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Fatin really didn’t understand Leah and Rachel’s relationship. She would use the word friendship, but she wasn’t exactly sure if it applied. The first few days on the island, she really wasn’t paying too much attention to them and their dynamic. They were always off on some supposedly-heroic-but-actually-disappointing missions while she was content sunbathing and waiting for rescue. Those days now feel like a lifetime ago.
Except Leah had leaned over to Fatin and quietly called Rachel a “total psychopath.” At the time, having spent just three days on the island with Rachel Reid, Fatin had thought it was a pretty sound assessment. But then Leah went all Virginia Woolf and walked into the water butt naked, with her face covered in Fatin’s blood — okay so that was Fatin’s fault to an extent, but she figured that it took crazy to know crazy. So, she told Rachel what Leah had told her. She should have known Rachel was absolutely lying about not holding grudges.
Fatin hadn’t actually seen what happened in the forest when the girls were looking for her. She got a rundown later; Leah wouldn’t let them give up, her and Rachel inevitably fought, but then Rachel fell into quicksand and it ended up being a good bonding experience for them all.
After Dot hit her breaking point, Rachel rose to power, the twins got into a physical fight, her toothbrush died and she punched Dot in the face, she had a talk with her good pal Dorothy. She knew that she’d completely overreacted, but at least she hadn’t broken Dot’s nose or her fingers. For having never thrown a punch before, her friend was actually pretty proud.
They didn’t have long before the plane ended up flying overhead, but they had enough time for Rachel to say they were really going to die out there. It may have been what they were all thinking, but she would have placed her bets on Leah saying it before Rachel. It sounded too much like defeat from what she now to be a former, not current, diver. She didn’t get to mull on this thought for long because then the plane flew over. She’d pretty much forgotten about the thought with the pleasant high that came from the edibles, followed by the despair and gut wrenching hunger that came from the lack of rescue and resources.
And then Martha had somehow killed an entire goat by herself and suddenly Rachel was cracking jokes with her, which was very much unexpected, at least to her. Maybe she should just stop expecting stuff from Rachel if she didn’t want to be so surprised. She’d also felt a certain debt to her for saving Leah from certain death by drowning, so things were turning around for Rachel in her book. But, of course, Rachel lost her hand and Leah continued to lose her mind.
She’d felt bad about it, but while the rest of the girls tended to Rachel (and to Nora to an extent, who hadn’t lost a hand, but had lost a good amount of blood), she was the only one that Leah (and herself) could trust to keep her from flying off the rails.
It had taken a minute to coax it out of a suddenly-guilty Leah that Nora was an operative working for someone off the island and that they were somehow safe while also being monitored at the same time. Fatin now knew better than to dispute her theories, especially because it was hard to argue with the physical evidence that Leah had fallen into a pit and that Nora had left her there — they’d all agreed to watch Leah so for her to end up alone for that long anyway when Nora had followed her was suspicious in itself, and she regretted not following them.
Time passed, Rachel was healing and Leah remained quiet to all but her, doing her best not to stir the pot or sound crazy. She had confronted Nora privately to get more answers, but Nora couldn’t give her much more than that it wouldn’t last forever and they were safe. Except it was clear that Nora was having a hard time believing the words she’d been so obviously force-fed from whoever she was working for considering they’d just experienced a shark attack that could have, and almost was, deadly and there was no intervention whatsoever. And Leah was pretty sure she had asked for some as well.
So, while Leah knew that she really couldn’t trust these puppeteers, she felt like she could, or at least had, to trust Nora for the time being. They had an unspoken truce going on, biding the time until they could be honest with everyone else. She knew that it wouldn’t be good for Rachel, or anyone really, to suddenly drop this news on them. What good would it do anyway? If a shark attack wasn’t enough to get them extracted from this mess, what would? On top of that, Nora knew that Fatin knew, because she had been trained to know things like this. It was also not a secret whatsoever that Fatin and Leah were closer than ever before.
