Sure enough, there she was on screen, situated dead center with the island affectionately known as Chinaman's Hat floating atop her head in the background. "Well done! Alright, your turn."
"Naw, naw, naw," Dyson said, waving a hand in front of himself. "I'm always the guy with the camera, which means I don't have to be in the pictures."
"Wait, seriously?" Mahana asked, stopping and looking up at him. "Not even one?"
"Before I go, there will be at least one, but only if you're in it with me," Dyson bargained.
"Deal!" Mahana said, jogging forward and taking his arm, pulling him towards the car. "Come on! It's already mid-afternoon and we've got a lot to see yet."
Exiting from Chinaman's Hat, Mahana pulled off to the side of the road, pointing to a large sprawl of red and white buildings in front of them. "Admittedly, seeing everything will be a lot easier today, as it is Christmas and most things are closed. Across the road here we have the Kua'loa Ranch, which is pretty cool, even if it is a bit touristy."
"Ranch? As in cows and horses?"
"Somewhat," Mahana replied, "though these days they're more known for all the TV and movies that film there. Lost, Hawaii Five-O, Jurassic Park, 50 First Dates, Pearl Harbor, Godzilla, tons of them. You can tour all the old film locations, take ATV's up into the jungle and stuff."
"Sounds fun."
"It is," Mahana confirmed, nosing the car north towards the far corner of the island. Just a short distance up the road they passed the enormous Polynesian Cultural Center, complete with rows of ornate tiki carvings and thatched roof buildings. Soon thereafter they cruised past one of the first Mormon temples ever built and the famed Hukilau Café.
With each item that slid by, Mahana launched into a full background of the site, her knowledge as a lifelong resident of Oahu evident. For each one Dyson listened and craned his neck to see, the structures sitting silent and empty.
Outside the sun continued to edge towards the horizon, mid-afternoon nudging towards late-afternoon. As the angle of the sun continued to shift, the light it cast moved along the water, illuminating it bright gold and sending thousands of slivers of light dancing into the sky.
"You getting hungry yet?" Mahana asked.
"Always," Dyson said, bringing himself back around from the window. "What are you thinking?"
A mischievous grin spread across Mahana's face as she asked, "How are you with spicy food?"
"Never had any problems with it. Why?"
Chuckling, Mahana jerked the car off the road and slid to a stop in front of a white truck permanently parked on a concrete slab. The entirety of it was covered in graffiti as a small crowd milled about outside, a steady plume of steam rising from the vents cut into the roof.
Rifling through her glove compartment, Mahana pulled out a Sharpie marker and gripped it in her hand. "You ready?"
"I guess?"
Mahana bounced from the car and went straight to the front counter, ordering for the both of them. A moment later she circled back around to Dyson, leading him to the backside of the truck.
"This is Giovanni's Shrimp Truck, one of the most famous food trucks on the planet," Mahana explained. "And part of the reason for that is everyone that comes here signs the truck."
Dyson's eyes swung over the entirety of the automobile, taking in the vast array of signatures upon it. Many were of the simple name and date variety, though some bore large and intricate designs. "There must be thousands on here."
"At least," Mahana said. "Man vs. Food has been here, I think the Diner's Drive-Ins & Dives guy stopped by. Everybody."
"And how many times have you signed it?" Dyson asked.
"Just once," Mahana said. "Very first time I came here years ago. I've tried finding it since, but I'm pretty sure the weather washed it away."
"Well I do believe it's time for a refresher," Dyson said, already looking for the best spot to sign.
"And will you at least join me for this?" Mahana asked.
"Sure will," Dyson said, his eyes resting on the Giovanni's logo just above the driver's door. Taking the marker from Mahana, he stretched high and signed to the right of the logo, listing his name and the date in bold letters.
Not to be outdone, Mahana hooked a foot onto the front tire and hoisted herself up, signing on the opposite side of the logo so their signatures encased it. Hopping down she bounced to Dyson's side, who hooked an arm over her shoulder as they stood admiring their handiwork.
