Sunday

Annie lay on the bed, a pillow pressed against her forehead, jumpy and nervous with exhaustion. If she was a Sim instead of a human being, her Energy bar would be bright red and nearly drained to the bottom.

It was only quarter to eight at night here, but at home, it was quarter ‘til two in the morning. It wasn’t very far into summer break yet, so she was still on her school-year schedule. Two in the morning was ridiculously past her bedtime.

Plus, she’d had no sleep last night, because she was an idiot. She’d slept a little on her flight—both legs of it—but she was a nervous flyer and could never doze all the way off on an airplane.

On top of that, she’d spent the entire, near-twelve-hour journey nursing what was one of the worst hangovers of her life, also because she was an idiot. She’d always thought the expression “throbbing headache” was figurative, rather than literal, but boy, she’d learned differently today. Every time she moved her head in the slightest, there it was—boom, boom, boom—pulsing in a pattern like her heartbeat. For all she knew, it was her heartbeat, banging its indignation into her skull with a mallet.

This is your own damn fault, she thought, mentally giving herself a vicious frown. Everyone tried to get you to slow down, but nooooo, you were just a runaway train of alcohol and revelry.

Annie had blurry memories of her friends taking turns trying to get her to drink water instead, or have some coffee, or perhaps even leave the bar and get something substantial to eat. She’d rebuffed their attempts by reminding them that it was her wedding day, dammit, she was still the Bride even if she wasn’t anymore, and the Bride could do what she wanted.

She growled to herself now, remembering how the girls, former bridesmaids all, had looked uncomfortable at that statement, darting uncertain looks at each other before falling all over themselves to tell her it was all okay, everything was okay, their soothing voices sharpening the edges of her nerves.

As they calmed her, they nodded like bobble-head dolls, trying to remind her to be positive, and her jagged nerves had been washed out in a wave of too-loud laughter.

Then she’d ordered another Cosmopolitan.

Now she was lying here with a throbbing head and a queasy stomach, miserable in paradise and reconsidering each and every one of the decisions she’d made the night before.

Just like she was reconsidering this entire vacation, even though she was already here.

Everyone she knew—siblings, parents, friends—had tried to talk her out of doing this. It was crazy, they said. It was going to be too difficult for her. She was going on the honeymoon for a canceled wedding, and people don’t do that, for very good reasons.

“But I do,” Annie had declared, “I do that. And it’s not a honeymoon, it’s an ‘alone-y moon’.”

She’d said it with a big, playful grin, being ostentatiously fun-loving about it, because maybe if she was cheerful they wouldn’t share that anxious, pitying glance with each other when they thought she wasn’t looking. And she’d meant it, at the time—she’d been fueled with the adrenaline rush of righteous feminine empowerment, and the intoxicating headiness of being able to make all the decisions herself.

Underneath her bravado, though, she was scared. Sometimes she felt frozen in place with how scared she was. Not just about this vacation—about her entire life. In both cases, she had been certain about where she was going and who she was going with; but that certainty had vanished.

She was a single traveler now, both literally and figuratively. No one to share a room with, no one by her side when she walked down along the beach, no one at her table when she ate her meals. No one to talk to, no one to share her thoughts with, no one whose presence would ease the taut, jangly feeling inside of her.

I am alone, she thought, and shuddered.

She tried to summon some Empowering Theme Songs to mind. There were lots of them; she’d created an entire list on Spotify, full of Aretha Franklin and Gloria Gaynor and Meredith Brooks and Chaka Khan. It had gotten her through the initial heartbreak, and it helped her keep her head in the game when she felt overwhelmed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t working for her at the moment. The only song she could conjure up in her head was a plaintive, melodramatic ballad about being all by herself.

Annie felt the exact polar opposite of empowered.

She felt like the dented can on the supermarket shelf, the one that everyone always reaches around and leaves for someone else, until it’s been there too long and it winds up in that little bin at the back of the store, under a sign made of neon-pink paper reading DISCOUNT ITEMS.

