Chapter Twenty-three

"Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love."

- Charlie Brown

Sayid thought of moving to the caves. He would see Nadia less often there. He had packed his bag three times, and each time he ended up unpacking it again. It was strange that, in a population of less than fifty, two civilizations could have arisen. It was not that there was either rivalry or division between the two camps; people moved freely between the beaches and caves, and, before night fall, you never knew where you might find someone.

But at night, the beach camp had taken to drawing around the signal fire, which had become the common fire; its original purpose, if not exactly forgotten, was seldom thought of. People ate together, talked together, sang together before retiring to their separate shelters. Sayid imagined a similar ritual played itself out in the caves. Somehow, the beach had become his home, and if, by some evil fate, he were forced to choose between the defense of one or the other, he knew which he would fight for.

So he stayed, but he busied himself as far from Nadia as he could. Usually, he saw her only in the evenings, across the fire, and then, and only then, he let his eyes roam her face, her figure. Sometimes Nasser would glance at him, and he would either lower his eyes or pretend to be looking vacantly into the fire.

Tonight, he caught Nadia's eye, and he thought he saw there, buried beneath the shame, the same longing that was sweeping like a wave over his heart. He had tried to stop these feelings, largely because they were adulterous, but also because he thought it was too soon to desire another woman. His heart would always have a place for Shannon, and his mind would always house a memory of his love for her. He had known intellectually that he would eventually move on; he had determined to seek happiness, but he had certainly not anticipated this too-early surge of feeling for another. Yet there the emotion was, as undeniable as the tide, cresting at the worse time possible, and foaming about in a sea of complications that made its exercise impossible and its weight unbearable.

He cast his eyes aside and saw Hurley sit clumsily down beside him. He suspected Hurley had moved from the caves to the beach for nothing more than the superior gossip. Hurley now crossed his legs, leaned forward, and said, "I didn't see that coming either."

"See what?" asked Sayid. He was glad for the conversation. It would distract him.

"An unwed mother and a priest." Hurley motioned halfway round the circle, where Marcus sat talking to Claire, who would smile and laugh from time to time. "Do you think he'll break his vow for her?"

"No," said Sayid.

"Well," said Hurley in a low voice of confidentiality, "I think he kind of already has."

Sayid appeared unconvinced.

"Like, the other day," Hurley said, "when I was out picking some fruit…I saw them by this tree…and they were like…you know… kissing."

"So?"

"So, dude, he's like…a priest."

Sayid smiled. "He was not required to take a vow of celibacy. He can…what do you call it? Date?"

"Dude, are you serious?"

Sayid nodded.

Hurley shook his head. "Charlie's gonna be pissed." When Sayid raised an eyebrow, Hurley clarified, "He's going to be angry."

Sayid glanced across the fire at Charlie, who was strumming his guitar and shooting peeved looks at Marcus from time to time. "I suspect he already is."

In fact, a moment later, Charlie stopped strumming and shoved his guitar against Marcus's chest. The priest had been leaning back on his arms, and he was clearly surprised by the blow. He wrapped one arm around the guitar, and then he looked up at Charlie with disbelief as the musician rose, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked off moodily from the fire.

A few people cast looks in his direction, and there were some muffled whispers, but soon the drum of regular conversation returned. Marcus put the guitar down beside him and made as if to rise and follow Charlie, but Claire prevented him, and instead she lifted Aaron and went to follow the disgruntled musician alone.

"That's not going to be pretty," Hurley said. "Man, did you see the way…"

Sayid did not hear what Hurley was now saying to him. He was watching as Nadia rose with her husband and headed back to their tent. Some nights, they left the common fire early, and every time they did, Sayid watched them. As they walked together, always he felt the gnawing envy mingle with the sickening shame.

And what did Nadia feel for Nasser? She had risked everything to bring him back alive. She followed him into that tent each night, where she must often have given herself to him. And yet...and yet she had attempted to seduce Sayid; she had even said she loved him. Had she done it for revenge, because Nasser was guilty of the same crime? No, Sayid thought, for if she had she would have flaunted her adulterous desire before her husband, instead of avoiding Sayid as he avoided her, instead of allowing her beauty to be marred by the shadow of shame on those rare occasions when she glanced his way.

He looked into the fire and tried to melt his yearning through sheer force of will. But he could not. The desire alone would have been tolerable, if only he did not know that it might be indulged. He kept thinking about what she had said to him, that if he came to her…

He could not stand the company anymore. He could not stand the light of the fire; it seemed to blind him. He stood and left Hurley in mid-sentence. He stumbled back toward his tent, packed his things, and headed for the caves. On his way, he passed Claire's tent, and from inside he heard her cry, "Let go, Charlie." He began to walk on, but her cry turned from annoyed to frightened. "Let go!"

Sayid entered the tent and saw Aaron in the cradle, Charlie grasping Claire's wrist. The musician glanced angrily at Sayid and released her. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Nevertheless," he said, "until I am sure you have no intention of harming the lady--"

"You self-righteous," Charlie walked menacingly toward Sayid, but then he stopped, ran his hand through his unkempt hair, turned, and said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Claire. I'm sorry if I seemed…angry…and that I grabbed you…and that…it's just that I don't understand. I don't understand why you can't love me. What has that priest got that I haven't?"

"It isn't about what anyone's got, Charlie. I can't help the way I feel. You're a nice guy, really, and I appreciate everything you've done for me. I do. I really do. I care for you, Charlie. I do care for you. I just don't…believe me, if I could make myself love you, I would."

"Have you even tried?"

"Yes. Yes I have tried as a matter of fact."

"Well I hope you're happy," Charlie muttered, in a tone that revealed he quite clearly did not hope she was happy. And then he stormed from the tent.

Claire broke down in tears and sat on the sand. Sayid looked outside the tent and then back to her. He couldn't very well leave her like that, but he had his own pain to contend with. At last, he came and sat beside her. She threw herself against his chest and started sobbing. He glanced nervously at the cradle, but the child seemed undisturbed. Cautiously, he raised an arm, and, uncertainly, he placed it around her. He held her while she cried.

When she was done, she drew back, rubbed at her bleary eyes, and apologized. He said gently, "No need, no need."

"You can't help who you love, can you Sayid?"

"No," said Sayid, "you can only control what you do."

She looked at him accusingly. "I really did try to love him!"

Sayid had not been thinking of that; he had been thinking of his own temptation. "That is not what I meant, not at all what I meant." He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

Claire was now the one to seek to comfort him. "Sayid, what's wrong?"

Somehow, he found himself confessing to her. He spilled out his sinful longing before her reflexively, because at the moment it was drowning him. The secret burden had been so heavy, and now that it was no longer a secret to at least one person, he felt some of the weight lift--only a little--but just enough to enable him to breathe. "I have committed the adultery of the eye," he concluded.

He exhaled deeply and thought it had been good to confess. But then she spoke, and the momentary peace turned sour. "Sayid," Claire said gently. "It's okay. So it turns out you're human. At least you didn't act on it. You're lusting after her. So what. Everyone makes mistakes."

He rose from the floor of the tent. "A mistake," he said bitterly, "is when you forget to carry the one in addition." He stepped out of the tent, grabbed his bag, and headed for the caves.