“Edward named all his boats Nauti something.” He scratched his forehead, looking around the space. “Once we take it out of the water, we’ll build a hoist. And if we are lucky, once we lift the boat and the damage isn’t bad, I can patch it well enough to get us to the Rarotonga.”
“I know nothing about fixing boats, but I’m a quick learner. I can help you with whatever you need,” I said, picking up a hammer and inspecting it as if it were an alien object. A large green gecko darted between cans of polyester resin, jolting my heart, and I dropped the tool.
Hunter and I continued meandering, occasionally pausing as we caught sight of various lizards or birds. The paths and trails weaved through the island like a spider web. He told me more about Edward’s business. During the off-season, his uncle used to reside on the island, but throughout the busy fishing season, he lived in a rented studio in Avarua.
We periodically strolled side by side, sometimes with Hunter leading, before we arrived at a wooden structure covered in green vines and buzzing bugs. Human-made (helpful-during-a-crisis) garbage surrounded the ramshackle shed, piled in groups, from shoes and plastic bottles to large synthetic buckets and barrels. Two chickens pecked at the ground near the fishing buoys. Hunter suggested I look inside the shed later because it might have some valuable things Edward’s girlfriends had left. Edward had many ladies, from bartenders to surgical doctors, who never lasted more than a few months. For a brief moment, I wondered if Hunter also discarded lovers like shrimp shells. But then, what did I care?
We reached a garden, surrounded by wattle fencing, overgrown with various plants and invading weeds. My mother had loved her garden. Taking care of plants was her idea of relaxation after long hours at work. If she had seen this mayhem she would have cried out in horror. Using my limited gardening knowledge, I tried to figure out which plant was what on the brief tour. Tomatoes? Peppers? It was hard to say.
From there we went to the kitchen where Hunter added the egg we found in the grass to a basket and removed a bowl and a knife from the shelf near the firepit. He dropped an ear of corn, avocado, and mango on the table before me, his forearm brushing my shoulder. Like a dragonfly landing on a lake, our briefest touch set off soft ripples over my skin.
“Can you make a chunky salsa?” he asked, hesitantly.
“Sure.”
While my mother possessed remarkable culinary skills, my attempts at cooking served as prime examples of what not to do. I was good at enjoying the delicious plat du jour and helping to clean the kitchen afterward, but salsa was easy enough even for me not to mess up.
“While you’re making this, I’ll catch a fish.” He reached behind a shelf and pulled out something resembling a diminutive version of Triton’s three-pronged spear.
“You’re fishing with that? Isn’t it hard to do?”
Hunter checked the sharp tips with his finger. “Not anymore.”
I smiled, realizing how much Hunter’s name suited him. Picturing a shirtless Hunter standing waist-deep in the water, one hand above his head, brandishing his weapon, fearlessly watching his prey, and then confidently spearing fish for us to eat was enough to make me blush. This was something I had to see for myself.
“Can I go with you?”
Hunter shook his head. “The easiest place to catch fish is at the small lagoon, but to get there you have to pass by the black rocks with snakes.”
Never mind.
“Have fun fishing.” I picked up the avocado.
As minutes passed by my stiff fingers clutched the fork as I mixed the raw ingredients in the bowl, and my heart raced as I grasped the seriousness of my current dilemma. If something happened to Hunter, I would be doomed. Firstly, I didn’t know how to fix a boat let alone operate it. There would be no fish for me because of the stupid snakes. My eyes cut to the firepit—I had no idea how to make fire. I didn’t even know how to kill a chicken—if I could catch it first. I had no survival skills.
“Don’t mash the avocado so hard or you’ll make guacamole.”
I looked up, surprised by the force of how happy I was to hear his voice. His shirt was dry, only the hems of his shorts were wet, and a large fish was speared atop of the sharp blades. His return unmoored me from my defeatist thoughts for a second, but then they were back. My pulse drummed, and I cautioned myself not to overreact, butreallyhow could he be so calm?
“I have to get out of here,” I blurted out, not hiding my panic. “We need to fix the boat.”
Hunter’s easy smile waning. “I know. One step at a time. Let’s have lunch, and then we work on our plan.”
Hunter pulled the fish off the metal tips and deposited it on a flat stone just outside the tent. He collected a folded plastic tarp with a thin fillet knife off the shelf. I might need to learn how to catch fish with a spear, but one helpful skill Bambi taught me was how to fillet fish. I rose off the bench and extended my hand. “I can gut and clean the fish.”
“Do you know how to do it? Because if?—”
“I had a month and a half of practice on the sailboat,” I said (a bit too harshly), taking the knife from his hand. “I’m not totally useless.”
Hunter tilted his head, his eyes softened. “I didn’t say you are useless. If you want to learn how to fish, I’ll teach you. We don’t have to go to the lagoon,” he said, his tone earnest. “Everything I know at some point I had to learn first.”
Something shifted inside me, and I had to look away, my cheeks burning from guilt. Maybe I shouldn’t assume all men were like Phill, who constantly shamed me about my inability to be useful around the house. The ironic thing was that Phill wasn’t a handyman. He enjoyed pointing out what I didn’t know and gloated over my failed attempts at minor repairs and renovations, but I’d never seen him do anything either.
“I appreciate that,” I said, staring at the running water, unable to meet Hunter’s gaze. “Sorry. My ex-husband berated me… often, and sometimes, I can get defensive when people assume I can’t do things, when I know how to do them.”
“That’s all right.” Hunter shrugged. “You take care of that while I work on stoking the fire.”
After I gutted and cleaned the fish, I passed it to Hunter. He sprinkled some spices, wrapped it in leaves, and laid the fillet on a wired basket. I discarded fish guts into the flames and washed the knife and tarp.
