Hula Girl

by Ward Cosio, Lara

Miss my hula girl. Thanks so much for sending the photo.

  I’m smiling through tears. And also kicking myself over this being the only selfie we’ve taken together. How did that happen? How didn’t we think to take a photo of us when we were together here in LA? I should have at least gotten one of us at his father’s party when we’d accidentally dressed so perfectly to complement each other with him in his navy suit and me in that light-blue dress. And now there’s a very good chance that I’ll never see him in a suit again.

  Not that seeing him in a bathing suit is a bad thing …

  Sighing, I turn onto my belly and try to think of what I should reply. I miss him. I could tell him as much. But where would that get us? I’m still no closer to figuring out where we go from here.

  I finally decide to keep it neutral.

  You got a smart phone! Welcome to the present.

  His reply comes back in mere seconds, almost as if he’s showing off his new phone’s capabilities: This is strictly my “In case of Ava emergency” phone.

  His reply makes me laugh and I can’t stop myself from replying:

  I’m glad to know I can still reach you.

  I watch as the little bubbles appear, showing that he’s typing his reply. I bite my lip, anxious for his next text.

  Always.

  I take an involuntary, gulping breath when I read that. I want to believe him. I want to believe we have all the time in the world to figure this out. But I’m realistic enough to know that life—and love—doesn’t wait forever.

  * * *

  We keep up texting each other sporadically over the next couple of weeks, usually light banter about the Dodgers or surface-level updates on our days. I’ve let him know that I’m committed to being Randall’s advocate as he steps down, and he’s fully supportive. It’s nice to still feel some kind of connection with him, but that doesn’t stop me from aching for him each night as I go to bed alone.

  Randall doesn’t want a lot of fuss for his retirement, and so when the time comes, it’s marked by a simple champagne toast in the main lobby of our office with all the staff gathered around. So that he doesn’t go off script, or forget the script entirely, Randall has written his speech on an index card.

  I watch him give it with mixed feelings. I love him dearly and respect all that he’s accomplished, but I’m sad that it’s come down to a three by five inch piece of paper. Still, he is dignified and says all the right things as he hands off the managing partner duties to Manny.

  As soon as he’s done, everyone raises their glass to him and shouts out their thanks and congratulations on all that he has accomplished. That part is nice. I can see tears in Randall’s eyes at this and know it’s not spurred by helplessness, but at having done something truly meaningful with his career. He has inspired a lot of lawyers, not the least of whom has been me. I’ve told him before what an incredible impact he’s had on my life and how grateful I am, but when I see an opportunity to steal him away from the group, I grab it.

  Looping my arm through his, I steer him toward the wall of windows that showcases the Staples Center and LA Live entertainment complex. This area has become a much different place than it was when Randall first took a single suite four decades ago. It used to be on the edge of downtown Los Angeles with not a lot of hustle and bustle. Now, he has three floors in this high-rise, and the area is a huge attraction for locals and tourists alike. The times and environment may have changed, but Randall never has. He’s always been someone I can admire for the way he treats the law and his clients with respect and integrity.

  “Randall, before everyone tries to get a word with you and I lose my chance,” I say, “I just want to thank you. Thank you for every—”

  “Alice will be here to take me home soon,” he says, looking at his watch.

  I’m thrown by the interruption but understand that I have to be flexible and let him express himself in whatever manner makes him comfortable. And obviously, his comfort level right now is not in listening to me blather on once more about what a great mentor he’s been.

  I smile and decide to take a different tact. “Well, I’m sure—”

  “What I mean to say, Ava,” he interrupts again, “is that my time is limited, so let’s not waste it with platitudes. Though, I know you mean them and I appreciate the sentiment.”

  Now I’m thrown by his purposeful tone. I don’t try to guess how I should handle the moment, and instead, let him speak, which is clearly what he wants.

  “I want to say a few things to you.” He takes a deep breath and I try to steel myself, suddenly fearing he will have changed his mind about the retirement plan I helped engineer. “I know you have great loyalty to this firm. I know you’ve found a way to get along with Manny. And that both of these things compel you to stay in a situation that isn’t necessarily to your benefit.”

  “I, um, what do you mean?”

  “I mean, that as decent as Manny is now being to you and me, that doesn’t mean he will ever allow you to progress in this firm. Certainly not at the pace that I have encouraged.”

  “Oh, I see.” I hadn’t thought much along these lines. I’ve been so busy with this transition process that it hadn’t occurred to me what my future might be here.

  “I’m telling you this because you and I have always been honest with each other,” he says and levels a meaningful look at me. “And because you’re family.”

  I nod and manage a smile. But the idea that my career path at this firm is likely stagnant at best has left a sour taste in my mouth.

  “I appreciate that, Randall.”

  “I’m not saying it’s fair. I’m not saying it’s right. It’s just the way it is.” He takes a deep breath. “Now, the question is, how do you manage this reality?”

  “I will have to take some time to consider that.”

  “That’s the thing, Ava. There’s never as much time as you think there will be.”

  My eyes fill with tears, and I try to look away from him to hide the sadness I feel for him with those words. But then he touches my chin and forces me to meet his eyes again.

