by Sieni A. M.
“Thingy?” He gave her a broad smile.
“Chase, I’m serious!” she exclaimed, laughing. It was nerve-racking enough that he could see her aura and decipher her emotions.
He grinned and held his hands up in surrender. “I assure you that I do not have that ability, Alana. Look, I’ll even turn around to make you feel better.”
He opened the door and stepped out, walking to the hood of the car with his back to her as promised. Alana furrowed her brows and shook her head before climbing over the arm rest to the backseat. The windows were tinted black, blanketing her in a dark cover, but she couldn’t help looking uneasily outside anyway. The idea that she could see out even if random people couldn’t see in did little to comfort her. She quickly shuffled through her bag, moving her towel and moisturizer out of the way, and pulled out a wrinkled maxi summer dress. It wasn’t fancy, just a simple navy dress with spaghetti straps that was easy to throw on after a day of swimming. She fingered her cotton panties and black lace bra but decided against changing into those. Despite what Chase said, there was no way she was going to strip down naked in his car. She tugged off her swim shorts and threw the dress over her one-piece swimsuit. She opened the lid to her moisturizer—something that smelled like rain kissed leaves and cucumber—and spread the cream blend onto her legs, arms, underarms, neck, and face. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she brushed it out with her fingers as best she could before braiding it loosely and letting it hang over her shoulder. She took some money out of her wallet and tucked it under the strap of her swimsuit. Feeling refreshed, she climbed over to the front seat and put her feet back into her black flip flops.
Alana opened the door and stepped out. Chase turned around and gave her a slow, sexy grin—the kind that shot butterflies straight to her stomach. Together they walked to a restaurant that served everything from sashimi to fish burgers and fried calamari. The aroma coming from the kitchen made her stomach grumble again. The restaurant had an open design that faced the waterfront, a welcoming breeze drifting in from the sea, and sailing paraphernalia tacked to the walls: a ship’s wooden wheel here, rope and fishnet there. It was just the kind of eatery Alana liked—it could be casual and easy going but also swanky all at the same time. The place was buzzing with people, the atmosphere uplifted by the upbeat of the music overhead with chattering drowning out the lyrics. Some people surfed the Web with their laptops while others talked on their cell phones. Chase and Alana stepped up to the counter to order their food—he a seafood combo that included everything from fried shrimp to mussels, and she a fish burger with all the toppings and a side of fries. The lady behind the counter grazed her eyes over Chase appreciatively, and Alana couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. Yes, I came in with this demigod. When she took out the money from her swimsuit, Chase gently restrained her arm and handed over his credit card.
“I can pay for my own food, Chase,” she whispered.
“Call me old fashioned, but I find it rude if I let you pay,” he whispered back.
She secretly liked that he was behaving like a gentleman—chivalry wasn’t dead after all—but she wasn’t going to admit it out loud. She pinched her lips together instead.
“Fine. But I’m buying dessert.”
“Deal.” He smiled and let her go.
The lady swiped the card and handed it back to him.
“Thank you,” she said when they settled at a table that was covered with a tropical floral cloth, a shell used as a vase with red hibiscus flowers centered in the middle next to the salt and pepper shakers. Grains of rice were mixed with the salt to keep it from sticking together in the balmy heat. Their table was sequestered from the crowd, hidden from view behind tall potted plants, the fairy lights that wrapped around the posts surrounding them in a bright glow.
Alana looked over at Chase and smiled. “Did you eat at this place a couple months’ ago?”
“I did. I also spent some time driving around the island to get myself reacquainted. There has obviously been a lot of development since the 1900s—new buildings, tar sealed roads, a lot more people.”
Their drinks and a plate of sashimi was brought over by the waiter and placed on the table. Alana picked up a toothpick and poked a strip of sliced tuna, dipped it into the wasabi soya sauce, and popped it in her mouth. Spiciness shot up her nose and tears pricked her eyes.
“Argh!” She grabbed her nose breathing in deeply and reached for her drink, gulping hard.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I always do that,” she said in a strangled voice, dabbing her eyes with a napkin. “The first bite is always a killer, but then it gets good.” She coughed.
Chase suppressed a smile then dipped his strip of fish and ate it. She watched him closely for a similar reaction. Nothing.
“I’m curious…if you could go back in history, which time period would you choose and why?” he asked.
Alana picked another strip, dipped, chewed, and swallowed. “In any country?”
“Sure.”
She thought long and hard about her answer. “There are so many women I would have loved to meet…their struggles, fears, courage, and their willpower to carry on is beyond imagining. I would want to sit down and talk to Mary Jemison, the woman who witnessed the deaths of her family in the hands of American Indians and was then taken captive by them, married a Seneca warrior, who cared for her deeply and she in turn loved, and had his children. I can’t even imagine what she must have gone through when she embraced her new life, new language, and new culture, but I admire her for it. Here was a woman whose life changed drastically but who went on living and loving despite tragedy and hardship.” She wanted to live her life the same way, Alana thought to herself. But she knew she had a long way to go. She paused and took a sip of her drink. “Mother Teresa.” She smiled softly. “I love her. To me she epitomized a life of giving and serving freely. What she said to encourage others mirrored what she did, and so much of what she spoke about has always struck me.” Chase smiled warmly at her, acknowledging a woman who in her own way was a healer. “Then there’s Margaret Mead. Boy, would I have loved to be a fly on the wall when she interviewed those girls in Ta’u for her Coming of Age book.” Alana fiddled with the straw of her drink. “Queen Salamasina—Samoa’s very own royalty and one and only queen. A woman who held the four most prestigious titles in the land, united all of Samoa, and reigned without warfare. I want to know how she did it. What was she like? What was her personality like? Did she have a plan, goals, aspirations? What did she fear? What did she even look like?”
