TI: Gunther & Eric

Part 2

By AJ

"Are you sure you're going to be all right, Cal?" Hobbes asked as he picked up his jacket. He paused and added, "I can shuffle my appointments and work from home if you want me to. Maybe that would be better--"

"Go to work, Don," Cal ordered firmly. "I'm fine. Broken bones aren't life-threatening, you know."

"I realize that, but--"

"Herm will be by to check on me, Philip is bringing me Jell-O and chicken soup and you're less than five minutes away if I need you. I'll be *fine*, Don."

"In other words, 'I love you, now get out'," Hobbes replied with a laugh.

"Yeah." Cal laughed in return, then became serious again. "Honestly, Don, I'll be fine. I need some time alone, ok, babe? I have my book, I have the remotes, I have plenty to drink. I'll stay on the couch like a good boy, take my meds and drink my juice and take a nap, all on schedule. But I'm not used to people hovering like this and it's driving me crazy!"

"All right, hon." Hobbes came back to the sofa to give his recalcitrant partner a good-bye kiss, surreptitiously feeling his forehead at the same time.

"Don! Broken ankles don't cause fevers!"

"Sorry," Hobbes replied sheepishly. "I'll be back in a couple hours, ok?"

"Ok." Cal waited until he was sure Hobbes was gone and then heaved a sigh of relief. He loved his partner very much but he had also meant what he said. He wasn't used to all the hovering and it was driving him crazy. Not Hobbes so much, but it seemed like everyone on TI had dropped by to see how he was doing and bring him something. The living room was overflowing with cards and flowers, the bedroom was full of magazines and balloons and the kitchen had enough food in it to feed half the population of the island.

And he was damned ungrateful, he told himself irritably. He should be happy that so many people cared about him, not complaining about their concern. He shook his head determinedly, as if he could somehow shake himself into a better mood, and picked up the brown leather journal lying on the table next to him.

He didn't open it right away, however, lying back instead and thinking once more about its author.

Reading Erich's journal had had a profound effect on him. He had taken time to explore The Island, seeing it through Erich's eyes, aware of how much of The Island's history he had taken for granted. He had taken a day off and gone to Coconut Island and stood in Dead Man's Cove, a popular picnic area for the islanders, and wondered why he had never thought about how it got its name.

The caves were off-limits but he had taken his boat behind the long waterfall and stood on the ledge where Erich had found his bottles and slipped through the crack in the wall that led to the treasure cave. It was empty now, of course, but he could close his eyes and imagine that scene from the past. He could almost hear Eric's voice as he excitedly pointed out their finds to Gunther, his delighted crow as he proved there had once been pirates.

A little judicious exploration in the oldest storerooms had turned up a dusty and somewhat cobwebby cardboard box of old leather journals and, after showing them to Hobbes, he had asked for and received permission to read them.

Since then he had been slowly sharing Erich's joys and wonders, his trials and tribulations after he and Gunther had returned to civilization.

He had finished the 1945 journal shortly before slipping on a patch of rain-slick gravel, breaking his ankle in two places, and being flown to the mainland to have it pinned back together.

