Unquenched Read online

  We arrived at our first destination. It was from there that we prepared to board a tiny engine rowboat to ferry across to Menjangan Island. Before boarding the boat, we had to sign ourselves in and leave a driver's license for identification. The check-in hut was a simple operation, but an efficient process, nonetheless. Tristan was in line ahead of me. I was curious about his age. I glanced over his shoulder to glimpse at his license with the hope of identifying it there. Not being familiar with a German license, I wasn't quick enough to spot his age before he returned it to his wallet. Ironically, and for some unknown reason, the man behind the desk asked him about his age and did so while I was still standing there. So, he was twenty-eight. He was three years younger than me. Europeans always seemed older than they were. Funny how that was.

  We all began walking down to the dock but veered off to the little snack bar along the way. We needed to stock up with food for the trip as the island was remote without amenities. I looked around for Jordan but didn't see him anywhere. Suddenly, I found myself sitting with Tristan all alone. We were at the snack bar waiting for everyone to join us. I was nervous. I was excited. I didn't even know him and didn't understand why I felt that way. But there was no question that I did.

  He lit up a cigarette while we chatted quite aimlessly about superficial topics and things. He didn't look like a smoker with his long, lean legs and hard athletic body. It wasn't until several months later that I found out he only smoked on rare occasions. I must admit, it made me happy as I hoped my impression of him had been right. His casual but neat, and normal appearance was offset by something subtle that I couldn't quite place. Although it wasn't blatant, it was in his style that told you he wasn't typical or conventional.

  Jordan and the group joined us several moments later, as we ordered sandwiches for our excursion to the island. We walked to the dock where the dive master waited so he could distribute everyone's equipment. We sat in the boat, still on shore, while everyone checked their tanks. We studied our masks, flippers and weights to ensure all was in working order. I had my own mask and was all set to go after borrowing a pair of flippers from the dive master.

  We could see the island from our point of departure yet we anticipated a lengthy trip. We were told that the trip would take a good forty-five minutes as the boat was very slow. The sun was shining and the water was calm but the tides had become turbulent inside of me.

  As Menjangan grew closer, Jordan was busy retesting his equipment, as it was like him to have everything just right. He looked up at me intermittently, and gave me a smile, just to let me know that he was there. I remained quiet, watching everyone prepare for their dive, suddenly in awe, wishing that I was going too.

  Tristan had only his bathing suit on, his chest and legs fully exposed. For some reason, I could not look at him and felt the need to look away.

  We arrived at Menjangan and anchored the boat. It was a joint effort on everyone's part to unload the equipment onto shore. Tristan handed me several of the masks, but he too was strangely quiet compared to his energetic display in the van. I was not at all certain of his thoughts at the time, and if in any way they pertained to me.

  As the men suited up, I looked around at our new and remote surroundings. I laid out a towel and organized my belongings where I would wait for them to return. Jordan walked towards me, kissed me good-bye and told me that they would be back after one dive. Instinctively, I glanced at Tristan to see if he had witnessed Jordan's embrace. But I wasn't sure that he had. He did, however, catch my eye, gave me a blank stare and submerged beneath the water. The rest of the group followed as I felt a strange relief to finally be alone. There were several other people on the deserted island, but they were far enough away that they were silent.

  I sat by myself and contemplated for a while, trying to digest all the feelings that I had experienced in the past hour and a half. I had been traveling with a man yet had room for another, feelings I found hard to understand. I wanted to make it go away and give myself to Jordan. I wanted to give him everything he deserved, all that he wanted and that I had. He was so good to me and I really cared for him. I berated myself for my newfound excitement but could not deprive myself of it nonetheless.

  As I looked out at the crystal blue waters, the reef that I faced looked inviting. Feeling confused, yet adventurous and alive, I assembled my snorkel, put on my mask and decided to confront the underwater life of Indonesia. The water itself was pristine and clear and the coral and fish were endless. The colors were brilliant. The steep ocean ledges dropped off so dramatically it almost took my breath away. The underwater silence was almost deafening but it felt good to be out of my element. It was an escape. It was a soothing feeling as I swam through the tropics and I felt my body begin to relax. The water had been warm and incredibly clear and at some point, I just started to float. It was an effortless journey and the natural beauty that surrounded me, moved with tranquility and ease. It was at that moment that I wondered why passion always seemed to come with a price. I had been swimming for almost an entire hour when I realized that the tide had pulled me further down shore. It had been time to go anyway. I had been a welcome visitor in another world, seen spectacular life, and felt a thawing yet content sense of fatigue.

  The bubbles on the water's surface told me that the men were ascending, and that they would soon arrive. One by one, they emerged from the water as they walked in my direction with their equipment. Although they wore wet suits, their distinct shapes and sizes made them easy to recognize, despite the short time I had known most of them. John, Tomas and Greg stopped on the way, to get some dry clothes from the boat. Jordan and Tristan walked toward me in tandem, as I found out later they had been dive buddies.