“If I could tell you, I would. But that was before my time,” he said with a grin.
“Well, shucks. You only missed her by a century.” She smiled in return and shook her head. Taking another piece of raw tuna, she ate it, and continued. “Fanny Van de Grift—Robert Louis Stevenson’s wife.” Chase nodded contemplatively. “Did you know she was married and had children before she met Stevenson?” she asked. “Her first marriage was a rocky one, and when she divorced him, Stevenson pursued and married her. She became overly protective of him and was criticized by his friends for estranging him from them. His family didn’t like her at first but grew to accept her.”
“Why would you want to meet her?” he asked.
“Because she wasn’t this perfect person married to a famous writer. She was moody and critical of his work, always pushing him. Their marriage was far from ideal. They argued as any married couple would, but still she traveled the world with him looking for the perfect place to settle down that would be conducive to his poor health. She came here, built a home together, raised their children. He loved her as evident in the poem he wrote for her entitled My Wife. They took quiet walks together around their garden, and she cared for him when he was ill. It’s the small things that can make a difference, and in this case, he got to live fourteen more years of his life.”
The waiter returned with their food. Alana picked up her burger and took a big bite ou
t of it and moaned. Chase dipped a fried shrimp in ketchup and popped it in his mouth.
“I met him,” he said, licking the pad of his thumb, his eyes on her.
“Who?”
“Robert Louis Stevenson.”
“What?” She dropped her mouth in awe.
“You might want to close that, Alana, before the flies go in and eat your food.”
She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed. “You met him?” she whispered in bewilderment. “When? Where?”
He smiled and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “In the Hawaiian Islands. For almost three years, he traveled throughout the Pacific before he settled in Samoa. He and I both had a mutual friend—King Kalakaua.”
Baffled, Alana couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What was he like?” she asked curiously.
“He was a brilliant man. Complex. Intelligent. Gravely ill. A smoker.”
“So, were you one of the friends Fanny disapproved of?”
Chase grinned. “No, she liked me.”
Alana couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you…living this life, meeting people, witnessing the changes throughout the centuries. It’s unbelievable.”
“It’s definitely had its moments. Both high and low.”
Alana took another bite out of her burger, and Chase stole a few of her fries. They talked some more about his past—his favorite decade, extensive travels, his homes that were in the Tahitian mountains, Vietnamese coast, near the Gulf of Alaska, and the South Island of New Zealand. She asked him how he earned all his money, and he answered by investing in land and collecting priceless items throughout the years. He asked her what her most cherished memory was; she asked him about the single best decision he ever made in his life; he asked her what her favorite movie was and she said Pearl Harbor. Chase arched an eyebrow in response.
“What? I’m a sucker for historical romance and Ben Affleck,” she defended.
“That period of time was far from romantic, Alana,” he said dryly.
“Let me guess. You were there?”
“Yes, and it was an unpredictable, terrifying, and a gruesome war.”
Way to burst her movie bubble.
She asked him what his favorite place in the world was; he wanted to know what she looked forward to the most in life. Alana sat back and wiped her mouth with her fingers as she thought about his question.
“I have to think about this.”
Up to her graduation, she had always had that day to look forward to, to strive for. The apogee of all her hard work. Now what? What did she have to look forward to next? She panicked a little on the inside when she couldn’t think of anything tangible. Had her life become so routine that she didn’t know where to go next?
“I don’t know,” she finally said.
Chase smiled. “Don’t sweat it. It may come to you later.” He popped a shrimp in his mouth. “Best advice you ever got?” he continued.
Alana smiled. “Never wear purple eyeliner?” She answered with the first thing that popped in her head.
“Seriously.”
She paused. “Well, I don’t know if this is the best advice I’ve ever received but something about it has resonated with me—just don’t roll your eyes, okay?” She looked at Chase, he nodded encouragingly, and she continued. “It’s something my sister told me once. ‘Don’t look for the one. Become the one.’ I know, I know. It’s the most cliché of the cliché, but I’ve given it some thought, and I believe there’s truth to it.”
“And what’s that?”
“Well, if everyone just focused on other people’s qualities and faults and not their own, then there wouldn’t be any growth within us, right? So the traits I admire and want in my significant other, I need to concentrate on working and developing within myself at the same time.” She half shrugged, occupying herself with the rest of her food.
“And what traits might those be?” he asked.
“Well, I admire people who are honest, trustworthy, selfless.”