Now, finally back at home where he belonged, he picked up the next battered journal - Erich certainly hadn't been easy on them - and settled down to read.

~~~~~~

01 January 1946

Gunther just gave me my new journal and told me to sit down and write my New Year's resolutions in it while he pays our bill and checks out. He said my first resolution should be that I will be spanked less often this year but I refused. I told him that should be his resolution. He's the one that does it; I certainly don't ask him to.

Have I mentioned that eyebrow lately? I swear he only does it to annoy me.

I did tell him I'm sorry I'm such a nuisance, though. I don't intend to behave badly or thoughtlessly. It just happens somehow and I don't know why he puts up with me. He relented and hugged me and told me never mind about the resolution; he loves me just the way I am. He also said he didn't know what he ever did to deserve me.

After some thought, I decided to take not knowing what he did to deserve me as a compliment rather than an insult. We're both tired and irritable and desperately need this time alone together. December was a rough month for both of us. Gunther was very busy with work - his family's companies are much in demand for the rebuilding in Europe - and I had too many concerts and too much time away from Gunther. He says we're going to revise my schedule next year so I'm not traveling the whole month and if I can't learn to tell people no, he'll do it for me.

As if that weren't enough to ruin the month, we had to spend Christmas with his family.

I like Gunther's mother and his sisters are friendly enough but his father hates me. Gunther hasn't officially told him about us but the man isn't stupid. He has been strongly suggesting that it's time Gunther got married and that I'm past the need for a mentor. Gunther says to ignore him but it's very difficult when he makes such pointed remarks and glowers at me all the time.

I missed my family so much this year. I miss them every holiday but I foolishly thought that once the war was over things would quickly return to normal and I would be able to go home, at least to visit. However, things are still in great turmoil in Europe and Gunther said no.

He said he's willing to do almost anything for me, including jumping into the ocean in a leaky lifeboat (it did NOT leak) but he draws the line at traveling across Europe right now. He says there has been too much destruction and there are severe shortages of food, gasoline and other basic necessities. He says the only things currently in abundance are displaced citizenry, petty government officials and military red tape and it's bad enough to deal with them professionally, he refuses to deal with them on a personal level as well.

He has promised to take me as soon as things are a little more organized, though. I hope it's soon. I know they are safe and well but I miss them and I want them to meet Gunther. I think he and my father will get along very well. Much better than I get along with Gunther's father.

At least we have are able to exchange letters and we know they managed to escape most of the ravages of the war. I wish Tante Hilda and Uncle Otto had been so fortunate. In spite of all their planning they lost almost everything in the bombing of Rotterdam and were fortunate to escape with their lives. Tante Hilda is indomitable, though, and her last letter was full of plans for reconstruction. I still can't believe she managed to find Giselle a husband in the middle of the occupation.

I have to stop writing now. Gunther is back and ready to go down to the boat.

Did I mention that we're on our way back to the island?

More later.

02 January 1946

I meant to get back to this yesterday but there was no time.

I have to confess, I was very uneasy when they finished unloading the boat and left us here alone with only a dinghy for transportation. Gunther says there is no reason to worry, though. He says people know where we are and if we don't return at the end of the month they will immediately mount a rescue operation, if only because they need him to clear his desk. He is still slightly bitter about the condition things were in when he got home last time. He says that thinking he was dead was no reason to let things go to hell in a handbasket.

The island seems exactly the same and yet subtly different. I had forgotten how lush and green everything is. When we left New York it was 19 degrees and snowing. Here it's sunny and almost 70. I wanted to go exploring, to see how much has changed and how much I still recognize. I wanted to bathe in the pool by the waterfall and make love on the beach in the sun.

Unfortunately, Gunther doesn't have a romantic bone in his body. He insisted that we set up our camp and organize our supplies before we did anything else. He also told me that if I set one foot in a cave without him I won't sit comfortably for the rest of the month. I told him I was insulted that he would even think I'd go without him and I didn't know where he had gotten such an idea. He said he got it from the lantern I had so casually purloined.

Damn. I swear he has eyes in the back of his head.

We set up our new camp in the same location as the old one although there's nothing left of the old one. The jungle has covered all traces of our earlier presence on the island. You would think no one had been here for a hundred years.

We brought more than enough supplies for the month. I packed clothing, my violin and the music I need to practice for February's concerts. Gunther's list was several pages long and took up several large packing crates. I offered to help and made some suggestions but I let him do most of it. He likes planning things and making lists and I didn't want to steal all his fun.

It took forever to sort everything out, dig the fire pit, set up our tent and build the framework for our dining area. We're using the packing crates for storage and Gunther wants to build a more solid shelter by combining the tent with a floored structure similar to our old one. He says we aren't likely to have a major storm while we're here but he likes to be prepared. Some things never change.

03 January 1946

My muscles ache tonight. I thought I was staying reasonably fit but the trail to the headland proved me wrong.

Gunther finally decided the camp is in order and we can start to enjoy ourselves so we set off to explore the island. Everything is still where we left it. Gunther was amused at my happiness and asked me if I really thought the tide pools or waterfall or jungle were going to move while we were gone. I pointed out that the jungle had. All of the trails we made are overgrown and impassable. He walked ahead of me with the machete and hacked out a new path but it was still rough going in places.

I think he understood my happiness, though. I worried that I had magnified the island in my mind, that I remembered it with rose-colored glasses. I was afraid that I would be disappointed when we returned. I wasn't, though. Everything is just as I remembered it.

I experienced some of the worst moments of my life here but I experienced some of the best as well.

