The Heart is Deceitful
"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?"
- Jeremiah 17:9
As I row the dinghy towards the island my progress seems hopelessly slow. Will, I am certain, is already ashore and waiting for me. I row faster, finally reaching a sandy shoal at which I jump out with a splash and haul the little boat onto the beach. Will sits on a large rock, watching me. I would pretend not to notice, but there simply isn't enough time for games anymore. Once I'm certain my tiny boat will not escape in the waves, I saunter up to Will.
"Hello, Mr. Turner," I say, standing before him.
"Hello, Mrs. Turner," he responds. "Or, shall I say Your Highness?"
"Mrs. Turner will do," I reply archly, "or perhaps just Elizabeth."
He smiles at my response and stands, taking me by the hand and leading me to a secluded spot – a half circle formed out of the island itself.
I help him undress hurriedly. We both harbor a desire that has been brewing for years, as well as anxiety about the approach of nightfall. Inevitably he'll return to the Dutchman, and go where I cannot follow. The thought of his leaving causes an unpleasant jolt in the pit of my stomach, a feeling of apprehension and in some way, freedom. He removes my clothing with more care than I took with his, savoring every moment.
Gently he pushes me down on the soft sand and kisses me, a deep ardent kiss, as his hands roam over my body and mine over his. He lets his fingers find my most secret places and explore them. I gasp softly as he probes deeper into me, and then back out. I arch my back and he gently uses his knee to spread my legs father apart and position himself. I close my eyes. I am so certain that it's going to hurt that I close my eyes, as if it will help.
In the artificial darkness I see one image before me, conjured up by my own mind – and it is not my husband. I see before me Captain Hector Barbossa. Will no doubt attributes my suddenly wide eyes and frantic gasp as a reaction to his first thrust, but I am shocked. After so long I finally have what I desire – Will is my husband and we are together, albeit not quite as I had imagined. Why in God's name am I thinking of Hector Barbossa?
"Alright?" Will asks in a whisper, looking down into my eyes with concern.
"Yes," I whisper back. I sound a bit hoarse; my throat feels dry.
I smile up at him and nodded just a little to show that I am not lying. Suddenly inspired, I wrap my legs around his waist and urge him on. It's a strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one as he moves in me. I close my eyes again, tentatively, and run my fingers through his hair – I suddenly picture in my mind the russet color of Barbossa's hair. My sharp intake of breath prompts Will to rock his hips ever harder and faster. He wraps his arms around me and softly moans my name. I can feel his breath tickle my ear.
"Elizabeth."
He presses his lips to mine, to my neck, to my breast. My mind is still caught up with the idea of Barbossa – Barbossa pressing his lips to mine, gently biting my neck, Barbossa the one thrusting his hips as I rake my nails down his back. I moan loudly and arch my back as a wave of pleasure breaks over me. I hear Will responding in kind, and then he lowers himself gently to the ground at my side. Silently I will him not to speak. His voice will break the spell; all I want to do is keep my eyes closed in this silence.
After several moments I turn to look at him, his face flushed and sweaty, and watch him smile at me. He tenderly sweeps a tendril of damp hair from my forehead. I smile back, but my face clouds over. How can I lie here and smile at Will when I've been thinking about... about... The sun is low as I glace towards it, painting brilliant orange streaks in the sky. In silence we gather our clothes and dress, until Will pulls on his left boot. I grab the other from behind his back as he is bent to adjust the first one. He doesn't notice when I put the boot on, but looks behind and to his sides.
"I'm gonna need the other one," he almost laughs, realizing that if something is missing it's my fault.
I prop my foot on a rock, waiting for him to claim his boot. Instead, he runs his hand and his lips over my leg with a feather-light touch. I close my eyes and smile, focusing on Will, and only Will. When he stops my eyes leap open again.
"It's nearly sunset," he tells me. He turns towards the large, forbidding chest. The dull thud of his heart emanates from that chest. I know he will want to give it to me, and that his heart will be my burden. I reproached myself for considering it a burden. How I can be thinking this way I'll never know! I have been in love with Will for so long, yet in these moments on this island, together still after all we have been through… I wonder if I've fallen out of love, I think to myself.
"It's always belonged to you," Will begins, bringing me back from my thoughts. "Will you keep it safe?"
I pause for only a moment.
"Yes… yes," I reply softly as he hands me the ominous chest and presses his forehead to mine. I close my eyes, this time to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall. I do not want to cry, not at all – not for Will leaving, not for me being the one left behind, and certainly not for Will being left behind. I know that eventually I will find my way back to the Pearl just as Will shall return to the Dutchman. We both of us will go where the other cannot follow.
As Will pulls away and turns to walk towards the ocean's rolling breakers I open my eyes. How can I let him leave without saying anything? I don't know what to say, but I can't just let him go –
"Will!" I cry out, running towards him. He catches me in his embrace and we kiss, standing at the line between ocean and shore in the orange light of the sunset. He breaks away first.
"Keep a weather eye on the horizon," he tells me.
I watch the Dutchman as it sails towards the giant orb of the sun, lowering into the water. At the very line of the horizon, the ship disappears in the flash of green. He is gone. I am alone on this island, on this beach, in this world. Will is gone. My father is dead. I can never return to Port Royal, not now. The only family and friends I know now is the crew of the Pearl.
"I will find the Pearl," I say to myself. "I will find her, and I will sail once again with Jack, or Barbossa, or whichever mutinous crew member is captaining her."
I think it likely that Barbossa will have tricked Jack out of his ship once again. I don't think Barbossa will part with the Pearl as long as he still lives. If I find the ship, I find the man and I certainly shan't be unfaithful to Will. After all, it should only take a few moments in his presence to cure me of this silly fantasy….