"Is this your handiwork?"
The Professor looked up at the voice. He had the broken mirror spread out on the table in front of him, studying it with a rare air of defeat. Ginger was standing behind him, one hand on her hip. A statue, about a foot tall and carved from solid wood, was balanced on her other palm.
It looked like an Academy Award.
"Partly," he replied distractedly, gaze drifting back to the shattered mirror.
Ginger sat down beside him. "Staring at it isn't going to fix anything."
The Professor sighed. "I know. But there has to be something else I haven't thought of. If I could just calculate the –"
"Professor! Professor..." Ginger laid her hand on his arm to stop his wild gesturing. He calmed under her touch and turned to her. She was smiling sadly. "This is it."
He sighed again and rubbed his hands over his face. "I know."
Ginger placed the statue on the table, centering it on one of the small jagged mirror pieces. Its reflection appeared across the honeycomb of shards, spreading across the table like a kaleidoscope and glinting in the sun. "Talk to me about this instead."
"Gilligan and Mary Ann were trying to figure out what everyone else would have on their lists. They thought you'd want to win an Academy Award, so Gilligan started carving this for you. I told him to add this part." The Professor pointed to the front of the carving. The Oscar statue held a sword, as usual, but there was something else carved around the blade.
Ginger squinted at it, her nose wrinkling in confusion. "What is that? Is that a snake?"
"The Rod of Asclepius. Symbol of medical organizations around the world."
Ginger eyed him suspiciously. "Are you trying to rub it in that I didn't become a nurse?"
The Professor grinned at her, unusually proud of himself. "Not at all. Ginger, I'm sure you understand why people love the arts. Why do they spend money they don't have to go to the theatre? Why do they sit through the same inane movie twelve times?"
"Because they want to be entertained."
"Because it heals them," he continued emphatically and Ginger lowered her eyes to the table, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "They laugh, they cry, they escape. They relate. They leave feeling better or understanding something about themselves. All actors and their characters are doctors and psychiatrists. Usually most of them need psychiatrists," he added as an afterthought and Ginger laughed briefly. "Lady Macbeth, Blanche DuBois, Ophelia, Emily Webb ... even the hula girl from The Hula Girl and the Fullback." Ginger frowned, unconvinced that such a stupid movie could have these powers. "They're all nurses," he continued. "They all heal people. You heal people. Ginger, look at the inscription."
Ginger peered at the base of the statue.
Ginger Grant
Best Actress
Cor Curat
"What does that mean?" she whispered.
"It's Latin. It means 'heals with heart.' Ginger, I have a degree in psychology, I understand how acting works on the most fundamental level." The Professor turned to face her directly. "You dig down deep in your soul, you pull out your heart and you show it to the audience and you hope that one of them, just one person who's watching you, will understand and be moved and be healed."
Ginger raised her eyes to his and smiled. He understood. "That's all I ever wanted."
The Professor picked up the wooden Oscar and presented it to the actress. "Then you won."
# # # #
"I'm sorry I broke the mirror." Gilligan stood uneasily in the girls' section of the hut. He was wringing his hat in his hands, his eyes pleading with Mary Ann not to be mad at him.
"It's okay," she sighed.
"No, it's not."
Gilligan wasn't the least bit surprised to find Mary Ann sitting alone in the hut after his spectacular swing through the mirror, especially after the events of last night. After he exclaimed that he would actually be able to attend Skinny and Florence's wedding in the afterlife, he noticed with horror that the same realization that had made him so thrilled had made Mary Ann equally devastated. He panicked as she cried into his chest and he held her awkwardly and stroked her hair and babbled about how being able to go to the wedding was a good thing and that meant they'd still be able to see everyone they loved and they couldn't do that trapped on the island.
Gilligan was trying to look on the bright side of the inevitable, but Mary Ann was focusing on the missed opportunities, the life she'd never lead, which was understandable considering her life had a tendency to change abruptly before she was finished with the current episode. So they stood at center stage and he held her as she clung to him and cried for the first time since they first heard the news on the radio until Gilligan made a comment about Mr. Howell not being too happy about his soaked silk tie and she laughed.
