I swallow a lump of poi and meet Paulo’s hopeful eyes. My heart squeezes. “I’m sorry, buddy. But I won’t be here then. I have to go home on Sunday.”
“Sunday? That’s in, like, two days!” He looks at Kai, then at his mom and dad, with distraught eyes.
Mrs. Kapule reaches over and touches his shoulder. “It’s okay, Paulo. Tegan will come back to visit again soon.”
Paulo turns his pleading eyes on me. “Please, Tegan! Can’t you stay a few more days? Please! I really want you to see my game!”
“Plane tickets are expensive,” Mr. Kapule puts in. “You can’t just change them willy-nilly. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“You can call Tegan and tell her all about your game. How about that?” Mrs. Kapule suggests.
Paulo crosses his arms, his lip thrust out in a pout. But he mumbles, “Okay.”
“I wish I could stay longer, buddy,” I say, swallowing another lump in my throat that has nothing to do with poi. “Believe me—if I could be there, I would.”
“So tell us, Tegan,” Mrs. Kapule says, obviously trying to change the subject. “What are your plans for the fall? Kai told us that you’re going to Georgetown?”
I nod, feeling hollow inside. Not anymore …
“What a great school. Congratulations,” Mr. Kapule puts in. “Maybe you’ll rub off on Kai. We can only hope!” He laughs, but there’s tension there—an old argument, unfinished. Kai shoots him daggers.
“Do you know what you’re planning to major in?” Mrs. Kapule asks.
“Not exactly. I’m going in undecided.” I’m only eighteen! I thought I had all the time I needed to discover what I wanted to dedicate my life to. I thought I had nothing but time.
I can tell Kai’s parents are waiting for more. So, even though I really don’t want to talk about this, I elaborate. “I love math and science … but it’s so hard to choose a specific area. There are lots of things I’m interested in, you know?”
Kai’s parents nod eagerly. “It’s wonderful to have so much curiosity about the world,” Mr. Kapule says. “That will serve you well, your whole life.”
Under the table, Kai squeezes my hand. Can he tell that I’m beginning to hyperventilate? All of this discussion about my future—a future that is never going to happen—is twisting the knife in my chest, sharp and painful.
“This was delicious, Mom,” Kai says. “Is it okay if Tegan and I are excused? I want to take her outside before the sunset disappears.”
“Sure,” she says. “Just drop your plates in the sink—that’s fine.”
“Nothing quite like a Hawaiian sunset, huh?” Mr. Kapule says to me.
“Nope,” I agree, following Kai out the back door onto the patio. “Nothing beats this.”
Kai leads me to the far end of the yard, where we sit in the grass under the mango tree, watching the colors soak into the sky.
“Sorry about that,” he says.
“About what?”
“My parents, like, bombarding you with questions.”
“It’s okay. They were trying to show interest.”
“They’re always trying to bring everything around to college. Just to make sure I know, one more time, how disappointed they are in me.”
“What was that between you and your dad? That part about me ‘rubbing off’ on you. You looked pissed.”
Kai pokes in the grass with a stick. “He’s still upset about me turning down CalArts.”
“CalArts? Wait—you got into CalArts? Kai, that’s huge!” It’s an incredible art school outside of Los Angeles. He’s been talking about their programs for as long as I can remember.
Kai shrugs with a half-smile. “I was wait-listed, but I found out a couple weeks ago that I got in. They sent a big packet in the mail and everything.”
“That’s amazing! Haven’t you always wanted to go there? I thought CalArts was your dream!”
“It was. It used to be. But dreams can change.”
“Yeah, I guess … but why did yours change?”
Kai rubs the stick between his palms. “I barely got in, T. It’s proof that I don’t belong there. I’d be at the bottom of the barrel. What if I can’t handle it there? What if my artwork’s not, you know, up to par? Plus, Los Angeles is far away, and most people already have their housing and roommate situations all figured out, so I’m behind the curve. It’s easier to stay here and stick with what I’ve been planning to do.”
