by Liz Fenton
“You’re being ridiculous. Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise.” He punched his arms in the air. “I’m invincible, baby!”
Dylan studied his eyes—wide and dancing with impulse. She wondered what was going on inside his head. He rarely opened up about anything serious. She knew he had a brother who died young, but that was only because he’d slipped and said something while he was drinking. When she’d asked more about it, he wouldn’t get into the details. Did he want to try to defy death because his brother couldn’t?
“Are you okay? Is this about your—”
James shot her a look, and she thought better of finishing her sentence.
“Come on, Dyl, this isn’t really going to be a problem for you, is it? Because I can’t have, you know, another person nagging me. Being all wifelike.”
“Wifelike?” Dylan pressed her hands firmly into her sides. “You cannot be serious.” James looked like himself. His bare torso showing the hard work he put in at the gym, his stubble-lined jaw showing the hours that had passed since he shaved this morning. But he still didn’t seem like himself—at all. Once, he’d told her that he wasn’t a very good husband. That he could be a real ass. At the time she’d giggled. There was no way James could ever be an ass. Now she saw glimpses that his words had probably been a confession, not a joke.
“I’m as serious as a heart attack,” James said, refusing to break eye contact with her. She flashed back to the Huelo lookout point, where they’d stopped a couple of hours ago. It was a romantic spot, and they’d walked down steep concrete steps to gaze at the ocean through a sea of lush palms. James had grabbed Dylan by the waist, pointing at a string of hand-painted coconut bras that were hanging on a line. Dylan hadn’t wanted James to buy her one, but he had insisted. Finally she relented, knowing full well she would never wear it. But it was so hard to say no to James.
Even in an affair, there’s a honeymoon period, Dylan thought. And then it expires, just like in a regular relationship. Just like it had with Nick. She knew she was being tested in this moment. If she kept pressing him not to jump, she could tell they would probably end up in a fight. She’d looked forward to having all this uninterrupted time with him—to know what it felt like to share both the sunrise and sunset on the same day. To not feel like their precious moments were slipping away like sand through her fingertips. To believe that the life they had together was real. And she had done those things and enjoyed them. But she’d also seen behind the sheen of his eyes, where the other side of his personality lived. Dylan understood, of course, that James wasn’t perfect. But now that she knew about the baby, she was questioning everything.
“Dylan, come on,” she heard him saying. “Where’s my belleza?”
“I’m right here,” she said, and stood stiffly.
He scoffed. And even after he closed his mouth, she could see his jaw tighten, his teeth grinding. “No, she’s not. I’m looking for the woman who doesn’t take my shit, but who also doesn’t give me any either.”
This was giving him shit? Caring if he lived or died?
“I need to do this, Dyl.”
First he’d wanted to drive the unpaved back roads without guardrails, and now he needed to jump fifty feet into a pool of water that was maybe twenty feet deep? What was next? Skydiving without a parachute? Two young couples, probably in their twenties, were walking toward them, and she didn’t want them to overhear her trying to convince him this was a bad idea. It was already too embarrassing to admit that her feelings weren’t going to weigh into his decision. That he simply didn’t care what she thought. She knew he was jumping whether she wanted him to or not.
“Fine. But if you end up paralyzed, I’m not going to wipe your ass and spoon-feed you applesauce. That will be your wifey’s job.”
“Harsh,” James said, and hurled his body over the edge before she could respond. She watched him fall into the water below, his body a rigid, straight line. He plunged below the surface, feet first, and finally reappeared, letting out a wooooh! and pumping his fist above the water. The two couples behind her oohed and aahed over James’s jump, thankfully not noticing the tension on Dylan’s face long after he’d sailed over the edge. They might have been impressed, but Dylan wasn’t.
