Although I was more than attracted to Calder, the timing of it all couldn’t be worse. I was only two weeks out of a years-long, destructive relationship. My finances were a mess, the inn was a mess, I worked a near-minimum wage, part-time job, and I knew nothing about Calder aside from the fact that he was a gym teacher and that he played with Tad when we were kids.
It didn’t take long for my racing mind to quiet and for sleep to take me and chase away the stress and excitement of the day.
My last thought of the night was a pleasant one. As my second week on Maui drew to a close, I realized I was starting to live life again. I felt more myself now than I had ever felt in Atlanta. Tonight, as I raced on the back of a motorcycle down Honoapiilani Highway, I felt more myself than I had in the last fifteen years.
9
Day 19
Breakfast was delicious. Auntie cooked as usual, and a good thing too. Since Calder left a few mornings ago, exchanging numbers with me, the two of us had spent most of the time flirting back and forth like giddy schoolboys. I tried cooking breakfast the morning he left only to make burnt oatmeal.
Auntie had no clue what was wrong with me. She had whipped a kitchen towel at me, demanding I get out.
That was Tuesday morning. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were about the same. We’d exchange selfies, joke about Tad, or work, or tourists, and talked about the one topic on everyone’s mind since Tuesday, a forming hurricane that looked like it might miss the islands.
He had sent me one bold picture of himself at a waterfall with his shirt removed and draped over his bare shoulder. Because of the angle, it wasn’t clear if he was wearing anything else. The picture did show his arms and pecs were as firm and well built as his legs, hardly unexpected for a young and active gym teacher.
“One of our stops next weekend,” he wrote before sending the picture.
I was about to respond to the message when I heard a car pull into the lot. Tad was occupied with other chores around the inn, taking the time to finish construction on the wrap-around porch. Auntie had spent most of the morning on the back patio, suspiciously eying the horizon for any sign the hurricane might decide to pay us a visit. “It doesn’t feel right,” she told me when I found her out there at sunrise.
I had spent the better part of the morning going over the inn’s accounts, adding in what meager money Tad and I could afford to part with to the overall sum owed in back taxes. Of the thirty-thousand owed, we currently had $4.5 thousand saved. That left us with another few weeks to make up the remainder.
Luckily, Jim’s seven-night stay at $200 a night for two rooms, minus expenses, would bring the total up to $5.7 thousand. I was also planning a fundraiser event for all of Auntie’s friends, despite her protests, and waiting for approval for an online fundraising page. However, I didn’t add my name to it, worried it would circle around to Jeff.
Packing the papers away and running into the lobby, I staffed the check-in stand just in time to spot Jim struggling with too many suitcases for his wiry frame.
Behind him, his girlfriend—and I hadn’t yet caught her name—and her parents and little brother followed. Seeing the way they let Jim struggle with the luggage made me immediately dislike them all.
Especially the little brother, who looked like a douchebag high-schooler if I ever saw one. It wasn’t necessarily the flat-rimmed hat and nipple-showing tank top. I wasn’t one to judge folks on their appearance.
It was the way he jogged up to Jim, tossed a duffle bag over Jim’s shoulder, and ran away around the side of the house toward the beach.
This left Jim carrying four bags while his girlfriend and her family took none, save the mother’s oversized Vera Bradley.
Tad came inside before they reached the house, giving me enough time to pry.
“Exactly how much do you know about these people?” I asked him.
“Enough to know they paying us $1400. We need the money, so be nice!”
Jim stepped inside. Dropping the suitcases with a grunt, he rolled his eyes. He already seemed done with his girlfriend’s family for the day.
“Aloha! Welcome to the Estate Inn!”
Tad’s boisterous greeting and his massive presence surprised the mother, who let out a yelp and jumped back into her husband. She placed her hand over her chest and laughed, as most people tend to do after being startled.
I slapped Tad on the shoulder. “Go finish the porch.”