We were hot and sweaty when we reached the springs on the headland and stopped for lunch. It was a heady feeling, if you will pardon the pun, to look out over the island and realize that I was the king of all I surveyed. Gunther said I couldn't be the king because that would make him the queen. He suggested we reverse the roles but I refused. I told him if he wanted to be king he should have spoken up sooner. I got the title first and I wasn't giving it up. After some discussion we agreed that I would continue to be king. He's going to be emperor instead.

It was a silly, light-hearted conversation but it's such a relief to be here. There were times when I despaired, convinced that we would never be able to buy the island. It took Gunther almost two years to find out who owned these islands and another two years to make a deal and cut through all the red tape that allowed us to purchase them.

Gunther kept telling me not to worry but I know he worried as well. It's one time his stubbornness paid off. A lesser man would have given up when faced with such obstacles but Gunther persevered and as a result we own not only this island but the coconut island as well.

Gunther says to put my journal away and he'll see if he can rub some of the knots out of my muscles. I love Gunther's massages. I always end up very relaxed. And sated.

04 January 1946

We still haven't been to the caves. Gunther says that when he rented the boat there was gossip and speculation about the crazy Americans who bought a deserted island and wanted to camp out on it instead of staying in a luxury hotel for a month. He doesn't think anyone was curious enough to follow or spy on us but there's no point in taking chances.

I understand his logic but it's very hard to stay away. Sometimes I wonder if there really was a treasure or if it was all some kind of privation-induced hallucination. Gunther assures me that there really is a treasure. He says I should know by now that he doesn't hallucinate, even under adverse conditions.

That reassurance helped for a short time. Then I began to worry that someone had come along and stolen the treasure while we were gone. Gunther says if nobody had found it in the last 100 years or more, it's unlikely they did in the last six. And if that lantern disappears one more time he's going to spank me whether I take it to the caves or not. I think that's very unfair. If Gunther spanked me every time I even thought of disobeying him I would never be able to sit comfortably. I also think I deserve credit for overcoming temptation, not punishment for thinking it over first.

He says he's going to remove the temptation instead. Or at least remove me from it. After we feed the hens-- Oh, I forgot to mention that we have chickens again. Gunther snared the great-great grandchildren of the ones we had before and we built a small pen for them so we have eggs again. We brought along a frying pan so we can even scramble them if we want to and I usually do. It was months before I could face a boiled egg or a banana when we got home and I'm still not too sure about papaya. Gunther says I wasn't too sure about papaya to start with, now put my journal away and feed the hens so we can go to the coconut island and then catch some fish for dinner.

We need better names for our property. We can't keep calling them the island and the coconut island. Maybe something like Para--

06 January 1946

Gunther stole my journal the other day and he just gave it back so I couldn't finish my last entry.

We had a good day, though. The coconut island looked just the same. We walked around the island and Gunther went down to the cove. I didn't go with him but I don't think he found anything grisly there. He was quite cheerful when he came back and we had lunch and made love by the springs there.

We found our old lifeboat right where we left it, although rather weather-beaten. Gunther said he wasn't surprised it was still there since it was out of reach of the wind and tide and there's nothing else on the island big enough to move it. I was still happy to see it, though, and thought perhaps we should bring it back with us but Gunther said no. He said he isn't sure it's still seaworthy and he would hate to have it sink partway back, especially if I was in it at the time. How thoughtful of him.

We did some fishing on the way back and had grilled fish and rice for dinner that night. It was excellent. Seasonings make such a difference. Last night we had shellfish from the tide pools and we're having hutia stew tonight. Hutias are the small animals that are supposed to taste like rabbit but don't. Gunther thinks they'll taste good with potatoes and carrots, though. I wonder if we should start a garden when we move back. Gunther says we'll have to be as self-sufficient as possible. I hope the hutias don't eat it. Maybe we should get a dog.

08 January 1946

It's raining. We had a very companionable day even though the tent is a little cramped. I practiced my music while Gunther read and then we made love. I've heard that men are supposed to slow down as they get older but that doesn't seem to apply to Gunther. I mentioned that to him and he was quite indignant. He said he isn't old and - in spite of my explaining that old and older aren't the same thing at all - felt he had to prove it all over again. It was a very good afternoon.

I don't know how it can be raining today when the weather was so clear last night. The sky was like black velvet and there were a million stars. We lay on the beach and watched them and talked about names for the island.

I suggested Paradise, Haven or Sanctuary. Gunther doesn't see why we need different names. He thinks The Island and The Coconut Island work just fine. The man has the soul of a rock sometimes.

The world is so mixed up right now. I thought that maybe after the war things would be better but they aren't. The gypsies were released from the concentration camps and given their freedom. The Jews were released, given their freedom and a new homeland. The homosexuals were released and told they're still criminals and can still go to prison for loving one another. Even in America, it's a crime for Gunther and me to love each other.

I get so sick of hiding what I am, sick of pretending that Gunther is nothing more than a mentor and friend. I have to be so careful all the time and I hate it! I hate not being able to be honest and open with everyone, having to be so careful whom I trust. I hate watching couples hold hands or hug or even kiss in public and know that's denied to us simply because of our gender. We're no different from any of those couples inside but we can't show it or we'll be ostracized and even imprisoned, simply because we're two men. And it isn't fair!

Gunther says that if the world insists on making us unwelcome, we'll simply create a place of our own, a refuge where the world is unwelcome. Just as the pirates once used these islands as a refuge, we're going to use them to create a haven for people like us. It will be a place where they can come and behave naturally and meet other men and be open and honest with each other.

We've already started working on our plan. We've talked about what we want to do and organized it into phases and figured out the financial needs for each phase. Gunther brought some of his reference books with him and he's going to try to identify some of the coins and weapons and estimate their value if we ever get to the caves.