A little after midnight, Gilligan took her home, where Ginger was waiting to pounce like a gossip-hungry lion, then returned the radio to the Skipper, who had taken to pacing restlessly and concocting his own catastrophic news broadcasts in its absence, and then went to the Howells to return the borrowed clothing. They were still up and Mr. Howell took the jacket and tie and nodded his thanks, but didn't comment on their damp sorry state.
"Gilligan, it's not your fault." Mary Ann stood and approached him. Her eyes were large and sad. She had lost her sparkle, the positive attitude that kept her moving and distracted for the past two days. She was giving up and it worried him. "If the pilots didn't see the reflection from the pieces, they wouldn't have seen the reflection from the whole mirror. It's just too cloudy."
"Come with me. I want to show you something." Gilligan pulled his hat back on and turned to the door, expecting her to follow.
"Now?"
Gilligan turned back to face her. "We're kind of on a tight schedule," he replied. He saw her wince and he softened, walking back to meet her in the middle of the hut. "I have to show you something. It's a miracle," he explained sincerely, but Mary Ann didn't look convinced.
"Let me guess. The Skipper didn't finish his lunch?"
"No," he shot back, but then smirked. "Well ... yes, but that's not the miracle."
"The missile landed, but it didn't explode?"
"Just come with me."
"Gilligan, there's no point in trying to finish my list now. If you don't mind, I'd rather just stay here." Mary Ann sat down on the edge of her bed again.
Gilligan stared at her incredulously. He glanced around, not sure what he was looking for – maybe a sign that she was teasing him somehow. He watched her stare down at her lap, idly picking at her nails, and he knelt down in front of her to look her in the eye. "I do mind. Mary Ann, this isn't like you." Gilligan took hold of the makeshift mattress on either side of her and her knees dug into his chest as he leaned forward so he could peer up under the brim of her hat – the cute straw one with the ironically perky flowers. "You don't sit around being sad. You live your life and you go on adventures with me and you fly! I don't want the last thing you see to be this sorry looking hut. I have something amazing to show you. Don't you trust me?"
Mary Ann looked up at him. He was staring her straight in the eye again, daring her not to go with him. "Mary Ann, this is the only diem we've got left, so you better carp it." She finally smiled and he knew he had her. Gilligan grinned and stood, holding his hand out help her up. Mary Ann glanced back down at the ground for a moment and then grabbed the edge of the bed to push herself to her feet.
# # # #
"It's so quiet," Mary Ann whispered.
She was standing close by Gilligan's elbow in the clearing by the banyan tree. The tree was huge, bigger than any other on the island. Its primordial branches swung out in all directions. Vines and other plants had grown into its canopy and hung toward the ground all around the periphery of the tree, creating the perfect hiding place within these living walls.
On warm sunny days, Mary Ann spent hours hanging the washing on it's branches and daydreaming. Birds loved nesting inside the tree and they flew around the top of the cavern singing happily. It made Mary Ann feel like Cinderella and she always half expected the birds to swoop down and pick up a piece of laundry with their tiny feet and help her lay it out to dry.
In the sun, the tree glinted like the magical Tree of Life in an enchanted forest. But when it was cloudy, like today, it looked like a crazy old hag bent over with her scraggly hair brushing the ground. An eerie silence had fallen over the entire island that morning. There were no birds squawking in the trees, no monkeys chattering in the jungle. Mary Ann stepped closer to Gilligan, the ominous atmosphere pressing heavily over the clearing.
"The animals know," Gilligan replied quietly. "They know something's coming, so they're hiding."
"They do that before tornados, too." Mary Ann glanced around the clearing warily and then up into the sky. Nothing. "Is this what you wanted to show me? It's not a miracle, it's instinct. And it's scary."
"No, this isn't it. We're early. Just wait."
"What am I waiting for?"
"Watch the tree. You'll see it."
Gilligan and Mary Ann waited in silence. There were no signs of life anywhere. No animals. No running water. No breeze. The silence emanating from the jungle was so loud it was almost deafening, causing a ringing in her ears not unlike the one in her nightmare. Mary Ann inched closer still until her cheek brushed Gilligan's shoulder and she took his arm in both hands. "Gilligan, I don't like this," she whispered, fear creeping into the edge of her voice.
