They looked at me, smiling. “Thanks!”
“Hey listen,” I said. “I’m looking for a surfer named Josh. You don’t happen to know him, do you?”
The boys started laughing.
“There are lots of surfers named Josh,” one of them replied.
“Ah, I should have known,” I said and laughed with them.
“What does he look like?” one of the boys asked.
“He’s in his early thirties and has shoulder-length blond hair and very blue eyes.” I felt a bit embarrassed about how little I knew about him.
“Actually,” I added, “he doesn’t surf anymore. He had a bad accident a few years ago. But he still very much looks like a surfer.” I smiled. “And he used to hang out on this beach all the time, watching others surf.”
The boys got quiet and looked at each other. I could sense they were uncomfortable.
“Do you know him?” I asked, confused by the looks they gave each other.
The oldest boy scratched his head a bit.
“Do you mean the dude who died?” he asked.
“Died?” I said.
For a moment my heart stopped beating. The waves didn’t make a sound.
Then another voice suddenly broke the silence.
“Whoa, what an awesome day, guys!”
A tanned, fit man came running toward us, carrying a surfboard under his arm.
The boys turned around and called for him.
“Dad, she’s asking about a dude called Josh, who had an accident a few years ago. Wasn’t he the one you told us about? Who died?”
The man put down his surfboard in the sand, looked at me, and nodded solemnly. “Yes.” He paused, noticing my face. “You didn’t know?”
I shook my head, in shock.
“I’m very sorry. It’s been a while since it happened.” He came over and shook my hand. “The name’s Jez. With a ‘z.’ Josh and I were surf buddies.”
“I’m Maya.” I hardly recognized the sound of my own voice.
“He was the finest man I knew,” Jez said. “The only comfort I have is that he died happy, among the waves.” He pointed toward the big waves that kept crashing toward the shore.
“No one else was there when it happened. He went out on a day most wouldn’t even dream of surfing. He was a bit crazy that way.” Jez gave a little smile, then looked over at me.
I just stared back at him, unable to speak at first. Then I shook my head.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” I said, with a sudden glimmer of hope. “The Josh I’m talking about stopped surfing years ago, after a serious accident.”
Maybe it was all just a big misunderstanding.
“He used to sit here and watch others surf,” I continued. “He had blond hair down to his shoulders and very blue eyes.”
“And an orange butterfly tattoo?” Jez asked and looked sympathetically at me.
I nodded slowly.
“Sorry, Maya, that’s him.”
A big wave crashed toward the shore. It looked like it was moving in slow motion.
“Josh would rather have died than stopped surfing,” Jez said after a while. “Surfing was his entire life. It was like he and the ocean were having a passionate love affair. Regretfully, it turned out to be a lethal one.”
I felt a deep ache in my heart, and fought the urge to cry in front of Jez and the boys. Jez nodded toward somewhere behind us.
“He’s resting in the cemetary right across the street, if you want to pay him a visit.”
I followed his gaze.
“When you think about it, it’s the perfect resting place for someone who loved the ocean as much as he did.” Jez smiled gently. “Now he can watch the waves and see us surfing from up there all day.”
I nodded and tried to smile. “I think I’ll walk over there now,” I said. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Jez said as I waved him and the boys goodbye.
I took a deep breath and headed across the street. The slope, leading up to the cemetary, was covered with wildflowers. I decided to pick a few. I didn’t want to come empty handed to Josh.
When I entered the quaint and serene cemetary, with colorful flowers next to each headstone, my heart was heavy.
I came too late for you, Josh.
Maybe I’d come too late for everything. I wiped my tears, as I walked around, looking for his headstone.
The newest ones were in the front, but Josh’s name was not on any of them. I hadn’t asked Jez when Josh had died, but after I’d looked at all the headstones of people buried in the last three years, I realized that Josh wasn’t there.
Again, I felt a small glimmer of hope.
Then, suddenly, an orange butterfly came flying toward me. I watched as it danced around me before it flew toward the back of the cemetary and landed on something that looked like a plank sticking up from the ground.
When I got closer, I saw that the plank was in the shape of a surfboard. My heart started beating faster. Someone had painted “Josh the Surfer” on it, and below his name it read, “At One with the Sea.”
I sat down beside it and carefully touched the small board. “Josh, dearest Josh. I am so sorry. I came too late,” I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks.
The grave was a bit unkempt, so I started removing the weeds that were hiding the lower part of the board. And that is when I saw the rest of the epitaph: “Born August 1, 1989. Died October 3, 2016.”
I froze. I met Josh in October of 2017. How was that possible?
I put the flowers on the ground in front of the small surfboard and sat there for a while. My mind was spinning. I tried to make sense of it, but I couldn’t.
Maybe someone had gotten the year wrong?
Yet somehow, deep inside, I knew that wasn’t the case.
The butterfly was still sitting on the surfboard. I felt as if it was watching me.
I thought about Josh’s warm smile, blue eyes, and infinite wisdom.