I've drawn a map of the island and I've been planning-- Gunther says I need to go feed the hens and peel potatoes for dinner. Now.

I bet Blackbeard didn't have to interrupt his plans to feed hens and peel potatoes.

09 January 1946

I'm writing this from the cave where the treasure is. The rain has continued and the wind is blowing much harder. Even though this isn't the season for hurricanes Gunther felt we would be safer in the caves. The tent was shaking and shuddering in a very unsettling way, in spite of being well-anchored, and we were afraid we would wake up and find that we had involuntarily moved to the other side of the island during the night.

After packing what we'll need for a few days, we stacked everything else in the tent, both to protect it from the weather and to help weight the tent down. It took two trips to get everything into the caves. We brought it by boat. Gunther thought that was less hazardous and time-consuming than trying to go through the upper caves. It also led to some friction between us.

Gunther wanted to take the first load by himself while I stayed behind to finish packing up. I told him, rather bluntly I admit, that he was out of his mind if he thought I was going to let him go out in a boat in a storm without me. Besides, I've asked to go to the caves every day since we arrived. I'm certainly not going to let him see them alone first. Gunther said not to be ridiculous, he wasn't heading for the open sea and if the boat did capsize he didn't want to worry about rescuing me.

After some debate, Gunther saw my point of view. More or less. We got everything packed together and I made the first trip with him so I could see exactly how bad it is and how capable Gunther is. He said I couldn't make the second trip with him, though. He said he humored me the first time but if I kept taking up space in the boat he would have to make a third trip and he was wet enough already. He 'suggested' that I start moving our supplies into the interior cave and get a fire started instead.

The cave is actually fairly comfortable if you don't suffer from claustrophobia. There is a kind of natural chimney in the rock so we can have a fire along one wall without suffering from smoke inhalation, although we're probably going to smell like well-preserved hams by the time we leave. The wall is well-blackened in that area so apparently our pirates discovered the same thing.

I wasn't pleased at having to share a cave with our bony friends but Gunther said they were here first and we aren't going to take them out and bury them in the rain. I started to point out that we could have done it before it started raining, if only Someone hadn't been so determined to avoid the caves, but Gunther raised his eyebrow so I desisted.

I then suggested moving them to another cave but Gunther thinks they'll fall apart if we try to pick them up. I pointed out that we have a crate they'd fit in quite nicely but, after some debate, Gunther stripped them of their weapons and we tossed a blanket over them instead. I still know they're there but at least I don't have to look at them. I know I'm going to dream about them, though, and I hope my nightmares keep Gunther awake all night. He says he'll risk it.

He is banking the fire for the night so I had better put this away and get ready for bed.

10 January 1946

We have had another good day, in spite of spending it in the cave. It's a good thing we brought plenty of oil with us because the storm doesn't seem to be letting up.

The first thing we did was sort and inventory our treasure. We have several stacks of coin, both silver and gold. Gunther says we have reales in various sizes, escudos and doubloons. He also pointed out the pieces of eight that they talk about in the movies. He says we can keep one as a memento if I would like. We aren't going to sell them all at once anyway. He doesn't want to attract attention so we'll sell them gradually and through an intermediary.

We also sorted the jewelry and weapons and Gunther has spent most of the day with his reference books, evaluating them. I practiced for a while but the acoustics in this cave create strange, rather eerie echoes so I decided to write in my journal instead. The music reminded me of ghosts wailing through the tunnels and sent shivers up and down my spine. Gunther says I have a very active imagination. I think that is better than having none at all; he slept like a rock last night.

He says if I'm writing that he slept like a rock, I need to confess that I did too. I wish he would stop reading my mind like that.

He thinks I should spend some time sorting my bottles. It turns out that some of them are quite valuable. I'm glad we didn't follow through with my suggestion to fill them all with messages and cast them out to sea.

I can't believe a third of our vacation is over already. In some ways it doesn't seem like it has been that long and in some ways it seems like forever. There's a certain sense of timelessness, a sense of peace and tranquility that is lacking in the 'real' world. Not that life here is perfect and there are no flaws or hardships. I'm not foolish enough to expect that.

And I love my life at home. I love my music and my career is even better than I dreamed it would be. I love the travel and the excitement, the ability to share my talent with others, even the butterflies that come right before I step onstage. I love the magical way all of the simple, individual threads of music come together in one complex, awe-inspiring whole, and knowing that my skill and knowledge contribute to that. Those moments when everything comes together and it's perfect and I'm caught up in it, no longer an individual but-- I'm starting to sound sappy. And anyway, not all concerts reach that pinnacle and I don't expect them to. Some concerts are fantastic and awe-inspiring, some are simply fun and enjoyable, and some are relatively boring or even stumbling and frustrating.

Gunther thinks that description sounds just like sex. Not with me, he hurried to add, just sex in general. He said sex with me is always fantastic and awe-inspiring.

I think I lost my train of thought somewhere. I'll have to find it later.

11 January

It's still raining but the wind seems to be dying down. Gunther says we can probably leave the cave this afternoon. He was teasing me earlier about being so anxious to get to the caves and now being so anxious to leave them. I told him I only wanted to look at them, not live in them and he laughed.

He's in a very good mood today. I think he's enjoying our time away from home, too. He has so much responsibility for so many people and he works so hard. I don't think they appreciate him enough, especially his father.

I've been working on my map of the island. I started with a drawing of the basic island and I have been adding our improvements in different-colored inks, according to the phases we have planned.

Our first requirement is a pier and/or dock and I can only guess at its location; we'll need an expert to determine what we need and the best place for it.

