A/N: I figure if I want to stay sane, I have to get the story out of me.
I'm sure you all know the feeling. (:
____________________________________________________________________________ __
I said I wanted to get away from the island, but the truth of the matter was it wasn't that easy. And as much as I wanted to blame the resurgence of feelings on the funeral and seeing everyone, that wasn't really the reason. I carried it around constantly. It was almost the beast inside of me.
It wasn't as bad in college since I didn't have as much time to think about it. I had class, relationships, and careers, and a zillion other things to keep me busy. Yet, it wasn't enough. I would hear people talk about their hair, their clothes, a grade they weren't happy about, how they hated their parents, or a friend they were disagreeing with. God, those things are so petty.
So, I figured I had enough hours and quit. My fame helped me get a decent job, and so far things had been all right. All right is about as good as it gets too, it seems.
I was still rewinding scenes and playing them back again for weeks after the funeral. I really should have kept in touch with more people. It's not like what they thought fifteen years ago still shapes their beliefs and ideas today.
"Yet," something seemed to tell me, "what's deep down inside of people never change."
I shivered. A knock at my door finally interrupted my thoughts.
I stood and opened the door, brimming with curiosity at who would visit on a weekday afternoon. A young woman with dark brown hair and a square jaw greeted me. She was dressed in a conservative business suit and was holding a yellow legal pad. Her brown eyes blazed with wit, and she stood upon a mound of confidence.
"Hullo," She spoke first, and I felt her glance burn through my eyes.
"Hullo," I pressed my door open a little farther. "May I help you?" I was pretty sure I had never seen this lady before.
"Ahh," she smiled, and through her face relaxed her eyes maintained their intensity. "My name is Adriana Sumners." She extended her hand. "I'm a journalist."
I accepted the hand. "Nice to meet you." It was an automatic response. I had had my share of journalists in the past years.
"I'd like to talk to you." For the first time she broke eye contact, and peered inside my apartment. "Mind if I come in?"
I blinked before stepping aside, her directness taking me by surprise. "Of course. Come in. Have a seat."
She smiled. "Great." She slipped in beside me and took a seat on the couch, where I joined her.
"You know," Adriana began. "You're awfully hard to get a hold of. I've already talked to everyone else."
"Everyone else?"
"You island boys." She situated her belongings. "I'm surprised no one mentioned it at the funeral."
I eyed her. Apparently, she had been doing research recently if she knew about Percival's funeral.
She looked as if she was waiting for me to respond, but I had nothing to say. "What I mean is, we're interested in a follow-up story. What happened to everyone after they got back from the island. You are all still quite famous. I was only ten or so when it happened, but I remember it quite well. "
"You seem to already know what happened," I offered casually. "My life isn't that exciting."
"Ahhh," she grinned, and her eyes flashed with excitement. "But see, there's more. We're going to take you back to the island. For the first time ever, you can show us- the world, that is- your island. How you lived. What you experienced. What kept you alive for all of those months."
I looked away. "I don't ever want to go back there."
"You're the only one that hasn't agree to it in some way or another. " Adriana was leaning on the edge of her seat, and she almost seemed to burst with intensity. From the few moments I knew her, I imagined she was a very good journalist. She had a very intimidating way about her.
"Oh?" I tried to sound interested without showing my nervousness.
"Yes. Sam, Eric, Bill," she slowed down, as if to make a point. "Simon's parents."
It worked.
"If they knew," I started to lose my confidence. "If they knew, they wouldn't want to."
"Maybe not," she leaned back again, knowing that her words had had the effect she wanted them to. "It could represent a great sense of closure about the whole ideal. At least they'd know."
I folded my arms. If only she knew about closure.
"You're welcome to invite any family members that you want to come along. You mom, a girlfriend.just as long as it's not a whole circus. We'll leave in late May."
She continued to throw out a few more details and I looked at her, sitting, contemplating, wishing she would just go away. Finally, I had to end it.
"I'll consider it." I snapped. I had a feeling this was the least among I could say while still making her happy enough to leave.
She just looked at me for a long time before standing. "All right then. I can't make you go."
I stood as well, and felt as though a burden fell off of my lap. She seemed a lot smaller on her feet. After what seemed like minutes, she grabbed the rest of her belongings.
"Nice to meet you, Ralph," Adriana smiled, as though she was a lawyer stepping off the interrogation stand. "I've read so much about you. It's nice to finally put a personality behind the story." She walked toward the door.
I opened it for her, and she passed through calmly. "If you have any questions, call me." She handed be a business card. "Adriana Sumners."
"Adriana," I asked her, and she turned around to face me. "I do have one question."
Her eyes perked lit up even more. "Anything."
"Why didn't you just call? Why the visit?"
She grinned. "I'm a lot more convincing in person. Someone told me you'd be tough."
I watched her, and the bitterness that I had never been able to shed clouded me once again. No matter how much pressure she put on me to go, I would just be apart of her news story. Too many journalists didn't seem to care about the constant struggle we went through.
"Like I said, any questions."
"Right."
"I'll call you anyway. I know you'll come around."