  “That doesn’t just apply to this old guy,” he says with a laugh. “I’m not done yet, but I have had a great life. I’ve had a great career. But I sure wish I would have found more time for my family along the way.”

  I swipe the tears from my cheeks, unable to keep them at bay.

  He takes my left hand in his and toys with the engagement ring. “I don’t know the whole story of you and this Ford fellow,” he says, “but I can see there’s something real there. My last bit of advice to you, Ava, is to not settle. Not in work. And not in love. And you certainly don’t have to stay at this firm to find success. Know that all I want for you is to be happy.”

  There’s no concern about office decorum as I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

  “Thank you, Randall. Thank you so much.”

  “It’s been my pleasure. Now, get me to the elevator banks so I don’t have to schmooze with anyone else. I’d rather just go gently into that good night, if you don’t mind.” He winks at me, and I laugh.

  “I’d love to.”

  38

  Ava

  I don’t rush out of there, pack a bag, and hop the first plane to Maui. I don’t call Ford and tell him that Randall has finally been the one to push me into deciding to follow my heart. I don’t do anything out of the ordinary at all, in fact.

  Once I’ve seen Randall off into Alice’s good hands, I return to the office. I bypass the remnants of the party and go straight to my office. To anyone watching, I will be doing what I’ve done for the last six years here at this firm: working longer and harder than just about anyone else.

  But what I’m really doing is methodically reviewing each of my open cases and making detailed notes. They are notes for whichever attorney will be taking my place. That’s not to say that I’m about to burn bridges here. No, I’m preparing to take a cue from Ford’s playbook and availing myself of the
firm’s leave of absence plan. It will give me just enough time to plan my next move. I know it will be a move away from this place where I’ve been so comfortable and had such high hopes for advancement. But I don’t know anything more than that. And I’m just too damn practical to not have some kind of a plan.

  Once I’ve written a letter to human resources and copying Manny explaining my need for time away, I schedule it to deliver tomorrow, after I’m well gone.

  I run by my place and toss bathing suits, sundresses, and other warm weather clothes into a suitcase while I talk to my mom on the phone. I tell her everything I’m thinking, and she doesn’t hesitate in encouraging me. She’s genuinely excited for me, not just because I’ve told her that I’m hoping to surprise Ford with a grand gesture, but because she believes great things will come out of this—both in work and love.

  “So, I don’t know exactly what happens from here,” I say.

  Mama laughs. “And isn’t that wonderful?”

  “It’s terrifying,” I reply. “But I think I can do this.”

  “I know you can, mija. Enjoy yourself. Promise me.”

  “That’s the plan.” I hesitate. “Um, and I wanted to ask you, well, whether you’ve ever thought about living in Maui? I mean, not that I know that I’ll be living there, but just in case that’s what ends up happening?” I close my eyes tightly.

  “Oh, Ava,” Mama says. “I appreciate the thought, but you don’t need to worry about me. You have spent too many years taking care of me—or thinking you need to, in any case. But I want you to know that I am fine. I have been for a long time now. You don’t have to be that brave little thirteen year old who took on way too much anymore. You always want to take care of others. Me. Randall. Your clients. But Ford, he knows how to take care of you, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, I think he does.”

  “That is a wonderful thing.”

  I take in a breath, and when I let it out, it’s shaky. But I nod to myself, grateful for the sense of release I feel.

  “Don’t think I wouldn’t be visiting all the time, though,” she continues, making me laugh. “And if grandbabies come into the picture, you’ll get sick of me.”

  “Okay, let’s not go overboard.”

  “I’m just warning you, mija.”

  “Te quiero mucho, Mama.”

  She tells me she loves me, too. I end the call with the promise to tell her how everything goes.

  With my suitcase and carry-on bag now packed, I hesitate at the door of my loft. Looking around, I realize Ford was right. There’s no character here. No life. Not even a single potted plant. I never had time to invest in this as a home.

  Now, I’m excited to make a different kind of life.

  39

  Ford

  “Let’s call it a morning and go get breakfast, yeah?”

  I look over at Pika. He and Hiro are straddling their boards in the water just like I am. We came out here to Honolua Bay this morning, hoping we’d get lucky with a big swell, but nothing has materialized. We knew it was a long shot, but when it comes to catching waves, we’re eternal optimists.

  “Yeah, sounds good.”

  After carefully extricating ourselves from the water byway of the rocky coastline, we follow each other up the dirt trail. Once in the parking lot, I can’t keep from thinking of Ava. I’ll never be able to disassociate her from this spot.

  I figure I can text her in the car on the way over to one of the little dives we like to go to for a spam, sticky rice, and egg breakfast. I know she had a big day yesterday with Randall officially stepping down. We’ve kept in touch but just enough to know the broad strokes of each other’s lives. I assume with Randall leaving, she’ll be in line for a step up at her firm, something she’ll be thrilled about.

  I’ve been thinking about the Inner-City Music Project I worked with in Los Angeles and their offer for me to be more directly involved as they start to implement the funds they’ll be receiving. It wouldn’t be a full-time job, but rather more of a consultant-type relationship. It would be the kind of meaningful work I crave. And it would give me good reason to be in L.A.