  As Tristan grew nearer, he glanced my way, but walked by me on my towel in the sand. He had found a shady spot on a big fallen log where the others soon joined him, about fifteen feet away. Jordan sat next to me for a moment in the sand. He filled me in briefly on the details of their dive, but then encouraged me to join the group as they ate. I was so torn. I could not be near him. Tristan, that was. I felt that my feelings, both guilt and excitement, were written all over my face. I feared that Jordan could read it. Being close to Tristan would have only magnified my discomfort which I thought had become so blatantly obvious. But not to sit with them would have been a statement of its own and I did not want to draw attention to myself. So we ate. I sat at the extreme opposite end of the log from Tristan and engaged in continuous conversation with anyone else who would.

  I felt like I was hiding. Running. Suppressing the truth. At that moment I would have given anything just to look at him. Tristan. Just to connect for half a moment the way I had learned we could. But I couldn't. I had to keep my distance. For Jordan. It wouldn't have been fair if I didn't. He loved me. If this was what it took to show me that we were not meant to be, we would talk, but it would have to wait. It wasn't the time. My commitment to him would have to last at least another six days. I had to wait until the vacation's end. But I could not act on anything else. Respect, I owed Jordan that much.

  The group went out for one more dive while I waited on shore, pondering over the realization of all that I had learned. It scared me, excited me and troubled me all the same. I was in Southeast Asia with a man who wanted to make me his yet drawn to another who I wasn't sure would. The one thing however, that I had been certain of, was that Tristan would be wrong for me, regardless.

  The clouds rolled in as we boarded the boat, the dark sky resembling the heaviness inside of me. I sat quietly on the return, withdrawn and alone, hoping no one would notice a thing. As we moved through the water and watched Menjangan disappear, I saw Tristan glance my way. But still, I could not read his mind. I was wearing a bikini, a purple one, and I wondered if he liked what he saw or if it was just my wishful thinking. Jordan appeared normal, content with the day and for that I could only be thankful.

  The van awaited us by the check-in hut as we hurried to beat the rain. T
he sky grew darker and the tropical paradise around us began to blow. There was something romantic about the setting, a warmth and serenity I could not explain. We began our journey as the van pulled away and I knew in an hour's time Jordan and I would be returned to our hotel. The remaining four men would go over the mountains and back to their hotels on the other side of Bali.

  John, Tomas and Greg were seated in the back and before long they were asleep. It was raining, and the pitter patter on the roof and windshield created a comforting sound. Tristan and Jordan were wide awake and my heart was racing steadily. Tristan broke the silence and began to converse. I felt Jordan's presence, albeit passively, as Tristan and I continued to speak. I sensed that we had entered a world of our own, and there was no breaking the air between us. My giddiness returned, as did the spark, and I found it hard to control my nervous laughter.

  We all talked about what we did for a living as I listened with trepidation. Jordan, my sweet Jordan, why did he have to be so formal, so analytical, so precise. Sometimes it made me crazy. He used special jargon with excruciating details about his job which was twelve thousand miles away. This man from Germany did not care about the minutiae as I studied his face while he listened. As I sensed his sheer boredom, I felt embarrassed for Jordan, yet ashamed of myself for feeling that way. But that was his way, he was thorough and exact, and I guess what one could call predictable. What Tristan shared next was somewhat unexpected as he told us that he was a flight attendant. At first I thought I had heard him wrong. In fact, I thought he was kidding. It just didn't fit him. He had a strategic mind, a quick mind, that in my mind, seemed suited toward something more like finance. Maybe that's what I wanted of him. But somehow it didn't matter. Whatever he was, I was intrigued by him but he was definitely an enigma.

  About fifteen minutes before we arrived at our hotel, Tristan informed us of his flight schedule. He explained that upon his return from vacation, he would have a flight to New York. He would be arriving from Germany on December 25, the evening of Christmas Day. He looked at me, but clearly asked Jordan, if either of us would be around. Jordan didn't hesitate and explained immediately that we'd be with his parents in Cape Cod. I cringed as he said it thinking I wouldn't be able to go, feeling even more uncertain than I had before. More than that, how could I miss the opportunity to see Tristan again, alone, only two weeks from then in New York. Tristan just smiled but looked at me quite quizzically as if he had just learned something new. I was unsure of his thoughts, regarding my relationship with Jordan, because I knew I had downplayed it that day. I had not been overtly affectionate with Jordan, as I had been leaving the door open for Tristan.

  What was I possibly thinking? A six foot four, German man, was not someone I should be thinking about. Being Jewish and American, a born and bred German was not a fitting match for me. And he lived in Germany and I in New York. Why did I have this need to see him again?

  The van pulled up to our hotel, the rain subsided and the guys in the back had awakened. We all said good-bye but no cards were exchanged. I thought that was strange after a day of making new friends. I wished that someone would have made the gesture, and then I could have just followed suit. But I was so uncomfortable with the whole situation, that I feared asking Tristan for his number. I was equally uncomfortable giving him mine in fear of hurting Jordan. I had been afraid that Jordan would see right through me. Had I not felt for him, Tristan I mean, I wouldn't have thought twice about it. In fact I would have thought it normal.

