by Sandy Barker
“I’ll drink to that!” We grinned at each other.
“It will be a well-deserved beer when we get to Hana,” he quipped.
“Or two.”
“Or three.”
Thunder cracked over our heads and we both looked skyward. “Where did those clouds come from?” I asked rhetorically.
“Be quick. It feels like it’s going to rain.” We went back to our piles of clothes and tried to hurry as we pulled them onto our still-wet bodies. When I got to my shoes, they didn’t want to cooperate.
“Damn it!” I said, just as I felt the first fat drop of water hit my head. I forced my feet into the shoes without bothering with my socks, which I stuffed into the back pocket of my shorts. More fat drops.
“Oh, bugger it,” I said, slinging the tank top around my neck. I shoved my phone in my front pocket and looked up to see that Josh was way ahead of me, having scaled the first three boulders. He got to the bottom of the biggest one—the one I’d scooched down—and waited for me. I followed as quickly as I could.
“Here, let me give you a boost.” He locked his hands together so I could use them as a foothold. I put my right foot into his hands and with his help, pulled myself up onto the boulder. I scraped my knee in the process, but I was up. More and more fat raindrops fell.
Josh followed me and by the time we got to the road, it was pelting down with rain. And we’d left the top down! Josh was first to the car, pulling the fob out of his pocket before he climbed in. He started the car and pressed the mechanism to close the roof. I was left out in the rain, because I was waiting to climb in on that side.
“Oh shit, sorry,” he said, realising. He got out of the car, just as the roof was settling into place and I climbed in and slid across to my side, promptly sitting in a pool of rainwater.
Great. Now I look like I shat myself and pissed myself.
When Josh got back in the car, I suddenly remembered the beach towels. “Oh crap, crap, crap.” I put my hand to my mouth.
He was trying to dry off the steering wheel with his hands. “What?”
“The towels,” I said, looking at him with wide eyes and a grimace.
Josh went back for them while I watched the rain cascade down the windscreen. They were sodden, and he put them straight into the boot. When he climbed into the driver’s seat and looked at me, he was completely saturated, drops of water falling from his nose and eyelashes.
We burst out laughing.
“It’s like that day on Naxos,” I said through my laughter, referring to a day out on our sailing trip.
“Oh, my god, yes.” We’d been riding scooters up in the hills of Naxos on our way to lunch—me on the back of Josh’s scooter—and we got stuck in a massive rainstorm. By the time we arrived at the café, all seven of us were completely wet through. The woman who owned the café, Martika, had given us towels to dry off and clean, dry shirts to put on. It was my favourite day of the trip.
Just then, as suddenly as it had started, the rained stopped. “Shall we chance it?” Josh asked, his finger hovering over the button to put the roof down again.
“Well, if we see any looming black clouds—or feel the first drops—if we’re in any danger whatsoever of getting rained on again,” I said dramatically, “we’ll know ahead of time, so I vote for yes.”
“And, the air and the sun will help dry us off.”
“And there’s that.”
*
The drive took several more hours, because we’d bookmarked a few more sights along the highway. And each time we stopped we left the roof up. Of course, it didn’t rain again.
We went to the best banana bread stand on the Hana Highway—according to TripAdvisor, that is—called “Aunty Linda’s Banana Bread”. I didn’t know who Aunty Linda was, but I agreed with the hundreds of other people who’d rated her banana bread as five-out-of-five.
Josh and I ate a slice each, sitting in the car, and then I went back to get two more for the road. It’s okay to eat two slices of banana bread for lunch when you’ve climbed over giant rocks, swum in freezing water, and got caught in a rainstorm—just so you know.
We also stopped at Black Sand Beach. Seriously, who came up with these names, the Committee of Half-Assing It? The beach was beautiful, though, and the sand really was black, as were the ubiquitous volcanic rocks. These contrasted against the brilliant blue of the water and the rich green of the foliage that cupped the cove. It was another stunning location on a stunning island.
We parked the car, slipped our shoes off, and locked up, both of us bringing our phones to take photos. Without any discussion, we wandered off in different directions.
I walked the length of shoreline where the waves met the sand, playing a game of tag with the water, and squealing in delight when it nearly caught me. At the far end of the beach, I turned and looked for Josh.
He was further away from the water, his eyes focused on the screen of his phone which he was holding up in front of him. I figured he was taking a photo and it looked like I was going to be in it, so I lifted my hand in a wave. He took the shot, waved back, then jogged over to me. “I’m running out of words to describe Maui,” he said, a little out of breath.
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”
“I think you’re gonna like that shot,” he said as we started walking back to the car.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, you look great in it.”
“Thanks. And how many have you taken without me knowing?” I teased. He laughed and shook his head.
In Greece, he’d taken some shots of me without my knowledge and when I discovered the photos, I’d thought it was a little stalker-ish. He’d been sheepish at the time—embarrassed that I’d caught him out—but they were terrific shots. One of them—me on the boat, my face tipped to the sun—ended up being my favourite photo from the whole trip.
“Only a couple. You look great in those too.”
“Uh-huh.” He laughed again.
