Chapter Six
Gilligan ran and ran, dragging Mary Ann behind him, her little hand clutched tightly in his. She laughed with a mixture of happiness and trepidation, not knowing where they were going. Leaves and twigs snapped underfoot as they headed down paths that Mary Ann didn't even know existed. All she knew was that she was running away with the boy who had been the center of her dreams for three years, and it felt exhilarating.
Finally they came to a clearing and Gilligan stopped running. Mary Ann didn't stop in time and bumped into him, breathless and laughing. "Where are we?" she asked, clutching his arm to steady herself.
"Beats me," Gilligan said. "It's pretty though, isn't it?"
Mary Ann looked around. It was pretty. There were tropical flowers everywhere, growing wild and untamed. Heliconias and ginger lilies and a myriad of hibiscus in red, orange, yellow and pink. The sun shone through the canopy and danced on the ground, and high in the trees a songbird trilled and warbled. "It's like we're the only two people on earth," Mary Ann whispered.
"Sometimes I wish we were," Gilligan said, then clamped his mouth shut, too late.
Mary Ann shuffled her feet and looked at the ground.
"I mean, you know, it would be quieter," Gilligan mumbled.
They began walking along the path. Mary Ann wanted to hold his hand. She let her hand 'accidentally' brush his as they walked, but he made no move to reclaim it. "Are you really running to escape Ginger?" she asked, looking up at his profile.
"Kind of. Ginger only kisses me when she wants something, but now it's like she's on a mission."
"I'm sorry," Mary Ann said, softly. "If I'd known the mistletoe would upset you, I would never have made it."
"I'm not upset," he replied. "It's just that, well- there's so much of it."
Mary Ann smiled. "Mrs. Howell got a little overexcited. She only wants people to be happy."
"And Skipper wanted the Howells to be happy, after we heard them arguing. That's why he wanted the mistletoe."
They walked on in silence, listening to the bird trilling. The warmth of the sun blanketed them as they walked out of the shade and found themselves on the path that led to the cliff. And then Gilligan asked the inevitable question, the question she'd hoped he wouldn't ask.
"What about you, Mary Ann? Why did you want mistletoe?"
Mary Ann kicked a pebble. It clattered away in front of them and bounced into a bush. "It was Ginger's idea, really." She heard the defensive tone in her voice and pretended to look for the pebble.
"Oh." He sounded disappointed. "Well, that figures. Ginger's the one getting the most out of it."
Mary Ann didn't know what else to say to him. She wanted to tell him that he was the original inspiration for the mistletoe but she was too shy. She thought it might frighten him. Instead, she moved closer and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, as if they were taking a stroll along the promenade.
When they got to the cliff, they stood and watched the waves crashing on the rocks below. In the distance, the horizon sparkled in the bright December sunshine. Gilligan seemed thoughtful. He wasn't his usual talkative self, and Mary Ann grew worried. "Penny for your thoughts?" she smiled, giving him a gentle nudge.
"I was thinking about home. I was wondering if there was snow."
It was hard to think of something like snow when the sun was beating down on you like a hammer, but Mary Ann closed her eyes and imagined a blanket of snow and a leaden grey sky, and for a moment the thought was so vivid that she shivered.
"My grandmother would always come for Christmas dinner," Gilligan went on. "She sat at the head of the table, opposite my Dad. Every year she'd say 'no wine for me', and every year she finished the bottle. Then she'd fall asleep by the fire and my brother would put tinsel on her head and take a photo."
Mary Ann leaned into him. "I miss Christmas at home, too," she said softly. "But we have good Christmases here, don't we? We make the best of things. We've never lost sight of what's important. Family and friendship, honesty and goodwill. Those things are the same wherever we go. You said so yourself- you've always loved Christmas, no matter where you are."
They stood watching the ocean for a while longer, each lost in their own thoughts. Then Gilligan reached into the depths of his front pocket. "I brought something with me," he said. He pulled out his hand and there was a sprig of mistletoe, slightly squashed and bent out of shape, but still recognisable, and still with the ribbon attached.
Mary Ann's eyes widened in amazement. "Gilligan! Where did you get that?"
"I figured Ginger wouldn't kiss me without mistletoe, so whenever I found myself standing under some, I took it off so she wouldn't see it."
Mary Ann stifled a giggle. "Poor Ginger. You know if she finds out, she'll hold it against you."
He gave a lopsided smile. "That's why I took it. So she wouldn't hold anything against me."
"You know Mrs. Howell won't be very happy when she finds out what you've done."
"She won't notice a few missing. She must have put up hundreds." Gilligan twirled the mistletoe, pleased as punch with himself.
