by Kim Hornsby
She shrugged off his hand and stood. “Thanks.” She wouldn’t correct his assumption.
He persisted. “Diving today… You saw something, didn’t you?” When she didn’t reply, he continued. “You’re having anxiety attacks, hallucinations?”
“I have a shrink, thanks.”
“What does your shrink say about your dreams?”
“How do you know about my dreams?” Tina spun around to search his face.
“You told me, remember? And you cry at your desk in the middle of the day.” Jamey’s forehead was creased, his face looked pained. His questions felt invasive coming from a man who was fucking her when he had a wife and newborn twins back home.
She grabbed the logo T-shirt from the back of her chair and pulled it over her head to cover her bikini-clad body. It fell to her knees. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to be late for my shrink appointment.” She pretended to check her watch as she headed out the back door, Obi following. “Katie. I’ll be back in an hour,” she called, leaving Jamey standing next to her cluttered desk.
Chapter 7
James Dunn had been Tina’s first romantic fling with a dive student. For a year she’d watched male dive instructors charm tourists into bed. As one of the only women scuba instructors on Maui, Tina was above that kind of behavior. Not only that, but she’d graduated with honors from Stanford, for crying out loud. Her fling was with the island of Maui itself, seeing that her parents vehemently objected to anyone wasting this caliber of education in the islands.
Then James walked into Lahaina Scuba one sunny morning and asked if anyone could certify him as a deep diver. Tina was captaining the boat the next day and planning a deep dive on the backside of Molokini Crater. She agreed to take the job. An extra hundred would come in handy for rent that month.
Almost immediately, her handsome new student was flirting with her. “You are my fantasy woman, Kristina.” They unloaded gear from the truck after the morning boat dive. “You can lift two tanks at once, drive a truck…I bet you even drink beer,” he’d joked. She ignored his attempt to flirt, even though she didn’t have a boyfriend. “Stop jabbering and do your share of the work.” After another hour of this, Tina’s resolve started disintegrating. James, the Seattle cop, was funny. No doubt about it. He wasn’t her type physically, but definitely not hard to look at, even if he was too handsome for her. And seeing they were spending a few days together, she allowed herself to look.
They went to the Pioneer Inn for a beer and to review the lesson on the dive tables. The old hotel was one of Maui’s historic sites situated at Lahaina’s picturesque harbor. It had seen many a sailor and whaler in its day. At late-afternoon the bar was packed and buzzing, but James found a little table in the hall and pulled it into the room, and then got two chairs and told her to sit while he ordered Coronas at the bar. She admired his resourcefulness.
When her lesson on decompression sickness ended, they ordered another beer and stayed to listen to the band that had set up for the sunset crowd. They danced, had another drink, and then Tina told him the bad news. He wasn’t her type. She tried to look convincing.
“I like the surfer boy look. You’re too big and too…too...”
“Manly?” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. I just know you’re not my type. You look like someone my parents would put in front of me.” He took her hands in his and stared sweetly into her face.
“Please reconsider.”
“You’re too…perfect.”
He laughed like that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard and showed her a scar under his hairline from a baseball injury when he was fourteen. Then, jokingly, he told her he had six toes on his left foot. “I’m a freak,” he whispered in her ear.
She left him at his parked rental car on Front Street that night, but on the second day of lessons, her feelings changed when James chivalrously offered to help with her heavy dive gear. “I already feel emasculated and unwanted after your rejection last night. At least let me lift something for you with my big manly muscles.”
“I can do it, thank you.” For years, she’d done the lifting herself.
“Humor me, okay? My dad taught me to do this kind of thing, and besides…you’re what? All of ninety pounds?”
“One hundred and fifteen.” She reached for the gear, but before her hands made contact, he lifted her up into his arms. “One fourteen and a quarter, I’d say.” He looked at her reproachfully.
“Did someone forget to have a good breakfast?”