Annie used to buy things from that shelf, when she was in college and desperate for cheap food. She’d even called it, “the bin of desperation”.

I am a discount item. And everyone who sees me, all by myself, will know it.

She was well within her rights to stay in her room tonight. She was exhausted from her travels, drained by the hangover of last night’s poor life choices, and she was way off her sleep schedule.

She hadn’t spoken to Ted for four months, but she could still hear his voice in her head. “We came all this way, to the place you picked, and all you want to do is stay in? Everyone else is out enjoying themselves! What is wrong with you?”

What is wrong with me? she wondered, before she could stop herself.

Nothing, she reminded herself fiercely.

And as far as Ted’s opinion was concerned, well, he wasn’t here, and he wasn’t part of her life anymore, and fuck if she was going to listen to one more word he said, even from her own imagination.

Just last night, she’d proven she wasn’t a boring old stick-in-the-mud. She’d stayed out almost all night, enjoying the drinks and the socializing and the music and oh, holy shit….

Her mouth dropped open as another bleary memory surfaced.

She’d sung karaoke last night. She, Annie Collins, who wouldn’t sing in public unless she was part of a large choir and could hide in the middle of the group, had gotten up in front of a bar full of strangers and belted out some karaoke.

Three. Fucking. Times.

Annie closed her eyes and groaned, a wave of humiliation washing over her. What if the parents of some of her students had been in that bar? Worse yet, what if someone had filmed it and plastered it all over the internet, and she walked into Geometry class next fall to find all the kids smirking and whispering?

She took a deep breath and brought her spinning mind to as much of a halt as she could. She would handle that situation somehow, if it did in fact occur, which was unlikely. She hoped.

“You know what,” she mumbled to herself, “let’s not think about it. Let’s go down to the beach and see the sunset. It’ll be gorgeous, and you can focus on that. Come on, Collins. Up you go.”

She’d seen sunsets before, of course. But she’d never seen a sunset here, in paradise, with the palm trees gently swaying and the ocean feathering up and down along the shore.

It was out there, just a short walk through the hotel complex. Something she’d never seen or experienced before. And wasn’t that the point of this whole vacation?

“Up you go,” she repeated, and pulled herself up onto her feet.

 

—

 

Oh, the sunset was beautiful, even viewed with an aching head and bone-deep exhaustion. The pinks and the purples and the blues, oh, especially the blues. Annie understood, intellectually, that water was supposed to be blue because it mirrored the sky, but she’d grown up on Lake Michigan. That was the water she was used to, and it sure as hell wasn’t blue.

She’d been unprepared for just how deeply, infinitely sapphire—no, cobalt—the water around Poipu was. It was a wonder, that water. No other word could possibly apply. A stunning, soul-filling wonder. She spent her first ten minutes on the beach nearly breathless with it.

And this was during twilight—it was bound to be even more vivid during the day, when the sky was clear and the sun was bright.

Annie took a sip of water from the bottle she’d bought from the vending machine, watching the colors fade from the sky as the stars began to appear. They came out bright and clear, smeared across the sky in a thick coat, looking more three-dimensional than she’d ever seen before.

It was so different from back home, where the lights drowned out all but the brightest stars.

She wanted to reach out and touch them, to run her hands along the billowy night sky and the bright, hard dots twinkling in it. But she didn’t, because she couldn’t, and because if she reached out towards them she’d look like a crazy person. She probably seemed that way anyway, sitting on the beach all by herself.

Couples were strolling along the shore, hand-in-hand, their eyes on the ocean and each other. Every so often a couple would stop nearby, one person standing behind the other and embracing him or her, and they’d nuzzle their cheeks together as they watched the colors fade and the stars appear, safe and secure in each other’s presence.

Whenever this happened, Annie had to swallow and look away from them, her eyes blurring. No one had ever held her that way, except maybe Ted, once upon a time when they were first dating. He hadn’t reached out for her like that in years. She’d told herself it was because he wasn’t demonstrative in public, that he was simply not an overly affectionate person.