"So what do you intend to do with it? Throw it in the ocean? Bury it in the sand?" Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
Gilligan appraised the mistletoe, which was made out of braided palm leaves interwoven with a gold ribbon. "It's too pretty to throw away," he mused.
Mary Ann gently extricated the sprig from between his fingers. "Then why don't we hang it up?"
"Out here?" Gilligan watched Mary Ann tie the sprig to an overhanging branch. "No-one comes out here."
"You never know." Mary Ann made a neat bow with the yellow ribbon and smoothed it out, admiring its rich, golden sheen. "Mr. and Mrs. Howell may come walking out here one day and see it, long after Christmas is over. It'll be a nice surprise for them!"
"What about Ginger? I might come out here one day and Ginger will be waiting for me under the tree."
Mary Ann laughed. "Gilligan, Ginger's not exactly a poisonous viper. Why are you so frightened of giving her a kiss?"
"I don't give Ginger kisses, she takes them," said Gilligan. The corners of his mouth turned down.
Mary Ann stood beneath the mistletoe, digging the tip of her shoe in the dirt. "What about me? Are you frightened of kissing me?"
"You're different," Gilligan replied.
"Different how?"
Gilligan looked at the ground. He shrugged, burying his chin in his shoulder. "I don't know," he murmured. "You just are."
"Is that why you asked me to run away with you?" She tried to see his face, but his hat was in the way.
There was a long pause.
"Maybe," he said, shyly.
Mary Ann took a deep breath and then beckoned him over with her hand. "Come on, Gilligan. No-one can see us out here. I promise not to kiss you like Ginger."
Gilligan looked up, startled. "You want to kiss me?"
"Why not? I'm under the mistletoe. And you know what the Professor said. It's tradition."
Gilligan felt the panic rising. Then he remembered how the Professor had kissed Mary Ann, and how he had made her laugh. The Professor made it look so easy. He remembered how he had felt, hiding in the hut like a big fat coward, watching them through the open window. The feeling that he had to do something, anything, to escape from the fluttery ache in his chest that wouldn't go away.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Gilligan went over to the tree and stood in front of Mary Ann under the mistletoe. He lifted his hands, unsure of where to put them. He settled for resting them lightly on her shoulders and wondered if she could feel that they were shaking.
Mary Ann tilted her face up and closed her eyes expectantly. She waited for the kiss, but it didn't come. Finally she opened her eyes and saw that he looked terrified.
"I don't know what to do," he admitted.
Mary Ann smiled up at him, placing her hands gently on either side of his waist. "Just do it," she said, gently. "It'll be fine." She closed her eyes again and waited. This time she sensed the nearness of his face, the smell of his hair tonic, the warmth of his skin. And then she felt the brush of his lips against hers, the faint scratchiness of his chin as he applied a little more pressure, and then a little more.
And then he was gone.
Mary Ann's eyes stayed closed for a moment. She gripped his shirt to steady herself as the earth whirled beneath her feet. When she opened them she found Gilligan blinking dazedly, as though he'd just knocked back a shot of Mr. Howell's finest brandy. "You see?" she whispered. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"No," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "I didn't expect it to feel that way."
Mary Ann reached up and touched the side of his face. "That's because I don't want anything from you, Gilligan. Except your friendship and your company, which I enjoy more than anything else in the world."
Gilligan began to shuffle awkwardly. "Gee, Mary Ann, that's nice of you to say, but I'm really not..."
Mary Ann put her hand over his mouth just like the Skipper did, startling him. "Whatever you were about to say to put yourself down, it isn't true. You're very special, Gilligan. If I didn't think so, I wouldn't have run away with you. Would I?" She took her hand away, smiling at the bashful expression on his face.
Gilligan gazed down at her. Her cheeks were flushed and shining. He thought he had never seen anyone look more beautiful. Maybe the Skipper was right. Maybe there was something that he hadn't yet discovered about girls, something with the power to amaze him, something that would knock him off his feet.
Or maybe it was just Mary Ann that made him feel like this.
"Come on," he said. "Let's run away some more. I'm not ready to go back just yet." He grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the path.
Mary Ann held back, pointing upwards. "What about the mistletoe? Should we bring it with us?"
"Leave it there, it's okay. Besides..." Gilligan dug his hand into his pocket and showed her the contents. "Look. I brought three more."
Mary Ann's eyes flew wide. "You didn't!"
"I did," he grinned. "When I said I wasn't gonna kiss Ginger, I meant it!"
Mary Ann couldn't contain her laughter at the obvious pride in his voice. Once again she took his hand and followed him into the depths of the jungle, not even caring where they ended up, as long as they were together.