With Tad out of the way, I grabbed two guest keys and handed both to Jim. “Mr. and Mrs. Seren, we’ve laid out a spread for you in the parlor. There’s also an open liquor cabinet and juice—”
“No need. Just show us to our rooms. Jimmy here can handle the bags.”
Despite Mr. Seren’s instructions, I took two of the smaller bags from Jim and led them upstairs. As I wound around the banister, I spotted an eager Auntie waiting in the parlor, ever-excited to meet her new guests.
I could tell she was upset from twenty feet away. The way her cane trembled under her tight grip spoke volumes more than she ever could verbally. These people rejected her tasty treats and ready-to-make cocktails hospitality. They were most definitely not ohana.
I reached the top of the stairs and turned left, winding my way around the plantation-style home until I reached rooms eleven and twelve. Not only were the two rooms ocean-facing, but they were as far away from my apartment as I could put them.
They claimed their two rooms and shut the doors, leaving absolutely no tip in my hand. The colorful vulgarities flying through my mind most likely sang in harmony with Auntie’s.
A sudden crash from downstairs drew my attention. Moments later, I was helping Auntie and Tad pick up our little pamphlet stand, blown clear off the table by a gust of wind that surged through the house from the beach. More importantly, in the wrong direction. We were used to the wind blowing toward the shore, bringing with it colder damp air from the higher elevations of the island. But the sickly, warm bluster from the beach left us worried.
I’d performed this chore before, picking up rubbish after the wind blew it down, and knew immediately what I needed to do. One look into Auntie’s eyes revealed concern above and beyond rude guests.
“I’ll get the radio,” I said.
After picking up the rest of the pamphlets and storing them away, the three of us secluded ourselves in the kitchen as Tad tinkered with Auntie’s Lafayette portable radio. I’d say it was vintage, but it wasn’t. It was an antique, a radio older than I was that managed to work better than any portable ones made today.
As Tad extended the three-foot-long antenna and pointed it toward the center of the island, another violent gust rattled all the windows in the house. I heard a slam from outside as a lawn chair bashed into the screen door.
My phone vibrated. Unlocking it, I read a text from Calder.
You all getting these winds? Road to Hana already closed. Can I stay over? -C
Of course. We’re checking the weather now. See you soon! -A
“Calder’s on his way. Hana Highway is closed,” I said to them.
Auntie nodded. This wasn’t relevant to her. Her home always had sheltered friends from the rain, especially those traveling from Hana or from other islands for the day. She returned her attention to the radio after Tad finally landed on a weather station.
Four loud buzzes echoed through the kitchen—a weather alert issued by NOAA followed by a loud chime and a robotic voice.
“A hurricane warning has been issued for Hawaii, Maui, Kalawao, Honolulu, and Kauai counties. At 1 p.m., the National Weather Service Doppler radar indicated an unexpected north-westerly shift in Hurricane Hannini, a major and extremely powerful storm. Hurricane Hannini is expected to make landfall at 11:30 tonight. This storm is projected to be a category five hurricane with winds up to 175 mph. Mandatory evacuation orders are currently in effect for all coastal areas in Hawaii, Maui, Kalawao, Honolulu, and Kauai counties. Please pack only necessary personal belongings, water, food, bedding, and
medicines and head to your nearest evacuation shelter. Devastating damage and powerful storm surge with coastal flooding expected. During the storm, fire, police, and ambulance services will be unavailable. Do not venture outside.”
The buzzes and chimes started over again as Auntie, Tad, and I stood around the radio in disbelief. Another bout of thrashing wind made it all real to us. We’d experienced island hurricanes before, Auntie most of all. I wondered whether she would heed the evacuation order and what it meant for our guests. Minutes passed as the alert cycled over and over again until Tad shut it off. Auntie stood there, almost statue-like, not saying a word.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
A single tear slid down her cheek. “This is not how I expected it to end.”
“What do you mean? There will be more guests.”
She shook her head, chin still pointed toward the floor. For the first time in nearly a month, she appeared dejected, exhausted, and thin, like the last wisp of smoke on a dying candle.
