by Piper Lennox
I stare back until I can force another nod. She’s right. And here’s the proof, right in front of me—the fact that I don’t want to believe what she’s saying, but know I have to. Because now, I’ve seen it for myself.
“It’s ridiculous to get upset about him, anyway,” I mumble. “We just met.” Tanya tightens the braid, a move that normally makes me flinch hard enough to reach behind my back and hit her. I barely feel it this time.
Through our window, the moon trickles into view. I watch the waves catch the light and remember the night we met. It feels like so long ago. All of it does. Especially now that it’s over.
“Listen.” Tanya takes a breath; she’s about to say something I don’t want, but probably need, to hear. “You know I’m the first to tell you when you’re being ridiculous. Especially with guys. Like, when you were heavy? Yeah, you could get a little clingy and insecure.”
“This isn’t exactly a pep talk.”
“But,” she adds, ignoring me, “that had nothing to do with you being heavy. It was your mindset.”
“I know, I know. I changed my body, but I didn’t change my head. So you’re saying I got clingy with Kai, just like I did with Damian. I caught feelings. Which is, like, the cardinal sin of summer flings.”
“It is. But that’s not what I was going to say.” At last, the braid is completed. Tanya pulls the hair tie off her wrist with her teeth, secures the bottom, and sets to work tearing hair from the brush. “I was going to say, for what it’s worth? I thought you and Kai had a real connection. I could tell it wasn’t just you—he liked you, too.”
“Yeah?”
“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”
“But...come on, Tan. Four days.”
“Who cares? You liked Damian for four years, and you got to know him less in that time than you did Kai in half a week.” She catches herself. “Not that any of this will make you feel better.”
I pick at the nail polish on my pinky toe, fading and chipped from seawater. “It does, kind of. At least I know I didn’t make the same mistake twice.” I scoff. “Except…I did. I got a crush on a guy I can’t possibly have.”
Tanya hugs me from behind. “I’m sorry, Moll.”
We skip dinner with Carrie and Macy, ordering room service instead. Everything tastes like cardboard to me. We put on a movie, but I’m so distracted I can’t follow it. I stare into my chocolate parfait, the surface totally smooth like a jar of new peanut butter.
“If it helps,” she says, noticing my distraction, “it sounds like he didn’t want to end things—just that he felt like he had to. Like it was the only option, but not what he really wanted.”
“I know. That’s the worst part.” I push my spoon down until it hits the bottom of the cup. When I pull it out, I’ve left a big, ugly gash, right in the center of this dessert someone probably fussed over for ages.
That’s paradise, for you. Everything is perfect, until you dare to dig deeper.
Kai
When I get home, Mom takes one look at me and sighs. “What happened?”
I decide not to tell her about Mollie, deflecting to the only other thing that’s been on my mind all day.
“Which version do you want to hear?” I toss my keys onto the table and sit, while she finishes chopping something by the stove. “The little fantasy you gave me of Dad ‘surprising me’ with complete understanding? Or the true one, where I almost gave him another stroke?”
Mom offers a pitying smile as I exhale and put my head on the table. “Let’s start with the true version.”
I turn my face, pressing it to the cool wood. “He lost his mind. Started screaming at me about how I don’t appreciate what he’s done, all the hard work he’s put in...it was a disaster. And then he made me leave. He wouldn’t even discuss it with me.”
“Give it time.” She wipes her hands on a dishtowel and pulls out the chair beside mine, sitting. “At least he knows the truth now. That’s what’s important.”
“Sure.”
Her hand smells like tomatoes and rosemary as she pats my head. “When he sees how well Luka’s been handling things, he’ll calm down. You’ll see.”
“No, he won’t.” I sit back up and sigh again, this time at the dusty air vent in the corner. “But it doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m just going to do it.”
“Do what?”
“Take over. It’s what he wants.”
Mom tilts her head. “What about what you want?”
“I just want Dad to be okay. And none of this would have even happened if....” I pause. The lump that rises in my throat surprises me, as if suddenly, after two years without letting myself cry, the gates are officially open. “...if Noe hadn’t died.”
Her expression pinches at his name, but only for a second. “You have to forgive yourself eventually, you know.” Her hand closes over mine. “It was an accident. And the only person who blames you is yourself.”
“And Dad,” I correct, but Mom shakes her head. She almost seems angry.
“That isn’t true. Your dad has never blamed you. Not once.”
“Maybe not out loud.”
“Kai.” She puts her hand on my chin, making me look at her. “He knows it was an accident, and he knows it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just...happened. Even if he acted like he blamed you at first, I know he didn’t. He’s accepted it for what it is.”
“Right. That’s why he cleared out everything Noe owned in a matter of weeks.” I stand, my chair squealing on the linoleum. “That’s why he hasn’t said his name more than a couple times in two years.”
Mom stares at me, silent. She looks like she wants to cry, which makes me feel like shit.
Then she stands, too. She grabs the keys to the truck and nods for me to get her purse off the counter. “Let me show you something.”
“Dad doesn’t want to talk to me, Mom. Especially about this.”
“We aren’t going to the hospital.” She breezes out to the truck while I lock the kitchen door. “Get in.”