After that, we have decided to build a hotel/dormitory where the single men and some of the couples will live, at least in the beginning. We have chosen the approximate location for it already. It will be near the creek and overlook the beach.

We have also decided to have a few bungalows scattered about for couples who want more privacy but we are going to have a communal kitchen and dining room to begin with. Since we're trying to foster a sense of community it doesn't seem logical to allow too much isolation.

We'll have to bring in construction crews to clear the sites and do the building and we're going to tell them we're building an exclusive resort for wealthy men who desire total privacy on their vacations. We hope that will forestall much of the gossip that will doubtlessly occur.

There is so much to plan and so many details to figure out and I know there are things we're missing. How are we going to find and select the men to share in our enterprise? Will they contribute to the island's upkeep? How will we determine how much they should pay, if they do? We don't want to give up ownership or control of any part of the island but we do want them to feel like they belong and our treasure won't last forever if we don't supplement it somehow.

And what if we're wrong? What if we build our resort with such high hopes and then find out no one is interested in a refuge from the world? What if no one comes?

Gunther says not to worry. A large part of his family business is based on hotels and resorts; he knows all about developing them and he has experts to deal with the infinite number of details. He says we'll make the important decisions and delegate the rest.

14 January 1946

Gunther spanked me last night. He was right to do it, I fully deserved it. I'm so ashamed. As usual, I didn't mean to be so foolish, I just didn't take time to think things through. Why am I always so stupid? When will I ever learn to think things through, to see the big picture instead of just getting an idea in my head and acting on it?

Gunther never makes mistakes like that. Why am I always so stupid! What did he ever do to deserve being saddled with someone like me? Why can't I learn? Why can't I be more like Gunther?

Later

Gunther saw that I was crying again, checked my ankle and gave me more aspirin, took my journal away and then lay down and held me in his arms. For some reason, that made me cry harder. He told me not to be ashamed of crying and he hopes I'm never just like him. He said he is always logical and sees the big picture but he misses a lot that way. He said I experience details and emotions in a way that he doesn't and he cherishes that in me. And that acting on my feelings instead of thinking things through isn't wrong unless I develop tunnel vision and block out all common sense.

Which is what I did yesterday. He said it's over and I need to stop beating myself up about it and let it go.

He says that's what discipline is for. It isn't about changing me or making me into someone like him because he isn't perfect either; he has his faults and flaws just like anyone else. It's about curbing reckless behavior, about punishment and penance and forgiveness and moving on.

I love him so much. My head hurts and Gunther says I should go back to sleep now.

Later

Upon reading this again, I realize I haven't explained things very well. I had better go back and start at the beginning.

It stopped raining the other day and Gunther decided it was safe to move back to camp. It was such a relief to see the sun again. I was starting to sympathize with vampires.

We packed up and moved most of our belongings back to camp. We left some things in case we have to go back. Gunther says it doesn't make sense to keep hauling them back and forth; we can store them in the cave and go get them if we need them later on.

The wind had made a mess of our camp, as usual. The tent and everything in it was safe but our sun shelters were gone and the fire pit was filled with sand and everything was covered with debris that had to be cleaned up and we had to take everything out of the tent so we would have a place to sleep.

By the time we finished all that we were so tired that we ate a quick meal and went straight to bed.

Yesterday morning Gunther decided to go to the coconut island. He said he was just going to look around, check for storm damage and maybe work on the old boat for a while. I knew the real reason was to check the cove, though, so I didn't ask to go along. I caught up on all of the chores and even did some extra work so I was feeling quite virtuous when I went to get my violin for my daily practice.

I couldn't find it. After the initial panic had subsided I mentally retraced my steps the way Gunther taught me and realized I had set it down in the cave, next to the stuff we were leaving behind, and forgotten to pick it up again.

I still don't know how I could have been so stupid. My violin is a part of me, the most important thing in my life next to Gunther. I never go anywhere without it. How could I have simply forgotten it? Worse, forgotten it for that whole day and night? I was angry and berating myself and so I did something even more foolish.

Logically, what I should have done at that point was find something else to occupy my time, wait for Gunther to get back with the boat and then calmly retrieve it.

Instead I panicked again. I don't know why. I knew where it was, I knew it was safe but I had to go get it. I couldn't rest until I had it in my arms again, until I knew it was safe and I was whole again.

I wasn't totally impulsive. I did take the time to find our old maps, fill the lantern with oil and get chalk to mark my trail through the caves. The path up to the original cave was washed out and I almost fell several times but once I was inside, the way was easy. Our markings from previous trips were clear, even after so many years. I reached the treasure cave, found my violin right where I left it and turned to leave, feeling quite smug. With any luck, I would be back in camp before Gunther returned and he would never know I had been away.

I knew we should have taken those skeletons out and buried them. As I turned to leave, one of them grabbed my ankle. Gunther says I just stepped on it but I was there and he wasn't, so what does he know? I twisted as I fell, trying to protect my violin, and the pain in my ankle was excruciating. Worse, I had dropped the lantern and I was alone in total darkness. And Gunther didn't know where I was.

Gunther says it is bedtime. I'll have to finish this tomorrow.

15 January 1946

I feel better this morning. It's a beautiful sunny day and my ankle is much better. I can even hobble a short distance with a little support from Gunther. He says he'll find a walking stick for me later but since I'm not allowed to leave camp without him there isn't any hurry.

I don't know how long I lay in the dark waiting for Gunther. I never doubted he would come for me but I didn't know how long it would take for him to get back and realize that I was missing or if he would search the rest of the island before checking the caves.

I was afraid to move about too much. I tried to stand but I couldn't put any weight on my ankle. I knew the glass on the lantern had broken and I was afraid of cutting myself if I crawled through it. I was also disoriented and wasn't sure where anything was or which way was out. I know now that it was only a matter of hours before he found me but it seemed much longer at the time.