She’d laughed. “Okay, Hulk, put me down.” There was a pause as they stared at each other. At that precise moment, her defense against his charm became a wisp of smoke carried away by the Hawaiian trade winds.
James must have felt his opening too, because after he set her on the ground he began to woo her like his life depended on it. And truthfully, after the laid-back style of Maui guys, and the business-minded tightasses of college, Tina was intrigued. Older by seven years, James was an adult, and there was something wildly exciting about that fact. Especially after dating guys who called you ‘dude.’
When the training dive ended, they found themselves in the truck kissing, and then in the hotel elevator groping, and finally in James’ hotel room, messing up the perfectly made Hyatt bed. Eventually, they woke up at dawn with limbs wrapped around each other, Tina’s long hair tousled, her lips overworked and sore.
The next morning, she dragged him out of the bed early and took him on a black coral dive in the channel between Maui and Lanai. Teaching him how to do a decompression stop, they waited out their time fifteen feet below the surface, finger tips teasing each other’s bodies, grins through the regulator mouthpiece.
Back on board, James took her in his arms and kissed her long and deep. When they came up for air, he pecked the tip of her nose. “I’m enjoying this romance diving class. The lessons are invaluable.” “It’s a long course,” Tina said. “I may not be able to certify you for months.”
With no boats in sight, they finished what they’d started right there under the Maui sky.
All book lessons after that were conducted at the Hyatt pool on lounge chairs, interrupted by kisses under the pool’s waterfall and groping in the darkness of the pool’s grotto. Kissing became “tongue diving certification,” and James joked that he’d secured his ticket in night groping and instructor ravaging.
Two weeks turned to three, and although Kristina was teaching other classes in the mornings, James monopolized the rest of her schedule. From deep diving, they moved to the night diving course. For five straight nights they dove off Maui beaches with underwater flashlights, after which they’d find themselves back in the Hyatt bed. With two more weeks of accumulated vacation time, James’ father’s condo became available and they moved from the Hyatt to The Ridge.
Talk involved his returning to Maui in a few months, maybe even to live there forever. He told her that being a Maui cop looked extremely appealing.
But on the morning of his flight back to Seattle, Tina woke to find him troubled and distracted, and she couldn’t seem to penetrate the wall he’d built around himself. Something was wrong and she was too young to know enough to ask him about it. Soon her fears became a reality.
After putting him on the plane, she worried on the drive back to the Lahaina side. The next day, he finally picked up his phone. “I’m really sorry, but things changed when I got home. I got back with my girlfriend.” He sounded only mildly disappointed, while her heart pooled at her feet. “I feel badly that this happened.” She was dumbfounded, unable to respond.
“You need to forget me.” This man did not sound like her James at all.
The embarrassment of being told to forget him threw her into a back paddle, like what they had was disposable. How the hell had James turned from someone she could love forever to a snake in one flight?
“I will do just that and be glad I did, I’m sure. It’s just that two days ago you planned on coming
back. I’m surprised I was such a rotten judge of character.”
When he didn’t reply, she continued. “You know what?” Tina tried to salvage her dignity. “You’re absolutely right. It was just a fling with a tourist. You aren’t my type.”
She hung up, only to cry into her hands.
***
Pulling in to her parking spot behind the dive shop, Tina remembered what Dr. Chan told her in the morning’s appointment. “You’re doing well, Tina. Next time we need to talk about Noble and what to do about him.”
But all the good work done at Tina’s morning appointment with Dr. Chan was undone by a phone call two hours later.
“This is Officer Sakamoto with Maui Police Department. A large piece of surfboard was recovered up north today and we’d like you to come by to take a look.” Months earlier, they’d found one small chunk of a surfboard, but it wasn’t big enough to be identifiable.
She was in the middle of teaching the classroom portion of a night diving course in the shop’s back room and when she hung up the phone, the students stared at her. “Read chapter four, do the questions at the end and I’ll be right back.” She grabbed her backpack and whistled for Obi to follow.