James had been right: nothing had happened to him. But in the last two minutes, something had happened to her. She’d seen a side of James she hadn’t known was there, or hadn’t wanted to believe existed. She couldn’t be sure. She was forced to accept the truth. Their little bubble could be penetrated by reality after all. She liked existing in it not just because it shielded them from the rest of the world, but because it hid their flaws. If they spent all their time drinking and dancing at bars or rolling around between the sheets, they didn’t have to deal with tense situations like these, where their true personalities would shine through. But on this vacation, where they were spending so much time together, the flaws were coming out without permission.
And now Dylan realized one very important thing about James that was not going to change: he was going to do what he wanted, when he wanted, whether she agreed with him or not. She pressed her hand to her stomach and sighed. What did that mean for their future?
CHAPTER THIRTY
JACKS—AFTER
“What was that all about?” Beth and I are standing next to the Jeep, and I glance back toward the restaurant wondering if Nick is going to follow us out. Wanting him to appear almost as much as not. “You storming out like that?”
“Nothing.” I say. A huge lie. Obviously.
“It definitely wasn’t nothing,” Beth says slowly, pursing her lips to accentuate her point. “It just seemed like a real fight, you know, like one between—”
“Between whom?” I dare her with my eyes. Say it. Accuse me.
“I don’t know. Never mind,” she says, wringing her hands.
I release a long steady stream of air through my lips. Thank God. I’m not ready to discuss Nick. Or our relationship. Or whatever it is. I’m not even sure I could put it into words if I tried. All I know is I’m pissed at him for not wanting to finish what he started in Maui. Or maybe I’m pissed at him for not wanting to finish what he started with me.
“So now what?” Beth asks.
I wait a beat, watching my sister. Imagining if it had been her husband who’d been in Maui with his mistress when he was supposed to be on a business trip in Kansas. She would collapse into herself. Thinking first about their three kids—how would they move forward? Then eventually about herself. But in between, she’d be like a lab rat in a maze, desperately trying to find her way out, but only hitting dead end after dead end. Because Mark is her center. Her gravitational pull. His yin to her yang. Sure, she’s buttoned up, and I guarantee she printed an Excel spreadsheet of her kids’ activities and prepped a slow-cooker pork roast before she left for her flight here this morning, but that’s part of her routine.
But this. This would paralyze her.
I’m not saying the same hasn’t happened to me, that I’m not half of who I was. But it’s different. James and I were a mess more than we weren’t. Always one terse word away from someone sleeping on that damn red chenille couch. Even though I had no idea he was cheating on me, that he was lying to me, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence for us to be shocking each other, pushing the edges of our relationship, testing our endurance. But I’d naively thought we kept the betrayals inside the walls of our own house. That our messy relationship was the canvas of our life together.
“I’m calling Officer Keoloha,” I say, and press his name in my phone.
And he answers. Just like he always has. Thank God this man hasn’t stopped taking my calls, hasn’t given up on me. Beth watches as I tell him I’m at the Hana Ranch Restaurant with my sister. And that I’m ready to see where the accident happened. He tells me to stay put. That he’ll come right over. And I think about this man whom I’ve never met in person, but who has listened to me cry, babble, question, you name it—without so much a
s a complaint—and I wonder how he’s able to be so unflappable, how he can do his job without getting emotionally attached.
I think of Nick again. And the pressure he’s constantly under as a firefighter, the pain and anguish he sees. And I wonder if it simply takes a certain type of man—who is calm, who knows his limits. Nick must really know himself, how much he can take. And that what he will see and feel if he goes to the accident scene, he won’t be able to detach from.
“He’s coming,” I say to Beth after I end the call.
“And then what?” she asks, wringing her hands. The planner in her needing to know what comes next.
“And then we go,” I say, looking down at my feet, noticing the polish on my big toe is chipped.
“What do you think Nick’s going to do?” She glances at the restaurant.
“I have no idea,” I say, following her gaze to the front patio where we can see a couple with matching vests and white hair perusing a guidebook and sipping fruity drinks. I feel my eyes well with tears thinking of what Nick said about wanting to grow plastic-hip old with Dylan. And it really hits me that I’ll never know James with gray hair. That he’ll never see the lines that will eventually crease my face. “Am I crazy?”