I was so glad to see him when he finally arrived. I know I was babbling with relief and he held me so tightly, stroking my hair and not saying anything at all. It was only after he had bandaged my ankle, helped me to the boat (with my violin) and we had returned to camp that he gave full rein to his anger.

He has never been that angry with me before but never have I deserved it more. I realize how incredibly lucky I was. If I had fallen in one of the tunnels and struck my head he may never have found me. Or I could have been badly injured instead of merely sustaining a wrenched ankle.

Worse, I took advantage of Gunther's faith in me. I had been warned over and over not to go to the caves alone and he trusted me to obey him while he was gone. In any other kind of relationship I think it would be difficult - if not impossible - to regain that trust. I told Gunther that and asked what I have to do to earn his trust and respect again. I am willing to do anything, no matter how difficult it may be.

He said not to worry about it. He said he is willing to bet that by the time my punishment is over I wouldn't go back to the caves without permission if I were being pursued by a rabid shark in the middle of a hurricane.

I love him so much.

16 January 1946

I have had a lot of time to think the past couple of days and I have to admit that I have some reservations about what we plan to do with the island. Sometimes I don't consider things in the abstract or realize fully what they mean until I'm forced to examine them in a more concrete manner.

I don't think that made sense. I'll try to explain it more fully as putting my thoughts into words helps me understand them myself and I am very uncertain right now.

When I said we are creating a refuge for men like ourselves, I meant more than simply men who are homosexuals. We are being more specific than that and mean to create a haven for men who have the same kind of relationship we have. Men who practice discipline within a homosexual relationship.

Sometimes I wonder if we fit in, if we are 'normal' anywhere at all. We're looked down on or despised by heterosexuals for our sexual preferences and by other homosexuals for the discipline we incorporate in our relationship. Or we would be if we let any of them know about it. It's an even bigger secret than our sexual relationship is.

People just wouldn't understand. Either they would see it as abusive on Gunther's part or weak on mine or they would confuse it with sado-masochism. You would think that men who face prejudice and intolerance on a daily basis would be more tolerant but they aren't. Sometimes they can be even more harsh and condemning of people who don't fit their molds. They say you have to 'draw the line somewhere' but it's my belief they just need to feel righteous and superior to someone.

But whatever the reason, we can't be open and honest, even with the people we are sure live in similar arrangements. Not yet.

And now, as much as I say I want to create a place where we can be open and honest about our relationship, I am not sure I can be.

In theory, yes. And in day-to-day life I think I can. But to share the events of the past few days with people? To have them know that Gunther spanked me and why? To feel like they're judging me or second-guessing Gunther? I don't think I can live with that.

I think that as much as I want to be open and behave naturally, I am too private an individual. I am too used to carrying secrets. I don't think I can force myself to be that open and vulnerable with anyone but Gunther.

I don't know how I'm going to tell Gunther I don't want to do this anymore.

17 January 1946

I finally got the courage to tell Gunther after we went to bed last night. It is so much easier to confess your fears in the dark.

He told me not to worry and that things would look better this morning. And then distracted me.

I just pointed out to him that it's morning and things don't look any better and he told me not to be so impatient. I'm to quietly amuse myself while he does some chores and then we're going snorkeling. I've never been snorkeling before but Gunther says it isn't hard to do.

This is the first time I have been allowed to leave the camp since Gunther rescued me from the cave so I am quite excited about it. Not that I have had a leisurely time of it; Gunther has found plenty of work to keep my hands busy. I wish he would confine his creativity to the bedroom.

My ankle is feeling much better. It still looks bruised, an ugly purple and yellowish-green, but the swelling is down and I can get my shoe on again. It's difficult to walk very far but Gunther says swimming isn't the same as walking and I'll be fine.

I can't believe over half our vacation is gone already.

Gunther is almost ready to go. I meant to write so much more but I got distracted by a small lizard sunning itself on a nearby rock and then a pair of parrots preening themselves in the tree above me. There is so much to see and do here. There are so many contrasts and not only in the myriad of colors and textures. Life here is so strong yet so delicate, so harsh and unforgiving yet so tranquil and peaceful at the same time. I wish I was an artist so I could paint all that I see.

Gunther was right. I do feel better, even though nothing has been resolved.

18 January 1946

Yesterday was a fantastic, fabulous day, the best we have had in a long time. I thought life on the island was amazing; life in the waters around it is incredible. The ocean is its own little world, teeming with life, and we didn't even go very deep.

We swam and lay in the sun and talked and swam some more. Then we had a bonfire on the beach and baked potatoes and broiled the fish and shellfish we had gathered. After that we spread our blankets on the sand and made love, then watched the stars until we fell asleep. It was a very special day.

One of the things we talked about was our relationship and our plans for the island. I think about the way we live much more here than I do at home. At home I take it all for granted, here I seem to analyze it and worry about it so much more. Gunther says that's normal. This is where it all began and this is the focus of our plans so it's natural to plan and analyze here and take it for granted at home. He says someday I'll take it for granted here, too.

He showed me a fish while we were snorkeling today. I had never seen one like it; it's a small, gaily striped orange and white fish called a clown fish. This clown fish was swimming in and out among the sea anemone, perfectly safe even though the anemone's tentacles are poisonous to other fish.

Gunther said later that the clown fish and anemone have a 'symbiotic' relationship. Each relies on the other to fill its needs. The anemone protects the timid clown fish by providing shelter and protection within its tentacles. In return the clown fish helps keep the stationary anemone clean and fed and even gains the courage to chase away some of the anemone's predators.