  We were about to depart the van and my mind began to race. Tristan would be on Bali for another nine days, and after a quick stop in Germany, he would be in New York only one week after I returned home. I did not have his number, or even his last name. I felt helpless inside but fought to think of Jordan. I had known Tristan for less than twelve hours but I knew right then that I had to see him again. He had captured a part of me and he was not just a passing fancy. That much I was sure of. Jordan stepped down and walked away from the van, and as he did, I looked straight into Tristan's eyes. It was then that I knew for certain. I knew that I was not alone in what I was feeling, and that he too, wanted to make certain that we would see each another again. As we both remained silent, our eyes spoke words, but words that could not confirm the future. I felt his eyes upon me as I stepped out of the van, I closed the door, and I looked back just one more time. He had not blinked, as we both locked eyes, and he let me see what he was feeling. As Jordan walked inside, I watched the van pull away, and all I felt was depleted.

  When I entered the room, Jordan was tidying and seemed happy to see me come in. At that point I felt secure that he had not picked up on what I was feeling, or at least the degree to which I was feeling it. Jordan was astute and extremely aware but I had tried desperately to hide my feelings. I was happy that somehow he couldn't read my thoughts but I was frustrated with him despite it. It wasn't his fault and I knew it, but he was the reason that I could not pursue what had been close enough to touch. I needed to talk about it and needed to release all the energy inside of me. I felt a loss for something that I had never had, and needed the soothing words of someone who understood. But I understood, only too well, that Jordan could not be that person. But there was no one else. No one I knew and no one that would listen. So I would find a way, I had to.

  "Jordan, do you think that we were unfriendly by not offering them our telephone numbers in New York?" I finally asked. I justified my question by explaining to him, "If the roles were reversed and we were abroad, I would hope that they would extend themselves to us. It just seemed like the right thing to do," I added.

  "Funny you should ask," he surprised me by saying. "I actually thought about it too. I even thought about getting together with them when we go back to the other side of Bali," he responded. "But I know you, and you usually don't like to be with other people, so I thought I would just let it go." I felt twisted inside as his words played back, thinking of the past and the future.

  It was then that I realized over the past few months I had resisted being social with him. But the reason had suddenly become clear to me. I had not been happy with Jordan. In some ways, I was the antithesis of who he had thought I was. I was a very social person who enjoyed the company of both my family and friends. I was outgoing, energetic and typically a planner, who had always organized group activities. And then I met Jordan. As our relationship grew closer, yet my uncertainty set in, it became harder for me to be around others. I was easy to read, as my dear ones knew me well, and I did not want to display my distress. It was easier being alone with him where I wasn't being watched, on stage or performing, so to speak.

  But now he had planted a seed. I suddenly felt that I had carte blanche to initiate an evening with our newfound friends. If that's what Jordan wanted then I would go along with it, but the guilt was overwhelming, despite it. I thought long and hard before I replied, as I had yearned for something that defied my thoughts inside.

  I finally agreed by saying, "Believe it or not, that sounds fun," and my heart raced at the thought of seeing Tristan again. "I'd actually like to get together with them," I said out loud, as I appeased my conscience by telling myself that being in a group was harmless and carefree.

  But I knew I was fooling myself, when I remembered, suddenly, that we still had no way of finding Tristan. I understood immediately that seeing him again, might really remain just a dream.

  And to this day, I will never understand how Jordan dealt with the search that ensued. Or even why, for that matter. He wasn't oblivious or slow to detect. I had to believe that he was in denial. It would have been too painful for him to think it all true. He didn't believe. It was easier not to believe. I wasn't sure I did, why should he?

  As the investigation began, I suffered and tormented myself for what I was putting us through. Jordan played detective, as I watched him make phone calls, one right after another. I struggled with whether to let him make the phone calls himself but I hoped that it served a purpose. I
hoped in a way that his own initiative had made him feel that it was his idea. But as time passed, I no longer had an urgency to see them again. I wanted Jordan to believe that my discomfort stemmed from our lack of response earlier in the van. And that I had just been uncomfortable with our lack of hospitality and that there had been nothing more to it than that. Oh, how I wished that it hadn't become so complicated. Jordan was resourceful as he called the Scuba Network, the organization that had taken us out that day. The phone was busy, or not working, it was incredibly hard to tell. He was persistent as he tried several times and finally, he got through. The man who answered could not speak English but managed to ask us to call the next day.

  That night, in the warm tropical air, Jordan and I ate dinner by the water. As we sat in the breeze, I felt the pendulum swing inside of me, this time leaning towards Jordan. Such mixed emotions, it was so unclear. But it had been clear just a few hours ago. Why weren't those signs enough for me? But I knew why. Jordan was good, so honest and good, it was hard for me to let go of him. He was handsome and strong, smart yet sweet and gave me the freedom to be me. He was able to talk, really talk, about anything under the sun. And then there were sports. We both loved sports. That was important to both of us. And there was our love for the outdoors. And our passion for adventure and challenges. And our constant need to push things to the limit, something we had in common. He was everything I thought I had always wanted. But there was still something missing. The feeling of knowing. Knowing and not wondering. Deep loving feelings that are so wonderfully clear. But I also knew that he was a rare person and I worried that I would never find anyone like him. So despite my doubts, I honestly feared, that letting him go would be my loss.