Chase nodded contemplatively. “I have noticed that you’re working on your honesty.”
Alana scrunched up her nose and gave him a face before he laughed. “So, tell me. Do healers hook up? Get married? Wait, are there even girl healers?”
He chuckled. “Yes, there are girl healers. Healers generally find companionship with each other, but very rarely with non-healers.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
“Because it’s discouraged. For a mortal to get involved with a healer, it would upset a very precarious balance. The general public isn’t aware of our existence, except for the people we rescue and heal, but we usually find them in a daze that there is little if any memory of their experience.”
“Oh.” She breathed.
“The furthest healers are encouraged to go with humans is friendship alone.”
So that’s what she was. A definite friend. Why did that suddenly come across as disappointing? Alana’s head was spinning. “Are you in a relationship now?”
“Not at the present moment, no,” he answered as he picked up a fry and ate it.
That surely meant there had been someone in the past. Of course there must have been. He was four hundred years old and counting! She couldn’t expect someone in his shoes or with that face to remain single forever. Or celibate for that matter. Her face flushed at the thought, and she thanked the heavens he was busy looking down at his plate and didn’t notice. She wondered who she was and why it had ended. They ate in silence, Alana taking tentative sips of her drink, the breeze from the harbor cooling her hot cheeks. She needed to change the subject.
“Is there anything you fear?” she asked him. Chase furrowed his eyebrows at her question. She lowered her voice. “I mean, can you die? You’re immortal, but do you have a weakness? Can you get hurt?”
“We don’t bleed, if that’s what you mean. Our healing capabilities enable us to heal quickly on our own. In saying that, healers live by a certain code of laws. Break them or alter them and we pay the consequences. Live by them and the rewards are immense.”
His answer intrigued her, and Alana wanted to learn more, push for more, but Chase was already distracted by something on his plate. What laws were those? And what happened when one was broken? She mulled this over in her head as the waiter approached and took away their empty plates and cups. Chase leaned back in his chair, and they sat in silence for several heart beats. Alana bit the inside of her lip.
“So, who are you fighting?” she finally asked.
“Fighting?” He raised his brows.
“You know, the villain. Up to this point everything you’ve told me—as incredulous as it is—sounds suspiciously like something out of a superhero comic. It’s hard to swallow, let alone perceive. You’re obviously the good guy, so who’s the villain? Who are you fighting?”
Chase looked at her thoughtfully. “Take a look around you, Alana. Everyone is a villain. Every single person on this planet has a lower nature, and this comes in many forms—selfish desires, a hurtful tongue, violent hands. Isn’t there enough pain and suffering in this world as a result of villainous acts and words? Isn’t that who we should all be fighting? Our own inner villain? Something needs to change because when you peel away that barrier, strip away the hurt, the human heart is the human heart.”
“So your role in all of this is to bring hope?” she mused.
“I don’t have the power or the ability to influence free will. That’s a gift that’s been bestowed on you and everyone breathing on this sphere. This world is a stage and the production your life. Every role, every part you play, every good deed contributes to something great and prepares you for something immense. And the greatest act of all comes when you leave this physical plane and ascend to something far beyond all of the hurt and pain and suffering. To something you cannot even fathom, let alone conceive. It is everlasting, luminous, and beautiful. That is life’s promise, its ultimate goal. That is what we should be fight
ing to achieve.” He swept his hand out. “Otherwise what’s all this for?”
Alana sat back in her chair and contemplated his words. Every single one made sense to her. It was so simple, yet a seemingly impossible reality. An unattainable one. How did one rid the world of villains? How did she go about ridding herself of her own inner villain? She knew she had a long way to go to achieve that if her recent emotions were any indication of her state of mind.
She unconsciously tugged on a strand of hair from her braid and pulled it out. Distracted in her thoughts, she started to pull it through her bottom teeth as floss. When she heard Chase cough she looked up at him. His eyebrows were raised.
“Oh!” She shoved her hands down into her lap at the same time his chuckle rang in her ears.
“You know, that’s why they invented these,” he said, nodding towards the toothpicks that were hidden behind the salt and pepper.
“Those don’t work for me.” She shot him a playful look and he laughed.
“Alana?” Manu’s unmistakable voice came from behind her.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was going to be interesting. How was she going to explain this? Even though it was harmless to be out with a guy for dinner, she knew if Manu was anything like her brother, which she knew he was, he wouldn’t like it. When she opened them, Chase was regarding her with a thoughtful look. Manu came to stand at their table with a bag of takeout in his hand, and Alana shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She glanced up at him.
“Hi, Manu,” she said, giving him a tentative smile.
His brows lowered over eyes that flared with something that resembled anger. Turning away from her, he acknowledged Chase with a nod. Chase looked back, his stance relaxed, an arm raised on the back of his chair. Alana didn’t mistake his hardened jaw which was locked in tension.
Addressing her, Manu said, “I just finished work and decided to pick up some dinner. I see you’ve finished your meal, so I’ll give you a lift home.”
Alana chewed on her bottom lip and twisted her fingers in her lap. “Manu, I’m in the middle of something. We’re not done yet.”