So, it probably shouldn’t have surprised her when one day Leah told her that she should go talk to Rachel, yet it did. Damn expectations and preconceived judgments.
“About what?”
“I think you have more in common than you’d think.”
Fatin somehow felt insulted (so she’d still been harboring some initial negative feelings about Rachel, which, yeah, she felt a bit shitty about given that she’d fucking lost her hand, but she couldn’t help it), “Umm, okay, that’s rich coming from you, Rilke.”
Leah picked her head off of Fatin’s thigh, rolling over to sit up next to her, “I’ve already acknowledged that she and I have some kind of weird thing where we can bring out both the worst and best in each other. I’m being serious, though. Look, we don’t talk about it that much, and I’m not saying we have to, but you’ve helped me so much, I think maybe Rachel can help you. And I know that you can definitely help Rachel.”
“You’re not going to be jealous?” Fatin teased.
“I said help, not seduce.”
“So, you are going to be jealous?”
“Fatin,” Leah stared at her and she knew she should quit joking around.
“Okay, fine, but you’re gonna need to be more specific here, Rilke.”
Leah took a moment to figure out the best way to word this that could actually convince Fatin to take this seriously. They spent so much time talking about Leah’s baggage, and she was grateful for Fatin’s help, but she knew that Fatin had become pretty much an expert at this point at avoiding talking about herself and her own issues. She didn’t need to study psychology to know that Fatin was using humor as a coping mechanism. She could make jokes about her shitty parents — the cheating, hypocritical father and her controlling, spineless mother — or about her complicated (to say the least) relationship with her cello, usually about her cuticles and “hunchback” that she totally exaggerated.
“I know that it’s a bit of a sore subject, but I think that this time away could actually be good for you to reevaluate your relationship with the cello,” she put her hand up when Fatin tried to speak. “Not your relationship with your mom and the cello or your cello and your social life. Just you and your cello and go from there. And Rachel, for fuck’s sake she’s never gonna dive again, at least not like she used to. I mean, she can barely look at the water. Like I said, I think you can help yourself and each other, if you would just talk about it.”
“At what cost? Rachel ripping my head off?’
“You know, for someone who entertains all of my mess, you’re being pretty close-minded about Rachel.”
“It’s not the same and you know it,” Leah just nodded and patted her leg. Then she stood up and held her hands out. “Come on, I’ll even strike up a conversation with Nora to get Rachel alone and it should comfort you to know that you won’t be the only one potentially suffering.”
“Wait, you meant now?”
Leah just nodded and kept holding her hands out, knowing Fatin would take them eventually, even if she did end up grumbling and complaining about it the entire walk to the makeshift shelter that Dot had dubbed the medbay. Turns out she didn’t just love survival shows, but “Grey’s Anatomy” was a true guilty pleasure of hers. It had been a pretty big bonding point for her and Martha over the past week as they complained about how the show had “gone to absolute shit” (Dot’s words) and “they keep killing off all of my favorites” (Martha’s).
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Reid twins?” Fatin grimaced at her random awkwardness, and unsurprisingly, so did Rachel. Well, at least she was right on that. Off to a great start.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Leatin,” Leah rolled her eyes at the name that Fatin had happily bestowed upon them, after crowning Shelby and Toni, “Shoni.”
“Yeah, hate to break it to you Rachel, but I’ve got to borrow your sister, so it looks like it’s just going to be you and Fatin for a bit.”
Nora shakily stood, constantly on edge around Leah (and for good reason) and waved goodbye to Rachel, leaving the former diver and perhaps former cellist alone.
“I feel like I should apologize for my newfound psychic skills?” Rachel just raised her eyebrow, not bothering to sit up on the makeshift bed of leaves she’d been resting in since the attack. “‘Shark week for Rachel?’ Not my finest moment.”
“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” she looked like she was almost smirking though, which Fatin took as a win, but she felt awkward towering over her and decided to just sit in the sand.
“So, you’re so whipped that you came here to talk to me just because Leah suggested it?”
