Chapter 47
Vincent
The hospital bed is cold and stiff. The fluorescent lights glare down at me like the sun on the island, only much crueler. My throat’s dry, my mouth’s dry, and my muscles ache like I’ve been in a fight.
A nurse checks all my vitals, giving the translator the play-by-play of all the shit I didn’t realize was wrong with me.
Dehydration. Heat rash. Salt sores, whatever the fuck that is. Mild infection in one of the cuts on my arm. Then a doctor comes in and rattles off a list of meds and treatments I’m about to be subjected to.
They hook me up to an IV, which I find pointless, but whatever. I’m hungry as fuck, but the translator says I need to drink a protein shake first.
If I was in my right mind, I’d be questioning all this shit, but the first thing I can think of, the only thing I can think to ask is, “Where is Ari?”
“She’s fine,” the man translates. “She’s being treated. Resting. You can see her tomorrow.”
My stomach twists at the thought of being away from her for a night.
“Where am I?”
“We are on a military base,” the translator says. “Ilha das Flores.”
“Where were we? What island?”
“Ilha da Espera. It means the island of waiting. Which is ironic,” he says with a laugh.
That shit ain’t funny to me.
“What room is she in?”
Before he can answer, an older man in a crisp suit enters and announces he’s from the embassy.
“You American?”
“Yes,” he says with a smile. “Rick O’Donnell. Nice to meet you, Mr. Newcastle.”
“Yeah, what’s good?”
He sits and pulls out a tablet. “Mr. Newcastle, I’d like to debrief you while everything is fresh. Is that okay?”
“Fine.”
“Very good. From the beginning. Flight 297. Who were the other passengers.”
Fuck.
I go down the list, then answer every other question he asks me while he writes it in his notes app.
He should have just recorded it. I tell him about the crash, the island, how we survived, what we ate.
He asks detailed follow-up questions like weather conditions, how I built the shelter.
Shit that I don’t see why it matters, but oh well.
“Does anybody know we’ve been found?” I finally ask.
“Given the sensitive nature of your celebrity, no,” he says. “No media, no press releases. We’re keeping this contained.” He checks the time on his tablet. “Your family will likely be notified in a few hours.”
“Yeah, keep the media out of this.”
“We know the stakes,” he assures me. “Once you’re out of quarantine, we’ll coordinate with your team to get you safely back to the states.”
A woman knocks on the door before stepping inside.
“Mr. Newcastle. I’m Dr. Souza. I’m a psychologist.”
“Oh, y'all think I’m crazy?”
Her and Rick share a laugh at that, but once again, I don’t find shit funny.
Rick excuses himself, and Dr. Souza takes his seat.
She looks smart. And sharp. Black suit, stilettos, tortoise shell glasses, bright red lipstick. Seems like she knows her business.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions to understand how you’re doing,” she says in accented English. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah. Go ahead.”
“Do you know today’s date?”
Now I laugh. “I ain’t got a clue. I don’t even know if I wanna know.”
“Would you like for me to tell you?”
I nod.
“November sixteenth.”
That’s insane. My wedding was supposed to be on Valentine’s Day. It’s been nine fucking months?
She watches my reaction. Sharp lady.
“How do you feel about that?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Surprised, I guess.”
“Did you have a sense of time on the island?”
“Not really. Sunrise and sunset.”
She nods. “What’s the last thing you remember before the crash?”
I blink hard, my jaw tight. “I remember my cousin laughing about something or other, and then the plane hit turbulence. We were shook, but I tried not to show it because I didn’t want Ari to see me scared.
” I swallow hard. “Then there was a loud bang. The cabin filled with smoke. Ms. K screamed. It was chaos.”
She nods, writing something down on a notepad. “You mentioned your cousin. He didn’t survive, is that correct?”
“Correct.” The word tastes sour in my mouth. “Neither did Ms. K. Or my nephew. Or anybody else besides Ari.”
“Do you think about them often?”
I look away. “Not when I was out there. I tried not to.”
“Why is that?”
I breathe so deep, it hurts. “I was trying to survive. I guess I couldn’t…afford to be sad.”
I stare down at my hands. They look dirty to me now. My nails are ragged. My skin is cracked. There’s blood under my thumb nail and I can’t even remember whose it is.
“How do you feel about being found?”
I laugh once, a dry, brittle sound. “I don’t even know, to be honest with you.”
She stares blankly.
“Relieved, I guess. But weird, too. Like everything is supposed to go back to normal instantly.”
She leans forward a little. “What do you think normal will look like for you now?”
I shrug. “I was supposed to get married. That would be normal. I make music, so that, too, I suppose. I got a son to raise. Family. Friends…” I pause, rubbing the back of my neck. “Am I supposed to wanna go straight back to all that? And be happy about it?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re supposed to do anything at this juncture.”
“I definitely want my son. No question. But everything else…I don’t know.”
“What makes you think you aren’t ready?”
Because of Ari. Because the happiest, the most peaceful, the most genuine I’ve been in years was on that fucking island with her. Because the world looks too bright and sounds too loud right now, too full of people who wanna take from me and not give me shit in return.
But I don’t say that. I just shrug again. “I don’t know. Maybe I just need a day or two to get my head right.”
“Did you and Ms. Williams support each other while you were stranded?”
“Yeah. We ain’t have no choice.”
She taps her pen against her leg. “And how would you describe your relationship?”
Her tone is neutral, but I can’t help but wonder where the fuck she’s going with this.
“She was working when I met her. On the plane. We were strangers. Now, we ain’t.”
She stares blankly. She’s good at that.”
“She’s having my baby, so I guess you could say we’re together.”
“What would you say?”
I chuckle at that. Don’t nothin’ get past this lady. “I would say I love her.”
She smiles, but quickly forces her face back to blank again. Must be in the psychologist handbook that you can’t react to shit.
“You mentioned that you’re engaged. How do you think that relationship will change after this experience?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”
“I see. Have you had any nightmares? Flashbacks?”
“Every now and then. Mostly sounds. Sometimes the explosion. Screaming. I’ve woken up before thinking I smelled smoke.”
She notes that, too. “And physically. Any pain? Fatigue? Dizziness?”
“I’m tired, yeah. And hungry.”
Dr. Souza leans back in her chair. “Mr. Newcastle, what you’ve described is consistent with acute stress response.
Very common after a traumatic event. I’d like to schedule a follow-up session or two with you before you leave.
Once you’re back home, I would like you to find someone who can see you on a weekly basis, at least until you’re feeling settled. ”
“Yeah. That’ll work.”
This wasn’t so bad. I didn’t mind talking to her. Would do it again.
She closes her notebook and gives me a gentle smile. “You survived something extraordinary. It may take some time for you to feel like yourself again.”
“They won’t let me see her.”
“Yes.” She nods. “That’s just for today.”
“Isn’t it better for my mental health if I see her? I’m worried about her.”
“I think it’s better right now for us to assess you independently.” She says this next part slowly, like she’s explaining herself to a child. “It’s normal to attach to someone who was your anchor in a survival situation, but we don’t want to encourage codependency.”
I nod, but she might as well have said that shit in German. All I can think about is Ari. She’s around her somewhere, alone and probably scared as hell.
As soon as Dr. Souza leaves, I sink into the mattress. I feel wrung out. My body feels weaker than it did yesterday on the island. I feel like I should feel better now. I should be improving.
But I just feel worse.