On the opposite side of the truck their number was called, sending Mahana running to retrieve it. A moment later Dyson circled around to find her holding a plate in either hand, a devious smile on her face.
Following her to a table, Dyson sat across from her staring down at the plates of food. On either one was two perfect balls of white rice, accompanied by a dozen jumbo shrimp bathed in a rich sauce liberally seasoned with red pepper flakes.
"Um, what the heck is that?" Dyson asked, eyeing the food.
"It's heaven is what it is.”
Leaning forward, Dyson took a deep whiff of the food, rocking back as his eyes began to water and he started to cough.
Across from him Mahana laughed, clasping her hands in front of her. "Oh this is going to be fun."
"Uh-huh. Just remember, if I can't feel my lips after this, it only hurts you."
Making a face, Mahana grabbed her first shrimp and took it down whole. "Mmm..."
Doing his best to save face, Dyson followed suit. Within seconds, his nose started to run and sweat dotted his forehead. "Mmm," he managed to force out.
Mahana's entire body quivered as she tried to stifle her laughter, already on to her fourth shrimp across from him. "You don't like them?"
"No," Dyson said, mopping his face with a napkin, "I love them. I just wish they weren't so damn hot!"
Unable to hold back any longer, Mahana spat out a laugh, rolling back in her chair as she watched him rub moisture from the corners of his eyes. "Such a haole..."
Chapter Forty-Four
The sand was a little grainier than at Ala Moana. Coarser, darker, with bits of black and gray coral mixed in. Dyson could feel the difference against the soles of his feet, sinking in to his ankles with every step.
"How's your face?" Mahana asked, walking along beside him, sandals in one hand, a small plastic sack in the other.
"I'm very much aware of it at the moment, that's for sure," Dyson said. "So where are we right now?"
Lifting her sandals towards the sun beginning its steady fall towards the horizon, she said, "Since it's already starting to get late, we skipped Sunset Beach."
"Isn't that supposed to be the one to see?"
"Yeah, if you're a tourist," Mahana said, giving him a look that relayed she couldn't believe he was questioning her. "But it's small, and except for the big waves there really isn't much to see."
"Got it. My apologies."
"This is Waimea Bay. It's the middle of the big three that comprise the North Shore. Sunset, Waimea, and up the road is Haleiwa."
"But this is the one to see?"
"I think so," Mahana confirmed. "All three have great waves and offer phenomenal surfing, but this is far and away the prettiest. I mean, just look at it."
Dyson swept his eyes along the horizon.
The bay was carved from a small inlet along the shoreline, framed by rock cliffs on either side. Behind them, lush green sea cliffs jutted up hundreds of feet, isolating the cove in both directions.
Waves battered the cliffs, sending plumes of white spray high into the air. Between them, perfect sets rolled in quick secession, dropping eight foot curves one after another. The angle of the bay faced to the northwest, framing the sun as it slipped down, casting an orange and pink hue over everything.
"No argument here," Dyson agreed.
Mahana led him out to the edge of a high bank in the sand, overlooking the beach as it descended to the water. Below them handfuls of youths bodysurfed along the shore and a few brave souls tried their hand at th
e waves a little further out.
"In the summer time, this entire beach will be at this level and those cliffs will be covered with people cliff diving," Mahana said, holding a hand at shoulder level and extending it around her in an arc. "But in the winter, the waves pound the shore so hard it literally washes out the beach."
"I bet," Dyson said, watching the waves crash against the cliffs on the opposite side of the bay.
"Oh no, these are nothing," Mahana said, dropping the sack and her sandals into the sand and taking a seat beside them. "It's not uncommon to see fifteen footers roll in for days on end all winter long here."
Dyson joined her in the sand, propping his feet out in front of him and resting his forearms across his knees. The late afternoon sun stretched across him as he stared out over the water, watching the children splash about.
