially with the girls on the beach who would share their coolers filled with healthy food.
The surfers that owned the waters along the beach mesmerized Mason. He knew how to swim thanks to one of his foster families who insisted that every child know how to swim. After watching their moves, he eventually got brave enough to go and start talking with them, when they retreated from the waves.
“Those were some really cool moves,” Mason would toss to a lone surfer.
“Thanks, man,” or something along those lines was the most they would typically say in return. Until one day, a lanky guy only a little taller than Mason, and just a few years older said, “Do you want to try it?”
Mason was a natural at surfing. He was instantly hooked. For the first time in his life, he felt like he belonged on the planet, like he was a part of it. Being in sync with the natural rhythm of the ocean gave him a high he had never experienced.
It wasn’t long before his natural abilities were noticed and he got to know some of the established regulars catching the waves. He was keenly aware of the looks coming from the beach from people curious about the sport. He took advantage of their longing and started offering surf lessons. It didn’t pay enough for him to get a room, but he ate better and upgraded his surfboard from the second hand one an older surfer gave him. Mason had finally found a home: the sea.
Rummaging through the trash one night looking for recycle cans to return, Mason found himself a copy of a dive magazine that must have just been thrown out. He rolled it up and tucked it in his back pocket. Later that night, under the light of a lamppost, he leafed through it. Other than sharks, which they all kept an eye out for, he didn’t give much thought to what lived below him as he buoyed on his surf board waiting for the next perfect wave. Apparently there was a lot, and he was intrigued.
As he flipped to the last couple of pages, he noticed a want ad: “All inclusive resort on Triton Island looking for help: dive instructors, boat captains, waiters, housekeeping, front desk clerks and more. Contact us for details.” Mason didn’t
bother contacting them. He up ticked his surfing lessons until he had stockpiled enough money for a ticket to the island. How could they say no to him for a job if he were already there?
-----
One by one, Band told his housemates that he would be leaving the island, moving back to Hawaii. Tom was bummed but he understood. Max, as expected, grabbed his hand firmly and slapped his shoulder as he said, “Best of luck to ya, mate. We’ll miss ya around here.” Yosef subdued his joy, as he would no longer have to share his room with Mason.
Telling Mason would be the hardest, so he procrastinated until he could no longer avoid it. He contacted him and made arrangements to meet for lunch at the Harbor Side Café.
Mason was already there when Bane arrived sipping an ice tea. Bane ordered the same and his usual, conch salad roll with fries. He was trying to eat as much conch as possible because they didn’t have it in Hawaii. They chatted casually about Mason’s dive group that morning until the waitress served their meals. Bane let Mason get a few bites in before he shared the news.
“What about all the plans we were making? What about owning our own dive company? What about me?” Mason continued, his fork firmly clenched in his hand.
“I’m sorry, Mason, I really am. I need to do this; I need to go back home. Why don’t you come with me? We can start a dive company in Hawaii,” Bane pushed his plate away, no longer hungry.
“Easy for you to say,” Mason stood up, grabbed the napkin from his lap, threw it on the table and stormed out of the restaurant.
Bane leaned on the table with his elbows, wiped his eyes and sat holding his head in his hands as he gazed out over the railing onto the harbor. That was a stupid thing to say, he thought. Bane knew it wouldn’t be easy for Mason to return to the States. He got on the island with a fake driver’s license he had made in California before they required a passport. He had no idea where his original birth certificate was and no money or contacts to find it. The two of them had dreamed of creating a business of their own on the island. For Bane, it was always more of a dream, for Mason apparently it was a reality.
He wished Mason had taken the news as easily as the others. Why did it seem like he was always leaving people disappointed?
“Check?” Eloise asked softly as she started to gather the plates on the table.
“Ya, sorry,” Bane saw she had been watching their table during their confrontation. He reached in his pocket for his wallet. It was time to go and start packing.
BY THE SOUND OF THE CROW IS NOW AVAILABLE
Copyright: Susan Allison-Dean, 2013
