island stories.

//

We bring ’Jisan to the crematorium, after the ceremony. His body, wrapped in a white shroud, reminds me of a cocoon. At least he’s warm, I think for a second, then almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of the idea. Leilani hovers behind me, hugging herself, limpid brown eyes staring vacantly ahead. “Say goodbye, Lani,” I murmur. Then the kiln swallows ’Jisan and I see bright orange flames licking at his body, hungry for flesh. Soon there will be nothing left but charred bits of bone.

-

I float in and out of sleep listening. In my daze I think about Lani, ’Jisan, my mother, the butterflies, everything that is falling apart and disintegrating. In the end the island claims everything. If I stay, it would take me as well.

Every time I open my eyes it seems like the ceiling is a little lower. Soon it will press down against my face and suffocate me. I listen for his voice, move to touch him, to reassure myself that I’m still alive, in the guesthouse, but my limbs feel like lead, impossibly heavy. Then I hear him say, “Kanae?” and just like that mobility is restored to my arms. My hand reaches out for his, but I grasp nothing but air.

The ceiling swoops down and darkness swallows me.

//

不是不肯，只是舍不得。