She’d lied to herself like that for a long time, with him.

Off to one side, a couple wearing t-shirts with “Mr.” and “Mrs.” emblazoned on the front had paused to rub noses and share a kiss. Annie wondered if they’d gotten married on Saturday, like she was supposed to have done, and nearly gasped out loud at the wave of grief that welled up in her chest.

She turned her head away from them, thinking maybe she should go back inside and get some sleep before she got maudlin all over the beach, and her eyes fell on a solitary figure standing just inside the waterline.

She was fairly confident the figure was a man, even though he was in the dark and facing away from her. Something about the set of the shoulders, and the cut of the hair, and the kind of jeans he was wearing.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing out over the ocean, his eyes focused on something in the distance that Annie couldn’t see. The breeze ruffled his thick, dark hair and the water licked at the bare ankles that peeked out from under the cuffs he’d put in his jeans, but he did not move.

He was alone, she realized. There was no one standing near him or coming down the beach to meet him.

He was alone, but he didn’t look pitiful, or pathetic, or out of place. He looked solid and strong, confident and firm of purpose.

He was definitely not a dented can languishing in a bin of desperation.

How could he look so steady, when he was alone?

Because he most likely isn’t alone. His person is back in their room, getting ready for his return. Maybe he or she was opening champagne, laying chocolates on the pillows, sprinkling rose petals, doing all those stupid giddy things that Annie openly laughed at so no one would know how much she secretly wanted someone to do them for her.

Not because she loved rose petals or chocolate or champagne, although they were nice. 

She simply wanted someone to care for her enough to want to give her something sweet and romantic. To think and prepare and hope she’d like it, rather than just picking up some bedraggled daisies from the grocery store on the way home from work.

Not that that had happened much, either.

She sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing at her forehead to relieve the lingering ache. He’s here with someone who loves him, she thought. How could he look so strong otherwise?

By the time she opened her eyes again, he was gone, back up to his room and his rose petals and his champagne and his chocolate and the person who loved him.

And it was about time for Annie to get back to her room as well, even though she was the only one who would be sleeping in the big king bed.

 She had a new experience scheduled for the next morning, and she wanted to be ready for it.

 

 

Monday

“Ah, yes, I’ve got your name right here. Party of two?”

Annie froze, a deer in the headlights of the customer service representative’s bright pink eyeglasses.

“N-no. Just one. Didn’t I…I thought I called in and changed it to just one.” She craned her neck in an attempt to verify what was on the computer screen.

The woman sighed. “Let me see—oh, yes, you did, but they wrote it in the notes instead of changing the reservation.” She clicked a few buttons, shaking her head. “I hate technology. It was so much easier when we just wrote everything down on clipboards.”

Annie made a noncommittal humming noise, trying to forget the existence of the phrase “party of two”.

“There we go! All set!” The woman beamed at the computer in triumph, then turned her smile on Annie. “Now, let’s just get your weight, and we’ll have you on your way!”

The helicopter was sleek and shiny and larger than Annie had expected, which was good because that meant it was probably sturdier than expected. She was assigned the seat behind the pilot, who called himself Paulie, and she clambered in, trying not to catch her skirt on anything. As she fastened her safety harness, someone climbed in next to her.

She looked up quickly, and felt a shock when she saw a stranger there. She’d known there would be someone else on the tour with her—she’d been asked when she changed the reservation if she would be willing to share the tour, and she’d agreed—so she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

Oh, she realized. I was expecting it to be Ted.

Not that she wanted it to be him, or truly expected it to be—it was an automatic reaction, after so many years together. It made logical sense that she’d see him everywhere, even if she didn’t want to.

She bit her lip and reached for her headset, wondering how long it would take before he was completely gone from her mind.

The man in the seat next to her was stowing his backpack under his seat, carefully, as if it contained something fragile and priceless. His thick, dark hair was neat and trimmed, but he wore it longer than most professionals Annie had met. She idly wondered if he was some kind of freelancer, or maybe worked in a creative field.

