by Hester Young
Following our hike, we head south to the Ahalanui warm springs. Enclosed from the ocean by a circular rock wall, the springs are geothermally heated to a pleasant ninety-one degrees. With enough room to swim or snorkel, we float through the blue waters, laughing as the fish tickle our feet. Rae strikes up a chat with a pair of friendly Danish tourists, and I find myself unwinding, trusting for just one moment the goodness of strangers.
Then a woman arrives with a child in orange floaties. The little girl dog-paddles eagerly around the springs, calling to her mother over and over again in the universal words of childhood: “Mommy, look at me! See how fast I can go? Watch, Mommy! Watch!” An insatiable need to be seen, like every child.
Like Tasha, I think. Like Keegan. Like Lise Nakagawa once, I’d wager.
The thought of Lise kills my happy mood. I picture Sue crying at night, struggling to hold herself together day after day, and the weight of it nearly breaks me. How does Sue do it? I lost my son more than four years ago, yet even now when I see curly-headed boys of a certain age, I ache for him. Keegan is a loss I may never fully accommodate. But to live as the Nakagawas do, indefinitely suspended between despair and hope . . . how does one go on? Life for Sue—and Victor, and Jocelyn—must be an endless open wound.
I wipe at my eyes, hoping that my dripping hair conceals my face. “This water’s kind of gross,” I tell Rae as I clamber from the springs. “Probably full of pee, and it’s not even hot. I can feel the bacteria proliferating.” I leave her floating in the enclosed pool and find solace by the ocean’s edge.
The waves pound the black and rocky shores with breathtaking force. I watch the ebb and flow of the water, let it dull my sadness as it might smooth a stone. I think of Keegan and Alex Rocío, of Lise Nakagawa and Elijah Yoon, and a line from a self-help book I read last year pops into my head: In helping others, we heal ourselves.
On some level, I suppose I believe that, or else why bother? Why trek through Sabino Canyon in search of a boy I don’t know unless a part of me, however tiny, believes that it might make me whole again? Or, if not whole, at least a little less broken. As much as I long to be normal, my dreams and impressions do provide a kind of opportunity. They offer me a purpose. I wouldn’t have made it through that first year without Keegan if I hadn’t had another family, another child depending upon me to use my gift for good.
But it’s a double-edged sword. In helping others, I expose myself to all their fears and losses.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
Rae stands behind me, a towel draped around her shoulders.
“I’m fine.”
“You were getting a little bitchy there before,” she observes. “What’s your deal?”
I slump forward, realizing I will have to be a grown-up and explain myself. “Sorry. Just thinking about the Nakagawas, I guess. It kind of brought up Keegan for me.” I swallow back the ball of emotion in my throat. “I miss him so much.”
“Oh, honey.” She drops to her knees beside me. “I miss him, too. That little blond mop of his . . .” She cocks her head to one side. “There are still days I swear I see him. In a park or on a train . . . I get this flash of curls in the corner of my eye, and I think, Hey, it’s Keegan. Takes me a second to remember.”
“I thought that was just me.”
“Nope.” Rae smiles. “Even Zoey says she still dreams about him now and then.”
“Zoey? Really?” Rae’s daughter was just five when she lost her playmate. It surprises me to know that Keegan has lingered in her mind all these years. “What kind of dreams does Zoey have?”
“I don’t know. She mostly dreams about him when she’s scared about something. She said he doesn’t really talk. He just sits with her, and she feels better.”
“Aw. That’s sweet.”
We stare at the waves for a moment in silence. So easy to forget, I think, that your child is never yours alone, that a child belongs to a whole big web of people, each one carrying different memories. I tilt my head back, catching the breeze off the water.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be going after Jocelyn today,” I murmur. “I know we’re trying to help, but . . . she’s just a kid. Do we really want to stir things up for this family?”
Rae fluffs her wet hair with her towel. “We’ll snag her for a quick chat, that’s all. Harmless enough.”
“Is it?” I frown. “Jocelyn lived her entire life with Lise. Same parents, same bedroom, same face. You and I, we can’t imagine that kind of closeness. To lose that, suddenly and without any answers . . .”
