by Karina Halle
“Like that. A little too perfect. Always smiling, always had the right thing to say. She never raised her voice, never got upset. She was kind of robotic, and sometimes I thought it was a little bit fake. Like a mask. Like she was hiding something underneath that was anything but.” He throws up a hand. “I don’t know, don’t listen to me. These are just things I think of when I get too high.”
Juliet the Stepford Wife. I can’t help but feel there’s some truth in what he’s saying. But if we only saw the mask, then who was the real Juliet? Did Logan ever see her? Or was she a mystery to him to?
Maybe that’s why he cheated on her, I think. He never felt he was married to someone real to begin with.
But of course that’s just making excuses for him, and that’s the last thing I want to do right now.
“Anyways,” Charlie goes on, a bit pink in the cheeks and clearly uncomfortable, “I don’t mean any harm by it. She was lovely. And I could see how living up to that would be hard when you’re clearly nothing like her.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
He sighs and adjusts himself on top of the tiki stool, slipping his bare feet on the metal rung beneath the bar. “I feel like this conversation has the power to take a horribly wrong turn. For me.”
“Charlie,” I warn. “Tell me or I’ll tell Kate you were with another girl tonight.”
“I wasn’t!” he exclaims. “She’s just a friend.” Then his features go aloof. “And there’s nothing between me and Kate anyway. So I don’t care.”
I kick his leg. “Tell me.”
“It’s not an insult,” he says. “You’re just…the opposite. Yeah you kinda look the same, the eyes mainly. But you’re like…a hurricane. And she was the…”
“Calm before the storm?”
“No. She was the underground bunker. The shelter. Could withstand anything and come out looking clean while everything around her is destroyed. She could hide and avoid damage.” He groans. “Fuck, I’m getting introspective and I’m not even high. Do you want to go?”
I nod, even though Charlie is making more sense than he thinks.
When we get back in the truck, he asks. “So what was the drama you were discussing with Logan then?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Does the story involve unresolved sexual tension?”
“What?” I snap.
He grins at me. “I’m just messing with you.”
I watch him carefully for a few beats, making sure he really is “taking the piss” as Logan would say, before I say, “You better be.”
Even so, as I go to bed that night my brain is reeling with too many things.
And then I’m dreaming.
About Logan.
About Juliet.
About her swimming during the golden hour, when the sun goes down behind the mountains and the ocean is tinged with gold. Metallic waves crash on the shore, pink and coral clouds float above. It’s my favorite time of day in Kauai, maybe because I’m always working at sunset and rarely get to see it.
In my dream Juliet has swum far past the reef and Logan is on shore, yelling for her to come back, that there are sharks and rips and other dangers. That she will die.
But she doesn’t listen. She waves, happy as always, and just keeps swimming. Everything is fine with her, everything is perfect. Nothing could ever endanger Juliet.
So Logan takes off his shirt, about to jump in after her. His body gleams in the light, every taut muscle, every slope and ridge.
Then he stops. Pauses.
Turns around and sees me.
“Ronnie,” he says, using my nickname. “I didn’t see you there.”
Juliet is in danger, I want to say. I can see her now, getting smaller and smaller and smaller.
But I can’t talk. I can’t do anything but wait for Logan while he strides toward me, scoops me up in his arms and kisses me until I can’t breathe.
“You’ve always been mine,” he murmurs and kisses me again as we fall to the sand.
Somewhere in the distance, Juliet is drowning.
13
It’s Thanksgiving. It doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving, since I’m not battling frigid temperatures and the early start of crazy holiday shoppers, but it’s Thanksgiving all the same.
Charlie has been gone for a few days now, so Johnny and I have been working overtime to make-up for it. They said that Thanksgiving is supposed to be the slow time of year but I guess they were wrong, because there seems to be more customers than ever. Johnny says they’re coming because of my cooking, but I have yet to confirm that.