His face was…well, she would categorize it as “interesting”. Long nose, strong chin, solid cheekbones, large mouth, and expressive eyebrows, all vying for dominance on his oval face.

Once he’d gotten his headset on, he glanced in her direction and nodded. “Derek,” he said, by way of introduction.

“Annie,” she nodded back, and he promptly turned away from her to look out the open side of the helicopter.

So much for that conversation.

They wouldn’t have been able to hear each other anyway, once the engine started up. It was loud even with the headset on, and she could feel the vibrations deep within her belly. Then they lifted off, and she gasped and clenched her hands on her knees.

They started over Lihue, winding their way west and then north, flitting through canyons and buzzing over treetops while Paulie the Pilot provided a steady stream of information. Annie had brought a camera with her—nothing special, just a little point-and-shoot number—but gave up on it quickly. She’d rather watch and enjoy what was right in front of her than spend her time trying to get the shot she wanted.

Derek the Stranger did not even have a camera out. He kept his face turned away most of the time, his focus steady on the island below them.

Which was beautiful, by the way. No, it was beyond beautiful, with the waterfalls and the canyons and the beaches and the greens and the blues. Annie couldn’t think of any single word that could capture it.

Except, perhaps, overwhelming.

Yes, that’s what it was. Overwhelming. Almost too much to take in at one time.

She knew, even as she sat there, that her memory would blend it all together into one big mural of sand and foliage and rocks and colors, mixed with the feel of the rotor’s vibrations and the sounds of the engine and the rush of the wind that whipped her hair into her face.

If Ted had been with her, they would have discussed it over lunch, and she would have been able to separate what she’d seen a bit more. Then again, if Ted were here, she wouldn’t feel so peaceful.

Odd, that she felt peaceful, as they wooshed along high above the ground, with no door to stand between her and a quick plummet to the earth. She had expected to be nervous; she knew, if Ted had been with her, she would have been clinging to his hand with a grip of steel, as her stomach repeatedly flipped over inside her.

He wasn’t here, and her stomach was steady, and she was peaceful.

What did that say about them?

—

 

Annie had gone to a restaurant near her hotel for lunch; she’d come across it when she was searching for a place that had something she hadn’t eaten before. A dish called tinono had caught her attention. She’d googled and discovered it was a Filipino recipe, and its ingredients included many of the flavors she loved. She’d grabbed her book and headed to the restaurant immediately.

Then she’d returned to the hotel and gone down to the beach, where she alternated between reading and swimming in the ocean. After that, she’d made a half-assed attempt to work out in the hotel’s fitness center, which she’d cut short in favor of a soak in the whirlpool.

Too bad they don’t have a spa here—I’d love a facial and mani/pedi, and a massage.

Sure, it would have cost money. But as Donna from Parks & Rec said, “Treat yo’ self.”

She would have to find a spa nearby and set up some pampering for later in the week.

She’d ordered room service for dinner. She got three appetizers instead of an entree—a salad, coconut shrimp, and something with scallops—and a glass of wine, and fell into blissful sleep not long afterward.

She awoke around three in the morning, her body still holding on to Chicago time, and decided to go out on the balcony and look at the stars.

They were still thick and bright and three-dimensional, even with the lights shining in the courtyard below her room.

It would be so romantic to stand here and look at the stars with someone she loved—a boyfriend, a lover, a husband. She imagined that they would stand here for a while, holding each other, until one of them leaned in for a kiss. The kiss would linger, and it would deepen, and they’d return to bed, hand in hand, to make long, slow, sweet love as the ocean breeze blew in through the open balcony door. Afterward, as they cuddled together, drowsy and sated, he’d whisper how much he loved her, and she would whisper it back.

Annie didn’t realize she was crying until she felt the teardrop fall on her hand.

She missed kissing like that, missed snuggling in the afterglow, surrounded by her lover’s arms and enveloped in his scent, her leg slung casually over his hips.

