Petals
by AThingofBeauty
A/N: I do not own Gilligan's Island. This short story was inspired by A Changed Man by ChocolateChipCookie27, Do I Matter by WinterFrost15, Cap Slap Fever by Teobi and so many other wonderful stories like these that are on this fandom. Hope you enjoy.
He sat very still on the sandy floor of the cave, pensively staring out into the pouring rain. On a regular day, the soothing sounds of raindrops on huge tropical plant leaves and the oddly alluring scent of rich wet soil would have found him considerably appreciative of nature's occasional downpours.
But that was not the case today.
All those heavy, torrid rains seemed to do for him today, was to mirror the deep sadness he had been feeling inside. Every raindrop may as well have been a teardrop. Every clap of thunder was like the sound of his suppressed anger he kept carefully hidden within. William Gilligan was hardly a person known to routinely defend himself against other people who might intentionally wound him emotionally or otherwise physically.
He needed some alone time until his pain subsided.
But in actuality, hiding out alone in a dusty cave did nothing to stop those pestering and negative thoughts from continuously flooding his mind.
But alone time he needed, nonetheless.
Sharp flashbacks of the Skipper's heavy hat making stinging contact with his head earlier at breakfast, made the boy cringe a little.
He had accidentally spilled some coconut milk in the Skipper's lap, causing the captain to bellow at him, "Gilligan,... you idiot!"
He swallowed hard as he fought back tears when the striking image of the unpleasant incident invaded his mind. The sailor remained quiet for the remainder of the meal, and after it was over, he snuck off to the crew's hut to get his butterfly net. He loved this fun filled activity of attempting to catch those colorful insects. Even if he were totally unsuccessful in getting just one into his net, just the mere act of trying, helped him to focus on something else and to take his mind off of his troubles.
However, now that he had been presently sitting still and not immersed in any rigorous physical activity, he was forced to reflect.
First off, there were happy, fun-like thoughts.
Cheerful pictures from a distant past of himself and Skinny Mulligan having water pistol fights at family picnics, came floating back to his psyche. This made him crack a smile. Then another happy image came to him. Gleefully rolling around in the grass with his dog licking his cheek made him giggle. How he missed his dog!
Amidst those wonderful memories, dark ones always seemed to push their way in, the same way dark clouds would creep in and hide the dazzling rays of the sun.
He just could not get what the Skipper said and did to him out of his head. Why was this bugging him so much now? In the past, he had been able to simply shrug off the assault. Perhaps all that yelling and hitting was now beginning to take its toll.
Earlier, as he trudged deeper into the jungle, he let out a sigh of frustration. He could feel an almost immediate sense of relief to be away from the camp area. It seemed like the ball of stress and anguish that had been stuck in his chest was temporarily melting away.
It would have done just that, if he had not kept going back to mentally investigate the matter!
Was there ever a day that went by that the Skipper didn't hit him with his hat? The First Mate could hardly remember.
It seemed like he was getting clobbered more frequently lately. All he had to do was just open his mouth to say something, and suddenly he would find himself ducking or protecting his poor sensitive head from the attack, to no avail, sometimes with his poor lanky arms ending up taking the brunt of the 'old salt's' fury.
Gilligan could never find the courage to admit something which seemed glaring to him. Each time this troubling thought came to him, he tucked it safely away into his little sea chest of hurt feelings which he kept secretly buried within his heart. All of his great miseries were carefully stored there, hopefully never to be revisited again.
The Skipper really, really thinks you are stupid and annoying! He hates that he has to put up with you everyday! But he doesn't want to come out and just tell you!
The sailor immediately dismissed the evil reasoning as a lie. He was the Skipper's "Little Buddy, after all!" Gilligan contemplated this with great assurance. He figured he was only feeling sorry for himself at the moment, and that was what was causing him to think in such a negative manner. The Skipper cared for him a great deal, no doubt. They had been through so much together and they faithfully looked out for one another.
As he sat reflecting, a strong breeze blew into the cave and sent his hat sailing off his head into a dark corner. He decided that he would retrieve it later. The cool fresh air felt exhilarating as it ruffled his brunette locks. Until then, he had been unaware that he was perspiring.
For most of the afternoon, he had been relentlessly hunting and unsuccessfully capturing those fluttering winged creatures, when the rains came.
Where do butterflies go when it rains? He pondered with child-like wonder. I must remember to ask the professor.
Before hurrying to seek shelter somewhere, he happened to spy a large, beautiful tropical flower, peeking out at him in the midst of some thick, green bushes. It stood out like a neon light as the quickly fading sun shined upon it. This gorgeous eye catching flower was of a pinkish hue, with a multitude of wide, soft petals. It instantly made him think of something Ginger would occasionally wear to adorn her long, lovely red hair. As the few drops of rain began to fall, sporadically at first, then falling more in abundance, he speedily looked around him for a place of shelter.
As always, there was a cave a few yards away from where he stood. Funny, if ever Gilligan needed a cave for shelter or to hide in or even to call "Hom Sweet Hom," he seemed to magically have one at his disposal!
The sailor wasted no time in plucking the blossom from its stem. He then raced to the cave he had been lounging in ever since.
He sat, with long legs crossed and knees pointing outward, near the cave's entrance. With his empty net on the ground beside him, he held the flower by one of its petals, intently concentrating on its beauty. He became engrossed with the softness of it and lightly caressed the floral leaf between his thumb and index finger.