“You know there won’t. This is it. There’s not enough time for tourists to start returning.” She turned away and hobbled into her bedroom without saying another word. If storm preparations were going to be completed, Tad and I would have to see to them without her.
My first glimpse of Hurricane Hannini was an aerial view of the storm on Jim’s laptop as he opened the door to their room after my incessant knocking. He was alone in the room. I could hear his girlfriend and her parents arguing through the wall.
“Still a category five?” I asked.
Jim glanced over his shoulder at me. “Yeah, with no sign of weakening. I’ve been called into the store for an emergency shift. Could you make sure Sarah and her family get to a shelter?”
“Of course. We’ll bring them to the high school. You can meet us there afterward.”
“Sorry for unloading them on you. Her parents can be… difficult.”
A rap at the door behind me drew my attention. Sarah’s father stood there, now dressed in slippers, shorts, and a Hawaiian shirt, and stunk of tropical-scented sunscreen, way too much of it caked all over his face and neck, as though he just squirted the lotion in his hand and slapped himself silly.
“The concierge, good. My wife and I were wondering if you could make reservations for us tonight somewhere good, perhaps one of those restaurants in town we passed on our way here.”
I stared at Mr. Seren, unsure of how to respond. He knew about the hurricane warning, surely. Why was he acting so very touristy about it?
“I’m sorry, sir. You’re aware a category five hurricane is going to hit the island tonight? We’ve all been ordered to evacuate.”
“Nonsense. I just pulled up the weather. I’m from Florida, young man, and I know my hurricanes. This is going to miss us by at least twenty-five miles. It looks like you island people panic every time the wind blows.”
“Even so, sir, here at the Estate Inn, our primary responsibility is the safety and well being of our guests. Right now, that means we will be evacuating your family to the local high school until the hurricane passes. Now we can’t force you to evacuate. If you refuse, however, we will be obliged to cancel your reservation and ask that you vacate the premises.”
Mr. Seren huffed at me. His cheeks turned a particular shade of red people experience when they don’t get their way, like a lobster slowly boiling in a pot, hissing included.
“Sarah, get in here!” Mr. Seren called to his daughter in the next room. We were promptly joined by his wife, daughter, and son.
I felt surrounded and sulked back toward Jim. At this moment, my customer service skills were overburdened by my social anxiety. Thinking about the town hall meeting only days before, I didn’t handle confrontation well at all, and it showed.
Mr. Seren turned to his daughter. “I thought you said this was a decent hotel. We would never be treated this way at a respectable facility.”
I cleared my throat and mustered what remaining nerve I had. On an average day, the trade winds would cool me down enough to hide the beads of sweat collecting on my brow. But without them, and with the windows shut, the room became oppressive, sticky, and confining.
“I’m sorry, sir. Even the larger hotels will be heeding the evacuation orders. Come sunset, everyone on the coast will be at a shelter or further inland, at least fifty feet above sea level.”
“Then I demand you find us another hotel that will accommodate us! I refuse to sleep on some cot in a high school gymnasium!”
I fretted even more. The tone in Mr. Seren’s voice reminded me of Jeff and how he used to dominate everyone, me most of all. For the first time in a while, the scar on my scalp twinged. I felt like Harry Potter, and Mr. Seren was my Lord Voldemort. I wished someone would show up and sectum his sempra all the way to the emergency shelter.
Before a full panic attack could set in, my hero came to the rescue. Calder Wright, gym teacher extraordinaire. He picked up on my anxiety immediately. It didn’t hurt that I was surrounded by four haoles in the midst of making an already tense situation intolerable.
“And who the hell is this?” Mr. Seren asked. “Not another lazy, inept employee? And where is the manager?”
Calder stepped in. “The owner, Alana Manalo, is downstairs packing what few possessions she can bring with her to the shelter. The rest of her belongings and this current building, her home, will remain behind, at risk of being destroyed. And I am Calder Wright, your friendly neighborhood evacuation assistant, here to make sure your family gets on your way before the storm arrives.”
