Two

When Gilligan arrives at the lagoon the next morning, Mary Ann is already there, practicing her floating in the shallowest water she can stay buoyant in. She does okay for a few moments, then inevitably finds her rear end heading for the bottom of the lagoon. She flails, her legs splashing. She squeaks out something Gilligan can't decipher from this distance, and lands hard on her butt in the sand. She stands up and twists around, trying to see what damage was done. She brushes the wet sand from the back of her bikini and takes a deep breath, preparing to try again.

Yesterday after Gilligan pulled her from under the water, Mary Ann repeatedly insisted that she was okay and wanted to continue her lesson, but she made no move to let go of the poor first mate. She must've looked so pathetic, her mascara running down her face, gripping his bare shoulders, eyes wide and scared despite her assertions that she was perfectly fine.

So her teacher made the decision that they were done for the day and scooped her up and carried her out of the lagoon, past her towel and her shorts, and through the jungle straight into camp. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her makeup smeared across her face making her look like a rabid raccoon, as he strode past the men, who looked appropriately flabbergasted, and Mrs. Howell, who looked moderately thrilled. He carried her all the way into the hut where he finally left her in Ginger's care and then returned to the beach to collect their things.

Mary Ann floats in the water, sticking her stomach up toward the sun probably more than she needs to in order to stay afloat. The day is hotter than the one before, if possible. She wears her yellow bathing suit again today, leaving the black one in a ball on the ground in the corner of her hut. She piled her hair high atop her head this morning, but the yellow ribbon is there, peeking out from amidst a heap of brunette waves.

She also borrowed Ginger's waterproof mascara when she wasn't looking.

Mary Ann floats for a few minutes, lost in thoughts of how silly she's being and trying to figure out exactly why. She sighs. She knows exactly why. Everyone knows exactly why – that's the worst part. Ginger's been giving her looks since the second hour they were on the Minnow. Every time Gilligan would saunter by with a tray of tropical drinks, bow low to the passengers and use his silly waiter voice that made Mary Ann laugh, Ginger would arch a perfectly sculpted eyebrow in her direction. The movie star didn't even know her – and yet she knew everything about her.

The incident with the alleged supply hut robber hadn't helped either. Gilligan was telling a completely ridiculous story and she had blurted out how marvelous he was, hands clasped below her chin, eyes wide and shining and Ginger told her later that she had almost thrown up from the sheer cuteness of it all. And they had barely been on the island a week.

Subtlety was never her strong suit, but Mary Ann was relieved that at least Gilligan seemed not to notice these types of things. And if he did he never brought it up. That didn't stop everyone else from doing so.

She really does want him to teach her how to swim, though. And not just because it means long stretches of uninterrupted time that she gets to spend with him. She's tired of feeling like a wimp. Even though she does a large percentage of the work on the island, they still baby her. Just like her aunt and uncle babied her at home because of her "situation." She wants to move forward in life – not stand still. She'd felt like she was standing still for a long time, but then she won the trip to Hawaii – finally, an adventure! And a shipwreck. But after a month, they settled into something of a routine and now she feels like she's standing still again. Treading water. She hasn't learned how to do that yet, but from what Gilligan's told her, it sounds like a good enough analogy.

A voice suddenly penetrates her thoughts, floating over to her from the beach. "Looks like you don't need me anymore."

She's startled, but she manages to stand up a lot more gracefully than before. Gilligan's on the beach watching her carefully. "Don't be silly, Gilligan," she says as he dumps his shoes, towel, and hat in a pile right on top of a wet patch of sand. He yanks his t-shirt over his head next, briefly getting tangled in the sweaty sleeves. He finally frees himself and scowls at his shirt as he tosses it aside. His hair is sticking up at odd angles and Mary Ann laughs. "Of course I need you." Mary Ann clasps her hands behind her as he splashes into the lagoon. "What are we doing first?"

"Arms."

"Arms?"

"Yeah. You gotta have strong arms to swim. Like this." Gilligan raises his fists and flexes his arm muscles, arranging his face into a very serious manly scowl.

Mary Ann laughs, but can't resist slipping her hands around his bicep and giving it a squeeze. "I'm impressed." Mary Ann lets go of his arm and heads out toward deeper water. "Look at me, out in the water. I'm not even putting up a fight today."

Gilligan grins. "Now I'm impressed." He's quiet for a minute and then meets her eyes seriously. "Are you sure you're okay after yesterday? We can skip a day if you want."

"Gilligan, I've fallen off a lot of horses in my day. And you know what they say about falling off horses, don't you?"

"It hurts?"

"Well ... yes," she concedes. "But you have to get back on right away or else you might never do it. Right?"

Gilligan pouts. "Yeah, I guess. But I –."