Beth puts her arm around me, and I lean into her. “No. Not at all. You’re brave.”
“Me? Brave?” I scoff. She might as well be telling me I’m a supermodel.
“Yeah, you.” She gives me a long look. “You’re stronger than you think, you know. I could never have made it through something like this.”
“I haven’t yet.”
“But you will.” She grabs my shoulders and looks me directly in the eye. “You will.”
“I want to believe that.”
“You know, Jacks, I loved James. I did. There were things about him that made him a great husband. Especially for the first few years. But there was something about him—”
“That you didn’t like. I know. I know. I know.” I drag the last one out for dramatic effect.
“I suppose I deserve that,” Beth says. “But that’s not it. I did like him. Because you loved him and he was your husband. What I was going to say was that something about him sucked something out of you. Over time with him, your confidence slowly seeped out of you. Do you see that?”
“I do,” I say, tears starting to fall.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I shouldn’t criticize him. Not now.”
“It’s okay, it’s not you,” I say, thinking about how everything changed after I told him about the 20 percent chance.
“Then what is it?”
And that’s when I tell her. Everything.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
JACKS—AFTER
Beth hugs me for several minutes and doesn’t say anything. She strokes my hair, and I squeeze her, letting my tears fall thanks to the silent permission only a sister can give. It’s hard to put into words how it feels to have finally told Beth the truth about why James and I had unraveled. Why he’d changed. Maybe even why he’d had the affair.
It feels like I’m me again.
For so long I’ve been so ashamed and embarrassed. And there was a part of me that had always been scared to admit to her that I hadn’t told my own husband the truth.
“You and Mark tell each other everything,” I say to her. “And maybe this is stupid, but because you have kids, I worried you might side with him.” I shake my head slightly.
“Oh, Jacks,” Beth says. “I might be a mom, but you’re still my sister. I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could come to me.”
“I should have.”
“You did the best you knew how to do at the time and hoped it would work out. That’s all any of us can do, you know?”
“Clearly this did not work out the way I had hoped,” I say, and give her a sad smile.
“I’m sorry,” Beth says, and hugs me again.
“Will you make a deal with me?” I ask.
Beth nods.
“Let’s not be sorry for me anymore. Okay?”
“Okay,” Beth says simply, and I’m more grateful for her in this moment than I can ever tell her.
Nick still hasn’t come outside when Officer Keoloha pulls up next to us a few minutes later. I’ve made my choice, and Nick has clearly made his. I only wonder which of us has made the right one.
When Officer Keoloha steps out of his white SUV, he pushes his sunglasses on top of his head and smiles. I feel a pull toward him. My anchor to this place. My lifeline all these weeks. Because of that bond, I walk over and hug him like an old friend. He seems momentarily surprised, but he pats my back quickly, then releases himself from my arms.
“It’s nice to meet you in person,” he says.
“You too.” I smile. “Officer Keoloha, this is Beth,” I say as they shake hands and exchange greetings. I recall my first words to him about her—that she’s like a part of me, my other arm. And I know he understands why she’s here with me now, because she can’t not be.
“You sure about this?” he asks as he looks from me to Beth, locking eyes with my sister.
“She is. She’s ready,” Beth answers for me.
He nods, but the look in his eyes, the way his jaw is set, gives nothing away as to what he might be thinking about my choice. He’s just going to guide me to James. Beth grips my hand, and I squeeze back without looking at her. We’re silent, but I know from the feel of her touch that she finally understands why I’m going. That, despite what James did, he was still my husband. And I still loved him.
Officer Keoloha opens the passenger door for me and the back door for Beth, then starts the car. “So we’ve never talked specifically about the stretch of road where the accident happened. Do you have any questions?” he begins as he pulls the car onto Highway 360, and soon we’re surrounded by the lush greenery of the rain forest. Save for the regular signs warning of one-lane roads or reminding a driver to yield to oncoming traffic, it would be possible to forget this is a highway full of just as much danger as hope.