Gunther says our relationship is a symbiotic one, just like the clown fish and anemone. Neither one is stronger or better or superior or inferior. We each bring our own strengths and weaknesses to the relationship and we each take care of the other's needs.

He also reassured me about the privacy of our relationship. He said even though many of our close friends know we are homosexual, they don't know the details of our sex life and we don't have sex in front of them. He said discipline would be the same - he would never do anything to shame or humiliate me in front of our friends and we won't allow that kind of behavior in our sanctuary.

I need to go. We're going to mark the spots for our hotel and the first of the bungalows today. We brought metal stakes with us as wooden ones would simply be swallowed up by the jungle after we leave.

20 January 1946

I am having a difficult day. After breakfast Gunther told me he was going to the coconut island and he gave me the choice of going with him or staying in camp while he is gone.

I know this is a test for me - not that Gunther is setting a trap for me, he would never do that. But he is giving me the opportunity to show him that I have learned my lesson and that he can trust me to stay alone again. He also left me a way out that wouldn't hurt my pride if I didn't feel I was ready.

I told him I would like to stay here. I need to practice; I am having difficulty with one of the passages in 'L'estro armonico'. He said that was fine, showed me where my boundaries are and gave me a list of chores to do while he is gone.

As long as I was engrossed in my music I was fine, quite content to stay within my proscribed limits. While I was occupied with my chores I was able to withstand the temptation to leave camp. I still don't have any desire to go visit the caves but several times I have almost left without thinking - to fetch more water from the creek, to check the snares, to gather more wood.

How ironic if I were to avoid the temptation of the caves and then fail unthinkingly in my desire to be helpful and productive.

I don't want to fail Gunther again. I want him to be proud of me.

I think I have a solution. I spread a blanket in the shade - it is quite warm again today - and put everything I might need within reach of it. I have my journal, my violin, food and water and my map and notes for our plans. Now I am sitting on the blanket and I am not going to get up again until Gunther returns.

I want a bath so badly right now. I'm hot and sticky and I can't help thinking how good it would feel to strip my clothes off and dive into the cool water, then to lay out in the warm sun until I'm dry again. Unfortunately, the pool and surf are both outside my boundaries.

I need to think about something else.

We talked about names again last evening. Not names for the island, curiously enough, but names for our relationship. And strangely enough, I wasn't the one who suggested the need for them this time. Gunther was.

He says that we need names - titles - that explain our relationships and the roles within them. He says heterosexuals use words like marriage, husband and wife, and people know what those words mean and what parts they play in their relationship based on those words. He thinks we need something similar.

I am not so sure. I'm afraid of roles and titles and I am afraid of being defined by them. I have seen first-hand what happens when people are identified by the group they belong to rather than what they are themselves.

And I have nothing at all against women but I am afraid that if the roles are so clearly defined I will end up in the 'wife' role and I don't want that. I have seen how women are loved and cherished and protected - and how they are patronized or looked down on as a result. I don't want that. As it stands, I am an equal in our relationship, at least nominally. But I am afraid that if we start labeling, the more submissive role - my role - will be patronized or looked down on. I am afraid I will become a second-class citizen yet again.

I don't know what to do. This all seemed so much simpler before we got into the details.

Gunther is back. He is hot and sweaty and wants to go for a swim. I'm so glad I waited.

23 January 1946

I can't believe we only have a week left on the island. We have had a wonderful vacation. We have explored both islands, spent time at the tide pools and gone snorkeling again. We have slept under the stars and made love and grown even closer to one another.

I'm going to miss the island when we go back to civilization. Gunther has taken two of the smaller, more common reales and is going to have holes bored in them and put them on chains for us. Worn under our shirts, they will be our version of wedding bands, a private affirmation of our love for each other as well as a remembrance of our time together here.

We have been talking about names again. Gunther is adamant about it. I think it has something to do with him being so organized and practical. Everyone in his companies has a title and this is going to be a business of sorts as well. At least he is organizing it like one.

He says I have some valid points and he thinks the key will be in the terms we choose. He says it is important to choose terms that emphasize equality and respect. He says we have to be careful not to create a caste system based on the titles we choose. For that reason we are not going to use terms that come from sado-masochism or words that can be construed as superior or inferior in any way.

He likes the term 'discipline partnership' to describe our relationship. He thinks it is succinct, yet descriptive. I think I like it as well.

We still haven't come up with terms for ourselves, though. He says not to worry about it but I cannot help worrying. It's important.

25 January 1946

Gunther says I need to stop fretting about names. He says there's no reason to worry about it now, we aren't going to need them anytime soon and he is sorry that he brought it up. He should have known I would obsess about it.

I do NOT obsess about things. I just think about them more than Gunther does.

Other than that, life is good. We have been snorkeling several times. There are so many kinds of fish and shellfish here. I never realized the ocean is such a busy place. We even saw a shark today. Gunther says not to worry, the sharks here are not man-eaters and they won't attack people except by mistake. That's why we can't go in the water at dawn or dusk and when we swim at night we never stay in long or go out very far.

I have no problems with those restrictions. Man-eater or not, it seemed very menacing to me and I would hate to meet up with it in the dark.

Did I mention that Gunther has taken up spear-fishing? He tried it a few times the last time we were here but it was very difficult with only a knife tied to a long stick. He bought a proper spear before we came this time and has been having a great deal of fun spearing the fish we have for dinner.

I tried it once or twice but I lack the patience necessary for fishing. I also get very frustrated when I stab where the fish appears to be over and over while it swims merrily away. I swear they are laughing at me.

I do much better with the snares. I have captured several hutias and also more wild chickens than we know what to do with. We have quite a flock providing eggs for us and we have roasted several of the young ones as well.