"Gilligan." Mary Ann tugs on his arm. "It's fine. I'm okay. I need to learn how to take care of myself sooner or later. That's why I need to learn how to swim. You don't want to have to come rescue me all the time, do you?"

Gilligan shrugs noncommittally, gazing out over the water. "I don't mind."

Mary Ann beams up at him. "You're quite the hero, sailor." She pulls on his hand, backing farther into the lagoon. "Now teach me about arms."

Gilligan spends the better part of the next hour showing her all the different arm movements for the basic swim strokes. He demonstrates and she copies him, picking up on the movements quickly. He stutters every time he has to say "breaststroke" and Mary Ann smiles, but doesn't tease him about it. She quickly learns that swimming is all about angles and which direction her palms are facing and when he starts talking about drag and resistance and propulsion, her head starts spinning and she tells him he really does sound like the Professor this time.

Gilligan scowls, but informs her that she's learned everything he knows about arms anyway and that it's time for legs. He glances around the lagoon, brow creasing in consternation.

"What's the matter?"

"At home we learned how to kick by holding on to the edge of the pool. There's nothing to hold on to out here." He glances back at Mary Ann, who's watching him innocently. After a moment his eyes light up proudly with an idea. "Hang on to my shoulders. I'll be the side of the pool. The Skipper says talking to me is like talking to a wall anyway."

"Oh, Gilligan." Mary Ann puts her arms over his shoulders and laces her fingers together behind his neck. "I find you very affable." She smiles up at him as his face twists in confusion. "It means easy to talk to. Now what do I do?"

"Just kick your feet on the surface. It's easy."

Mary Ann's hands press against the back of his neck as she tentatively lifts her feet from the sandy bottom and raises her legs behind her. After a few kicks she raises her grinning face to his. "Like that?"

Gilligan hadn't anticipated how close her face would be to his when he had this brilliant idea. Their noses are just a few inches apart and she's staring directly into his eyes expectantly, waiting for an answer. He nods dumbly and looks away, turning his gaze on her feet to give some semblance that he's trying to accurately answer her question. But her yellow bikini-clad rear end is in his line of vision, bobbing halfway out of the water and blocking her feet from view.

He quickly looks away at the shoreline. At the sky. A lone bird crosses the blue void and disappears into the jungle canopy. At the waterfall to their right. Down at the water beside them. He accidentally brushes her arm with his cheek and spends a few long moments looking down at it. Goosebumps rise up and down it despite the sweltering heat.

"How come you asked me to teach you how to swim and not the Skipper or the Professor?"

"You're more fun than they are," Mary Ann replies. "And the Professor would use even more big words than you did. Besides, I thought you were the best swimmer in the whole United States Navy?"

Gilligan chances a glance back at her out of the corner of his eye. "I might have made that up," he confides conspiratorially.

Mary Ann nods seriously. "I promise not to report you," she whispers back.

Gilligan looks away again. He clears his throat then and launches into a lecture about all the different types of kicks. He describes them and Mary Ann tries to figure them out, but she feels like she's flailing in vain half the time. He's halfway through describing a flutter kick when Mary Ann stops dead in the water and turns huge eyes on him.

"What's the matter?"

She blinks and looks confused for a moment. "Nothing." She moves her feet again, giving five or six half-hearted kicks before she suddenly shrieks like a banshee. Gilligan reels backwards, the piercing sound bouncing off his eardrums and reverberating around his skull. Mary Ann grips his shoulders and pulls herself toward him.

"What?" he yells, barely able to hear himself over the ringing in his ears. "What?"

"Something bit me!" Mary Ann grabs at him with her hands and feet, splashing water up into his face.

Gilligan turns his head away from the spray and screws his eyes shut. "It's just seaweed!"

"With teeth? It bit me!"

Gilligan finally gets an arm around her middle and pulls her around to one side of him. He wipes the water from his face with his free hand. He feels Mary Ann's feet on his thigh as she scrambles for purchase, trying to climb up him as high out of the water as she can.

"Mary Ann, stop! Relax!" Gilligan backs up a few feet, away from the scene of the crime, and her panic begins to subside. She stares at the water with huge eyes, waiting for some horrible monster to appear and eat them both. She's unconsciously wrapped herself tightly around him, almost sitting on his hip like a baby, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.

Gilligan squints at the surface of the water. Its calm now, the few ripples left from the commotion gradually flattening. He takes a slow step forward. "What are you doing?" Mary Ann hisses.

Gilligan narrows one eye and takes another step forward. "Investigating."

"Well, do it without me," she replies indignantly.

"Okay. Stay here." Gilligan takes her around the waist with both hands and tries to pry her off of him.

"Don't leave me here by myself!" She tightens her arms and legs around him.

"Mary Ann, there's nothing dangerous in this lagoon. I promise."

"Then what bit me?" Mary Ann lifts her foot out of the water to show him the red mark on her big toe.