"One more minute." Gilligan peered at the tree carefully, squinting at the leaves. Suddenly he saw movement. His eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened. "Look!" His arm flew out in front of him to point into the foliage.
Mary Ann jumped and gripped his arm. "What? What happened?"
Gilligan hurried toward the tree, Mary Ann scurrying to keep up with him as she clung to his arm. He stopped eyelevel with some sort of nest that was suspended from a low-hanging branch. It was a light gold color and as they watched it twitched sporadically.
"Come on. It's time." Gilligan ducked under the branch and pulled Mary Ann through the vine curtain behind him. Under the tree, thick branches scooped around them, arching toward the ground and up into the air creating the perfect living cave where they were completely cut off from the outside world. The grass grew thick and unobstructed here and the sun was just beginning to emerge from behind the clouds, only thin glowing shafts reaching the ground through the leafy roof, penetrating the air like sharply focused spotlights.
Mary Ann looked up. Hundreds more of these nests hung from the branches all around them, as far up into the tree as she could see and as far down as mere inches from the ground, protected from the wind and the rain beneath the tree's natural umbrella. Some of them were twitching, even though there was no breeze, and it reminded Mary Ann of a bad science fiction movie that Ginger was once in.
"Gilligan, what's –." The rest of the sentence caught in Mary Ann's throat and she gasped and squeezed Gilligan's arm as she stared at the twitching pod nearest her. It split open and the most beautiful red butterfly was pushing itself out into the world, its colors immediately lightening the dreary atmosphere. The delicate creature perched on the remains of its shell and spread its wings, strengthening and expanding them in the air.
All around them, butterflies began emerging. Reds, purples, blues, and oranges suddenly appeared inside the dim canopy and lit it with their vibrancy. The butterflies perched on their shells and flexed their wings, colors appearing and disappearing like twinkling Christmas lights.
As these butterflies eventually gained strength and began to take flight, others were emerging from their chrysalides. The stronger butterflies tested their wings, fluttering around them, as the newly emerged insects stretched out on their branches.
Mary Ann's eyes widened and she let go of Gilligan's arm, wandering forward into the swirling mass of butterflies. Mary Ann held out her hands and three butterflies immediately landed on her palms and she giggled as their tiny feet tickled her skin. She glanced up at Gilligan whose face twisted as he tried to peer up at the butterfly that had landed on the brim of his hat without tilting his head too far and knocking it off.
"How did you know this was happening?"
"I found them yesterday and the Professor figured out how long it would be before they would come out. He said he never saw this many at once before. He said it was 'nearly impossible.' That sounded like a miracle to me." Gilligan grinned down at his outstretched arm, where a line of butterflies was perched. "I think it's because they know something's coming. They had to be ready to fly away. Instinct, I guess." He shrugged and a dozen butterflies took off from his arms and shoulders.
Mary Ann was gazing around her in awe. More creatures continued to emerge, blooming around them like vivid cartoon flowers. She tilted her head back, holding her hat in place, and watched the hundreds of delicate insects flutter and swirl over them. "It's gorgeous," she breathed and Gilligan heard the smile return to her voice.
"Mrs. Howell said something meaningful would turn up. And ... and I know how much we like to go butterfly hunting together," Gilligan murmured awkwardly.
Mary Ann beamed at him, eyes shining, and returned to his side to take his arm again. "It's perfect."
Gilligan grinned sheepishly and lifted his head to look up into the churning swarm of color. He tilted his head all the way back, his hat somehow staying firmly in place, and sighed with an appreciation for nature that never ceased to amaze Mary Ann.
A tiny red and white butterfly landed lightly on his nose and Mary Ann laughed. Gilligan smiled and nearly went cross-eyed trying to see it clearly. He kept perfectly still as it perched there, quite content to make herself at home on his nose.
After a moment, Gilligan's brow furrowed and Mary Ann heard him start to whisper. "You guys better get out of here," he advised the insect and the smile slid off of Mary Ann's face. The butterfly turned to face him and her antennae stilled. She seemed to be hanging on his every word. "A great big missile's coming and I don't want you to get caught, too." Mary Ann's heart ached as she listened to him speak so sincerely to the beautiful little creature, urging her to escape sharing their same fate.