She gave a final wave, and her potent gaze pierced my brain.
So much for burying the past.
____________________________________________________________________________ __
I said I wanted to get away from the island, but the truth of the matter was it wasn't that easy. And as much as I wanted to blame the resurgence of feelings on the funeral and seeing everyone, that wasn't really the reason. I carried it around constantly. It was almost the beast inside of me.
It wasn't as bad in college since I didn't have as much time to think about it. I had class, relationships, and careers, and a zillion other things to keep me busy. Yet, it wasn't enough. I would hear people talk about their hair, their clothes, a grade they weren't happy about, how they hated their parents, or a friend they were disagreeing with. God, those things are so petty.
So, I figured I had enough hours and quit. My fame helped me get a decent job, and so far things had been all right. All right is about as good as it gets too, it seems.
I was still rewinding scenes and playing them back again for weeks after the funeral. I really should have kept in touch with more people. It's not like what they thought fifteen years ago still shapes their beliefs and ideas today.
"Yet," something seemed to tell me, "what's deep down inside of people never change."
I shivered. A knock at my door finally interrupted my thoughts.
I stood and opened the door, brimming with curiosity at who would visit on a weekday afternoon. A young woman with dark brown hair and a square jaw greeted me. She was dressed in a conservative business suit and was holding a yellow legal pad. Her brown eyes blazed with wit, and she stood upon a mound of confidence.
"Hullo," She spoke first, and I felt her glance burn through my eyes.
"Hullo," I pressed my door open a little farther. "May I help you?" I was pretty sure I had never seen this lady before.
"Ahh," she smiled, and through her face relaxed her eyes maintained their intensity. "My name is Adriana Sumners." She extended her hand. "I'm a journalist."
I accepted the hand. "Nice to meet you." It was an automatic response. I had had my share of journalists in the past years.
"I'd like to talk to you." For the first time she broke eye contact, and peered inside my apartment. "Mind if I come in?"
I blinked before stepping aside, her directness taking me by surprise. "Of course. Come in. Have a seat."
She smiled. "Great." She slipped in beside me and took a seat on the couch, where I joined her.
"You know," Adriana began. "You're awfully hard to get a hold of. I've already talked to everyone else."
"Everyone else?"
"You island boys." She situated her belongings. "I'm surprised no one mentioned it at the funeral."
I eyed her. Apparently, she had been doing research recently if she knew about Percival's funeral.
She looked as if she was waiting for me to respond, but I had nothing to say. "What I mean is, we're interested in a follow-up story. What happened to everyone after they got back from the island. You are all still quite famous. I was only ten or so when it happened, but I remember it quite well. "
"You seem to already know what happened," I offered casually. "My life isn't that exciting."
"Ahhh," she grinned, and her eyes flashed with excitement. "But see, there's more. We're going to take you back to the island. For the first time ever, you can show us- the world, that is- your island. How you lived. What you experienced. What kept you alive for all of those months."
I looked away. "I don't ever want to go back there."
"You're the only one that hasn't agree to it in some way or another. " Adriana was leaning on the edge of her seat, and she almost seemed to burst with intensity. From the few moments I knew her, I imagined she was a very good journalist. She had a very intimidating way about her.
"Oh?" I tried to sound interested without showing my nervousness.
"Yes. Sam, Eric, Bill," she slowed down, as if to make a point. "Simon's parents."
It worked.
"If they knew," I started to lose my confidence. "If they knew, they wouldn't want to."
"Maybe not," she leaned back again, knowing that her words had had the effect she wanted them to. "It could represent a great sense of closure about the whole ideal. At least they'd know."
I folded my arms. If only she knew about closure.
"You're welcome to invite any family members that you want to come along. You mom, a girlfriend.just as long as it's not a whole circus. We'll leave in late May."
She continued to throw out a few more details and I looked at her, sitting, contemplating, wishing she would just go away. Finally, I had to end it.
"I'll consider it." I snapped. I had a feeling this was the least among I could say while still making her happy enough to leave.
She just looked at me for a long time before standing. "All right then. I can't make you go."
I stood as well, and felt as though a burden fell off of my lap. She seemed a lot smaller on her feet. After what seemed like minutes, she grabbed the rest of her belongings.
"Nice to meet you, Ralph," Adriana smiled, as though she was a lawyer stepping off the interrogation stand. "I've read so much about you. It's nice to finally put a personality behind the story." She walked toward the door.
I opened it for her, and she passed through calmly. "If you have any questions, call me." She handed be a business card. "Adriana Sumners."
"Adriana," I asked her, and she turned around to face me. "I do have one question."
Her eyes perked lit up even more. "Anything."
"Why didn't you just call? Why the visit?"
She grinned. "I'm a lot more convincing in person. Someone told me you'd be tough."
I watched her, and the bitterness that I had never been able to shed clouded me once again. No matter how much pressure she put on me to go, I would just be apart of her news story. Too many journalists didn't seem to care about the constant struggle we went through.
"Like I said, any questions."
"Right."
"I'll call you anyway. I know you'll come around."
She gave a final wave, and her potent gaze pierced my brain.
So much for burying the past.