Riptide Summer

by Lisa Freeman

  The Weirdest Day Ever

  When I got home, I put on my ratty Outrigger sweatshirt and baggy shorts, braided my hair into long pigtails, and locked myself in my room. I would have given anything for a turntable right then. Living with no music was hell.

  I decided to rearrange everything to make it look less like a Fiji-girl den. I didn’t want anything around me that reminded me of Rox. Now my room would be more like an apartment, the studio type where everything you need is in a single space. I pushed my bed against the farthest wall. As soon as I had enough money, I’d paint over this crystal-blue color with Swiss coffee white. It was more practical and grown-up.

  Jean never got a bolt for her door, but I got one for mine. I used some of Joyce’s twenty to keep myself safe and make sure my room was officially Mom-proof. There was no way she could get through my window. My closet was now going to be a pantry. It was dark enough to keep apples and bread fresh, and a good place to store peanut butter and jam after they were opened.

  It was time to throw away my childhood. It was over, and I knew it. I put everything into a bag for charity—Liddle Kiddles, surf trolls with rainbow hair, and all my Hot Wheels. I kept my peace beads, my collection of Dr. Seuss books, and Charlotte’s Web. And, of course, I kept Mrs. Beasley, the doll from my favorite TV show, Family Affair. Mrs. Beasley was never leaving my side. As for the trinkets I collected with Rox—the starfish we found together on our long morning walks before dawn patrol and the tower of blue-green sea glass—I would return them to the sea. I put my lava lamp in my Barbie suitcase and stuck it in the giveaway bag. I also emptied the basket of driftwood. Each stick told a story that no longer mattered to me.

  While I was at it, I went through two big boxes of stuff: old muumuus, toys, and some spin art I made when I was six. I threw them all into the charity bag, along with some old training bras, flower stickers I had never used, and my clackers—hard-as-a-rock toys that were like poi balls but made of solid Lucite. I tore my Lucky Locket dolls off their necklaces and tucked them into the knitted slippers Jean had made for my eighth birthday.

  Someone else could make use of this trash. I didn’t need it anymore.

  After fixing my room, I decided to say goodbye to the lineup the proper way and make a lei for Baby’s birthday. I picked all the double camellias off one of Jean’s shrubs. The trick was to do it after the sunset, so the flowers would be moist in the morning.

  I pierced a long needle through the base of each one. Instead of using thread, I used dental floss, like I was taught to do in Hawaii. I strung it through their thick cores, pulling gently out of the petals, just like sewing. I checked for bugs as I went along, twisting each flower around in the palm of my hand until they all faced the same direction. I liked these mainland flowers; they looked like carnations with big, round heads. I alternated bright pink, soft pink, bright pink. The finished lei wasn’t as fancy as the white ginger blossom ones that have winding patterns, but it would definitely do.

  I wrapped it in newspaper to keep it fresh, sprinkling a little water on the inside, then tucking it way back in the refrigerator before Jean got home from work. She was doing night shifts again. We barely saw each other, which was fine with me.

  Since my bookshelves were just about empty, before I put Rubyfruit Jungle in my new library, I sat down to read it. It was the last of the three books the vanished Windy had left me in the sand.

  Reading it was like opening a jar of candies. It had lesbian sex a-go-go. It blew my mind, and I could hardly believe what the author bio said about Rita Mae Brown. It said, in print, that she was gay! What happens to people who say they’re gay? Don’t they get in trouble? I guess not if you’re Rita Mae Brown. She was my new secret hero for life. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and her main character, Molly Bolt. It made me nervous to even write their names down, but I did, over and over, until the back page of the book turned black. I must have read the whole book in less than two hours and, ironically, I placed it next to Nigel’s highlighted Bible, which was another favorite keepsake.

  I wondered if there was a hidden reason Windy gave me that book. Maybe she was trying to tell me something. Was she sending me a message? What if the book spoke for her in some way she couldn’t? The thought almost curled my hair. I didn’t realize I was pacing back and forth. I had to find her. It was not just about being in the lineup. This had gotten personal.

  I rode my bike around the Palisades. I went to the Bay Pharmacy, the taco buffet restaurant where everybody hung out, and finally to Pali. I stayed until the gym closed at nine, but there was no sign of her. I had to suck it up and go home.