Beside him Mahana rustled through the sack, coming out with two plastic containers and two white plastic forks. She extended one to Dyson and said, "Guaranteed to put out any fire the North Shore can offer."
Turning his head towards her, Dyson accepted the container and read the label carefully.
"Chocolate Haupia Pie. I was wondering what you were keeping a secret in that bag over there."
"You ever had Haupia?" Mahana asked, cracking open her container to reveal a generous sliver of pie within.
"Never even heard of it," Dyson admitted. "Should have I?"
"Yes," Mahana said, taking the corner off with her fork and laying it across her tongue. "But at the same time, at least that means I get to be here to see you take your first bite."
"That it does," Dyson said, tearing the end from his own slice and forking it into his mouth. A wonderful rich flavor spread through him, a cool and creamy rush that evaporated any aftertaste from the shrimp. "Dear lord, what is this? Is tastes like a chocolate cream pie on steroids."
Chuckling again, Mahana finished the bite she was working on and said, "Ted's Bakery, home of the world's best haupia, which is sort of a coconut custard. They make all kinds of haupia pies, pumpkin, blueberry, but for my money chocolate is the way to go."
"Agreed," Dyson said, throwing inhibitions to the wind as he finished the pie in four quick bites, tearing through it with reckless abandon. Beside him Mahana did the same, finishing almost as fast as he did and stuffing both their containers into the sack.
Leaning back, Dyson stretched his legs out straight in front of him and pressed his palms into the sand. A look of contentment settled on his face, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular.
Mahana watched him for a moment, before leaning back and matching his pose. She pulled her sunglasses from her face and tossed them atop her sandals, closing her eyes and letting the sun warm her face. "The ocean has a way of doing that, doesn't it?"
"What?" Dyson asked, never moving his eyes from the waves.
"Just putting you at ease. Pushing everything away from our mind and letting you focus on nothing."
Smiling, Dyson tilted his head to the side and said, "Yes, it does, but that's actually not what I was doing."
"So what were you doing?"
"Just thinking."
"Care to share?"
Dyson sighed. "I've been here almost a week and it feels like I just landed."
"I bet," Mahana said. "You've been on quite a roller coaster. Good trip?"
Dyson pondered the question for a moment, nodding his head up and down. "Yeah, it has been. Don't get me wrong, I could have done without getting my car broken into, my head smashed with a rock or having to deal with Snowman.
"At the same time you've shown me some amazing things and I've encountered some incredible people. People that went out of their way, even when they didn't have to."
Twisting her chin towards him, Mahana cocked her head and said, "Like who?"
"Pretty much everybody outside of the obvious I just mentioned. You, Connie, Rider, Ola, the boys. China and his crew at the beach. Loretta up at Kaena Point. Even Willaby, the old guy who talked my ear off on the way out here giving me suggestions on the best ways to enjoy the islands."
Mahana smiled, but said nothing.
The two remained stationary in the sand for several long minutes, both of them watching the sun dip beneath the horizon, each moment casting a new assortment of colors across the water. When at last it was nothing more than a small puff of orange light on the horizon, Mahana scooted over in the sand and leaned in close against him.
"The plan all day was to be back in time to go see the Christmas lights downtown as soon it got dark," Mahana whispered. "I do apologize, but I kind of feel like staying here with you instead."
Dyson lifted an arm and draped it around her, pulling her tight against him. "Don't apologize. I've seen Christmas lights before. I've never seen anything near as incredible as this."
Together they remained arm in arm, listening to the waves wash up on shore long after it was too dark to see them.
Chapter Forty-Five
Over the years, Dyson had prided himself on adhering to a pretty strict moral code. It started with his parents, who were both fairly buttoned-up people, and extended into everything he did. He rarely drank, and had never been drunk. Never smoked anything of any substance. Didn't sleep around and had never fallen asleep with someone and woken up alone.
Until this morning.