I do know that the staff at Moonwater at least appreciates it, because Johnny and I slaved all day making the perfect Thanksgiving meal for everyone, which included a tofurkey for Kate since she’s vegan. We were able to shut the restaurant for the night in order to do so, with Logan’s permission. Johnny handled that one, since, once again, Logan and I have been avoiding each other this last week.
Now, the turkey carcass has been annihilated and everyone looks sated. It’s just Daniel, Jin, Nikki, Kate, Logan, Johnny, and I, but any more people and we would have had to get another bird. Johnny was born on Kauai (not a haole) so he’s having dinner with his family tomorrow afternoon, but he still ate his fair share of the turkey.
“Pumpkin pie?” Johnny asks, coming out from the kitchen and to the middle of the restaurant where we’ve pushed a few tables together. “With Kauai spices. It’s vegan, just for you Kate.”
A few people groan, including myself, rubbing their bellies.
Logan gets up. “Thanks but no thanks, I better head back to reception.”
And then he’s gone, heading out across the parking lot, the rain this evening coming down steadily. Everyone looks at each other in mild surprise. He had put a sign on the reception telling guests where to find us if there was an emergency, so the real issue is that Logan doesn’t want to be here and I have a feeling it’s because of me.
“Well now that the boss is gone,” Daniel says, getting up and heading to the bar. “How about we graduate from the wine and onto something else?”
Soon everyone has some crazy cocktail in their hand that Dan whipped up on the spot and Jin, of all people, goes over to the stereo and puts Grandmaster Flash on.
“Brother,” Johnny exclaims. “All this time and I didn’t know you were a Grandmaster Flash fan!”
“Who is Grandmaster Flash?” Jin says, completely sincere.
“Never mind, good choice.” And then Johnny moves to the center of the room and starts dancing, making his big belly fly.
I’m not one for dancing, no matter how drunk I am and especially not when I’m still stuffed with turkey, so I stay at the bar with Daniel and watch the scene unfold as everyone gets up to dance, lured by 80’s rap and alcohol. Even Jin is doing a boogie that involves shuffling from side to side.
“Too bad Logan is missing this,” I comment, taking a sip of a pineapple-ginger concoction and laughing as Johnny starts doing some Michael Jackson-esque moves in front of Kate. She is not impressed.
“Yeah,” Daniel says carefully. “But I don’t think this holiday is easy on him.”
I give him a look. “And you think it’s easy on me?”
Daniel doesn’t back down. “No. But things are a bit different on Logan’s end. He has no one here. Juliet was his family.”
“You’re all his family,” I point out.
He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. Maybe at one point we were but he shut us out. He got burned and then he lost it all. People seem to blame him but I really can’t. I know what he’s gone through.”
The conversation is confusing me—I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing. “You’ve lost someone too?”
“No, I mean—I know what happened…” He lowers his voice over this last part, leaning in slightly, as if handling a secret.
“Well I know what happened too,” I tell him. “And he’s a dick. It’s completely his fault if their marri
age fell apart.”
He straightens up and frowns. “That’s a bit harsh. How do you figure?”
I look at him blankly. “Uh, because he cheated on her.”
“Juliet?” Daniel asks.
Oh shit. Did he not know that?
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Logan cheated on Juliet. I don’t know who with. I already asked him if it was that Charlotte chick but he denied it. He did not deny cheating on her though.”
Daniel stares at me for a few moments before tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “Wow. Okay.”
“What?” I lean forward, pressing my hands on the table. “What?!”
Daniel takes a furtive look around and leans in. “Where did you hear that from?”
“From my own sister.”
He seems to think for a moment, then he straightens up and shrugs, turning his attention back to the bottles behind him. “She was lying,” he says simply.
It takes all of my strength to keep my next words to a whisper. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He exhales loudly and then turns around. “Look. I was there okay? It was my client.”
I can only blink at him, my heart pounding in my head. I feel like I’m about to have an out of body experience.