Between the fish, shellfish, hutias and chickens and the supplies we brought with us, we have eaten very well on this trip. Luckily we have also been exercising more than usual or I would be in danger of getting fat.

I told Gunther I think my trousers are getting a bit snug but he says I haven't put on more than a pound or two. He says he has an intimate knowledge of my body and he would know if I had put on much weight.

Naturally it isn't something Gunther has to worry about. Any weight he has put on is all muscle. I have always thought him a good-looking man, even magnificent when he is naked. Now, naked, muscular and tanned, he looks like a Greek god.

My trousers are definitely getting too snug.

27 January 1946

We still haven't thought of the terms we want to use. I am not obsessing, just saying.

Gunther says we need to start packing tomorrow. The boat will be back for us on the morning of the 30th and he wants to pack in a leisurely manner, not rush through it.

We have talked about what we're taking with us and what we're leaving behind. We hate the idea of dragging everything back and forth every trip but between the wind, the humidity and the salt air, we are afraid much of what we leave behind would be ruined before our return.

We thought about storing it in the caves but we don't want to make a habit of going to and from the caves or have people wonder where we are storing everything we leave behind. The less attention we draw to the caves the better.

We have also talked about what we're going to do with the treasure. I know that it lay hidden in the caves for over a hundred years but we found it and I worry that with renewed interest in the island someone else will find it as well. To my surprise, Gunther agreed with me.

However, if we're to avoid publicity we cannot carry it openly, either. After some thought, we have decided to carry part of the coins and the loose gems either secreted among the clothing in our luggage or hidden among our belongings in the packing crates. We can take part of the bottles, securely wrapped, but the rest of the coins, the bulkier jewelry and weapons will have to wait for another trip.

Gunther says we need to buy our own boat before we return. He would be much happier if we weren't moving the treasure under the eyes of inquisitive strangers.

29 January 1946

I don't want to spend our last day on the island packing. I want to spend it saying good-bye. I'm torn right now. I'm anxious to get back, to my work and my friends, to the life Gunther and I have created for ourselves there. But at the same time I love the island and I don't want to leave.

Gunther says that we'll be back. In time, we'll be able to divide our time more evenly between the two worlds. That scares me, too. In creating a sanctuary for more people we will gain a community but we will lose the solitude and isolation and they're part of what makes the island so special for us. What if we find out it's a mistake? What if we don't like having so many people around?

Gunther says the answer to that one is easy. We'll send them all away again. His practicality can be very comforting sometimes. He says if we hurry with the packing we can spend the rest of the day saying good-bye to the island.

Later

It was a very good day. We packed up everything except our blankets and what we'll need before the boat gets here in the morning, and hid as much of the coin and gems as Gunther thought wise. We will get the rest on another trip.

We had our last evening meal and collected the snares and released the chickens. We had broiled fish for dinner with the last of our rice. Then we sat on the beach and watched the sun set and the stars come out. It is so beautiful here. The sky is so black and the stars are so bright, like a million diamonds spread across black velvet. We can see so many more stars here than we can at home and it was the stars that gave us the terms we will use for our roles on the island.

I was leaning back against Gunther's chest, relaxed and sated, as we watched the stars and he pointed out the southern constellations I am unfamiliar with. I asked him about a particularly bright star and he told me it is Alpha Centaurus. It looks like one star to the naked eye but it is actually a double star or, more technically, a binary system. That means the two stars, called companion stars, share an orbit and revolve so closely around each other that they appear to be one unit.

I idly remarked that they seem a lot like us and Gunther suggested that maybe we should take our terms from them. The two stars are called Alpha Centauri and Beta Centauri and Alpha seems like a very good term for Gunther. Alpha means first or leader and that describes his role very well.

Mine was more difficult. I don't want to be a beta. I don't want to be considered lesser than or beneath Gunther and he agreed. He reminded me of what he said earlier about developing a caste system and that we need to be very careful about the connotations of the terms.

He suggested Centaurus instead but a centaur is half man/half horse. I told him I may behave like a horse's ass sometimes but I don't want to be named for one. He laughed and agreed. He suggested shortening it somehow instead. After trying Cent, Tauri, Auri, and several other variations we decided on Cen.

Alpha and Cen. I am a Cen in a Discipline Partnership. I have been rolling the terms around on my tongue for some time, trying them out, seeing how they sound, trying to decide if I feel like a Cen or not.

Gunther just woke up. He says he thought that coming up with terms would mean that I would stop obsessing about them, not obsess more. And the Alpha in this partnership is ordering the Cen back to bed. He's cold and needs me to warm him up.

30 January 1946

Everything is packed and waiting for the boat. We are going back to the world now. The last time I left this island I didn't know if I would ever see it again. I wasn't even sure whether I wanted to or not. This time I know we will return. I know our lives are inextricably bound up in this island, in this little world that is all our own.

I told Gunther that we should drink a toast to ourselves but he said we drank the last of the wine last night and he is not toasting anything with coconut milk. He doesn't see how I can drink the stuff when I don't have to. After some debate he agreed to raise his mug of coffee instead.

To Cen Erich, King of The Island!

And to Alpha Gunther, Emperor Extraordinaire.

Long may we reign.

~~~~~~

Cal closed the journal with a contented sigh and lay back to savor what he had read. There were so many things he took for granted - that they all took for granted - never realizing how much the first couples had gone through, how much effort they had put into creating the foundations for The Island.

What would happen in another forty or fifty years, he wondered. Would The Island still be in existence? Would some young man be reading his journals and appreciating his contributions for the future? He liked to think so.

He raised his glass of juice in a salute to that unknown man. "Here's to you," he quietly pledged. "And may we provide as well for you as they did for us."

The End