Gilligan shrugs. "That doesn't look so bad."

"Gilligan!"

"Okay, okay. Let me figure it out." Mary Ann goes silent as he arranges a businesslike expression on his face again. With every step he takes closer to the spot where she was bitten, Mary Ann's grip on him tightens until they're practically cheek-to-cheek, her nervous breathing loud in his ear. He suddenly realizes how loud he must sound when he's peering closely over the Professor's shoulder as he does a delicate experiment. Although he's positive that that bothers the Professor in quite a different way than this is bothering him. Gilligan peers at her from the corner of his eye. "Mary Ann, I can't concentrate."

"Sorry," she whispers, but loosens her hold on him only a little. A tendril of her wet hair peels off the side of his face as she turns away.

Gilligan takes his arm from around her waist and she moves around behind him, peering warily over his shoulder. Gilligan stands low in the water, both arms out in front of him. He cocks his head, closes one eye, and squints down the length of his arm toward the water. He turns in a slow circle.

"Now what are you doing?" Mary Ann demands from behind him. He had almost forgotten she was there, but now he's acutely aware of the fact that she's attached to his back like a baby koala.

"My arms block the glare of the sun off the water so I can see better." He pauses and Mary Ann can hear the smug smile creep into his voice. "It's science."

"What exactly are you looking for?"

"Bubbles," he whispers, so seriously and reverently that Mary Ann quiets. She wraps her arms around his neck and leans forward to look over his shoulder.

Gilligan takes another step. The jungle is quiet on a sweltering day like this. The air is heavy and still. There isn't even a breeze. The tiniest movement would be noticeable if you were paying attention.

"There!" he says so suddenly that Mary Ann flinches. Her fist smashes into his windpipe and her knees dig into his sides.

"What?"

"Bubbles!" Gilligan turns his palm toward the sky and submerges his hand in the water. After a few moments he smiles. When he lifts his hand from the water, the most normal-looking non-threatening fish Mary Ann has ever seen is cradled in his hand. "It's Irving!"

"Irving?" Mary Ann's eyes widen in disbelief and the fish almost smiles at her.

"Yeah, I catch him almost every day. But don't call him Irv. He hates that." The fish's mouth opens and closes a few times in protest. "See?"

"That's what bit me?" she asks as Gilligan submerges most of Irving's body back in the water so he can breathe. The fish doesn't swim away, but stays cradled quite comfortably in Gilligan's hand.

"Yeah. He likes the color pink. He must've seen the nail polish on your toes." Irving's mouth opens and closes again and Gilligan cranes his neck to look over his shoulder at her. "He says it looks nice."

Mary Ann's brow furrows and she glances at Gilligan, who's grinning. "Are you serious?"

Gilligan's eyes widen and he nods toward the fish. "He gave you a compliment," Gilligan mumbles out of the side of his mouth so Irving can't hear him.

Mary Ann sighs. "Thanks, Irving."

"You wanna pet him?" Gilligan chirps.

"What? No, that's okay."

"Aw, come on. He likes girls." Gilligan lifts Irving out of the water again. The fish opens his mouth a few times. "He says he's sorry he scared you."

Mary Ann frowns. "No, thanks."

"What are you, chicken?"

Mary Ann freezes.

Even Gilligan.

But, no, he's teasing her. Of course he's teasing her. He's giving her that look that's part playful and part challenge. I dare you, Mary Ann, it says. She can never resist that face.

"No," Mary Ann harrumphs. "I'm not chicken." She detangles her arms from around Gilligan's neck and climbs off his back. She moves around in front of him and reaches out tentatively. Irving and Gilligan both fix her with a pointed look. She draws her hand back, reaches out again, and draws it back again.

Gilligan laughs. "It's okay. You don't have to."

"No." Mary Ann's brow creases in determination. She cups her hands and scoops up a handful of crisp, cool salt water. "Give me that fish, Gilligan."

Gilligan laughs again and lets Irving wriggle from his hands into hers. The fish wags his tail happily and Mary Ann swears for the second time that he smiles at her. "See, he likes you," Gilligan says.

Irving opens his mouth a few more times. "What did he say?" Mary Ann asks before she realizes how ridiculous she must sound.

"He was just agreeing with me," Gilligan replies, shrugging casually. "He thinks you're sweet. You're the nicest girl he's ever met."

Mary Ann laughs. "I'm probably the only girl he's ever met. Well, I think you're sweet, too, Irving. Just don't bite me anymore, okay?"

Irving bobs up and down in her hands like he's nodding.

"You better let him go, Mary Ann. He'll be late for school."

The water is escaping through her fingers at an alarming rate, so Mary Ann lowers her hands back into the water. She hesitates before releasing him, anxious to show once and for all how brave she really is.