“Listen, I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this because it’s none of my business, but I thought you knew so you can see I’m in a bit of a predicament.” He looks around as if we’re being bugged and starts wiping down the bar. “Jared Bellamy. That was my client. A hot-shot lawyer from LA. You know, the type that takes on celebrity and high-profile cases. He was here looking to buy a house on the north shore. Says his buddy Ben Stiller loves it here and he had to do the same.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyway, he comes here to the bar and I say I’m also a real estate agent. I give him my card. Juliet comes in and, well, you know what happens when Juliet walks in a room.”
I don’t say anything, I’m too enthralled. I nod at him to keep going.
“So Bellamy, he’s got it hard for her, obviously, and I point out that’s the boss. You know, she and her husband own the hotel. And it’s like he doesn’t care. But whatever, not my problem. The next day, I pick him up and show him around. He hangs out at the bar later. Juliet takes a seat. They’re talking most of the evening. Nothing weird about that, right, because Juliet always liked talking to guests and people. Kind of a politician in that way. But then he’s here every night. Even on the days when I’m not showing him houses. And she’s here too. Like clockwork.”
My throat feels thick as I try to speak. “Did anyone else notice?”
“No,” he says. “But Logan did eventually. One night. It got kind of awkward. Walked on over and gave Bellamy the look like he was going to murder him. I had to make all the introductions and play it off, but Logan knew there was something wrong. And me, I only suspected.” He pauses. “You sure you want to hear the rest?”
“You’ve gone too far to stop,” I whisper.
He takes in a deep breath and leans in closer. “So Bellamy is staying at the Westin Princeville resort. Has his own little hut. I’m supposed to pick him up at four to show him some houses on my day off, but Lucia calls in sick, so I can’t. And I can’t get a hold of him on the phone either, so I decide to drive up there.”
I feel like I’m watching a movie. A terrible movie playing inside my head and the climax is building and building and building. I’m on the edge of my seat, the edge of something that will change everything. If I stop Dan from speaking, I can preserve the world as I know it. If he keeps talking, my world will fall apart. I know this now.
And I let him keep talking.
“The door was open. I still knocked. It’s a two-bedroom condo, he would have to hear me. I step inside the front door. I hear the shower going and figure I’ll leave him a note. I go into the kitchen and pick up a pen and paper and I write him a note about the change of plans. As I do so I notice a purse on the counter. Normally I would think, hey Bellamy, good for you. But the purse is familiar. Juliet had a designer bag, Kate Spade or something I think, with lots of palm trees. It was the same bag. And then I notice the woman’s underwear on the floor, a skirt, a man’s polo shirt. A trail of clothes leading to the bedroom. And that’s when it hits me…this is Juliet here. He’s showering with her.” He sighs sharply. “I’m not proud of what I did next but I had to be sure in my mind. I opened the purse, found her wallet. It was her.”
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The truth is laid out plain and clear and I’ve been a complete fucking fool but even so, the hero-worshiping illness I have with my sister is too strong. “That doesn’t mean anything,” I say feebly. “She could have left it there…and been there for another reason. You don’t know it was her in the shower.”
He nods, a placating smile on his lips. “I got out of there. A few days later, Logan brings me aside. Asks me all about Bellamy. Breaks down and says that Juliet has been cheating on him. I’ve never seen him cry, Ronnie. But he did. I’m not saying his marriage with Juliet was full of love and roses. They were an odd couple and they had problems. But I know Logan was at least faithful. Juliet was not. She was still seeing Bellamy the day that she died. She was driving back from his place up on the ridge.”
I’m stunned. I’m stunned but I don’t feel anything at all. I’m just this grey, numb mass, and all the things I should be feeling are bouncing off me, deflected.
Everything had been a lie.
Juliet. Perfect Juliet. She had cheated on her husband and then turned around and made it look like he was the one at fault, not her. And oh my god. I believed it. So did my mother. So did everyone. She made Logan out to be the villain and we were all so blinded by her, we all believed her.