Two birds fly above us, silhouetted against the cotton-candy clouds. I drop back on my elbows, watching them grow smaller and smaller in the distance. I don’t say anything.
After a couple minutes of silence, Kai groans and hugs his knees. “Okay, Tegan. Just come out and say it.”
“What? It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind. Does it matter what I say?”
“Yes, it does.”
“I think you already know what I’m going to say.”
“Please, get it out in the open. I want to hear it.”
“Bullshit,” I say. “That’s my response to everything you said. It’s all complete and utter bullshit. You’re building up these walls of excuses because you’re scared. And I understand being scared, Kai. Believe me. Change can be terrifying. But you know what? Change can also be exhilarating and eye-opening and wonderful. This is the perfect opportunity for you! Passing it up because of housing assignments or wait-lists or whatever other bullshit excuse you decide to use is—it’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard. Letting go of your dream like this is a total slap in the face to your enormous talent. It’s not who you are, Kai. You’re braver than this. You don’t give up so easily.”
Kai’s eyes are wide. I buzz with red-hot energy. I take the stick from him and begin digging in the grass, simply because it’s something to do with my hands.
A few moments pass. I’m not sure what Kai is feeling. Angry? Attacked? Defensive? I study the grass, unwilling to look at him. I’ve said my piece. Now it’s his turn to talk.
He puts his palm on my back, a gentle warmth through my thin T-shirt. “I hear you,” he says softly. “I’ll think about it. Okay? I’ll think about it.”
He wraps his arm around me. I sit back, letting myself lean into him. I’m still upset about what he said. But it’s not my decision. It’s his choice. It’s his life. Not mine.
“Not all of us get to go to college,” I murmur. “My parents never did. And now I won’t. I was really excited about Georgetown, you know.”
“I know. That’s why you got on the train instead of coming here.”
“That was an excuse. That was my own bullshit.”
Kai laughs. Then he squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s not think about the past anymore. Let’s focus on tomorrow. Remember what I said back at Akaka Falls?”
I rack my brain, trying to remember the details of our conversation. “No … ”
“Tomorrow, I have a surprise for you,” he says with a wink. “And I think you’re really gonna like it.”
dear t,
it only took 3 years of real life and 5 days of dream life, but i did it. i finally did it. in my dream last night, i asked you to be my girlfriend. and you said yes. now if only that could happen in real life. when you make it through this, t, i promise i’m going to stop beating around the bush in phone conversations that we can both pretend later never happened. i’m going to get down on one knee, take your hand in mine, and ask you to be my girlfriend. and hopefully you’ll say yes. but either way, i need to ask the important questions instead of putting them off for later. i need to stop making excuses for myself.
that was a theme of my dream last night too. you always know how to call me out on my bs, and your dream self is no different. she is fierce. in the dream, you asked me about my plans for the future and why i’m not going to college. and i didn’t have a good answer. you could see right through my lines about wanting to keep working at the tiki room, wanting to stay and help out my
parents. you knew they were just excuses. when you found out about CalArts, you guessed the real reason i’m turning it down: i’m afraid. here, i’m a big fish in a small pond. it’s familiar, and comfortable, and i don’t need to really push myself. CalArts is a wide-open terrifying huge-ass pond, and i’m worried that if i go there, i’ll drown. what if i don’t make it? what if i’m not good enough? what if i don’t have what it takes?
the truth is, it’s not that i want to stay here in kona forever. but leaving and coming home with my tail between my legs would be so much worse than never leaving at all.
at least, that’s what i used to think. now, i’m not so sure. what’s that famous line from that famous poem? “’tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” i agree. it’s infinitely better to have loved you (even if you don’t love me back) than to have never loved you. and as far as losing you, that’s not an option. okay, t?