Rae points and flexes her toes, letting her flip-flops fall away from her heels. “Don’t do this to yourself, Charlie,” she advises. “It’s not going to help you find that girl.”
“Do what? What am I doing?”
“Don’t go taking on their pain.” She stands and wraps her towel around her waist. “I know you. You’ve got plenty of your own.”
* * *
• • •
RAE AND I arrive in the town square around three o’clock, after the School for Free Thought has let out for the day but before Jocelyn’s swim meet. We position ourselves on a wooden bench and I scan the waves of students, keeping an eye out for anyone who seems out of place or overly interested in me. There are no obvious red flags. A group of four noisy girls who walk, elbows linked, half bent over with giggles. A PDA-prone pair who keep stopping to suck face. An athletic guy with dimples and his less dashing friend, whom I remember as one of the guys harassing Elijah on Monday. It doesn’t take long to spot Jocelyn and Kai . . . and to realize Jocelyn’s not in a chatty mood.
She walks briskly, chin tilted upward, as Kai jogs to keep up. His mouth is running, but whatever he says fails to make things better. Though Jocelyn’s face is expressionless, her speed and silence convey her anger. Kai is in trouble.
As they cross in front of our path, Rae catches Kai’s eye and waves. He recognizes her at once—there are very few black people on the island, and Rae is pretty enough to stand out anywhere. Grateful for the excuse to stop chasing his bad-tempered girlfriend, Kai stops in his tracks.
“Hey! How’s it going?” He has the kind of overly sincere, I’m-speaking-respectfully-to-an-adult face I don’t fully trust.
“Good!” Rae grins. “Where you off to?”
“Oh . . .” Kai glances at Jocelyn, who has continued walking, but at a much slower speed now that he’s stopped chasing her. “Nowhere special. You guys still writing that piece about Jocelyn’s dad?”
“Among other things,” Rae says. “There’s been a little work, a little play.”
Kai chuckles knowingly. “Yeah, I heard you guys were hanging out with Brayden and Frankie yesterday.”
I wilt inside when I realize that a seventeen-year-old boy knows about my getting stoned with a pair of local bros, but Rae can withstand the teasing better than I can.
“Well, I heard little-boy Brayden’s dating your mom,” she says. “Tough break, kid.”
Kai laughs. “It’s cool. Bray’s kinda my friend.”
“Hey, no judgments here.” Rae holds up her hands. “You’re an open-minded kind of guy, I dig it.”
Across the square, Jocelyn has stopped walking altogether and now stands, arms crossed, trying to pretend she isn’t waiting for Kai to pursue her. She looks so lonely, standing by herself in a sea of students. Though she pulls out her phone, feigning nonchalance, she can’t resist a quick glance in our direction.
“What’s up with your girl?” Rae asks. “You in the doghouse?”
“Yup. I live in the doghouse.”
“Maybe you should go talk to her, Kai,” I say. “You really want to let her stew?”
He ruffles his hair, indifferent. “There’s no winning this.”
I wonder what he did to put her in a state like that.
“I think she’s coming over here,” Rae observe
s.
Kai groans when he sees Jocelyn approaching but makes no move in her direction. He seems to have decided that our presence will make it harder for his girlfriend to really let loose on him.
“Hey, Jocelyn!” Rae greets her with a sunny smile that even I believe. “How’s it going? Did I hear you have a swim meet today?” She’s trying to connect with Jocelyn, to show interest, but the question does nothing to lighten the girl’s mood.
Jocelyn casts Kai a long look. “Yes, actually. I do have a meet today. A very important one. It’s a shame some people can’t make it. My mom, my dad, my boyfriend . . .”
Kai tugs on the neck of his T-shirt as if it just got very tight. Now I see the mess we’ve landed in, why Jocelyn’s upset with Kai. In ordinary circumstances, I would find a pressing excuse to go and leave them to it, but the chance to learn what makes these two tick overrides good manners.
“I can go to your meet another day,” Kai says, squirming. “I have plans today.”