And then the strangest emotion comes crawling to the surface.
Anger.
Not over Juliet. No, I’m too numb to feel anything about her. If she’s a bomb shelter, I’ve taken some of that armor when I swooped overhead as the hurricane.
No. I’m angry at Logan.
“I have to go,” I tell Daniel.
“Oh fuck, please don’t say anything,” he says.
“I won’t,” I tell him, though I know I probably will. I want to keep Daniel’s trust and I don’t want him in trouble, but this takes precedence.
I storm out of the restaurant and head over to reception, the rain warm and steady, streams of water forming in the parking lot. I fling the doors to the office open. But it’s only Shannon there, the nightshift worker.
“Aloha,” she says in her throaty voice. She always looks like she just broke out of women’s prison.
“Yeah, aloha, where is Logan?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level as I brush a strand of wet hair out of my face. My red cotton dress is already sticking to me from the walk over.
“He told me to come a couple hours early. Overtime. Double overtime cuz it’s a holiday. Like I would say no.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“He said he was going home,” she says.
As I run out of the office I can hear her call, “Happy Thanksgiving!” after me.
I haven’t been inside Logan’s house but I know what the interior looks like, thanks to Juliet’s Facebook photos. It’s a block or two from the hotel, across the road from the beach, and a modest rancher with nice landscaping.
I run down the streets of the small suburban area to the left of the hotel, my flip-flops smacking the wet pavement and echoing down the quiet road. I keep searching the houses as I go past, peering at them in the dark through the rain, until I find Logan’s. In some ways I want to keep running, even though I already feel like a drowned rat. It keeps my mind from dwelling on what happened, it keeps me focused on putting one foot in front of the other. There was too much truth to swallow along with those drinks and I’m keeping all of it on the backburner until I talk to Logan, until I finally hear his side of things.
I open the wooden gate and step into their yard, dimly lit in the darkness. There’s a
narrow stone path of lava rock, the short, stiff grass bordering the sides, Logan’s Jeep in the driveway. Plumeria, banana trees, and naupaka bushes line the fence, giving the feel of a tropical oasis. Rain drops hit the thick leaves with a soft thwack.
I go up to the door, noticing a worn doormat beneath my feet that has dolphins all over it. Obviously my sister’s, she loved dolphins as a kid. Even the diary she used to have had them all over it.
Daniel can’t be right, I think to myself, but then I’m making a fist and pounding on the door. Moths fly around, bumping at the light above me.
I won’t stop until he answers.
Eventually he does, flinging the door open. He’s in grey sweatpants, no shirt. That’s a fucking kryptonite combo for me but I manage to ignore it. My anger and confusion override the eye candy.
“What’s wrong?” he says and his eyes are wide with concern. “You’re all wet.”
“You lied to me!” I yell at him, storming past him and into the foyer, not caring that I’m dragging water into his house. “You lied to me.”
He slowly shuts the door behind me and gives me an incredulous look. “You’ll have to bring me up to speed here.”
“You never cheated on Juliet!” I cry out. “She cheated on you!”
He watches me for a few beats, seeming to think. “Who told you that?”
“Why does it matter? Why did you lie to me?”
He chuckles. “Freckles, I never lied to you.”
“It’s not funny!” I tell him, marching over to him and poking my finger into his chest. “It’s not funny at all. You let me believe a lie. You let me believe that you were a monster that ruined my sister before she died. You made me think you were an asshole.”
His brows raise, wrinkling his forehead. “I never made you think anything.”
“You did! You had countless times to correct me, to tell me the truth and yet you kept letting me think it. Why? Why did you do that? Why couldn’t you just tell me? I deserved to know!”
“Let me get this straight…first you hate me and think I’m an asshole because I supposedly cheated on your sister. Then you find out I didn’t cheat on your sister and you still think I’m an asshole?”