when i woke up this morning, there was this loud voice in my head, insisting: go to her. go. go. go. so guess what? i went online and bought a plane ticket, and i messaged your mom so she knows i’m coming. i was surprised when she wrote back right away. she thanked me and said you would want me there, and she asked for my flight number so your dad can come pick me up from the airport.
so i’ll be there soon. i’ll see you tomorrow. don’t let go. keep fighting.
love, kai
SATURDAY
Deep, pillowy darkness. A steady beeping. Voices. “Tegan.” Is that my mom? “Teacup.” Mom! Mom, I’m right here! I try to reach out to her, but I can’t move a muscle. I try to open my eyes, but I can’t escape the darkness.
I wake up reaching for my mom. My hand grazes Kai’s bare stomach, smooth and warm. With his eyes still closed, he grabs my hand and brings it to his smiling lips. A good-morning kiss. I’m going to miss waking up with him to a brand-new day. Or will I? Do dead people actually miss being alive? Do they miss the people from their lives?
I shake my morbid thoughts away. “What’s the surprise?” I ask.
He laughs. “Good morning to you too.”
“C’mon, what is it? I can hardly take this suspense! You know how much I love surprises.”
“Yep. That’s why I’m not telling you.”
He pulls me on top of him, and his lips meet mine, and I forget about surprises for a little while.
Since Kai won’t tell me where we’re going, I decide to bring my floral suitcase along rather than trying to pack a smaller bag. Even though I don’t know the rules of this dream world / alternate reality / wherever this is, my suitcase seems to be magical. Filled with things I need that I don’t remember purchasing. I keep hoping that some new clue will appear when I open the lid. A secret key? A message from my mom? It’s doubtful—I don’t think that’s the way the suitcase works—but it doesn’t hurt to hope.
“Should we bring snacks for the road?” I ask Kai. My mom is a big car-snack person, so I always associate road trips with snacks. The only reason I didn’t bring any snacks on our trip to Akaka Falls yesterday was that I knew we’d be stopping for breakfast.
“Sure,” Kai says with a bemused expression. “Good thinking.”
He hands me an insulated lunch bag, and I fill it with a couple of apples, sliced cheese and crackers, and a bag of trail mix. Kai slips in a package of something sugarcoated and rainbow hued.
“Are you stealing Paulo’s candy?” I tease. For as long as I’ve known him, Kai has been obsessed with gummy candy.
“You better be nice, or I won’t share any with you,” Kai teases back.
“You’re right,” I admit, weaseling a neon-blue gummy shark out of the bag and popping it into my mouth. “These things are pretty addicting.”
“Wait till you try the sour rainbow belts,” Kai says. “They’ll blow your mind.”
We pile into his Jeep and make our way down the street. I inhale the salty sea breeze, savoring the warm sun brushing my skin through the window. One word resounds in my head in a loop, no matter how much I try to push it away: Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow …
We’ve only driven a few minutes when Kai pulls off the main highway. I know exactly where we are: the parking lot for the resort. The same place we parked that first night, after our date at The Blue Oasis.
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
“Follow me,” Kai says, opening his door and stepping outside.
Maybe he has to pick something up. Or maybe he wants to go to the beach again. I take his hand, and we walk together toward the fancy tiled entrance to the hotel.
Kai leads us straight into the main lobby. Open-aired and high-ceilinged, it feels like stepping inside a palace, with a panoramic view of the sparkling blue ocean below. Kai strides over to the check-in desk. I trail behind, slightly dazzled by my surroundings. This hotel is even larger and more impressive than I remember from when I stayed here three years ago.
When I reach Kai’s side, he’s already in conversation with the receptionist behind the desk. It doesn’t take long for me to realize that he’s not asking for directions or booking some excursion package for us. He’s paying for a room.
A hotel room. For us. For tonight.
I grab his hand and pull him aside.
“Sorry, can you hang on a moment?” he says to the woman behind the desk.
“Kai,” I whisper urgently. “This place is super expensive.”
“I know,” he says.