Even the best vibrator couldn’t give her that.

She went back inside again, retrieving the tissue box from the bathroom and bringing it into bed with her so she could cry herself to sleep.

 

 

Tuesday

Annie headed down to the restaurant for breakfast around eight the next morning, intending to get an early start to the day. She had no actual plans; she meant to get in the car and drive east and north, to see what she could find along the way. Little shops or museums, any “point of interest” signs along the side of the road, maybe have lunch at a local restaurant.

If she felt like it, she might just keep driving all the way to the North Shore. It was only an hour away from where she was, and there was Hanalei Bay and the Kilauea Lighthouse and a crap-ton of other interesting things. Maybe she’d just follow Route 56 all the way around to Route 560, until the road ended, just to see what the end of the road looked like.

The possibilities were endless.

But first, a bit of breakfast. She’d had a gorgeous French Toast dish yesterday morning, called Sunrise something-or-other, and she was damn well going to have it again.

Oh, and a half papaya. She’d never eaten papaya before, which was a scandalous and sinful omission that she intended to rectify immediately.

She managed to score one of the tables along the very edge of the open-air lanai. There weren’t many other diners in the restaurant, just a small scattering of couples of all ages, mixed in with a few families with young children. She gave her order to the server, including her room number so the amount would be added to her overall bill, and pulled out her book.

She’d always thought it would be lonely to eat at a restaurant by herself. Lonely, and sort of pathetic. But it wasn’t, not in a place like this, with an interesting book in front of her and a whole table just for her, and the most gorgeous view of the sea and sky right outside.

It felt indulgent.

“Treat yo’self,” she whispered, smiling, and dove into her book.

When the coffee arrived, she set her book down carefully before adding the cream and sugar. She could hear echoes of Ted in her head, making fun of her for how much she dumped in. She’d always passed it off as teasing, just him having a little fun with her.

In truth, though, there was always an edge to his teasing, a relentlessness to the way he’d kept needling her until she asked him to stop. And when she inevitably did, he’d ask her why she couldn’t take a joke, why she was always so sensitive. She’d spend the rest of the day wondering the same thing.

It had taken three entire weeks after they’d broken up for her to realize that she was not, in fact, too sensitive, and that he was being a jerk. It took another whole week to realize that there was nothing wrong with how she drank her coffee.

Annie smirked and sprinkled in the sugar, following it up with a defiant swirl of cream. I am not ashamed of my beverage choices. And that includes preferring Cosmopolitans to craft microbrews, and wanting to drink milk with dinner. I will drink whatever I damn well please.

Which she could on this vacation, and she didn’t have to worry about anyone’s reaction.

Indulgent.

She took a sip, relishing the perfect balance of dairy and sugar and earthy dark caffeine, and opened her book again.

Before she could begin reading, her eyes fell on a lone figure about five tables away along the open edge, a man with thick dark hair and a face that was, well, interesting. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. A fellow student from one of her college or master’s courses, or perhaps a teacher she’d met once at a conference.

He was deep into a book himself, to the point where he reached out for his coffee without taking his eyes off the page. She giggled silently at the way his eyebrows contorted in confusion when he realized he was grasping onto empty air. Then he looked up to locate his coffee cup and saw her. His forehead furrowed into wrinkles.

“Annie? It is Annie, right? From yesterday?” He twirled his finger in the air.

It clicked into place. The man who’d sat next to her for an hour, staring out at the scenery and saying next to nothing, while they whizzed along treetops and dropped down into canyons.

She was so excited to remember that she actually pointed at him.  “Derek! You’re Derek the… from the helicopter!”

“The very same.” His eyes drifted down to the book she was holding, and he smiled a big, toothy grin. He lifted his book up and wiggled it around.

It was the same one she was reading.

Annie felt a thrill of delight—that’s so funny, what are the odds?—and wiggled her book back at him.

“What do you think of it?” he asked, his voice raised to carry over the music and the waves and the low rumble of other conversations.