“It’s all about how we choose to see life,” he had said. “It can be serious and rationalized, or it can be playful and full of miracles. And whatever we choose to believe ends up becoming our reality.”
I took a deep breath and was suddenly overwhelmed with a deep knowing in my heart. The kind that could not be explained but only felt.
I gazed over the ocean, then back at the small surfboard and stroked it softly with the tip of my finger.
“I choose to believe in miracles,” I whispered. “I choose the beautiful unexplainable.”
I smiled at the butterfly that circled over my head, then looked back over the ocean.
“Nice view,” I said.
“You bet,” Josh replied.
I smiled. Tears were rolling down my cheeks as I watched the butterfly slowly dance its way out of the cemetary.
“Thank you, Josh,” I whispered. “You were there when I needed you. I will never forget you.”
I sat by his grave for a little while longer, then got back up on my feet and slowly walked back toward my car.
On my way, I passed by an elderly woman, sitting on a bench, facing the ocean. With her eyes closed, she lifted her face toward the gentle ocean breeze.
“Do you feel it?” she asked as I passed her.
I stopped and looked at her.
She opened her eyes and smiled warmly at me. “It’s the winds of change,” she said. “I think great things are about to happen.”
I smiled back at her. “I think they’ve already started,” I replied, waved goodbye to her, and left the cemetary.
When I arrived at my car, it felt as if the orange butterfly was waiting for me on the windshield. Then, it lifted gently and danced around me a couple of times before it slowly flew toward the beach and out over the ocean.
I stood still and watched it until it eventually disappeared.
CHRISTMAS EVE
I had stopped in Hanalei on my way home from Kealia Beach to do some
grocery shopping and buy ingredients for the dessert I was bringing to the Christmas dinner. I’d decided to make rice pudding with cherry sauce, the way my mom used to make it. The dessert was one of the few memories I had from my childhood Christmases. Mom once told me that her grandma, her dad’s mom, first had taught her how to make it. Apparently it was a Scandinavian Christmas tradition.
Hanalei was decorated with Christmas lights and a Santa here and there, but nothing over-the-top. Here, even Christmas was chill.
On my drive home, I started to get a little nervous about the dinner again. I hoped it wouldn’t be too awkward between William and me. I would speak to him at some point, but I didn’t think tonight was the night. Tonight was George’s night.
Back at the beach house, I put the groceries away, Googled “Scandinavian rice pudding,” and began making the dessert. Thank you, internet.
While the dessert was cooling, I went to the bathroom to get ready. I put on a pretty red dress, freshened up my face, and had a little self-talk session with the mirror. “You can do this, Maya. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ve got this.”
I took a deep breath and let the air out, nodded, and smiled at my own reflection.
Back in the kitchen, I packed up the rice pudding and sauce and placed them in a basket, along with a bottle of wine and a few Christmas presents I’d picked up on the way home.
I had bought William a tool belt, as I had noticed he hadn’t been wearing one. George was getting a new blanket, Navy style, to match his favorite T-shirt and hat.
Satisfied with the basket, I headed down the beach toward George’s house. I arrived a bit early, thinking George and I could sit and chat and look at the ocean together, but he was fast asleep in his chair when I arrived. I sat down carefully in the sand, not wanting to disturb him. Not that it would have mattered much, as William was hammering away on the house next door.
I watched George’s peaceful face. He was sleeping heavily, but now and then, a little smile came over his face, like he was dreaming about something nice. Maybe he was already on his way toward that place he had talked about—the place that looked like this beach, times ten, and with Aimee in it.
The hammering stopped, and I turned my head and looked over at William’s house.
I took a deep breath and slowly stood up. My heart started beating quickly in my chest as I decided that this was the time.
I walked slowly—barefoot—over the lawn that I had walked so many times before. The hammock was still there, but it didn’t look like someone had used it for a long time. It was dirty and filled with dead leaves. The house looked beautiful, though. William had put in larger windows and expanded the veranda. Everything looked newer and more modern, but it still had that Hawaiian charm.
When I approached the house, William was still working on the steps. I just stood there and looked at him, hoping he would notice me.
When he finally did, he looked startled and dropped the hammer on the ground. Then he stood up, ran his fingers through his hair, and brushed off some dust from his T-shirt.
“Hi, Maya,” he said. Less cool today, but still tentative.
“William, can I speak with you about something?”
My voice was trembling and my heart pounded heavily in my chest.
He nodded but stood still as he looked at me.
“I want to apologize for the way I behaved when I left the island last time. I left without saying goodbye, and later I didn’t always return your calls or texts. I even canceled our dinner in New York, not because I didn’t want to go, but because I didn’t think I could handle seeing you and Rebecca together again, because of the feelings I had for you.”
William looked confused by the last sentence. I swallowed and continued.
“The days I got to spend with you those three years ago were the best days of my life. I didn’t know men like you even existed. But I got scared and convinced myself that we should just be friends.”
I took a deep breath. It was now or never.