"You have wings," Gilligan continued. "Use them."
Mary Ann slipped her hand down his arm and tentatively slid her palm over his.
"Fly!" he insisted and Mary Ann quickly laced her fingers through his as the butterfly rose and disappeared into the throng.
Gilligan stared up into the tree for another moment. Mary Ann felt his fingers twitch and then curl around her hand, squeezing it gently. She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Gilligan and Mary Ann stood watching the newborn butterflies cavort around them, learning to use their wings and delighting in their newfound freedom. The light rustling of nearly a thousand delicate wings was the only thing audible in the otherwise pressing silence. The sunlight shining through the leaves was becoming stronger, dust and other particles in the air shining in the shafts of light, bursts of color glinting as they flew past.
Gilligan suddenly gasped and turned to Mary Ann, wide eyed, and she peered up at him curiously. "Mary Ann, we're really gonna die!" he blurted. He had said it before and they both knew what was coming, but it just hit him – for real – that he would never experience anything as wonderful as this moment ever again.
She nodded shakily. "I know."
"Today!"
"I know." Her voice cracked.
Gilligan didn't know what to do. He had just managed to cheer her up and now they both looked terrified and that was the last thing he wanted. He glanced toward the sky, but couldn't see past the hundreds of butterflies fluttering amongst the banyan cave's thick leafy roof. Mary Ann was looking up at him, waiting for him to do something.
He thought about the missile on its way to their island and how no one knew they were there.
He thought about his family and his friends who probably already thought he was dead.
He thought about his new castaway family, how they lived and now died together.
He thought about the hundreds of newborn butterflies who could fly away and escape.
He thought about their lists and all the things they had accomplished in the past two days and the one thing they hadn't.
He thought about Skinny Mulligan and Florence Oppenheimer and their true love.
He thought about the girl standing in front of him holding his hand for no reason.
Finally, he decided what to do. Fueled by all of these thoughts and encouraged by Skinny Mulligan's one moment of bravery and the idea that he could potentially cross the final unwritten item off both of their lists, he dipped his head and he kissed her.
Perhaps a little too abruptly and she gasped in surprise so he pulled back a bit. A few uncertain moments passed as they stood a hair's breadth apart, eyes closed, noses touching, lips brushing light as butterfly wings, until Mary Ann squeezed his hand.
Gilligan instantly began to feel strange. A warmth slowly spread through his body as they kissed and he knew his ears were turning red. Even his toes felt funny. Mary Ann stepped up close to him and tilted her head, rising up onto her toes. She slid her free hand up to his shoulder and he slid his around her waist. The tingling began again in his fingertips and traveled up his arms just as it crept up from his toes and soon engulfed his entire body.
The kiss was slow and gentle and was lasting far longer than Gilligan had anticipated. He felt Mary Ann's hand on his jaw and then gripping the collar of his shirt, the fingers of her other hand tightly entwined with his. Butterflies fluttered around them, briefly alighting on their heads and shoulders, sharing their magic, blessing them, saying goodbye, before returning to the colorful swirling cloud.
Gilligan had no coherent thoughts left in his head. He didn't even have to think about breathing as instinct kicked in. His knees felt wobbly. He felt like the butterflies were holding him up, the fluttering of their wings echoing the flurry in his stomach. Mary Ann leaned further into him and he heard her sigh quietly.
The butterflies gradually began to discover the tiny openings in the canopy and cautiously ventured into the now brightly lit sky beyond the tree. The little creatures swept past Gilligan and Mary Ann on their way to these doorways, brushing their hands and arms, giving them strength and taking a piece of their souls with them as they surged from the tree and into the heavens.
When the last butterfly was gone from inside the tree, the kiss ended at last and they pulled back just far enough to see one another. Mary Ann blinked, long lashes fluttering rapidly, as she stared up at him in astonishment, exhilaration, and breathlessness, her heart pounding and upper body pulsing against his chest as she tried to catch her breath, one hand still gripping his collar, the fingers of the other still tangled with his.
Gilligan gazed down at her in utter bafflement, each blink bringing his glazed blue eyes further back into focus. His fingers flexed against her back and a lopsided grin slowly spread over his face.
"Ow."