“More important than board games and butt fun? What else could that possibly be?”
I chuckle and put my head on his shoulder. “Take a guess.”
“The sunset.”
And I kiss his skin in response.
Yes, the sunset. Our last sunset.
Somehow, I don't dissolve into tears. I manage to sit up, pull him with me and get us a bottle of water each and some peanuts from the mini bar and make him play Scrabble with me again under the shade of a parasol.
I focus so hard on the game, it helps me win. Then we lather up our bodies with sun cream and go about doing the most ridiculous jumps into the pool, completely naked. I make him do all the poses that he did for Maeve's video, and he then barks out new ones for me to do – playing rugby, whisking eggs, cleaning a toilet - and again I choke on water from laughing so hard. I do the same for him and we take it in turns taking photos on our phones, photos I already know I’ll look at hundreds of times in the future.
After he pours me a glass of wine from the mini bar while he grabs a Coke, we get into the jacuzzi, still naked, where our hands are ready to roam each other again and we both rush through our drinks and drying off so we can make our way to the bedroom and the fun that lies ahead there.
And what fun it is.
It is exploratory sex at its best. Rooted in trust and love, we give each other parts of our bodies that aren't easy to share, but are rewarded with surprising sensations of pleasure, and the right kind of pain. We dive into it all so deeply that when we emerge from it, sated and sore, the sky has already changed colour.
I make a quick phone call for room service - two burgers, fries and virgin mojitos - and then we get into the pool, him naked but me in a swimming costume as I need to let room service in. This time, I position him facing the sunset, his arms resting on the infinity edge of the pool in almost exactly the same place he fucked me two days ago, and I stand behind him, wrapping my body around his, looking at the view over his shoulder.
We don't speak much, and I'm glad. Words are now scary things, because they risk taking us to places I am not yet ready to go. Instead, I turn to the recent past and the one question I feel I still need an answer to.
“Marty,” I say softly after kissing his back. “I need to ask you a question.”
“Okay,” he says, and I feel his torso tense.
“The motorbike accident in Ibiza? Was it an accident?”
His sigh is heavy and hollow. “The truth is, I don't know. I can't remember that day. None of it. Even the day before is sketchy. I hit my head pretty bad, and the doctors said I had severe concussion so short-term memory loss wouldn't be surprising. I only remember waking up in hospital.” He sighs again, this time in more of a rush, like he’s desperate to say something. “I know what the witnesses said. I know what it must have looked like. I mean, I'm not the world's best driver, but even I know not to accelerate into a brick wall. I know I was pretty low at that point, but I don't know if I wanted to end it all. I certainly don't think I was planning on it or thinking about it for weeks or days before. And I definitely know that when I woke up in hospital, and was told how badly I was hurt, well, I remember so clearly how that made me feel. I remember so vividly the first thought I had...” His voice trails off.
“What was it?” I prompt after a few seconds.
“Like I was so close to touching Arnie again,” he says with an audible smile. But a beat later, it's gone. “Like he was right there, and I got so close, but I blew it. I couldn’t even get that right.”
It feels like my heartbeat stops and an ice cold breeze finds me out of nowhere.
“But then the nurses told me my parents were on their way and I knew just as certainly that I wasn't ready to leave this life. I mean, you know if I'm excited to see my parents after I'd basically disappeared for six months and I knew that they were going to roast the living shit out of me, then I had some lust for life left in me.”
“You wanted to live?”
“Yes, I wanted to live. I wanted to get better. I wanted to remember Arnie in the way he deserved to be remembered, and I wanted to honour his life in a way he deserved.”
“Marty, I think you do that,” I whisper, resting my forehead on his back. “I think you will always do that.”
Silence returns and I lift my eyes a little to find the sunset again, almost ready to watch our last one together on this island. It’s many minutes later when Marty speaks again.
“I don’t really believe in the afterlife or spirits or even fate much.” His voice is dry and deep, and it cuts through the air like it's everywhere. “But if Iwasone to believe in that stuff, if I was someone who really believed in angels for example, I would have some questions for Arnie about what happened the day I met you.”
I don't reply, can't reply, but I push my head a little harder onto him. I wish I could disappear into Marty's body, bury myself in him and stay there just to carry some of his grief for him.
“Would you hate it if I thought Arnie sent you to me? Would you think that was batshit crazy?”
I shake my head again and finally, finally feel brave enough to raise my head and move my body so I can look at him. He turns too and cups my face.
“I'll never replace him,” I say, because that's the most important thing to say. I should have said it sooner.
“God, no,” Marty says, and his voice also sounds choked. “But I think that's one of the reasons I love you, Jenna. You don't take away from my love for him.”
