This story earned me 100 dollars when it won one of Occidental College’s English Department’s creative writing prizes for fiction in 2024.
The night when Janet told me everything was an island, I thought mostly of popcorn and girls. I know this to be true because my journal entry from that day — May 5th, 2023 — said so. For two paragraphs, I went on about Juliet Jefferson and then three paragraphs about Jessica Jordan, followed by a one paragraph dissertation on the rising prices of popcorn at the local theater. At the bottom of the page, in small lettering which curled around the right margin like anything scared read: And Janet told me everything’s an island and I don’t know what that means.
I still don’t. But these days, when my time is delivered by bucketful each morning, I like to look into the past and pick apart mysteries unsolved. Not that I’ve solved any yet, but I have this stubborn idea in my head that if I just get one good story– one good mystery with its curtain curled back like anything scared– it would all be worth it. Which is why the sentence, reeking of afterthought, grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and wouldn’t let go.
So I’ve done some thinking on the island matter and I’ve decided I agree for no other reason than I ought to start somewhere and it was better to start off with Janet on my good side.
If I think of an island, I think of the beach, of the sand, of the sun, of the Things Washed Up and Unreturned. Not that the things could be returned. I think of things Trapped In A Cage With The Key. But perhaps that’s cause I grew up in the city. I had a key to everywhere but out though the one missing was the only one that mattered to me. I suppose that’s often how this sort of thing goes. I looked everywhere except under the doormat, which, of course, is where it was. I wonder now if I wish I’d known and I’m not sure.
If I think of an island, I think of isolation, of fires ignored by helicopters, of the color blue, of the Things That Can’t Be Written Out In Sticks On The Shore. Although I suppose the things that can be written out are useful too. Help is nice in its monosyllability. I don’t know if it’s effective or not, as I have no personal experience, but it never seems to work out in the movies. Although I suppose Janet would disagree with that– the personal part not the movie part.
If I think of an island, I think of Janet that night, of the blue shining sun, of how she stood on sinking sand, of the Things That Sink When We Stare Too Long.
If everything’s an island, then nothing’s not an island and nothing must be an island too. I wonder what it is like to be on that island. I wonder if there is enough room to spell out Help in stray branches or enough room to spell out the Other Things too. If everything is an island, then all the things in everything must be islands too. If everything is an island, then everything must have every characteristic of an island. If an island means to be surrounded in water there must be so much water inside every island– lakes and rivers and ponds big enough for islands inside. If everything’s an island, how big is big enough for islands inside?
If everything’s an island, then when I was young and was sent out to the woods to collect branches for the cooking fire, when I sat on the log in the clearing by the large rock I must have been counting islands, each branch. If I broke one in half, I’d have two islands.
If everything’s an island, then Janet wasn’t lying on the night on the high hill of sand. If she wasn’t lying about the island, then she wasn’t lying about Juliet’s hair band or Jessica’s fireplace or the Things That Fall Away And Up And Through My Hands, like sand. Each an island in their own right.
If Juliet Jefferson is an island, then when I was young and she tugged on my sleeve and pulled me close and whispered in my ear, I’ve lost my rubber band– she must have sent me out looking for an island. If Juliet Jefferson is an island, then the things that get lost off the shores of one island always show up on the shores of another. If Juliet Jefferson lost her hair band off the shore of Anywhere, then I only need to look at every other island to find it.
If Juliet Jefferson is an island, then when she kissed me in 10th grade and my glasses fell off, an island must have splattered all over the floor. An island must have surfaced as the Kiss surfaced on our lips, too wet to be an island hardly but still an island if everything’s an island. If Juliet Jefferson is an island, it makes sense why she never wrote to me because inter-island travel can be terribly tedious when there are so many islands in the ocean. If Juliet Jefferson is an island, then I forgive her for all the Things She Didn’t Know She Did, and I hope she forgives me too, for all the Things I Didn’t Do– mainly, finding that hairband.
If Juliet Jefferson is an island, then Janet couldn’t have been jealous of her for who can be jealous of an island. If you can’t be jealous of an island, then you can’t be jealous of anything if everything’s an island, then Janet was just a concerned friend just as she said. If everything’s an island, then Janet was just worried about islandic collisions just as she said.
If Jessica Jordan is an island, then her house is an island too. She was an island living on an island. How big is big enough for islands inside? If Jessica Jordan’s house is an island, then it makes sense why the things disappeared in her unlit fireplace, why, when you threw them, they flew Up And Away, because volcanoes are on island and they send things Up And Away all the time. If her chimney was just a volcano, then the letter I wrote Jessica Jordan must have melted away in the molten lava. That’s a relief sometimes I worry it’s just been sitting on her roof all this time.
If Jessica Jordan is an island, then she must only have island emotions. What are island emotions? There’s the Shhhh Shhhh Shhhh of the Librarian Waves and the Up And Away of the Bursting Volcano. There’s a calmness and anger which says Shhh Up Shhh And Shhh Away, like anything so loud can be a secret. If Jessica Jordan is an island who only has island emotions which are only Shhh Up Shhh And Shhhh Away, then it must have been an accident when she put my letter in the fire. And even if she did have more emotions than the typical island, it must have been an accident because she never even read it so why would she put it in the fire.