Back at the car, we did our best to brush the black sand from our feet before climbing in, but it was that sticky kind of sand that wants to go home with you. The rental car place was going to love us when we returned the car.
I only realised later, as we drove to our next destination, that there was something quite special about our excursion to the beach. We were there together, but independently, and both seemingly happy with that dynamic—more like a couple than two people in a vacationship. God, I hated that stupid word.
Our last stop before we got to our accommodation was actually a little way past Hana. Josh had read about a general store, Hasegawa’s, that, apparently, we could not miss. It sounded cool, so I was more than happy for the detour, even just to see what they had.
Well, they had everything.
The building itself looked like it would crumble to the ground at any moment. Some of the uprights leant, the tin roof was rusted—just like in that B-52s song from the 90s—and it looked like it would barely withstand the rain we’d encountered earlier. The inside was even more precarious, with shelving units that looked more like the Leaning Tower of Pisa than shop shelves, and goods piled up everywhere.
“Okay,” said Josh. “There’s a place like this in the small town where my grandpa lives and when we go there, we play this game. Here.” He handed me a shopping basket. “You choose the five weirdest things you can find—they should be really different from each other—and then we meet back here in five minutes. The one with the best basket wins.”
The teacher inside me wanted to know more. Who gets to decide who wins if we’re both competing? Do we have to buy what’s in our basket? What if we choose the same thing—is it null and void? But I had no time to ask these questions, because Josh said, “Starting now,” and disappeared down an aisle.
Crap! I told my inner teacher to shut up. I had to win this challenge! Josh was practised, but I had beginner’s luck and a lifetime of shopping experience on my side. I went the opposite direction to Josh, dozens of weird things c
atching my eye.
I half-ran from aisle to aisle, only meeting up with Josh twice. Both times I shielded my picks with my arms, and we eyed each other like the adversaries we were. A few times I found something better than an item already in my basket, so I abandoned the lesser one on the nearest shelf.
“Time!” I heard Josh call from the other side of the store.
“Coming!” I called back. Several people turned at the sound of my voice. It was only then that I realised there were other people in the shop. We probably seemed like a pair of oddballs—not that I cared.
We met somewhere close to the middle, both trying to peer into each other’s baskets, curiosity trumping fair play. Josh hid his basket behind his back, and I did the same. “Okay, so I’ll take you through mine first. Then we’ll see what you’ve got and then we’ll decide the winner.” Schoolteacher Sarah, the one with all the questions, bit her lip and nodded.
“Here we go.” He held up each item as he named it. “Ping pong paddle.” I nodded. I had one in my basket too, but I didn’t say anything. “Orange food colouring.” Yep, definitely gets a point for that. “Fishing lure.” And another. “Cheese in a can.” Geez, America. Good pick, though—another point.
Then he paused. “And the piece de resistance”—I ignored his mangled French—“and this is totally going to win the game for me—ta da!” He held up a package of floppy discs. Yes, actual floppy discs.
“Seriously? How am I supposed to beat that? It’s like you caught the Golden Snitch.”
“Your turn,” he said, grinning at me.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve already won, but okay.” I held up the ping pong paddle first, saying nothing, and the look on his face indicated that we cancelled each other out. Then I held up item two and said, “Box of caps for a cap gun, but I couldn’t find a cap gun.”
“Nice.”
I held up the third item. “Bread in a can.”
“What? Is that even a thing?”
“I’m going with, yes, it is. Number four, lime-green nail polish.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s awful.”
“And lastly, this.” I held up a magazine in silver wrapping. “Porn.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, my god, that is awesome. You totally win.” I was so excited, I actually jumped up and down. “Come here,” he said, leaning in for a quick kiss. “You’re the best novice I’ve ever played this game with.”
I took a little bow. He looked around. “Now, is there actually anything you want from here?”
“Well, how about we eat in tonight? I know we said we’d go out, but we can get some antipasto stuff and a bottle of wine. What do you think?”
“Yeah, sure, that sounds good.” He held up the cheese in a can. “Does this count as antipasto?”
“Uh, no. That’s more like antifoodo.” He groaned at my play on words. “What? That was funny,” I said in my defence.
“It really wasn’t.”
I poked my tongue out at him. “You get the food. I’ll get the wine.” I figured I probably had a better idea of what might be a decent bottle, but I didn’t say that.
Josh went off to get us our antipasto dinner, and I searched through the small selection of wine. In the end, I chose a rosé by a local winery, Maui Wine. We met up by the checkout, and when it came time to pay and I pulled out my wallet, he waved me away. “Loser buys.”
“Did you just make that up?”
“Kinda.” I let him pay.
As we drove away from the shop, I leant back in my seat. I had stained my shorts and scraped my knee, my feet were still blackish from the beach, and my hair had dried from the rain into a fluffy mess—but I couldn’t have been more content. It had been a brilliant day.
We were back!
Chapter 15
That night, Josh suggested that we get up early the next morning for the sunrise. I thought it was a brilliant idea, especially because the sun wouldn’t rise until 7:00am and we could have a bit of a sleep-in. We were staying right on the beach, so we climbed out of bed just before seven. I slipped on my flip-flops, figuring my nightie looked enough like a summer dress to pass any scrutiny. Josh pulled on his shorts and left the room shirtless. I approved.
