It was an affair for the media, at the very least—and why not? After all, it wasn't every day that Ginger Grant got married, just days after she and her fellow castaways had been rescued from a previously uncharted island in the Pacific. And to such a handsome and intelligent man as Roy Hinkley…mmh! The tabloids were having themselves a ball.
Their seven names were being splashed all over the newsstands and were common knowledge overnight. Rumors were going around about how Ginger had won the Professor's heart and debates sparked as to whether Mrs. Howell had been having an affair with the Skipper. Then there was the most popular question of all: was it really true that they'd all shared a single hut?
The castaways seemed to glow contentedly in the public light, and the statement the Skipper had made to the press their first day back was supposed to cover all of them.
"We're happy to be back here in civilization. We're happy that Ginger and the Professor are getting married at the soonest possible date, and we hope you'll all come and celebrate with us. But most of all, we're happy to have forged the friendships we have with each other. They're ones to last a lifetime."
###
It wasn't quite a new world—more like a reintroduction into a past one—but whatever you called it, after attending parties with same seven people at them for the past three and a half years, a combination wedding reception and welcome home party with fourteen hundred invited guests—and countless more uninvited ones clamoring to get in—should be called nothing less than a treat.
Still, there was a certain soreness, an ache that lingered in Mary Ann's chest as the whole thing proceeded. She couldn't quite place it—all she knew was that it had grown out of a specific resentment, misery, and loneliness.
She'd already sat out several dances when the unexpected tap on her shoulder came, but nonetheless she accepted the groom's invitation with grace. It was a slow dance, her favorite kind, and closing her eyes, she could imagine for a moment that they were still on the island, that he wasn't taken and she still had a slight chance that he might notice her.
"Mary Ann?"
She reluctantly set aside her reverie at the sound of the scientist's voice.
"Yes, Professor?"
"You know, I…I never forgot that time you found Ginger and me together, after the beauty pageant. And I…I just hope you realize that neither of us ever meant to hurt you. I can only hope you weren't bruised too badly."
Oh Professor, you have no idea…
She didn't reply; she just let the dance end and gave him a gentle, controlled smile. It seemed to be the answer he wanted.
She glided out into the anteroom. She didn't feel like dancing anymore.
Not after that.
Sitting down on one of the chaise longues, she sighed.
"I can only hope you weren't bruised too badly"? Really, Professor? What kind of cheesy line is that? You make me think I'm the most beautiful woman in the world when you were really just pitying me, you fall in love with another woman right before my eyes, and you think a dance and some slick one-liners will cure it all? I only wish…
She pressed her face up against the back of the chaise and sighed. No, as hard as she tried, there was no way her anger was bigger than her grief.
She didn't care when the tears began to seep out. There was no reason to keep up a masquerade of everything being alright.
After all, what was there to hide?
###
That was how he found her—shaky but silent, giving the world the appearance of sleeping.
And yet somehow he sensed there was something very, very wrong.
Sitting down on the chaise, he put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Mary Ann?"
She lifted up her head to look at the speaker. "Oh, hi Gilligan."
Taking note of her swollen and red eyes, he carefully inquired, "Are you okay?"
She shook her head. "I…I just went and got my heart broken."
"The Professor?" he asked. She nodded weakly, using all her strength to pull her head into his lap.
Nothing more needed to be said.
They stayed like that for a long time, the air permeated by the sounds of approximately thirteen hundred and ninety-eight pairs of shoes on the dance floor.
Finally, her composure at least partially regained, Mary Ann decided to break the ice on a different subject.
"What are your plans, Gilligan?"
"Plans?"
She looked up at him. "Now that we're off the island. Are you and the Skipper just going to keep doing three hour tours? Or are you going to try something new?"
He began fiddling with a loose string on his suit sleeve and sighed. "I don't know Mary Ann. Well, I…" he looked wistfully through the doorway at the dancing floor, "well, you'd laugh at me if I told you."
"No I wouldn't."
He looked at her doubtfully, but said quietly "Promise?"
"I promise."
"I…I'd like to be a lawyer. Like Perry Mason. Only I wouldn't want Della Street as my secretary. I'd want you, Mary Ann."
The brunette smiled shyly. "That's sweet of you Gilligan. And that's a wonderful goal to set."
His face lit up. "Really? You think I could do it?"
"Of course. You can do anything you set your mind to. Didn't anyone ever tell you that?"
His smile evaporated and his eyes became sad. "No. There was never any time for encouragement where I grew up. If there had been, it wouldn't have been directed towards me anyway. I remember once, when I was in sixth grade, I just didn't get something in math class…I don't even remember what it was…and I kept staying after for help. The teacher was okay about it for awhile, but then on the fifth day she got mad and starting swearing and hitting me. She said I was so stupid that…well, I can't repeat it, not in front of a lady. Let's just say she made me miserable for the rest of the year. And I never did understand the thing. But she 'magic penciled' me anyway. You know, where they figure out a way to pass you even if you didn't learn anything."
Mary Ann swallowed, trying to keep her words controlled. "She should have been removed from the school system. She sounds like a lousy teacher."
That's putting it lightly. How can you punish a child for not understanding something? Especially someone as sweet as Gilligan…
"Well, you know. None of my teachers really thought much of me. I was just that stupid kid in the back who didn't really have any friends. And then after high school…you know, I never really liked the sea. But I had to join the Navy. It…it wasn't like there was an option. Every man in my family fit for duty enlisted or was drafted. Mom didn't want me or my brother to go, but Ben really wanted to and my cousins would have made fun of me if I didn't." He looked at her, his eyes still not having shaken their sadness. "I don't like being made fun of. Besides, my dad was a real bigwig. I didn't know him, though. He went missing in action before I was born."
"Oh, Gilligan, I'm sorry."
The first mate shrugged. "It doesn't matter much. I was a real loner growing up…I didn't fit in anywhere…at home, at school, in sports. Mom cared, but she was always working so hard, she didn't really have time for me. Even Skinny and the gang got tired of me. And then I'd just go home and make up stories for me and my pet mice. They were the only ones who didn't mind me. Then, after the Navy, I went to work for the Skipper and we…got stranded. All of you, you're like…the family I never had. The Skipper's my dad now. Mr. and Mrs. Howell are grandparents. Ginger's my big sister and the Professor's an uncle."
"And…" Mary Ann said quietly, "what about me? What am I?"
The first mate sighed again. "I don't know, Mary Ann. All I know is…you're someone very special. Say, would you…" he cleared his throat, "would you like to dance?"
Mary Ann smiled as she swung herself off the chaise.
"I'd love to, Gilligan."
They proceeded through the doorway leading from the foyer to the dance floor. Nobody noticed them slip in and Gilligan picked up on the music like a pro, whisking her through the splendid notes like clockwork, even if he did step on her toes a few times. He brought her through for an underhanded turn, and as she spun, she began to see everything a little bit differently.
This was perfection.
It didn't matter that Gilligan wasn't the world's best dancer, or that her dress wasn't straight from Tiffany's. He made her feel beautiful in some way she couldn't explain.
Somehow, here in his arms, it felt like she could let go of the past, its resentments and sorrows. Finally, after one and a half years of holding on to something she never had, she felt ready to heal. Now she could look to the future.
And that future might just include a certain sailor.
Out of the corner of her eye she espied two figures leaving through the back door. She knew exactly who they were.
Good luck guys. Good luck, and many happy years.
And for the first time in forever, she actually meant it.