Uncharted Ch. 01

Author's Note: The story of unlikely lovers being stranded on a desert island has always been cliche for me, but I had an idea and decided to give it a try. Hopefully, it's a little different from the typical stories like this. Events will move slowly, so if that's not your cup of tea then you're probably better off moving on to something else. As always, all sexual situations only involve characters eighteen years or older.

I'm still not sure if writing this journal is a good idea, but I wanted something to help me collect my thoughts, and this seemed as good a way as any. My name is Abby Morris; I'm forty years old and live in a small town that you've probably never heard of. That's a good thing for me, as I value my privacy above all else. I like to keep a lot about myself concealed, especially my past. That's why writing this is so difficult, as even articulating my thoughts and feelings like this goes against my nature, but that's also why I wanted to do it. Keeping everything bottled up inside eventually takes its toll, and this felt as good a way to understand and vent those pent-up emotions as any.

The catalyst of this story began years ago when I was twenty-eight, traveling with my husband and son on a tour of the Pacific islands, on a day when we had a yacht tour planned. My husband John was called away for an emergency conference-call business meeting, so he had to remain at the hotel we were staying at, but he insisted that our son Daniel and I go on without him. The last thing anyone expected was a flash storm to hit, much less for our boat to capsize, but like some nightmare from a movie it had happened, with all hands, to the best of my knowledge, being lost at sea. Somehow, by the grace of God, Daniel and I managed to wash up on shore on one of the nearby islands, or at least I thought it was nearby. In actuality, we'd ended up miles away from our designated route, in the middle of some uncharted territory. I did my best to find us temporary shelter while we waited for a rescue, which I hoped would be a maximum of a few hours, but those hours soon turned into days and then longer without any signs that we might be found.

I'm not going to go too much into the struggle for survival that ensued, because as harrowing and life-changing as that experience was it still isn't the main topic of what I want to write about. Suffice it to say that trying to secure the basic necessities, not only for yourself but a bewildered ten-year-old was a terrifying experience. Luckily, I had taken some survival-type courses years before when I'd been an avid hiker, and they proved invaluable in getting us through those rough times, but even then those first few days and weeks had been frantic as I did the best I could to provide for us.

Time passed, and with it, the signal fires that I'd meticulously tended to every day to reveal our location to any would-be rescuers became less morale-boosting as well as less frequent, and more of my time went to exploring the island we were now stranded on in hopes of finding anything of use. Surprisingly, a fair number of items from our ill-fated voyage managed to wash up ashore, including a few passenger suitcases that had clothing and other useful items, but beyond that it was up to me to scavenge the island to find anything that we could use to survive, all the while trying to tend to my young son.

Eventually, we managed to construct a basic shelter inside the mouth of a cave, as well as set up other basic work-spaces to make our stay livable. One of the items I'd found from our wreckage was one of those kids' toys that allow you to write and then erase messages over and over again, and I immediately set about using it to give Daniel the best educational instruction I could. I'd found some other items that were extremely useful, including scissors and knives, but beyond that it became necessary for us to find whatever we could from the island to support us. Once again, I could probably write a novel's worth of stories based on these events, but that's not the purpose of this testimony. We ended up being shipwrecked on this island for years, ten to be exact, and in that time a great deal changed between Daniel and I. Of course, much of it had to do with him starting as a small child and then later becoming an adult, but our relationship also developed in other ways too, and I suppose this journal is my way of trying to come to terms with all that had happened.

So when did I notice things beginning to change? I guess it was shortly after Daniel turned eighteen. Daniel and I had always been close, and practically inseparable from the day we were stranded, but lately he was acting more distant, wanting to keep to himself. It was distressing to me, especially since I felt like we had such a close relationship. Maybe he was simply trying to be more independent now, although in terms of survival skills, he'd long ago established that he could look after himself. Something was going on with him and I couldn't understand it, and so one day I decided to simply come out and ask him.