“Of course you do.” Jocelyn offers him a sympathetic smile. “Really urgent plans. With Brayden, who you literally see every day, to smoke yourself into oblivion. I understand perfectly.”
“Joss. Come on, don’t be mad.”
“Mad?” Her eyes widen in mock surprise. “Why would I be mad? I get it, Kai, I do. A person has to have priorities. Forget my little swim meet. You said you’d go last week, but whatever. You and Brayden are sure to advance your life goals out there today. I won’t hold you back. You do you.”
I sink a little deeper into the bench, wondering if Kai realizes he’s just had his ass handed to him.
Yet even faced with a vastly superior opponent, the kid still won’t acknowledge defeat.
“Bray and I are going diving,” he objects. “We’re not just going to sit around and get lit.”
“If you’re with Brayden, getting lit will be a prominent feature of your day,” Jocelyn says.
“Yeah, but it helps me,” Kai says. “I can’t dive without a little something. It helps my asthma. Keeps me chill so I don’t have an attack underwater.”
Despite my best efforts to stay out of their squabble, my motherly instincts kick in. “Kai!” I sputter. “You can’t go scuba diving while stoned! That’s so dangerous! My daughter has asthma, and I would never, ever—I mean, what happened to using an inhaler?”
“Thank you!” Jocelyn folds her arms, triumphant. “Do you even have your inhaler with you right now, or did you leave it in the car again?”
“Weed isn’t dangerous,” Kai says, ignoring the question. “Honestly. It’s super relaxing. My asthma’s really bad. If I get stressed out, I have all these breathing problems. But if I smoke a little, I’m good.”
Jocelyn and I exchange glances that bemoan his immaturity.
“There’s actually research on this,” Rae states. “In an asthma attack, your airways constrict and swell. But cannabis is an anti-inflammatory drug. It expands the airways, just like an inhaler, but without all the side effects.” She turns to Kai. “You should use a vaporizer, though. It’s easier on your lungs long-term.”
My mouth drops open. Is Rae honestly advocating medical marijuana to a seventeen-year-old boy? I could kill her right now.
Kai, however, appears ready to adopt her as his new best friend.
“My mom got me a vaporizer,” he says. “It’s way better than my inhaler.” He grins at Rae. “Brayden said you’re really cool. You should come dive with us.”
The compliment/invitation does not include me. I am not cool. No one has made that mistake. Jocelyn and I are two of a kind: The straight-edge girls. The ones who stand around stone-cold sober at parties, the ones who never miss a deadline, the ones who don’t like to lose control.
Seeing her boyfriend get friendly with Rae, Jocelyn scrunches up her nose. “Wow, Kai, are you hitting on old ladies now? You really are turning into Brayden.”
He shrugs. “What’s wrong with being like Brayden?”
“Nothing, if you don’t want to accomplish anything in life.”
“I accomplish plenty of things.” Kai sounds weary, as if he knows this is an argument he cannot win.
“Like what? Smoking all the time?” For the first time, I hear a shade of neediness creep into Jocelyn’s voice. “I have the chance to beat a school record today, and you can’t even be bothered to come. Seriously, do you have any idea what I’ve been through lately? I just want you to be there.”
I can’t help but pity the girl. She’s played by the rules as they were taught to her, excelled in the areas she was told to excel in. But what good are all Jocelyn’s achievements if they impress no one, if, at the end of the day, she’s still standing solo?
“Sounds like you’re quite the talent, Jocelyn,” I say. “Good luck out there today.”
“I’m trying to qualify for an athletic scholarship,” she mumbles. “I guess my dad didn’t mention that to you.”
“He must have,” I lie. “I’m sure it slipped my mind.”
Jocelyn tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding my eyes. “Whatever.” She knows her father. She knows Victor is too wrapped up in his own affairs to discuss someone else’s.
“So your parents can’t make your meet today?” Rae asks. “That’s a tough break.”
“My mother never comes,” Jocelyn says. “The facilities are hard for her to get around.”