Boredom soon ensued while waiting for the tropical shower to end. Gilligan decided to play a game to wile away the hours.
Rain, rain, go a-way, come a-gain a-no-ther day! As he chanted this rhyme under his breath, he gently plucked a petal to keep in rhythm with each syllable. Now, twelve of the island flower's petals were gone, each being rapidly carried off by the wind the moment they left the First Mate's thin fingers.
Then he had another idea.
His thoughts trailed back to the Skipper and this morning's accident.
He hates me...he hates me not...he hates me...he hates me not...he...
Again, a petal disappeared into the gusty wind with each negative phrase.
Gilligan then suddenly stopped plucking off more petals. Think good thoughts! He scolded himself.
But I don't want to! I'm too hurt!
He sadly resumed plucking some more. It was as if he felt somehow that the last remaining petal would be the ultimate symbol of truth in holding the answer to all of his pressing questions that were constantly eating at him.
I'm an id-i-ot...I'm not an id-i-ot...I'm an i-d-iot...I'm ...
Once more, with each word and each syllable, a petal was released and discarded.
"Oh, let's face it, I'm always doing dumb things!" He declared audibly and made a motion to toss the half mangled flower out into the rain, but quickly changed his mind and held on to it.
He stared warily up into the sky just then and saw the heavy clouds dispersing. It seemed like the sun was fighting to peek through all of that gray. The rain fell lightly now.
He decided that he could walk back to camp between these raindrops now.
The First Mate was just about to leave his temporary abode when he figured that he may as well do away with the remaining petals of the now ruined flower. He was curious to see what the outcome might be when he finally got down to the last petal. In spite of all the trouble I've caused, am I still truly liked, or not?
In his continuation of taking pity on himself, he recalled another incident which occurred the day before, involving someone he had worshiped from afar.
The pig tailed beauty had been hanging clean laundry on a line to dry, when he came racing toward her like a speeding arrow from out of the jungle.
"Mary Ann...Mary Ann!"
The First Mate was unable to stop himself in time, before crashing into the wet clothes, sending everything, line included, falling quickly to the sandy ground. The frustrated expression on Mary Ann's face made him wince as he lay there helplessly on the ground, peering up at her.
The farm girl's defeated expression soon turned to wrath. She lashed out at him before he even had a chance to tell her that he had seen a small plane circling the island.
"Gilligan! Now look what you've done!" She wailed.
"But-but..." He could not get a word in edge wise.
"I've been washing nearly all morning, now this happens!"
"But...I'm sorry..." He pleaded in despair.
"You're nothing but trouble!" She exclaimed.
He sprang up from the ground to help her gather the now filthy clothes off the ground to show her how sorry he was. In all of this, he had completely forgotten about the news he had been so excited to share with her. He scooped up a bunch of dirty clothing and proceeded to place them into the same basket which held the freshly clean garments. This made Mary really snap at him, her eyes blazing with rage. It seemed like she was near tears.
"Oh, Gilligan, don't help me. Just go away!"
The sailor then strolled away with his head down, and remained in his hut for the rest of the day, not even making an attempt to come out for lunch or dinner. He had lost his appetite. And of course as their "wonderful" luck would have it, the plane only circled the island a few times, then flew off into the distance.
Shaking his head as he recalled that moment, he glumly looked down at the flower and sighed again. "You are hopeless." He said out loud.
He suddenly remembered how Mary Ann barely said a word to him this morning at breakfast. Apparently, she was still angry with him. She hardly uttered "Good Morning," to him, as he watched her take a small basket into the jungle to gather berries to make jam. He watched her go, feeling really bad. He wished he would have said something to her then. But decided against it, feeling that she might dismiss him like before.
It was certainly not turning out to be a good day for him.
"Well, here goes." Gilligan spoke out loud once more. "Let's see if the Skipper and Mary Ann and all the rest, for that matter still like me after all the stupid things I've done!"
"They like me," he plucked a petal, "They like me not," another petal plucked. "They like me...they like me not!" That was the last petal! Just his luck!
He angrily flung the stem away.
"We like you."
The voice behind him made him spin around like a cyclone! All this time he thought he was alone. He abruptly stood to his feet in extreme fear.
The voice belonged to Mary Ann who emerged out of the dark corners of the cave with the small basket of berries in one hand and his white sailor hat in her other hand. She smiled at his stunned features, eyes wide open and mouth agape. She approached him slowly.
"As a matter of fact, we all love you." Mary Ann told him softly.
"Wha...what are you doing here?" He finally spoke, stammering.
"I saw that it was about to rain while I was picking berries, so I happened to take shelter in here before the rains came." She explained. "I suppose I was so tired from all the work I've been doing yesterday and this morning, that I soon fell asleep back there in the corner." She pointed to the area where she had been napping, with her nose.
"I guess you were seeking shelter too?"
Gilligan nodded his reply.
"Then, your voice woke me." She told him. "What you said...made me very sad."
"But it's like you said Mary Ann, I'm nothing but trouble!" He looked down at his feet feeling shame.
Mary Ann smiled sadly and gently stroked his cheek. "That may be," she chuckled, "But we love you and care about you just the same."
Gilligan then blushed and rejoiced inwardly at her touch.
"I...I suppose you're right," he answered bashfully.
"And you don't need a silly flower to tell you that!" The farm girl declared, pulling him into a hug.
She then gave him his hat after picking up the butterfly net for him, and they both strolled out into the jungle, hand in hand, to walk between the light raindrops together back to camp.
The End