"What's with you, Daniel? Something just seems so off about you lately."

"I dunno, I guess things change over time.. for you... me," he answered cryptically, uncharacteristically brooding as he spoke. While Daniel had never been the best at communicating, after eight years I did feel as if he'd managed to open up to me in a way that allowed him to be more direct than this.

"Is this more about me treating you like a kid?" I asked. Daniel had become frustrated, even cross with me as of late because he felt like I was not giving him the proper respect he'd earned as an adult. It wasn't something I'd noticed until he'd brought it to my attention, but as I considered his arguments I began to understand that he was right.

"I'm sorry dear," I'd apologized. "I suppose I've always been the doting mother, and it's not a habit that I can easily break." And with that, I began to give him more free reign, like allowing him to do chores away from our campsite without my supervision even though he'd long before proven his capabilities. I thought the matter had been put to rest, but perhaps this was not the case.

"It's not that Mom," Daniel replied. "It's more like... all the friends I had back home are doing things like getting ready for college, or moving out to live their own lives, you know... meeting people. It's an important time for them, but for me... well, it's just another day here all alone..."

"With me," I said, trying to complete Daniel's sentence.

"No Mom, not at all," he said with sudden conviction. "You're the last of what's bothering me. In fact, you're the only part of all this that's been any good for me."

Despite his convincing tone, I found that very hard to believe. I knew when Daniel was talking about his former friends experiencing a life he could not, he wasn't just talking about school or careers. Most of them had probably had a few girlfriends by now, or fallen in love. Daniel hadn't so much as kissed a girl before; it had taken all my strength to keep from crying when he'd first told me that years ago, although I had suspected as much considering his age when we first arrived here.

It wasn't a topic we discussed often, something that I realized in hindsight had become as difficult for me as it had for him. Daniel, because of natural shyness and maybe a reluctance many children have to talk about such topics with their parents, and for me, because I knew I couldn't simply say things to him like, "Don't worry son, things will get better for you when you grow up," or "Don't worry, Daniel, one day you'll meet the right girl," like other parents could.

And so for the most part, I avoided the subject, but I could tell that wasn't going to be so easy anymore. He was eighteen now, and if I knew anything about men that age I knew how much his hormones were taking over. I'd seen much of it already, as he'd grown nearly a foot in the last year alone, and had gained at least twenty pounds of lean body mass, going from a skinny-ish boy into, well... a man. But that only demonstrated what was happening to Daniel on the outside, I could only imagine what he was feeling on the inside. I tried to avoid the subject because I knew I had no answers, but now sensed that I wasn't going to be able to get away with that any longer.

"I'm so sorry dear, I wish I had something better to say," I lamented. "All of this... all of this shit we've had to go through since getting here... I could endure it all if it had only happened to me. I've lived my life, but you never got that chance. I'm so sorry, Daniel."

"You were only twenty-eight back then, you're only thirty-six now," Daniel replied matter-of-factly. "That's hardly a lifetime."

"It was enough. I got to fall in love with your Dad, get married, and have you. That's more than enough in one lifetime to satisfy me. If I could get you away from this damned place, I'd be more than happy to trade staying here alone for the rest of my life."

"Come on Mom, now you're just being dramatic," Daniel responded. "If we leave, we leave together."

"Besides," Daniel added, "You couldn't live here alone by yourself, you'd go crazy. Just like me, because I'd go just as crazy without you."

"You'd find a way to survive," I said with just a hint of pride. "If there's anything you've convinced me of over the years is that you're a survivor."

"Not without you, Mom," Daniel said, his voice sounding much more earnest than I was ever used to hearing.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, realizing that there was more to what I was hearing than just Daniel's words.

"I mean I know you feel terrible that I'm not back home, meeting girls and falling in love, when the truth is that even if there were a thousand of them here right now I know I could never love any of them more than I love you."

"I love you too, Daniel, but there are different kinds of love. I love John and I love you, but the feelings are completely different. You can't tell me that you don't understand that."