If Jessica Jordan is an island, then Janet couldn’t have read my letter because it must have melted away in all that molten lava. And if everything’s an island, then the letter was an island too, and Janet couldn’t have read it anyway because how can you read an island, their vocabulary is so limited anyhow. And if Janet couldn’t have read the letter, then it must have been an accident that she knew what it had said. When everything’s an island, accidents happen all the time, like dropping a letter in a fireplace or Trapping Things In A Cage With The Key.
If movie theatre popcorn is an island, then I eat islands by the handful. If movie theatre popcorn is an island, an island’s taste is more buttery than I thought and next time I talk to Janet on a sand hill, I’ll eat more sand than usual and maybe it would stop her from sinking. If sand tastes like movie theatre popcorn, then the rising prices of the popcorn at the theatre are even more outrageous. If I eat islands by the handful, then islands can disappear fast. They are delivered by bucketful and devoured in an instant. If Juliet and Jessica and Janet and I are all islands, then we could be devoured by the handful in an instant. We would taste like sand, buttery.
If movie theatre popcorn is an island, then islands crunch when you step on them, sticky ground. When they fall, islands must splatter all over the floor. It’s a wonder the movie theatre is still above water what with all that splashing. It’s a wonder we can hear the movies above all that Shhh Up Shhh And Shhh Away. We can hardly hear above the crunch of the popcorn as it is.
If movie theatre popcorn is an island, then movie theatre popcorn is an island. Movie theatre popcorn of all things. If Janet knew the Truth About Movie Theatre Popcorn then she must know the Truth about a lot. If even the people who know the Truth can sink and get swallowed by the Truths they know, then I guess those Truths can devour us all by the handful in an instant. If the Truths are like us and we eat the movie theatre popcorn, then I guess everything’s an island.
If Janet is an island, then when she drove me out to her favorite spot to talk about something important, it makes sense that she chose that big sand hill because sand hills are just like islands. If Janet is an island, then when she walked up the sand hill she must have left behind island tracks and we sat in the sandy blue sun for long enough to let silence sit between us like an island. If the silence was an island, then there were islands everywhere, then everything’s an island.
If Janet is an island, then maybe I shouldn’t have let her take me all the way to that sand hill that night. It was so far away and Isolated and even though we sat so close we felt so far away. I think when everyone’s an island, everyone’s Isolated all of the time. She was trying to tell me something very important but I couldn’t hear her over all the distance what with her island and my island and the island between us and my thoughts about girls and popcorn and we didn’t have a bridge or a boat or anything. All I could make out was that everything’s an island.
If Janet is an island, then I could only love her the way I love an island. I could spend all day on an island because when I think of an island I think of the beach, of the sand, of the sun. But from all the way over here, Janet looks Washed Up And Unreturned and I can’t be the one to Return her because I’m busy with looking for a hair band and ashes of letters. And I can spend all day on an island, but I could never spend the night. If everything’s an island, then that night was an island. And nights on islands make people sink and swallow them whole, even the ones who know Truths. If Janet was an island and she asked if I loved her I would tell her that I only love her the way I love an island because I only have island emotions and I couldn’t decide if she made me feel like Up and Away or Shhh Shhh Shhh, then everything’s an island.
If I had a boat, then I could visit every single island and I would find Juliet Jefferson’s hair band. I can picture it now. One day, after many, many days, I would Shore Up weary and scanning the ground with my hairband scanner I would suddenly hear a beep-beep-beep. And I would get on my knees and dig up that hair band. If I had a boat, I would take that boat all the way back to the moment when my glasses fell off in tenth grade and I would pull out that rubber band and give it to her and say: Juliet Jefferson, will you go to the movie theatre with me? I hear the popcorn tastes like sand, buttery.
If I had a boat, then I could find the island of that letter. And when I found it I would read it like you read an island. I would copy it down three times in a page from the back of my journal which I would rip out and put in an envelope. The first envelope would go to Jessica Jordan, but I wouldn’t give it to her until I took her into my boat and we sailed to the island of nothing just to make sure she couldn’t throw it anywhere else. I would watch her face very carefully, especially the part that said: The key you are looking for is under the doormat and especially the part that said I love you in small letters that curled around the right margin like anything scared. The second copy I would put in a bottle and throw out my window so that it could be Washed Up and Unreturned. The third copy I would give to Janet.
If I had a boat, on the night of the blue moon and the sinking sand, when it came time for Janet to tell me the thing that was very important, I would have left my island for hers, by boat. I would have sailed across all that silence and all those waves and I would have sat with her on a sturdy shore. I would have sat so close and listened closer. And then she would take a deep breath, which would have curled around the two of us like anything scared, and she would have said: When the time comes, build a boat because everything’s an island.