  My offhand comment to my father that we’d split our time between L.A. and Maui when he asked how Ava and I would make things work is the most promising solution. It’s been weeks now since we parted ways, both of us thinking we were at an impasse. But now, as I load my surfboard into the back of my truck, I realize that was us being too cautious. We’re two intelligent people. Two people who love each other. We can work this out.

  We have to.

  In my truck, I send Ava a text on my fancy new smartphone.

  Good morning. I want to hear all about how things went yesterday. But I also want to talk to you. Really talk. Let me know when you have time.

  With that, I nod to myself before putting the truck into gear and driving on.

  * * *

  The breakfast place we go to is a walk-up counter rather than a restaurant. It’s no more than a shack off the side of the road, but it offers tasty local options and outdoor picnic tables in the parking lot with a view of the ocean beyond the sporadic traffic going by. We’ve just sat down with our food, when out of nowhere, Hannah, Hiro’s stalker ex-girlfriend, sits down with us.

  All three of us guys jump at her sudden appearance. The worst part is how casually she makes herself comfortable by leaning over and snatching one of Hiro’s spam musubis to take a bite.

  “Hannah,” I say, “how are you?”

  “Good,” she replies.

  We all sit in awkward silence for a minute. I’m giving Hiro the stink eye, silently urging him to once again break up with her.

  Hiro clears his throat. “Uh, listen—”

  “Let me go first,” she says. “I know you’ll be devastated. But there’s nothing that can be done about that. I’ve met someone else.”

  All three of us guys let out an audible sigh of relief with that news.

  “I know,” Hannah says, looking at Hiro with unwarranted sympathy. “It’s a terrible way to end things. But, what can you do? If I don’t follow my heart, I’ll be missing out on really living my life, right?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Hiro says, eyebrows raised. “You’re right. I mean, I’m sad.” He’s scrambling to project the right tone, afraid of provoking her into changing her mind. “But I just want you to be happy.”

  “Aww,” she coos. “You’re the sweetest. I’ll take the rest of this, okay?” She holds up the spam musubi as she stands.

  “Of course, yes. Here, take the rest of my plate,” he says eagerly.

  She eyes him with a sad shake of her head. “Sorry, Hiro. You can’t win me back with yummy snacks.” Taking a deep breath, she lets it out and shakes her head. “Well, see you around, guys.”

  “Yeah, see you around,” Pika says, grinning.

  Hiro punches him in the arm.

  We wait a respectable amount of time before bursting into laughter.

  “Holy shit,” I say. “You dodged a bullet with that one.”

  “What a trip, dude,” Hiro says in wonderment.

  “That was the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Pika says and goes about mocking Hannah’s sweet, clueless demeanor. “You can’t buy my love with yummy snacks.”

  I’m distracted from joining in when my cell phone buzzes with an incoming text.

  You’re right, we should talk.

  Ava’s reply sounds ominous, setting my nerves on edge. Maybe she’s ready to cut all ties. She doesn’t have time for a text relationship with some guy she met on vacation. Because that’s all it turned out to be, right? With her in LA and me here, what else can she think?

  Another text comes through before I have a chance to swallow my pride and truly let her go. This one is a photo.

  The image stops my heart.

  Which is fitting because it’s a photo of Heart Rock at Nakalele Point. It’s the spot I had told her she’d love the same day she left Maui. I never had a chance to take her there. But, what is s
he suggesting? I hesitate to get my hopes up that this means she’s planning a trip.

  And then another photo comes through that has me standing abruptly and climbing out from the picnic bench.

  This photo is a selfie. It’s Ava in front of Heart Rock, a gorgeous smile on her face as she flashes a hang loose sign with her left hand. The left hand that still showcases a sparkling engagement ring.

  “Where are you going?” Pika asks.

  “I gotta follow my heart, like Hannah said,” I reply, leaving them both calling after me for an explanation.

  * * *

  I drive way too fast. Especially as I while I do so, I text her back:

  Do not move.

  But stay away from the blowhole. Seriously. It’s dangerous.

  I’m not kidding about that. More than one tourist who got too close to the geyser which erupts every few minutes at the same spot as Heart Rock, has been sucked in and quickly drowned. Its blasts of seawater of up to one hundred feet in the air are a magnificent sight to behold, but only at a safe distance.

  Thankfully, our breakfast spot wasn’t all that far away, and I’m soon parking along the road at mile marker thirty-eight-point-five. I rush along the trail toward the water, my mind racing with questions about what all this means.

  But the only answer I need is the one I find when I see Ava standing by Heart Rock, looking at me expectantly. She’s wearing a short yellow sundress and has a matching hibiscus tucked behind one ear. I stop several yards away, taking in the sight of her. Then I laugh when she raises her arms and sways her hips just so. She’s my perfect Hula Girl.

  I go to her, and before either of us can say anything, I slide my hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, pull her body to mine, and kiss her.

  I kiss her like she’s mine.

  Because that’s what she is.

  I know that both from how I feel and from how she returns the kiss. It’s full commitment on both sides.