"I do understand that, and I guess that's why I've been so down lately, because I know that's how you feel. But not for me. I feel both kinds of love for you, but I know I can only have one. I've always loved you as a mother, but now I know I love you as a woman too, and those feelings are only getting stronger as time goes by."

"Oh my god, Daniel!" I said, completely stunned. "Please tell me this is some kind of terrible joke."

"I knew you'd say something like that," Daniel answered in frustration. "That's why I can't talk about this." If there was one thing I hoped that I had accomplished with my son over these last few years, it was a more open line of communication. But then again, we'd never talked about anything quite like this before.

"It's... it's okay to talk about it, Daniel," I stammered. "Even if it's not easy for me it doesn't mean I'm not willing to try."

"I know a lot is changing for you now, physically, emotionally... but there are still boundaries we need to maintain," I continued. "Maybe you were too young to understand it when we left home, but there are lines that a mother and son aren't meant to cross with one another. It's not good for either of them. It's not healthy."

"Does any of that matter here, Mom? Are you really going to quote a bunch of crap that's meaningless to us in this place? The only unhealthy thing I can think of right now is that we're here together but also completely alone."

"It's not 'crap,' Daniel. Rules like that don't appear out of thin air; it's wisdom that's been passed down over thousands of years."

"So I can do what, exactly?" Daniel huffed sarcastically. "Wait around to be rescued, even though we both know that's never coming?"

"I still have a sense of right and wrong," I countered. "A sense of morality. I'd hoped that I'd been able to teach you the same, but apparently I was mistaken." The thought of failing on such a basic level with Daniel made me feel overwrought with sadness, sending me into a state of disillusionment.

"You weren't mistaken," Daniel replied, his voice softening as if to try and soothe my pain. "You did a wonderful job raising me here, better than I could have ever hoped for, but circumstances change, people adapt. I'm not the little kid who washed up on the beach with you eight years ago, and you aren't the dedicated Mom who's trying to keep us both safe until Dad miraculously comes in to rescue us. It's time for us to move on with our lives, Mom; I'm sure that Dad already has by now."

That last part stung particularly hard and Daniel knew it, even if he was trying to comfort me overall. We hadn't spoken much about John since the early years of living here, but for a time after the shipwreck I'd often try and lift Daniel's spirits by saying that his father was doing everything he could to find us, including hiring private search parties long after the government rescue officials had likely given up, and that it was only a matter of time before we'd be found.

But as the months being lost turned into years, I had a hard time believing even John would be so dogged, and the stories I crafted about him tirelessly scouring the seas to find us became less frequent. Now that eight years had passed, the sobering idea of John abandoning his search altogether had taken root in both of us, enough so that we never mentioned him anymore, realizing that the subject had become too painful, especially for me. Hearing Daniel say that John had probably moved on with his life felt like aggravating an open wound, and all I could do was look down at the ground and become silent.

"All I'm asking for is a chance for us to find happiness with the time we have left," Daniel said as he took one of my hands warmly into his.

"I don't know, Daniel," I said, with tears now streaming down my face. "This is all so overwhelming."

"Maybe it is for you, but not for me," Daniel replied with surprising confidence. "I feel like we've been heading towards making this decision for a while. We're both adults now, and I know that I want, that I need, to be in an adult relationship, and whether you think it's healthy or not, nothing fills my heart with joy more than the thought of sharing that life with you. Even if you're not so sure about this as I am, I think you owe it to yourself to at least consider it."

"Owe it to myself?" I asked in surprise. "Don't you mean owe it to you?"

"I love you, Mom, I always have, but now I want to love you the way Dad did too. You deserve that in your life, you deserve to be told every day how beautiful you are, both inside and out, by someone who loves you the way Dad did. It's not being selfish to want that for yourself, especially after everything you've done for us."

"I... I need some time, Daniel, please... " I said, my voice beginning to crack again.