For the first time, I imagine what it might be like to have Sue as a mother, the practical day-to-day details of living with a disabled parent. Helping her reach items on high shelves. Scouting out the accessibility of each new store or restaurant. Needing elevators and ramps, never stairs. Traveling less because of the hassle, perhaps missing out on social events. After Sue’s accident, did the girls ever get to bring their mother to the beach? Accompany her on a walk in the woods?
“What about your dad?” Kai demands. “Why isn’t he coming?”
Jocelyn fiddles with her ponytail. “He can’t make it.”
Kai frowns. “You said he’d be there this time. What happened?”
“He had a . . . a community meeting to go to. In one of the subdivisions. A presentation on disaster preparedness or something.”
“He always has someplace to be, and it’s never with you.” Kai puts an arm around her, some kind of protective male instinct kicking in. “You work so hard to keep him happy. He should show up for you.”
“Yeah, well, so should you.” Jocelyn pulls away. “At least my dad has a legit reason. I mean, he’s advancing science and working for public safety. I think his job is a little more important than getting baked with Brayden.”
Kai’s softness quickly returns to frustration. “Why do you always get mad at me? I went to your meet last week. Your dad’s probably off with Naomi, and I’m the one catching flak just ’cause I want to check out some reefs?”
“He is not with Naomi.” Jocelyn’s words cast an icy chill in the air.
“No, of course not. He’s ‘working.’” Kai makes disdainful air quotes with his fingers. “He’s always working or training, never screwing Naomi. That’s some other guy, I’m sure. Raph’s mystery dad. Couldn’t possibly be the esteemed Victor Nakagawa.”
Jocelyn whirls on him, her hand raised as if to strike him, but catches herself. “You don’t talk about my family, asshole,” she says through gritted teeth. “You don’t talk about them ever.” She spins away from the three of us and takes off through the square, a rapid walk that turns into a jog when she sees Kai trying to follow her. “Leave me alone! I don’t want to talk to you! I wish I never met you!” Her hands fly blindly around her face, warding him off. A few curious students glance in her direction to assess whether or not this is a scene worth watching.
I nudge Rae. “Get Kai out of here. He’s only making it worse. I’ll deal with Jocelyn.”
Suddenly it doesn’t m
atter what happened to Lise, what older man she might’ve been involved with. All I care about is Jocelyn Nakagawa. I do not want this girl’s shitty little boyfriend to ruin her performance today. I do not want her unreliable father and her mother’s physical limitations to bring her down. This kid deserves her shot.
“Jocelyn!” I run to catch up with her as Rae gently steers Kai away. “Are you okay?”
Jocelyn doesn’t stop walking, but her hands are still clenched into angry balls. “I’m fine.”
“Kai shouldn’t have said that about Naomi. He was out of line.”
She shrugs, but I can see the shine in her dark eyes, the tears she will not allow to fall. “Everybody says it. Not to my father, not to my mother. But they say it to me. You have no idea how long I’ve been listening to this crap about Naomi Yoon. And it’s not even true.”
“No, of course not.” I wish I could believe her. “You live in a small town. People just like to gossip.” I duck out of the path of two jostling teenage boys.
“My dad and Naomi are not a thing,” Jocelyn says. “They never were.”
I don’t answer. She seems to be protesting a little hard for someone so convinced these are lies.
“My dad is just a nice guy, okay? He helps Naomi out because she needs it. Because her husband died and she doesn’t have a lot of money and her boys all have the brain of, like, a five-year-old.”
Even Elijah? I wonder. If that was her opinion of Elijah’s maturity, maybe Jocelyn encouraged her sister’s relationship with someone older.
“The Yoons are lucky to have your father’s help,” I say.
Jocelyn can sense I’m not sold on Victor’s innate goodness. “Every time my dad goes to help Naomi, he brings me or Lise,” she insists. “He’s not alone with her. If something were going on with them, Lise and I would’ve known about it.”
I am far from convinced of that. Victor’s training regimen offers him plenty of opportunities to slip away from his family, as evidenced by his surprise visit to Koa House this morning. And wasn’t he at Wakea Ranch, unaccompanied by his daughters, the night Lise went missing? The wrongness of what Jocelyn has just said is eclipsed by the weirdness, however. “Are you saying you and your sister chaperone his visits?”