“You don’t need to do this.”
He smiles. “I know. I want to do this.”
“I don’t need some grand gesture from you.”
“It’s not a grand gesture. I’ve been working a lot. I have some money saved up. This is how I want to spend a little of my money.”
I tug at his hand. “I don’t need a fancy hotel room. I would be just as happy crashing in your bedroom tonight.”
“Please, T. Please stay here with me. Please let me pretend.”
I look at him quizzically. Pretend? Pretend what? That I’m not going to die?
“I booked a room here,” Kai explains, “because, just for one day, I want to be a kid with you again. I want to run around the hotel grounds and splash in the pool and eat Popsicles until our tongues turn into rainbows. And I also want to be an adult with you, staying in a fancy hotel room and wearing those fluffy hotel robes and eating breakfast together on the terrace tomorrow morning. I want to get a taste of that future with you.”
I bite my lip. “I want all of that too,” I whisper.
“Okay then, it’s settled.” Kai strides back over to the check-in desk.
I hurry after him. “Let me pay for half. We can split it.”
“I have a better idea.” Kai hands me one of the room keys. “Let’s stay here again sometime in the future. How about … a year from now. You can pay for our room that time. Okay?”
I can’t decide whether it’s more or less painful to make believe like this—to imagine that my life will continue on beyond this week. But if Kai wants to pretend, I can pretend. For him.
“Okay,” I promise. “It’s a date. Oh, and Kai? One more thing.”
He looks at me.
I put my hands on my hips. “We definitely did not need road trip snacks for this surprise.”
He winks. “You know I can’t resist any excuse for gummy candy.”
Kai pushes open the door to our hotel room, and my breath catches. It is like stepping into a dream. Completely different from the rooms I remember sharing with my parents. Those rooms were nice, but in a regular-hotel-room way: a little cramped, with narrow aisles between the beds and not much space to store your luggage. This room is huge, actually composed of multiple rooms—there’s a separate living space with two couches and a giant TV, and a kitchenette with a full fridge and stovetop. On the granite counter, I spot a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.
“What are these doing here?” I walk over to inspect them.
Kai shrugs, smiling. “I guess they’re a gift from the management.”
“Why would they give us a gift?” There’s a card with a picture of the resort on the front. I flip it open.
Happy honeymoon!
Best wishes for many blissful years ahead.
“Honeymoon!” I exclaim. “Kai, what did you do?”
“I may have stretched the truth a little bit so we could get a room upgrade.” His smile is the same smile from when we were kids and he would sneak extra towels from the resort down to the beach.
“I can’t believe you would do that! It’s totally lying!”
Kai wraps his arms around my waist. “Please let me pretend,” he says softly. “All right?”
My indignation falls away as I remember Kai on bended knee the other morning. I guess this is the closest we’ll ever get to a honeymoon.
“All right,” I say, and then, to prove that I really am okay with this, I pick up a strawberry and take a bite. The chocolate melts on my tongue, and the sweet juice slides down my chin.
We roll our suitcases into the bedroom. Soft yellow walls, crisp white sheets, a vase of fresh plumeria on the end table. Kai opens the sliding glass door, revealing a private patio. I kick off my sandals and fall backward onto the enormous bed—yes, it is just as soft and comfortable as it appears. Before long, Kai joins me. We both scoot up so our heads rest on the pillows, turning toward each other like two halves of a cutout heart.
“So, what should we do first?” I ask.
His hand finds my hip. “Well, we could go snorkeling. Or search for the Popsicle cart. Or walk on the beach and look for shells. Or splash in the pool and put all the little kids to shame.”
“That all sounds fun. I should go change into my swimsuit.”
“Okay. Me too.”
Neither of us moves.
I am aware of the loud beating of my heart, echoing in my ears. Kai’s eyes drink me in. I see so much love in his eyes when he looks at me. He’s always looked at me this way.
The Best Week That Never Happened Page 20