  When I got back to 33 Sage, there was Jerry—half in, half out of my window, his butt crack peeking out of his shorts as his lower half dangled below the sill. I was tempted to tease him and tickle his feet or something, but instead I just said, really loudly, “Jerry!” He banged his head as he dropped out of the window.

  “Hey, Nani. I was just, uh … my top hat fell off in there.” He grinned kind of sheepishly, and held up a pink envelope that looked like it contained a Hallmark card—the kind you give for Mother’s Day, with lots of flowers and sparkles. “I wrote you a note.”

  I had to ask. “First Nigel, and now you. What is it with you guys and notes?”

  He went red in the face. He didn’t have an answer. But I did: guys wrote notes because they’re a lot worse at communicating than girls. So I helped him out. “Would you like to talk about what’s in that note, Jer?” His mouth hung open. I asked, “Are you becoming a priest?”

  He laughed. He was so cute with his baby-blue corduroy pants and unbuttoned Aloha shirt. He looked one hundred percent native. He was ready for Hawaii.

  “Let’s go to Fong Wong,” I said, “and get some takeout.”

  “Excellent,” he said.

  Once we had gotten our little boxes of food, we went to Temescal, the jock beach. We’d never run into anyone we knew there. We sat in the van talking about tomorrow. The sky looked like a black box full of stars.

  “What time are you leaving?” I asked.

  “Solomon, Annie, and little Jimmy are picking me up at six a.m.”

  “I bet you’ll be on the cover of Tubed.”

  “Aw, you think?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Yeah, I’m kind of bummed I won’t be here when it comes out, but …” He didn’t finish the thought. Instead, he pretended his chopstick was a sword, and we went into a duel. Noodles and bean curd sauce went everywhere, and chili oil splashed on the dashboard.

  When we were done with our little food fight, I opened the envelope to read what Jerry had written.

  Dear Nani,

  I wish I’d gone for you when Nigel went all priest. I should have dumped Rox and made you my girlfriend. I will be bummed out the rest of my life about it. I don’t know why I even got back with Rox, but when we broke up forever today, she told me about that other guy. I’ve been a dork. I will always love you, Nani, and I love surfing with Dodger. He’s totally extreme. Be careful.

  Peace Love Dove

  Jerry

  “I want to give you something,” he said, and he cleared a path into the back of the van. There was sand and junk everywhere. When I saw what a pigsty it was, I started thinking about how I’d give it a good cleaning tomorrow after he left, when it would officially be mine. Maybe I’d even move into it.

  “Earth to Nani,” Jerry said. We sat on Nigel’s thin mattress and ducked under our boards. He pushed a large box toward me. It was covered in newspaper and had tape everywhere, with a floppy, gold bow falling off to the side.

  “I’m not a good wrapper,” he said.

  To say I was stunned would have been an understatement. I was blown away, blown over, blown back. No guy had ever given me a big box of anything before.

  “Open it,” Jerry coaxed. I didn’t know where to start, so I just pulled every which way, like a little kid.

  It was a brand-new stereo with speakers, radio, and
a turntable!

  “Are you crazy? This must have cost beaucoup bucks.”

  “I guess, uh … I don’t need another surfboard,” Jerry said sheepishly.

  That was off the hook. Unreal. What a sweetie. I kissed his cheek. Now I had something to plug in to again. Music and Bowie singing. I could dream of him all day long: Bowie dressed in his red Kansai Yamamoto jumpsuit, with a pirate patch over his eye and the coolest stiletto boots, singing just to me for hours. And then I’d listen to T. Rex to honor Jerry Richmond.

  “Thank you so much.” I went to kiss him on the cheek again, but he turned his mouth into mine.

  I pulled away as he said, “No, remember? Rox and I broke up! Over that Scotty guy. He can’t even surf. What a poser.”

  “Are you bummed?” I asked.

  He kissed me again. “Not really.”