I want to tell Officer Keoloha that even after he takes me to where James had his last moments, I will still have so many questions. Questions that may never be answered, that I will have to live with for the rest of my life. Questions that I can only pray will eventually settle in the back of my mind next to my memories. But today, what did I want to know? What could he tell me that would really answer the one question that was eating away at me day after day: Why did my husband have to die?
“I just wish I knew why James would drive on the back side if it’s so dangerous,” I say to Officer Keoloha. I can only imagine the level of tragedy he’s seen on these roads. I wonder where my husband’s crash ranks.
“The back side of the road to Hana is intriguing to certain travelers because it’s not considered touristy,” Officer Keoloha says, then stops so a compact car can pass from the other direction.
“I just never knew James as risk-taker.”
Officer Keoloha doesn’t respond, and we’re all silent for several minutes, none of us knowing what to say. Finally, he speaks. “Once we see the Seven Sacred Pools, it’s about another four miles or so until we will be officially driving on the unauthorized section of the road. The accident didn’t happen far from there.”
Beth squeezes my shoulder from the backseat, and I reach over and put my hand on top of hers.
We ride in silence as Officer Keoloha maneuvers the SUV through the roads, bending and winding sharply. I think of a pregnant Dylan, how nauseated she must have been. About thirty minutes later Officer Keoloha points to his right. “That’s Wailua Falls there.”
We see a group of people standing on the side of the road taking pictures. My insides are clenching. Because I know we’re getting closer. Soon after, we cross over a bridge and Officer Keoloha points down to where the pools are. I can’t help but wonder where James and Dylan might have stopped along the way. Did they eat barbecue at that place right before the main turn into Ha
na? Did they stop at one of the many unmanned fruit stands along the road and grab a fresh papaya to share, leaving a dollar in the jar? Had Dylan made James slow down so she could take a picture of the waterfall we passed a few miles back, not knowing her time was short?
“Okay, we’re coming up on the unauthorized road. It’s going to be pretty bumpy,” Officer Keoloha says quietly. The SUV slowly ascends a steep hill, and I let out a scream as a large truck comes barreling around the corner. Officer Keoloha curses under his breath, “Damn locals.” We drive in silence for a minute; then Officer Keoloha begins again. “We think the accident happened just up here.”
“What do you mean, you think you know where the accident happened? You aren’t sure?” Beth asks.
“This part of the road is unpaved, so there aren’t skid marks or other indications that James tried to stop the Jeep. It’s impossible for us to know exactly where the brakes were applied.”
“And you’re sure they were applied?” I ask, and I hear Beth gasp quietly. I haven’t told her that I’ve been wondering if something happened before the Jeep careened off the cliff. Something that caused them to crash. Something other than the road being narrow and dangerous. Like an argument. And James, he had that temper. Especially toward the end.
I’ve been thinking a lot about a fight we had once—in the car of all places. It was New Year’s Day. The day after I told him about the 20 percent. There’d been a party at his boss’s house to watch the Rose Bowl. And despite the fact that we’d been up half the night arguing, he’d said we both needed to be there. He’d been angling for a promotion and thought it would look bad if we didn’t show up. And I’d drunk too much. Like I often did when I was trying to forget something. And I’d said something stupid to his boss’s wife. I can’t remember what it was. But it had embarrassed him. He told me that much as we were leaving—as he stormed off to the car with me several feet behind him. On the drive home, he pounded his fist into the steering wheel and accidentally hit the horn. I laughed at him because I was buzzed. And he said, “You think this is funny? After everything you’ve done? What about this?” And he jerked the wheel, making our car swerve into the next lane. That obviously got my attention, and I sat up and looked at him, scared out of my mind, and he said nothing else. And neither did I. There were no words to describe what we’d become.