The tone of Calder’s voice was indeed heroic. The way he emphasized “make sure” made sure Mr. Seren knew it wasn’t a request. His confidence and his statuesque presence in the room forbade argument or debate. Mr. Seren shut up quite nicely. Within ten minutes, while I was still sitting on the bed with Jeff next to me, the Seren family, Sarah included, were out the door with the $1400 still in their pockets.
The financial loss wasn’t Calder’s fault at all. Guests like the Serens always seemed to find one way or another to not pay the full amount, either by leaving early or by stopping a credit card payment after the fact.
I heard their car peel out of the parking lot with Jim still sitting next to me. They had, without question, left him behind. “Sorry, dude.”
“For what?” he asked. “This ain't on you. I expected Sarah to pull shit like this with her family over. Happened last time we went to Florida. They had me sleep on the floor in the den.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, without an air mattress. Just me, a sheet and a pillow.”
“But why? Why do you put up with that?”
“Look at me, Adam. Girls aren’t exactly lining up to date me. I’m no one’s idea of a good boyfriend. Or a good son-in-law. I ain’t from a good family like you and Tad.”
At that moment, Calder walked in. Jim tensed up. I read the signs quickly enough. He wasn’t comfortable talking about this with Calder in the room, and I understood completely. If we had been talking about the worst aspects of my life, I wouldn’t be comfortable with a stranger, either. And Jim and Calder, despite running in the same circles, didn’t seem to know one another that well.
Jim wiped his eyes on his sleeve, attempting to hide his emotions from Calder, then collected his bag. “Anyhow, the store’s waiting. I’ll meet you at the shelter later on to help out.”
Jim left the room, leaving Calder and me alone. I clicked a button on my phone to see the time. It was only 3 p.m. We had more than enough light left to board things up and make our way to the shelter.
Once downstairs, we joined Tad in the parking lot. A stiff wind dried the beads of sweat on my forehead, then moved inland to violently rustle the tufts of every palm tree in the way.
On the road, packs of shivering swimmers, pale as only mainlanders could be, fled the beach. I moved to the side of the house and peered through the bushes.
Waves crashed onto the beach, each one with a loud boom. I was su
rprised the storm surge started already, although I hadn’t experienced a storm like this since I was a baby. Hurricanes occasionally struck Atlanta, sure, but they were always petering out by the time they did. Most of the time, storms in Atlanta only managed to flood some storm drains, leaving the rest of the city intact, quiet, and peaceful in an ominous “street sign is going to fly into your spleen” sort of way.
But this storm, Hurricane Hannini, seemed a behemoth, a torment with one purpose only, to drag the Hawaiian islands back into the sea.
I peered across the water at neighboring Lanai, the only other island visible from my current viewpoint. On a typical day, the view was tranquil, divine even. The island of Lanai beckoned to me across still waters, with the trade winds blowing against my back, enticing me to cross the calm waters and pay the island a visit. Lanai called to me like a good friend despite being separated by eight miles.
But now, with the storm surge and the Kona winds thrashing my face, Lanai seemed like a realm of monsters and demons trying their best to cross the divide and tear down everything good in my life. And beyond Lanai, darkening skies and ferocious waters. A category five. A Leviathan.
Calder stood behind me, his arm reaching around my shoulder, covering my chest, an intimate embrace I very much appreciated.
“Have you ever experienced a category five before?” I asked.
“Not like this. Never for every island. And before I got here, the radio said the storm is getting stronger.”
“What are we going to do?”
With his long arm stretched around me, holding my other shoulder, he pulled me in tighter. “We’re going to endure, then rebuild. It’s all we can do, right? Maybe they’re wrong. Maybe it won’t be that bad.”
“What about your family? Are they okay?”
“Yeah. They’re already at Hana High, although they expect it won’t be as bad that side of the island.”
“You two done over there? Could use some help here!” Tad yelled over a strong gust of Kona winds, the winds responsible for changing the direction of the storm headed our way.
Sunset Sanctuary Page 9