We spend twenty minutes driving. Mom sings along to Bon Jovi and mutters directions to herself. I, meanwhile, look around like I’m lost, even though I’ve been down these roads a million times before. What could she possibly show me that I haven’t already seen?
“Here it is,” she chirps, relieved, turning into a storage facility’s lot.
“What are we doing here?”
“232,” she says. Her palm is cool as it presses a key into mine. “Second floor.”
My footsteps echo through the hall. The outer wall is nothing but windows; I can see Mom in the truck, waiting. She’s not singing to the radio anymore.
I find the unit and bend down to unlock it. The door feels like it weighs 200 pounds as I grip the handle and pull.
A veritable wall of boxes greets me. Everything smells like a basement.
There’s a weird chill as I step into the unit and look around. None of the boxes are labeled; most have our old hotel logo on them, or the names of our wine suppliers. I find one that’s not taped shut, the flaps folded into each other instead, and open it.
It’s a bunch of surfing trophies.
I pick one up, even though I know who it belongs to. None of Luka’s or my trophies were ever this big.
My hands shake as I open another box, then another. Clothes, books, photos. Clay mugs from Father’s Days as kids. Old baseball gear bags, the bats clinking together like giant chimes.
The mounts to his longboard. His rash guards. The newspapers announcing his death, in splashes of headlines and the quiet, tiny obituary. His business class textbooks and binders of notes, his handwriting so jarring to see but so close to my memory, I feel like I could touch it and find the ink still wet.
I close up the boxes and stand there. By the time I realize I’m crying, the tears are all the way to my collar.
It’s a long time before I can make myself move, close up the unit, and head back down. My legs feel like they’ll buckle on the stairs
, but I make it.
“We talk about Noe a lot,” Mom says, when I climb in and give her the key. “And sometimes he comes out here, just to look through things. You know, to remember.”
“Why did you show me this?” I ask. My voice cracks.
“Because,” she says, taking a deep breath, “you have no idea how people grieve behind closed doors.” She looks at me, the force of her gaze making me look back. “The way they act or the words they say—or don’t say—don’t tell you what’s really going on, or what they’re really feeling.”
“So he doesn’t blame me?”
“No. And if he knew you thought he did,” she says gently, reaching out to wipe my face, catching a spot of water I somehow missed, “he would do anything to change that.”
I open my mouth to contest this. It’s instinctive—what I’ve always known and done. But nothing comes out.
“Things happen that we don’t expect. Just because you react one way, at first...doesn’t mean that’s how you really feel.” She lets her hand slip from my face, shifting the car into reverse and backing out. “Your dad got rid of Noe’s stuff because he thought it would be easier to move on, but that doesn’t mean he forgot about him.” She shifts into first gear, glancing at me. “And he yelled at you this morning because you blindsided him. But that doesn’t mean he won’t accept your decision.”
I shake my head. It’s not that I don’t think she’s right. After seeing Dad’s giant time capsule of Noe, I’m willing to admit that anything’s possible.
It’s just that I just can’t picture it: Dad smiling at me, telling me of course I can give up the business. Of course Luka is the better choice. Of course he just wants me to be happy.
“You don’t have to believe me,” she says. The gears grind as she turns onto the road, heading home. “You’ll see it for yourself, one of these days.”
Mollie
“You can’t leave early.”
I look up from my suitcase. Tanya holds handfuls of my stuff she pulled out when my back was turned, as if keeping my cardigan and after-sun lotion hostage will make me stay.
To prove this, I zip the bag up, anyway. “You know I have to.”
“Okay,” she sighs, throwing my stuff down on the couch, “you can, but what I mean is, you shouldn’t. You’re wasting a ton of money. You paid for two more days here, and we’ve got that snorkeling thing on the last day. And the only reason I booked the extra night was because you were flying back with me, so I’ll be all alone—”
“I know that, and I’m really sorry. But I’ve already changed the flight.” I drag my suitcase to the suite’s door. “It’s done.”
Her jaw shifts as she picks at some lint on her dress. “Guess you’ll have uninterrupted time to pack your half of the apartment, at least.”
Finally, I get it: this isn’t about me wasting money or vacation days, or even her having to fly home alone twelve hours after the rest of our group. It’s our last bit of time together before I move out, bound for my parents’ guesthouse.
“Tan,” I say quietly, sitting beside her, “I want to spend time with you. That was the whole point of this trip, the only reason I even agreed to go, and I’m sorry I spent it caught up in Damian’s drama and....”
“Drowning?”
I laugh, slapping her arm. “I was going to say ‘messing around with Kai,’ but, yeah. That too.”
“It’s okay,” she says, calmer now. “I got to hang out with you plenty, and let’s be real—it’s not like I haven’t ditched you for guys, before.”
This, I have to admit, is true.
“Honestly, I think it’s just hard to face the fact we won’t be living together soon. That college is over at all, really.”
“I thought I was the only one dreading it. Everyone else seemed excited and so sure of what they were doing next.”
“No. We’re all equally terrified.”
