Jammed (Camren)

The Island - Three Weeks Later

"I checked the traps, but we only had a couple of small fish and I had to let them go", Lauren said as she dropped to the ground next to Camila who was sitting in front of their 'home'.

They found the cave after a week on the island when torrential downpours forced them to seek shelter. At first Camila refused to set foot inside the small, damp, dark cavity, but a strong bolt of lightening striking nearby quickly caused her to change her mind. It was just large enough to sleep two comfortably, but not large enough to stand or even sit up inside. And yet, Lauren was starting to think of it as 'home'.

Lauren had devised a trap made of small strips of juvenile mangrove root for catching fish. A huge five pounder ate Camila's diamond on their fifth day. In a wild fit of hysteria, she dived in after it and it took all of Lauren's strength to get her out before she drowned herself. They found mangrove trees in the seawater inlets of the island where they grow to twenty feet in height and Camila mused that if they had the tools, they could probably carve a canoe out of one, ala Robinson Crusoe. Fortunately, the young trees are like small bushes and the pliable root system allowed Lauren to weave a basket-like trap which was actually more successful than the diamond lure.

"That's ... fine", muttered Camila in disgust, as she sat, trying in vain to comb out her long brown hair. It was matted and tangled beyond saving and she seemed to be ripping out more than she was combing. "I'm getting ... a ... little tired of ... fish ... anyway. Ugggh!", she screamed out in frustration as she flung her comb as far as she could and it landed in some underbrush after lopping the head off a breathtakingly beautiful dark purplish-red colored wild orchid. The island was full of gorgeous flora, but Camila wasn't noticing it right now. In fact she didn't seem to be noticing much of anything. The most noticeable example being Lauren, who was clad in only her bra and cut-off shorts. She ripped off her blue jeans below the knee after living through five days of sweltering 90 degree days. The low-slung shorts rested tightly just at her hips, producing a wonderful bag of eye candy. Her hair, unlike Camila, was pulled back in intricate braids running over the sides of her head and on top, to keep it out of her eyes.

"What's the matter?", Lauren asked with concern. They'd been so busy trying to survive day-to-day that she really hadn't been paying very much attention to her other than what was necessary to live. Now, she noticed how completely wrecked Camila appeared. Her face was drawn and she'd obviously lost weight and her hair was twisted into clumpy, greasy tendrils which defied the natural order of Camiladon.

"What's the matter?", she echoed sarcastically. "That's a good question. Tell me the truth, Lauren. What have I done to deserve this?" She waved her hands around emphatically indicating what appeared to be the entire earth. "I mean ... I'm a good person, you know? I never go to bed with make-up on my face." She held up a finger to count off her points. "I never go out in the sun without a minimum of SPF 15." Second finger up. "I always lather, rinse, repeat ... Every. Single. Time." Third finger. "So tell me, why does God hate me? Why did he strand me ... I mean us ... on this island with no mom, no dad, no Sofi.. and ... and ... no soap, for God's sake." By the time she finished her tirade, she was nearly sobbing hysterically.

Lauren was shocked into momentary silence. Camila had been the strong one since this whole thing began. She was the one who pulled Lauren up onto the beach; opened the coconut; started their first fire. Whereas, Lauren was the one who broke down when their signal washed away. In fact Lauren thought she could sometimes still taste the sand in her mouth from when she shoved her face-first into the beach. But now ...

"Camila...", she said slowly and calmly.

"And don't you dare tell me not to panic!"

With as much soothing as she could muster, Lauren slowly replied while gently stroking her arm. She'd become much more comfortable with touching her in the past three weeks. It was hard not to when they slept side by side. "I wouldn't dream of it. But seriously, Camila, I don't see how your perfect complexion has anything to do with why we're here and I don't think God hates either one of us."