Jiho climbed onto the roof of the house and spread a layer of breadfruit sap over the palm fronds. “I don’t know if this will keep us dry. I guess we’ll find out when it rains.”
The house was nearing completion. I sat cross-legged on the ground, watching as he jumped off the roof, grabbed the hammer, and drove in the last few nails.

He had pulled his hair back in a ponytail, and he wore my straw hat and aviator sunglasses. His face was so tan he looked like he’d been born on the island. He had a great smile, with straight white teeth, prominent cheekbones, and a solid jaw. I needed to shave him again.

“You look good, Jiho. Very healthy.” 

He was lean, but he had well-defined muscles, probably from building our house by hand, and he didn’t show any outward signs of malnutrition, at least not yet.

“Really?”
 

“Yes. I’m not sure how, but you’ve grown here.” 

“Do I look older?”
 

“You do.”
 

“Am I good-looking, Jennie?” He knelt down in front of me and grinned. “Come on, you can tell me.”
 

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, JJiho,” I said, smiling at him. “You’re very good-looking. If we ever get off this island you’ll be quite popular with the ladies.”
 

He pumped his fist in the air. “Yes.” Then he put down the hammer and took a drink of water. “I can’t remember what I looked like before the crash, can you?”
 

“Sort of. But I probably haven’t changed as much.”
 

Jiho sat down in front of me. “God, I’m sore. Will you please rub my back?”
 
“Sure.” I massaged his shoulders, which were considerably broader than they were two years ago. His chest was wider too, and his arms were solid. I lifted his ponytail, kneading the back of his neck.

“That feels good.”

I gave him an extra-long massage and near the end he said, “You’re still beautiful, Jennie. In case you were wondering.”

My face got hot, but I smiled. “I wasn’t, Jiho. But thanks.”


 

Two nights later, we slept in our new house for the first time. We had decided on one large room, instead of two, which gave us plenty of space. I could dress inside the house, instead of wiggling into my clothes in the life raft. My suitcase and the toolbox sat in the corner, and the guitar case next to it held our first-aid kit, knife, and rope.

Jiho had removed the life-raft canopy – we had a real roof now – and made windows out of the mesh roll-down doors, which let in light and air. He used the nylon sides for shades that we closed at night. He nailed the tarp to the front of the house, stretched it out, and attached it to tall sticks he drove into the ground, then dug a fire pit underneath.
 

“I’m proud of you, Jiho. Bones would be, too.” 

“Thanks, Jennie.”
 

We’d come a long way since our days of sleeping on the ground. Just a couple castaways playing house.


***



A seaplane landed in the lagoon while Jiho and I swam. The pilot opened the door, stuck his head out, and said, “We finally found you. We’ve been looking forever.”
 

I was fifty-two years old.
 

I woke up, drenched in sweat, and stifling a scream, seconds before it flew out of my mouth.