At half past seven Dyson found himself face down in an overstuffed pillow, the billowy sides of it curved up around his face. Blinking hard and breathing deep, he raised his head up and checked the bedside clock. Just as fast he dropped himself flat again, his face making a new indent in the pillow.
He lay that way for a few more minutes, his eyes closed but his mind awake as he registered the fact that he would be checking out that morning and still needed to pack.
Rolling to his back he extended an arm out to his side to reach for Mahana and pull her close, but found nothing but flat pillow beneath his fingertips. Opening his eyes again he looked across the empty expanse of bed beside him, raised his head from the pillow and did a quick scan of the room.
Nothing.
Raising himself to an elbow he checked to see if a light was on in the bathroom, finding the door open and darkness within. "Mahana?"
Getting no response he raised himself to a seated position and rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands. Pulling them away he blinked hard several times and looked around once more, noticing a pad positioned in the middle of the coffee table with a pen across it.
Making a face, he tossed the comforter off of himself and walked over, lifting the paper from the table and leaned himself back against the window sill to read it.
Dear Dyson,
I'm sorry for leaving without saying goodbye,
but you were sleeping so peacefully I didn't want to
wake you. I have a few things to take care of this
morning which won't take very long. Go ahead and
get packed up and meet me in the lobby at 10.
See you soon,
M
PS - No eating before then.
With a small smirk, Dyson dropped the letter back on the table and went straight for the shower, letting the hot water chew up over a half hour. Leaving his hair wet he turned on his laptop for the first time in days and pulled up the itinerary Janice sent him, jotting down the details on the bottom half of Mahana's note.
Slowly he went through the room, collecting all of his things and packing what he wouldn't need. To the side he laid out jeans and his coat for the trip later, pulling on a pair of khaki shorts and a maroon v-neck t-shirt for the time being.
Leaving everything piled on his bed, he went to the lobby at 9:30 hoping to talk to Connie awhile before he left, but instead found two women working he'd never seen before. Checking the clock hanging behind the front desk, he decided to remain in the lobby until Mahana arrived, grabbing a newspaper and settling into the sports section with his feet propped on a coffee table in front of him.
Oblivious
to the world around him he scoured through the news from the sporting world, filling himself in on all that transpired in the previous week. Three paragraphs into a story about his hometown Tennessee Titans a familiar voice asked from behind the paper, "Is this seat taken?"
The right side of Dyson's mouth twisted up as he lowered the top half of the paper to reveal Mahana standing there.
She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her long black hair hanging straight down to her shoulder with a hibiscus flower behind an ear. A form fitting spaghetti-strap sundress showed plenty of bronze skin and the skirt stopped right at her knees, revealing long toned calves.
Dyson's mouth dropped open an inch, the witty line in his head evaporating.
"Sorry I ran off this morning," Mahana said, rotating at the waist and smiling.
"Um, you are most definitely forgiven," Dyson said, casting the paper aside and rising to his feet.
"Yeah?"
Dyson moved within a foot of her before stopping, his hands clenched by his side. "Do you have any idea how hard it is not to kiss you right now in front of all your co-workers?"
Reaching out, Mahana took his hands in hers, pulling him close. "Ah, I think they already know anyway," she whispered, wrapping her hands behind his head and pulling him close.
Ignoring whoever might be watching, the pair embraced for several long seconds. When they released their hands found each others, their fingers interlocking as they headed towards the door.
"So where are we headed?" Dyson asked, stepping from the lobby into the morning sun, the day already warming up around them.
"You'll see," Mahana said, sliding herself behind the wheel.
"And you mentioned something about food?" Dyson pressed.
"You'll see," Mahana said, wagging a finger at him as a warning to calm his curiosity.
"Okay," Dyson said, resting his head back against the seat.
Whipping the car out onto Ala Moana, Mahana shot across two lanes of traffic and made a hard left turn, swinging wide into the beach park across the street.
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