“But then I realized I had fallen for you, and that I had to stop being scared. When I went to tell you how I felt, Rebecca was there, and I thought she was your girlfriend, and I just freaked out and ran away. All the way back to New York. And never looked back. Or at least, I tried not to.”
I paused and looked down at the grass, feeling nervous, vulnerable, and embarrassed. When I looked up, William had a bewildered look on his face.
I took a deep breath and added, “I am so sorry, William. I wish I had handled everything better. I just wanted you to know that.”
I was just about to turn around and walk away, when he finally spoke. “But I don’t get it. I told you that Rebecca and I were friends and business partners.”
“Yes, I know that now, but at the time I didn’t hear it. I was too shocked, confused, and embarrassed to really listen to anything. And George had told me you were taking a break from some girl in San Francisco, so I just assumed that was Rebecca and that you were back together again.”
“Oh, I see,” William nodded. His boyish smile came back in glimpses.
“Well, no, Rebecca was never my girlfriend. And the girlfriend Dad told you about was Ellen. We decided to take a break six months before I met you, but we had an agreement that before we got involved with anyone else, we would tell each other and permanently end things between us.”
He sat down in the grass now. I walked slowly over to him and sat down beside him, waiting for him to continue.
“Do you remember the night after our island tour?”
I nodded and looked down. I remembered it all too well.
“I wanted to tell you I would be going to San Francisco to meet with Ellen and tell her I had fallen in love with someone. With you.”
Our eyes met. I held my breath and fought to keep my tears back.
“I wanted to respect Ellen and our agreement. But I still wanted you to know that I thought you were the most adorable, interesting, intelligent, fun, and beautiful woman I had ever met.”
I wasn’t able to keep my tears back anymore.
“But then you ran out of the car and called me ‘the best friend a girl could have,’ so I thought you just didn’t feel the same way about me. But I still loved being around you, so I tried to push away my feelings and just be your friend.”
I put my face in my hands. How could I have been so blind? Why had I been so afraid?
When I removed my hands from my face again, William looked at me with a soft smile before he continued.
“The night when you met Rebecca, I had just returned from San Francisco where Ellen and I had said our proper goodbyes. Rebecca came with me. She and Hank were looking to buy a house on the island, and I was going to show her around.
“After you came by our house that night, I told Rebecca how I felt about you, and she told me to stop being a coward and tell you how I really felt.”
The memories kept flashing through my mind. How different the story I had been telling myself was from the one William now shared.
“The next day, when I’d finally mustered enough courage to tell you, Dad told me you had left. I tried calling and even went after you to the airport, but your flight had just taken off when I got there.”
This was almost too painful to hear.
“And well, after that, you made it pretty clear that you wanted nothing more to do with me, so after a while I just gave up and tried to forget about you.”
I felt ashamed for all the pain and confusion I had caused William.
“So that dinner in New York, with Rebecca?” I asked, not sure what I was asking about really.
“Yes, that was silly of me, I guess. I wanted to meet you one more time to see if I had a chance with you. But I freaked out a few hours earlier, so I asked if Rebecca could come along, as moral support.”
I looked up at him. He looked just as embarrassed as I did.
“I’m so sorry I canceled our dinner. I really wish I had gone.”
; “Now, I can understand why you did,” William said and looked down at his hands. “But at the time I was pretty devastated and decided I needed to cut you out of my life, because it simply hurt too much to keep hoping for something that seemed like a lost cause.”
We were sitting beside each other in the grass, both of us a bit lost and confused. We had both misunderstood the situation and been too afraid to investigate it any further. Now, when we knew all the facts, neither one of us seemed to know what to make out of it.
I looked over at William. I wanted to take his hand and run my fingers through his messy hair and kiss him, but something was holding me back. There was still a distance between us, and when he spoke next, I understood why.
“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, Maya, but my heart was broken. And it’s taken a long time to heal. I’m finally in a good place now, and Dad really needs me. So, maybe it’s best that we go back to being friends.”
“Of course,” I said. I was a little devastated, but I also understood where he was coming from. Most of all, I wanted William back in my life. If he only wanted to be friends, I could live with that. It was better than nothing.
William smiled as he stood up and dusted himself off. “Well then, let’s go and have ourselves a proper Christmas Eve.”
I stood up. It was good to see William smile again. But I saw the sadness return when he said, “It’s Dad’s last Christmas. Let’s make it a beautiful one.”
I took his hand and squeezed it, and he held on to it as we walked over the lawn toward his father. George was awake, and when he saw us walking hand in hand, I thought I could see a tear glimmer in the corner of his eye.
“Hey, old man, you ready for a party?” William asked as he helped his father stand up.
“You bet,” George replied. I watched as William helped George into the house, carefully sat him down in his favorite chair, and lovingly put the blanket around his thin body.
“I’m really glad it is you and not Agatha, the human robot, who is looking after me,” George joked.
“Well, I did try to tempt her with a first-class ticket to Kaua’i and a life under the sun, but she preferred to stay and play bridge with her friends at the retirement home. So, old man, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
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