  Then he tenderly unbraided my hair, put his fingers through it like a comb, and pulled it down to my side. “I’m in love with your hair,” he said. He buried his face in it and slid me around to give me a bona fide make-out kiss. I wanted to tell him I was a virgin, but instead I said I was a Virgo, which basically means the same thing. I also told him my lucky day of the week is Wednesday, my favorite color is blue, and I love sapphires. He told me he already knew all that. Our lips parted wider and wider as our kisses became deeper and harder.

  He lifted my arms up, and I let him pull my sweatshirt over my head. He looked down at my shorts. We gazed at each other for a long moment.

  “Listen,” I said, “you have to use a rubber. And I can’t ever be your girlfriend.”

  He nodded vigorously and curved himself around me like a vine growing too fast. His pelvis pushed into mine, moving my whole body forward while the weight of the world lifted.

  He tickled my earlobe and nipped the top of my shoulders before he kissed his way down to my chest. I had read The Happy Hooker, and she said that when you’re with a guy, if both of your hands weren’t holding something, doing something, or moving something, it wouldn’t feel good for him. But the fact that this was going to feel good for me was a total surprise. Maybe it was working out because I was thinking about girls while feeling Jerry.

  He slipped his hands around the back of my legs and positioned me like some weird yogi. I let him tilt me back, and just like that, we fit perfectly. I thought it would be more hazardous or painful, but it wasn’t. Every nerve ending in my body connected with Jerry. He was like a chunk of marble, rock solid—everywhere. I think just looking at him naked would have been enough to keep me busy, but as I gave myself over to him we went way, way, WAY past that.

  Sex with a guy was just like being caught in a riptide. You had to go with the flow.

  When it was over, and I was lying in Jerry’s arms, listening to his heart pound, my mind started churning. I couldn’t help but imagine the future. I closed my eyes and wondered what it would be like to live forever with Jerry Richmond on Oahu, just past the Gold Coast under Diamond Head, having kids, getting old, and surfing side by side at Tonggs. The only problem with this picture was … Jerry Richmond.

  Jerry was great, but I was ready to take him home, since the van was now mine. This was nothing like going to Fiji. I was definitely still in Santa Monica.

  Finally, I could stop lying to myself. I had to be with girls. Even if they broke my heart. When he got his boards out, I said goodbye to Jerry for good. I told him, “Don’t forget, aloha isn’t a shirt. It’s who you are. Now, go surf some big waves for me.”

  He had such a strange look on his face. I hoped he wouldn’t say it, but he did. “I love you, Nani.”

  I didn’t say it back.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  A.M. Horror

  I dreaded opening my eyes. Today the Topangas were going to take our spot, and the SOS would have to look at the back of their heads and endure the stink of patchouli for the rest of their lives. I pulled myself from my sheets and threw Mrs. Beasley against the wall. Jean was home from her night shift. I could smell the pot drifting from her bedroom and hear the TV blasting. I knew she didn’t care whether I was coming or going anymore, which was fine by me.

  I put on my final-day-at-State outfit: my smallest bikini, my feel-good poncho, my three-inch shorts worn down low, and my Levi pocket purse, which I slung over one shoulder. My bangs were grown out. I could finally tuck them behind my ear. Hallelujah. I dabbed primrose behind my ears and twisted the boa around my neck.

  Jerry’s top hat was right where he’d dropped it last night. I put it on to max out my glam surf. If I was saying goodbye for good, I’d make sure State never forgot me.

  I tossed my Don Ho wraparound shades into my pocket, along with some Fireballs, so my breath would be fresh when I said goodbye to the lineup. Since Jean was home, I snuck out the window and went around to the kitchen to get Baby’s lei. When I opened the fridge, I realized how starving I was. I drank some milk from the carton and sucked down stale Cheerios until my stomach felt full.

  There wasn’t one clean dish, piece of silverware, or glass in the whole place, and something sticky covered the floor. I wished I had put on my flip-flops before coming into Jean’s side of the house. Nixon was still on the front page of every newspaper lying around, and the stories were the same old shit. Why wasn’t he getting thrown out?

  But I sure wasn’t going to let a messed-up government—or mom for that matter—ruin my day. Screw them. I wouldn’t be a sucker anymore and believe that these guys were going to make it pono. In fact, I’d believe in the government again when Nixon surfed.