We laugh again. Tanya stretches out her legs and lies back, her head in my lap, closing her eyes while I braid the front section of her hair. I’m not as good as her, but I am much gentler. “At least you’ve got a job lined up,” I remind her.
“I’m a glorified assistant, Moll. I’ll be fetching coffee for real journalists for, like, a year before I even get my first story.” She opens her eyes, looking at me upside-down. “Even people who landed something great, like Damian? They feel lost, too. They just aren’t admitting it.”
“Not sure I believe that, but thanks, anyway. It makes me feel better.”
She winks. “Any time.”
We comb the suite together, looking for items I left behind. Tanya helps me wedge the stuff she stole from me back into my suitcase.
Finally, there’s nothing left but the goodbye.
“This is ridiculous.” Her sniff echoes against my eardrum. “I mean, I’m visiting you in August.”
“And I’ll see you for your birthday,” I add, as the tears hit my eyes. At the same time, we tighten our arms around the other.
When we pull apart, she fans her face and inhales some composure. “Okay, I’ve got to get out of here before I cry all my makeup off. Do you want me to go with you to the airport?”
I do, but there’s no reason to drag out the goodbye. I’m starting to appreciate that whole get-it-over-with approach more and more.
“Thanks, but I’d rather be by myself, anyway. Time to think.” I hug her again.
“Love you,” she whispers.
“Love you, too.” We pull away sooner this time, like that can tame the waterworks. It doesn’t.
Not for the first time, I feel guilty for leaving early. But I know I have to.
Twenty-Four
Kai
Last night, I had a dream about Noe.
We were on the ocean, straddling our boards and waiting for a wave, but the water was flat all the way to the horizon.
I told him we should head in and get some food, but he shushed me. “It’ll be worth the wait,” he assured me. “You’ll see.
Suddenly, it was night; the sun blinked out and there was the moon, bright and huge above us. I turned to ask Noe how he did it, but he was gone.
In his place was Luka. He looked confused when I asked where he came from. “I’ve been here the whole time.”
When I woke, I wasn’t sure how to feel. For some reason, though, I got up, checked the surf report, and snuck down the hall to Luka’s room.
He fell asleep in his clothes, a dress shirt and pants I’d never seen before. Even his tie was still knotted.
“Hey, Luk,” I whispered, shaking his shoulder. He swatted at me. I shook him again, then punched his arm.
“Stop, dude, I’m awake! God.” Groggy, he sat up and rubbed his palms into his eyes. “What do you want?”
I threw my spare rash guard at him. “Let’s go.”
The sunrise was a blaze of pink and white as we paddled out. We caught a good one right away, but it closed out quick and took us under.
“I can’t remember the last time we went surfing together,” Luka laughed, spitting water as he paddled back to me.
“Well, you never surf anymore. It’s been, like, two years since I even saw you pick up your board.” Worrying I hit a nerve, I added, “I mean, I get it. Dad hasn’t surfed since Noe died, either.”
Luka looked at me like I was speaking another language. “I didn’t quit surfing because it reminded me of Noe,” he said. “At first, yeah, it was because of that, but the main reason was because…” He trailed and shrugged. “…you stopped asking me to go with you.”
An ache formed in my chest. “I did?”
His fingers traced the design on his board, water beaded across the surface. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is, though.” I put my hand in the water and pushed myself closer. “Luk, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.... I mean, I never saw you go out on your own, so I guess I figured you didn’t want to go at all.”
“It was too hard to go by myself.” He shrugged again, his
hair dripping in front of his face. “After a while, it felt too late.”
I thought about what Mom said yesterday: “Just because you react one way, at first...doesn’t mean that’s how you really feel.”
“I really am sorry, man.”
“It’s okay.” He skimmed some water at my face. “Better late than never.”
I splashed him back. We caught another barrel, this one open and stretching on for what seemed like miles. I even let him get ahead of me, at the end.
Now, hours later, we’re still out here. My muscles ache; it’s been a while since I spent this much time on the water, but I’m still not ready to leave.
“I should go,” Luka says, checking his watch just as I think this. “I’ve got a meeting at ten.”
While we paddle towards shore, I cut my eyes at him. I still see my kid brother, class clown, pain in the ass. But then, layered over that, I see more. Go-getter, future CEO-type, that boundless energy that always got him into trouble now channeled into something so different. It’s weird, the way all these things fit together. They shouldn’t, but looking at Luka, somehow, they do.
“Did Mom tell you I talked to Dad yesterday?”
“Yeah. She said he didn’t take it well. Which I assume means he totally lost his shit.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that’s about right.”
“She, uh...also mentioned you were changing your mind. About taking over.”
I let my silence confirm this.
“I’m doing really well, man. I think when Dad sees that, in person, he’ll be okay with it.”
“I know you’re doing well. Trust me, it’s not like I want to take over.”
“Then why would you consider it?”
I focus on the warmth of the water as I paddle. Because I feel guilty.
Bottom line, that’s it. Mollie was right. Mom was right. Everyone seems to know it, including me. I just don’t see any way out of it. Even learning that Dad doesn’t blame me hasn’t absolved it.
“You know what I love most about the resort?” he asks.