Mary Ann leans down and gives Irving a quick kiss on the top of his head. When he's gone, she straightens up and plants her hands on her hips. She gives Gilligan a proud look. The first mate shakes his head and grins. "He's never gonna leave you alone now."

"That's okay. I like him." Mary Ann smiles up at Gilligan. His ears have turned red, although it might just be sunburn. "So where were we?"

"Oh. Kicks."

Mary Ann nods and they wordlessly get back into position. She links her hands behind his neck again, raising her feet to kick on the surface of the water. Gilligan's quiet for a little while before he suddenly launches back into his lecture, beginning exactly where he left off.

After describing the rest of the kicks, Gilligan's pretty sure he's mixed up which ones go with which arms, so they eventually give up trying to distinguish the correct pairs. He concludes that a kick is a kick and as long as it gets you where you need to go, it's a-okay in his book. And since he's the teacher, Mary Ann isn't inclined to argue with him.

"Point your toes," he reminds her. "Like a ballerina."

Mary Ann lifts her head and grins up at him. "I used to be a ballerina."

"Really?"

"I was six."

Gilligan laughs. "Did you have a giant tutu?"

"Of course. I couldn't fit through the barn door."

Gilligan narrows one eye at her suspiciously. "You're kidding. I think."

"It was still bigger than I was. I couldn't turn properly in it and my teacher would have a fit. I ended up on the floor half the time. I wasn't a much better dancer than I am a swimmer. I guess I'm just not that graceful."

"No, you're doing really good, Mary Ann. Except you're sinking right now."

Mary Ann cranes her neck around toward her feet, which have disappeared completely beneath the surface of the water without her noticing. They're still kicking underwater, but they're doing far less good.

Gilligan's palms flatten across her abdomen and her feet slow to a complete stop. She feels the humid air on the back of her legs again as he pushes her gently back up to the surface.

"Keep going," he says and she snaps back to attention, willing her feet back into motion. "Every time you raise your head, your legs sink. That's what happened yesterday."

Mary Ann blinks. "Sorry."

"You'll have to put your face in the water eventually or you'll end up swimming like Barnaby."

His hands are still there, hovering just below her to catch her if she sinks again. Every once in a while, when she least suspects it, his fingers brush her skin lightly as she bobs in the water. "Who?"

"My dog."

Mary Ann frowns at him. "Gilligan. Besides, if I do that then I can't talk to you."

"You want to learn how to swim, don't you?"

They both stubbornly hold their ground for a moment until Mary Ann has an idea and makes a rash decision. She pulls herself closer to him. She slides her arms around his neck and lays her cheek down on her arm. The water laps up over her arm, brushing her cheek, but she can still breathe and still talk to him.

Mary Ann feels a little reckless, like one of those girls who would strut around town kissing their boyfriends in public. But Gilligan's right – she has much better balance when she keeps her head closer to the surface of the water. When she speaks, her breath is warm on his skin and he flinches. "Better?"

Mary Ann watches his Adam's apple travel the length of his throat as he swallows hard. "Yeah."

"Thanks for teaching me how to swim."

"You're welcome." Gilligan is quiet for a long moment. The only sound is that of the water splashing from Mary Ann's practice kicks. He can feel her eyelashes lightly brushing his shoulder when she blinks. "How come you wanted to learn how to swim now?" he asks. "I guess what with living on an island it'd make sense to learn. Besides, now you can play Marco Polo and pie plate catch with me. It's more fun in the water. And the Skipper isn't much of a challenge anymore."

"Is that where all my pie plates have been disappearing to?" she asks.

"Um. No."

Mary Ann laughs and they descend into quasi-comfortable silence again. Gilligan finally frowns. "It was the shipwreck, wasn't it?" he asks quietly and Mary Ann's arms tighten instinctively around him. She sighs heavily and her breath rushes over his skin, ruffling the hair behind his ear.

"I always feel like such a wimp."

"You're not a wimp. You're a girl."

"Gilligan."

"That's not what I meant."

"I'm just tired of feeling like a chicken."

Gilligan frowns. "I didn't mean that," he says quietly.

"I know."

"I think you're tough," he says after a moment. "You have to be tough to live on a farm and to have your life. A lot of stuff happened to you and you're still always so happy."

"So much has happened. And I am mostly happy, but it does scare me. I want to be brave, but sometimes it's overwhelming. Like I'm drowning." Mary Ann suddenly realizes she's stopped kicking and the water feels like liquid lead on her legs, weighing them down.

Gilligan's quiet. Mary Ann can tell he's thinking hard and she holds her breath. This is usually when he says something unintentionally deep or poetic. "The ocean is a big place and lots of stuff can happen, but you have to just keep swimming. I told you I wouldn't let you drown, Mary Ann." His palms flatten over her abdomen again and he pushes her back up to the surface. "Ever."