“Okay, hold up, I, Fatin Jadmani, am not whipped.”
Now Rachel was actually laughing, “Yeah, sure you aren’t. I’m not about to do small talk though so, spill, what did Leah send you here for? Wouldn’t want to let your girl down, huh?”
It was pretty embarrassing how Fatin absolutely lit up at Rachel calling Leah her girl, that she was even willing to ignore the accusatory and teasing tones she was being met with.
“She thinks we can help each other or something?”
“Okay, you’re not about to make me your charity case, so we can sit in silence until Leah and Nora come back and then we can tell her that everything’s fine and dandy,” Rachel moved to roll over, but Fatin reached out to touch her leg.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I think she’s worried about me and doesn’t want to push or whatever.”
“And what does she call this?”
“Her pushing me to push you to push me, I don’t know,” except Fatin did know and she knew that it had to do with her not wanting to shatter whatever image Leah might have of her in her head, especially after their rocky start. That wasn’t the focus right now though. “You’ve been a lot more open with your diving shit than I have about my cello, okay?”
“Oh because you still have a shot at Juilliard but you’re thinking about wasting it while my Stanford and Olympic dreams were over even before I lost my hand?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a really confrontational and abrasive tone?”
“Once or twice.”
“Don’t go regressive Rachel Reid on me, that’s like, day one Rachel thinking. We’ve all been through too much for you to judge me.”
“Fine,” Rachel looked her straight in the eyes. “You’ve spent years and years working your ass off, so cut the crap. It’s more than a gift. It’s talent. It’s hard work. It’s perseverance. But most importantly, is it a passion?”
Fatin lay down on the sand, didn’t even bother to care that some of it was probably sticking to the hair she kept up in a bun as she looked up through the sticks and branches to see a glimpse of the sky. She’d never felt particularly connected to nature before, but ending up stranded on a deserted island in a potential experiment of sorts could really make you change your ways. Something about being in the middle of nowhere, with no remnants of her life back in the Bay except for Leah and the contents of her suitcase, was both scary and calming.
It was a relief to know that life wasn’t just the tiny corner of her world, constantly rotating between classes, cello rehearsals and performances, parties and hookups, fights with her parents and the little sleep she managed to get. At the same time, she didn’t know how to survive any other way. She felt a bit stupid the moment she spoke her plan out loud, to become an influencer and live off the money from the watches she stole from her cheating asshole of a father, and future sponsorship deals. It wasn’t that it wasn’t possible, but sitting in a group of girls of varying backgrounds, skills, degrees of privilege and more, it felt pathetic. Like she was selling out in some way. Going the easy route — which was definitely deserved after their trip to hell. But she wanted more from herself. For the first time, she missed people placing expectations on her.
“That’s kind of a loaded question, Reid.”
“That was kind of the point, Jadmani.”
“Do I have to answer it?”
Rachel shrugged, “I guess not, but it’s something you should explore.”
“Was diving your passion?”
“At first? Yeah. Yeah, it was,” Fatin could feel her heart break for her just a little. “It was definitely a dream at the very least. I don’t think I really appreciated it until I realized it wouldn’t come true. The knowledge that I had a purpose and was going somewhere. Stanford, the Olympics, greatness, wherever it would take me. But then it became a crutch. I couldn’t just let the dream go. It didn’t seem fair and it was entirely out of my control, but I wanted it to be so, so badly. In some sick way, the island forced me to let it go. Even before all this.”
She waved her limb around and Fatin couldn’t look her in the eye, knowing what she knew and exactly what Rachel didn’t. In some way, Nora had accomplished her goal. Rachel was doing better in some ways, mentally speaking at least, but at what cost? Was it worth it? A question that had been swirling in her head since Leah revealed the truth. Perhaps what scared her the most was how often she wanted to say “yes.”
