Surviving the Dreams

Chapter 11 - An Epiphany

Greg did his best to keep busy that first week of the rainy season, but he discovered that Susan, who still had both her jobs, worked long hours every day. Then at night she'd come home, prepare him a meal and sew. After wearing the same half dozen garments each for the past eighteen months, they were getting desperate for some new clothes.

Eventually Greg found a way to keep busy during the rainy season too. People who could repair Jeeps were in high demand, so he found he could do that for four dollars a week. It didn't pay as well as fishing, but it helped pay for the cottage so they could maintain more of their savings.

In the evenings after Greg was finished with work, whenever Susan wasn't sewing, Greg convinced her to spend time with him. They would light a candle or two, play Father Juong's radio and dance together while they listened to it rain. It brought intermittent moments of peace and harmony amidst their struggle to make ends meet and to save so they could go home. Greg found he was becoming used to Susan's cooking, and she relied on him to keep the cottage in good repair. Just like on the island where they'd first found themselves, they made a good team.

"Do you know what today is?" Greg asked as they danced together one evening.

"No. I don't keep track of the calendar anymore, why?"

"It's Nov sixth. I saw it on the wall of the shop yesterday."

Susan stopped dancing.

"It's been over a year since we reached to Baja's Island."

"It's been nineteen months exactly since we moved into the cave."

Susan looked at him, wondering if she would ever meet anyone else who could possibly understand about that.

"Greg ..." she began, but then she cut herself off.

"Do you miss him?" Greg asked.

"Who, Michael?"

"Yes. Do you miss your husband?"

"I ... I don't know," she told him honestly. "I worry about him, and the kids. But it's becoming obvious that they all must have gone on with their lives. It's been well over a year, what else could they do?"

"I know what you mean," Greg told her. "By Jewish tradition, upon the death of a member of the family, a candle is lit that is allowed to burn for one year. After that time, it is put out and the family is discouraged of thinking of the deceased anymore. My candle is out, Susan. It has been for a long time. I am dead to my family. In fact, you are the only one I feel I know who knows I'm still alive."

Susan squeezed his arm sympathetically.

"Have you heard back from any of your attempts to contact anyone?" Greg asked.

"No. Most have come back as undeliverable. But I sent my mom a letter, just before the start of the rainy period that didn't come back. I don't know if that means she got it or not, but maybe. But I did manage to get Father Yuen to let me send an email to someone at my old company. She gave me an update on the meeting I missed in Australia. Also, she happened to mention that Michael is seeing someone."

"Was she surprised to hear from you?"

"She thought it was a joke. Someone using my account just to freak her out, so she went along with it in fun."

"Didn't you tell her it was really you?" Greg asked.

"I tried, but then we got cut off. I don't know if she believed me or not."

Susan fell quiet after a while.

"Have you tried to contact anyone?"

"I've sent my son and daughter both letters. And I sent both my agent and my accountant postcards, but I wrote them on the boat, so I doubt they'll recognize my handwriting."