  I giggled to myself, which gave me an inner blast of hope. Oddly enough, after Jerry, I felt more intact. No, it was beyond that: I felt more like myself. Knowing I wasn’t going to do it with him—or with any other guy—again had told me for sure who I was, and I felt like I was solid for the first time all summer. Maybe even for the first time ever. I grabbed Baby’s lei, and before I slammed the fridge, I heard footsteps behind me.

  I turned to find a furry, little man in boxer shorts. I screamed. My dad always said if a guy’s a freak I should kick him in his kahunas and run, so I slammed my foot between his legs. Why hadn’t I done this when Lord Ricky and his hunters grabbed me? Then I hauled to Jean’s room to warn her.

  “Call the police!” I yelled. Jean was as drunk as a skunk, and she looked more stoned than I had ever seen her before, holding on to the wall outside her room, wearing a faded kimono.

  She yelled at me, “It’s Willieeeee!” I grabbed her arm and tried to pull her back into the bedroom, but instead I fell against the door with all her weight on me. Jean was so drunk, I couldn’t move her. To make things worse, she started laughing. But her glass of vodka never spilled.

  “Don’t you remember Willie?” she asked, pulling a feather out of her mouth. “You met him at St. John’s when Rox was … you know …” she joked, making air quotes, “‘… sick.’” Her eyelids drooped. Then she totally closed them.

  “Snap out of it!” I said, pushing her away. “What are you talking about?” I kind of remembered Willie as the orderly from St. John’s—the guy with the broom and bedpans.

  He peeked around the corner, clearly still in pain. “We were celebrating your mom’s review,” he squeaked in a strained voice, still holding his kahunas.

  Jean reached out, placed her hands on my head, then put all of her enormous weight on me as she stood. She offered to help me up, but I pushed her hand aside.

  “I got a Satisfactory,” she said, swaying her hips back and forth like some tourist doing a bad hula, as she danced over to Willie.

  “Barely,” Willie chuckled. They acted like a Satisfactory was some great achievement. Was Jean screwing up at work? Or worse—getting drunk there? Were things going to get even worse?

  “Why is he in his underwear?” I asked.

  That made her laugh harder. “Why?” she said coyly to Willie. They laughed until they were almost peeing.

  That’s when I figured out the answer. “No!” I said.
Jean had told me she would never have a boyfriend. Dad was her always and forever—the only one. She and Willie looked at each other all lovey-dovey. It laid me to waste.

  “Mom, get up,” I ordered.

  “Blah, blah, blah. Nag, nag, nag,” she said, slurring her words. “What’s wrong with you? And why are you dressed like that?”

  Willie looked at my outfit and laughed. “It’s Halloween!”

  I turned in disgust. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jean fall into Willie’s lap. “Hey, I could use another ‘lei,’” Willie said, looking at Jean and wiggling his eyebrows.

  I stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind me. Small birds fluttered from the roof to the overgrown bougainvillea shrubs. I peered up at the sky and cursed the morning sun.

  I threw Baby’s lei, which was miraculously still in one piece, into the bike basket and rode up and down the winding curves of Amalfi Drive, not stopping until sweat dripped down my back and I was standing in front of my father’s puuhonua, his sanctuary, and the place I lost his ashes. I hadn’t planned to end up here. It’s just where his bike took me. I pushed the top hat further down onto my head, so the hot wind wouldn’t blow it off. The Santa Anas were back.

  My eyes wandered over the canal. Water was flowing out to State. Not a trickle, but more like a current in the Anahulu River. It was making the most beautiful sound. I loved it. Hearing it allowed me to settle back into myself, as if my feet had sprouted roots to hold me down and make me strong. The Santa Anas came every year. How could the wind be so predictable, and my life be so out of control?

  I whispered, “Hi, Dad. Mom has a boyfriend.”

  I cleared my throat and looked around. Even though I was alone, I spoke in a whisper, “You know, Dad, I like girls. One hundred percent. Like I said, I’m a Funny Kine.” I think deep down I was hoping my dad would see me as special, like his ancestors, who thought Funny Kines and Māhūs were spirit people with a purpose.

  For a while, I just stood there watching the ducks and hummingbirds in the shimmering water. It was painful being here, but not the same as it was before.