“I don’t think it was ever a dream,” Fatin confessed. “Not my own anyway. I can’t pinpoint when it turned into some Juilliard mission that my mom forced onto me. Or when I started to rebel against her for it. There was a time where it was just something I did. Like playing recreational soccer or swimming in my pool on the weekends. Sometimes I wish I’d never been good at it at all. Other times I worry that it’s the only thing I’m good at.”
Rachel let out a long whistle, “Been there. But I think I could be good at some things.”
“Just not trying to lead a group of teenage girls on a deserted island,” she couldn’t help but joke.
“Hopefully that’s a skill that I’ll ever need again,” Fatin mentally counted down the days they had left in their head, hoping Nora wasn’t being played completely, or completely playing them.
“You’ll find something, or you’ll force something to bend to your will. You’ll make whatever’s next for you your bitch.”
Rachel didn’t bother to argue the point. She’d already resigned to the fact that she had to accept that her entire life had changed, even before they’d even gotten stranded.
“The point is, I almost died and I didn’t. Multiple times. So, there’s got to be something I can do besides just surviving.”
“Rachel Reid, are you getting spiritual on me?” Fatin sat up, put her hand on her chest and mockingly gasped. “Should I get Shelby in here?”
“If you want to talk about parental pressure and perfectionism, sure.”
“I think I’ve had enough heart-to-hearts for at least a week, thanks,” she had said it off-handedly, but she really did want to thank Rachel. She really needed to start giving her more credit.
Fatin had planned to go on this stupid retreat, run off to LA and never see her cello again. She thought about it, sitting in her basement in its case, untouched and out of tune. She pictured herself going home, sitting alone, taking her bow and beginning to play again. Bach Minuet No. 2. The sound filled the entire room, blocking out strangers’ applause, her mother’s subtle look of approval before telling her what she could do better, her instructor’s commands to do it again and again. She was lost in the daydream when Rachel’s voice grounded her again.
“And hey, if you do pick the cello again, you’re gonna have to play us a song.”
“Okay, but I’m not taking requests.”
“You’re acting like I know shit about classical music. Play whatever you want. Seriously.”
They sat in silence again, neither of them wanting to try awkward small talk, but not wanting to return to their deep therapy session either.
“Well,” Fatin stood. “I think Leah will be satisfied with our progress.”
“She’s not so bad.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand you two.”
“What’s there to understand?”
“Kindred fucking spirits?” she parroted Dot’s words.
It got Rachel to laugh again. Another win for Fatin’s book, “She’s a fighter. Just don’t let her turn that fight onto herself. It gets really ugly.”
Fatin knew that Rachel was talking about herself and her history. She had shared the bare minimum about suffering from an eating disorder one night around the fire, while they were all starving (the time post-plane flying over, but pre-goat). But she was also talking about how she’d never be able to chase after Leah if she decided to run into the ocean again — Fatin was pretty confident she wouldn’t, but it didn’t mean she didn’t wake up from nightmares from time to time. A month on this island together and the girls all cared about each other’s well-being, but this was more than that. She got the feeling that Rachel didn’t really respect and protect many people, that she believed it had to be earned and could be easily wasted. Leah had earned that some time ago, and now she could feel it for herself. And it felt good.
She just smiled at Rachel and nodded, leaving their area to see that Nora and Leah hadn’t gone far at all; far enough that they couldn’t hear what was being said, but close enough to intervene if a screaming match had broken out.
Leah and Nora both stood to their feet pretty quickly and Fatin gave Nora a soft smile — they hadn’t talked about everything going on at all and had been carrying on with business as usual between them — grabbed Leah’s hand and took her to a secluded spot by the ocean to sit.
“Thank you,” she rested her head on Leah’s shoulder.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Leah linked their arms and rubbed the inside of her right wrist softly. “I’m glad you got something out of it. That you both got something out of it?”
“I don’t think we’re going to be hanging out in her hut anytime soon, but yeah, I think so.”
Fatin leaned up a bit and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I told Rachel that I wouldn’t take any requests if I picked up the cello again, but for you, I’d play anything you want.”