Fantasy Island?

Salote, teller of tales from the South Pacific

This is the story our young Fijian waitress told us when we engaged her in conversation as she cleared our plates last night.

She had mentioned that she liked it when there were this number of guests at the tiny island resort (about 12), so I asked her what she didn't like.  And so her story began.

She didn't like being away from planes.  At 19, she'd been fast-tracked to join flying school.  But the day she was due to go solo, her instructor was killed in a plane crash.  She stuck at it, but during a later flight, her father, a Village Chief, called her on her phone to announce the news that he'd signed her into an arranged marriage.  The couple were married a week after they met, he left her a month later, and promptly denied the child she was already carrying was his.  There was a scandal, she protested her fidelity to her family, fainted before them, and miscarried.  The unhappy couple were divorced.  She became ill, but the doctor at the hospital took such a shine to her that he accidentally injected her with a triple dose of morphine.  She was given three months to live.  She suddenly recovered, and was offered  a job at this small island resort.  She now waits on tables for surfers and backpackers.

Fantasy or reality?  You decide; I can't.  Henry and I travel to meet real people and hear about their lives.  Tonight, in a tourist enclave, rather to our surprise, did we do both?  Or did we merely hear a tale of the South Pacific, as mysterious and fantastic as the blue waters themselves?

John