Forgetting my bed hair and morning breath, I followed him onto the sand. There were a few others on the beach too—another couple, a woman wading in the shallows, and a man with his dog. It wasn’t as pretty as other beaches we’d seen, but a sunrise over the ocean is always something special and this was no exception. Josh reached into his pocket for his phone and took a series of shots.
When he showed me later over a mediocre breakfast at a local café, I was blown away.
“You really have an amazing eye, Josh. These are incredible.”
“Thanks.” I could tell he was a little shy about the compliment. He reached for his phone and I handed it to him. “And, I wanted to show you this.”
He scrolled, then handed it back to me. It was the photo he’d taken the day before at Black Sand Beach, the one of me waving. I looked blissful and carefree; it was beautiful.
“I love it.” I looked up and we shared a smile.
“It’s automatically saved to Google pics—all my photos are—but I’ll create a folder I can share with you. Then you can add your photos too, if you like.” Wow, we were going to share an online photo folder. I guess you could say that things were getting pretty serious. “Or I could just put them on Facebook and tag you.”
Uh oh.
Josh had sent me a friend request on Facebook right after our trip to Greece—actually, even before I’d landed back in London. I’d accepted it, just like I’d accepted requests from Duncan, Marie, and Hannah. At the time, it hadn’t occurred to me that it could be a problem, but then I made plans to see James, and I got worried. I didn’t want them to cross paths online, especially as I wasn’t the only connection between them—there was Duncan too.
But it turned out that James wasn’t even on Facebook. So, I didn’t have to worry about them seeing each other’s interactions with me, or dread that they’d get friend recommendations for each other. Can you even imagine? Cringey.
Still, not even my parents knew about Josh. They thought I was travelling with girlfriends, and most of my friends thought I was travelling alone. All the lies meant that I didn’t want any photographic evidence of our trip on social media—at least, not until I knew what Josh and I were to each other—if we were going to be together. And not just in a vacationship.
“Uh, the Google folder thing sounds good. I don’t really like being tagged in Facebook pics.” Well, at least that was true.
He didn’t seem to catch on that I was actively dodging bullets. “Sure, no problem,” he replied.
“So,” I said, deftly changing the subject. “The hike today. How long do you think it will take?”
“Looks like a couple of hours.”
“Round trip?”
“I think so.”
Oh, good,” I replied. “That will give us enough time to get back, get clean, and rest up a bit before the party.”
“And what time are we expected there?”
“We’re leaving the resort at nine.”
He nodded. “Did Siobhan tell us what we should bring?”
“She said just a bottle of spirits. They’ll have mixers and snacks and stuff.”
He made his “that seems cool” face. “We can pick up some vodka or rum or something on the way back.”
“Good plan. Okay, let’s get the bill, then get hiking!” I was really looking forward to the hike. Waimoku Falls was supposed to be incredible. When the bill arrived, I snatched it up before he could, and he graciously let me pay it—finally.
*
So, it turned out that the two-hour-return hike was closer to two hours one way.
We left the café and drove straight to Seven Sacred Pools, which was where we would park the car while we hiked. It was also an impressive natural wonder, and I was glad we took the time
to see it.
It was a series of volcanic rock pools—seven, if you hadn’t guessed—with waterfalls cascading between them, forming a chain all the way to the ocean. But even though it was an incredible place, we only stayed long enough to see it and take some photos. Two busloads of tourists arrived just after us and dodging tour groups is far less fun than hiking.
The hiking trail started across the highway and headed away from the coast. It was around 9:00am when we started and although the morning was reasonably cool, the hike was uphill the whole way. I knew my bum would probably thank me later—great workout, woo hoo—but it was hating me for most of the climb.
After more than an hour of hiking and no waterfall, I dared to say something. “Uh, Josh?”
“Mm-hmm?”
I thought the best tactic was humour, so I went with, “Are we there yet?”
He threw me a look over his shoulder, a half-smile, half-grimace, then stopped walking and pulled out his phone. “I’ll check the map.” He scrolled and tapped the screen, looking more and more frustrated. “Damn it, no data—and apparently the stupid map didn’t cache.” He frowned at it, as if willing it to tell him something different.
We’re completely lost, I thought. That may have been a little dramatic, especially as I knew we were still on the trail, because we’d passed a trail marker only minutes before. I started chewing on my thumbnail, while Josh put his phone away, scowling.
Just then, a young couple appeared from around a bend on the trail ahead of us. “Hiya,” I called out. They slowed their pace as they approached. “Just wondering how much further?”
A Californian accent replied, “You’re about halfway, but it’s totally worth it. Keep going.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at them as they passed us. I looked at Josh.
He shrugged. “I’m game,” he said. “They said it’s worth it.” He pulled a bottle of water out of his backpack, took a swig, then handed it to me.
I nodded a quick, sharp nod, determined to finish the hike. “Less time to chill out when we get back to the resort, but I vote we keep going. Go on ahead; I’ll follow.” I took a drink from the bottle and handed it back to him. He put it away, slung the backpack on his back, and headed off. It was starting to warm up.