"Of course, I understand, Mom," he answered, bending down to give me a small kiss on the forehead, before walking away to leave me with my thoughts. Daniel left, and I noted with some wryness that he had to practically strain his neck down just to kiss me. My son now towered above me; gone was the small, scared little boy that had been shipwrecked here eight years ago. He was a man now, and seemingly determined to prove that to me in ways that I had never anticipated.

Daniel was right about one thing, I had learned to shut myself off from things like romance long ago; it had no place in a place like this where daily survival had taken precedence. Even after we'd managed to establish a somewhat comfortable life, my thoughts had always clung dutifully to vows of marital fidelity and futile dreams of John triumphantly rescuing us.

The funny thing was, if Daniel had been "only" asking me for sex I might have been more receptive to his pleas, not for my sake, but for his. I'd long lamented him being stuck here with me when I knew a man his age should be out experiencing the real world, including the opportunities it afforded for him to discover himself and mature sexually. I was reminded of the day I'd given Daniel "the talk" which of course began with me answering his questions about where babies came from and went on to become a lengthy sex-ed, class-type lecture. I'd felt such an emptiness in my soul that day, wondering if many of the topics I'd covered were even worth the bother considering the likelihood of Daniel being stuck here for the rest of his life.

Daniel wasn't only talking about sex though, he was talking about love. He wanted me to be his lover, for me to open my heart to him and love him the way I'd only ever done with John. Although I'd had a few boyfriends before my husband and had been sexually active, I hadn't found true love until I met him, and I'd considered myself fortunate ever since for having found something that I knew could elude so many others. I was a happily married woman before all of this, one who had put all of those womanly passions and desires on hold for the last eight years as she instead put all her efforts on trying to best to raise her son. And now Daniel was asking for all that to change, for me to change.

"It's time for us to move on with our lives, Mom; I'm sure that Dad already has by now."

The words felt like an anchor around my neck, forcing me to stare at a reality I had not faced before. My relationship with John, our love and our marriage, were nothing more than a distant memory in this time and place, something to be cherished from afar but little more. As much as it pained me to think about it, John had most likely moved on with his life as Daniel had suggested. Maybe he was even better off doing so rather than continue with an endeavor that would have only left him with years of heartache and despair.

I went to sleep that night, telling Daniel as I often did when making decisions that I needed to sleep on it before speaking about it further. The next morning Daniel and I had breakfast, and while he tried not to let on I could see an anxiousness in his eyes that told me he was eager to continue our discussion.

"Daniel, I... I thought a lot about what you had to say yesterday," I began, feeling more nervous than I had in years.

"And?" he asked.

"And I had a dream," I said, trying to move things gradually.

"About what?"

"I'm not quite sure, it was all pretty hazy. All I know is that I was upset about something, and then you were there to comfort me, wrapping your arms around me and hugging me like a warm blanket. And then I woke up."

"I see," Daniel said, trying his best to not sound confused. He clearly didn't know where I was taking this conversation, and in truth neither did I, but I continued on anyway.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that you're right when you say that we only have each other left Daniel, and while part of me would be perfectly content with crying for the rest of my life over what I've lost, I know that isn't what I want to do or should do."

"It's just," I added uneasily after a lengthy pause, "Well, I don't know where we go from here. I think I still need more time to try and sort things out."

"That's okay, I don't either," Daniel replied. "But it's not like we're late to be anywhere else to be right now."

Daniel's little joke provided a nice bit of levity, and we both chuckled for a bit as the tension in the air dropped noticeably.

"It doesn't have to go anywhere right now, I'm not in any hurry. I just needed for you to know how I felt about you, to get that all out in the open."

It was a smart move on Daniel's part. I had misinterpreted his odd behavior as coming from general malaise, but now I knew differently. He wanted me; my son wanted me to be his lover. I would never be able to speak or look at him again without that cold, hard fact staring back at me. And more than anything, that's exactly what Daniel wanted me to do from now on.