Dave and Jamey were filling tanks for the night dive in the back alley, laughing about something.
“I need you to take over the class, Dave.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I have to run to the police station. A piece of surfboard turned up.” She opened her truck door and let Obi jump in.
“I’ll go with you.” Jamey rounded the front and hopped into the passenger seat.
Backing out of her parking spot, she turned just in time to see a bicycle flying down the back lane directly in her path. She slammed on the brakes barely in time to avoid hitting it.
Mr. Takeshimi, who stood on the front stoop of his house with a real estate agent, stared at her, obviously distracted by the cursing bicyclist. Fall seven, up eight. What if you break your legs on impact?
“How ’bout I drive?” Jamey got out to switch places and she willingly moved to the passenger seat.
They took off for the police station, down Dickenson Street.
“My husband is presumed dead from a surfing accident. There is no body.” Saying it out loud, she sounded more detached than she felt.
“If it’s his board, will it be good news?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was tiny, distant. Dead.
Tina’s flip flops clapped noisily at her heels as she walked up to the Maui Police Station’s front counter. Jamey shadowed her like a bodyguard silently waiting to be called to action. She knew, as she laid her arms on the cold Formica counter, that everyone in the office was looking at her. Or at least trying not to. Just like the day she came in to identify the first piece. The pity in their eyes that day had been more than she could bear. Today was a bit easier. Was she becoming used to other people’s pity?
“Tina Greene, for Officer Sakamoto?” Everything seemed to be a question these days. Jamey moved in beside her, their shoulders touching. He’d been a cop and his presence was reassuring. She resisted the urge to grab his hand only because she knew everyone would judge. It was such a small island for gossip.
What was left of Hank’s surfboard was propped against the far wall of the back room, by an exit door. Her hand flew to cover her mouth. The questioning look in the policeman’s eyes eventually spurred Tina to nod in recognition. The board had a distinctive shark graphic and an emblem on the tip. It was as familiar as Hank’s wallet. More so, in some ways. He’d loved to surf. He might have been happy at the thought of dying while surfing.
Jamey put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to him.
“Where did it come in?” Her voice sounded forced.
“Someone found it on the rocks, the other side of Kahakuloa.” The policeman looked uncomfortable. “You can have it if you want, or…” Sakamoto had been one of the nicest on the case, very patient and understanding.
She nodded, unsure of whether she’d treasure it as one of the last objects to exist alongside Hank, or drive straight to a garbage bin big enough to contain the piece of surfboard that had let him down in his time of greatest need.
Jamey crossed the room and tucked the broken board under his arm.
On the walk to her truck, she tried to figure out how Hank might have faked his death by throwing his surfboard off a cliff, leaving his wallet intentionally, and remaining alive somewhere in the world. Oh shit. He was dead, wasn’t he? How much longer could this undying hope continue? Was it optimism or blind hope? What if they never found a body? Could she live a normal life if she couldn’t accept his death?
When Jamey pulled onto Dickenson Street, Dave and his friend, Allan, an electrician, stood outside the shop’s front door. The neon sign that read ‘Tina and Hank’s Dive Shop’ lay at their feet, and the old sign hung in its place, the one that said ‘Tina’s Dive Shop.’
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
Like someone caught cheating on a test, Dave looked sheepish. “Pepper asked us to do this.”
Jamey jumped out and surveyed their work. “Need help?”
Tina had recently told Pepper she should change the sign, but she didn’t foresee that her friend would actually arrange it. Or the emotions it would stir in her. This was the reminder that she’d gone from a neon life to one of simple painted wood. One name, old sign. She jumped into the driver’s seat. Getting out of town seemed necessary.
At the Pizza Hut stoplight, she looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the board. Panic was rising in her and she might have to pull over. Hank hadn’t had air as he floated face down in the surf, unconscious. She might never know exactly how he died, how long it took, or if he suffered.
She drove north thinking if she couldn’t get her anxiety under control she’d find Noble. He wouldn’t be at the Hyatt just yet, too early for Drums of the Pacific. She’d seen all the luau shows over the years, and Drums was her favorite. Not just because Noble’s dancing was a pleasure to watch, but the costumes, the lighting, the fire juggler and the sexual connotations of the Tahitian dancing made it more primal, more feverish than the others. Noble’s dancing made the show what it was. He looked close to Hawaiian with his black hair and dark skin, but Tina knew he was part Mexican.
She knew this because had Hank told her. Hank had been raised by a single mother who died when he was seventeen, and being Mexican had always been a source of pride for him. “Noble says he’s Hawaiian because of the show,” Hank had explained. When Tina questioned this Hank defended him. “When we lived in Vegas, he danced in an Elvis show and he isn’t Elvis.”
Pulling into her driveway, she saw Noble standing on the deck. Taking the outside stairs in several bounds, he met her as she got out of the truck and wrapped his arms around her. “You okay?” Noble smelled like Hank, like home. “The board?” he asked.
He’d seen it. “They found it past Kahakuloa.” Tears wouldn’t come. They stayed that way for over a minute, until Noble broke the silence. “The police didn’t want to keep it or anything?”
“No.”
“What did they say about the investigation?”
“Nothing.” Her cheek rested against his warm chest.
Noble pulled back. “I have to leave for work soon. Are you going to be alright?”
She nodded, smiled at her dear friend and climbed the stairs to her house, leaving the surf board to deal with later.
Inside she grabbed a beer from the fridge and planted herself at the lanai railing, watching people on their twilight walks down the street. Everyone had somewhere to go, someone to share memories with. Two men bicycled side by side, talking. Four teens ran by with several dogs of various sizes on leashes and two women in fashionable running clothes power-walked past her driveway.
“That’s where Tina lives,” one of them said. “You know, the one whose husband disappeared surfing last year.”
She looked at Obi, whose
gaze suggested complete devotion. “Did Hank disappear or did he die?” she asked the dog. “And if he left me, then why?”
Obi sat down on the warm deck floor and cocked his head.
“Do you think Hank might have bumped his head, gotten amnesia and is living up north with some hermits?” She heaved a sigh to think of it. “Or did he leave me for another woman?” Obi barked.
“That would never happen. Let’s get you some dinner.”
She overfilled Obi’s dish and kibble spilled to the floor. Obi moved in to clean up the bits of food. For two years, the brindled dog had followed Tina everywhere—from room to room, in and out of the truck, the house, the dive shop. When she and Hank first found him scavenging around Launiopoko Park, flea and tick bites freckled every inch of his skinny body. That day she’d told her brand new husband, “If we can save this dog’s life, we’ll make great parents.” They’d grinned at each other like they’d have plenty of time to fulfill that dream.
She leaned against the kitchen counter and watched Obi eat carefully, like he’d been a dog that never had to scrounge at the side of the road. The memory of Hank’s surfboard in her truck made her think of Noble and how he hadn’t surfed since Hank’s death. Would he ever get back to his favorite sport? The ‘what-ifs’ after Hank’s disappearance had driven Noble crazy, poor guy. He’d once confessed that guilt over not being with Hank when he died was eating him up inside.
“You need to get help,” she’d said.
When Noble mentioned leaving Maui, maybe only for a few months to get his head straight, she’d begged him to stay. “We can do this together,” she’d said.
“I’m not sure.” Noble wasn’t sleeping, not eating and had called in too sick to dance for more nights than they would allow. His job was at stake early on. Then everything seemed fine again, thank god.
Tina went back out on deck and contemplated what to do with the reminder of Hank’s disappearance. Now that Noble’s guilt seemed to be dissipating, she couldn’t resurrect it or feed it by keeping the board in full view. She pulled it out of the truck’s back end and slid the board behind some beach chairs in the garage.