“It’s good,” she called back. “What do you think?”

“Oh, I’ve got lots of thoughts. Where are you now?”

“Chapter eleven. The guy with the patent just got sued.”

“Ah. I’m on fifteen.”

“Don’t tell me!”

He waved the thought away. “I am a spoiler-free zone.”

“I mean, I know how it ends, I did google the story once I started reading it,” Annie admitted.

Derek chuckled.

“But I want to see how they get there,” she explained.

“The whole thing is just unbelievable,” he called back. “I mean, wouldn’t you think….”

Someone cleared their throat, and Annie turned towards the sound to see an older couple giving them dirty looks.

Derek had noticed them too; his eyebrows arched, making him look like an errant, regretful puppy dog. “Sorry,” he apologized, lowering his voice a bit.

“Yeah, sorry,” Annie added, her cheeks warm with guilt. She shrugged at Derek, and mouthed, “Oops.”

He regarded her for a moment. Then he pointed at her, beckoned, and tapped on his table, his eyebrows raised in a question.

Join me?

Annie giggled, then put on a demurely shocked face and pointed to herself and to his table.

Me? Come over there?

He gave a devil-may-care shrug.

Why not?

Annie sent a pert shrug in return.

All right, then.

She picked up her book and her cup of coffee, and made her way over to his table.

 

—

 

Two cups of coffee and a half-eaten breakfast later, Annie had revised her initial opinion of Derek.

He was every bit as chatty and open today, as he’d been reserved yesterday. He was smart and insightful, and his memory was phenomenal. They’d settled in for a lengthy dissection of the book and its subject matter, and he could recall all the little details that Annie would have had to look up, if she wanted to reference them.

And he did, in fact, have all sorts of thoughts about the subject matter.

“I mean,” he was saying, as Annie scooped up another forkful of papaya (which tasted wonderful, by the way, and she was going to try to find it at the grocery store once she got home again), “you’d think at some point they’d realize they needed to have a product to back up their claims.”

“It’s ‘fake it ‘til you make it’,” Annie reminded him, holding her hand in front of her mouth so he wouldn’t see the papaya being chewed. “We all do that, to some extent.”

 “I get that,” he agreed. “But when you know you’ll eventually have to produce something that works…I mean, I’d want to know I was covered, that I could actually do the thing I talked about. Wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Annie swallowed her food. “But that’s me, and you too, I guess. There’s lots of people who say words and think the idea will just somehow manifest itself, like a vision board.”

Derek shook his head. “No, vision boards work, if they’re used as intended, as a psychological prompt.”

“By keeping you focused, yeah, that’s true.”

 “Right. This isn’t that.”

“No,” Annie snorted. “This is, like, the Fyre Festival of medical technology.”

He blinked at her. Annie wondered if he knew what Fyre Festival was; but then he burst out laughing. “Oh, my God, you are so right! I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection!” He took a sip of coffee. “They are totally related! Well, not exactly related. Both complete disasters, anyway. Total hubris.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Ted actually wanted to go to Fyre Festival. I mean, it was so his kind of thing, but jeez, it had ‘scam’ written all over it.”

“Ted?”

Annie stilled, her fork holding a bite of French toast suspended in the air.

Somehow, over the course of the conversation, she’d lost sight of the fact that Derek was a stranger. She’d been chatting away about everything and anything, as if he were one of her friends.

He wasn’t, though. She didn’t know him. Which meant he wasn’t entitled to know anything about her, especially the personal details.

But it also meant that she didn’t need to make a good impression on him, in any way whatsoever. They’d most likely never see each other again after this breakfast. She had a momentary pang of regret at the thought, because she was enjoying his company so much, but still, it felt…freeing.

Indulgent.

“An ex,” she said, thinking she might leave it at that.

“Ah.” He traced his finger along the handle of his coffee cup. “Not exactly compatible, then.”

She looked up at him, and saw him wince.

“Sorry,” he offered, giving her a tentative glance. “I don’t know you, I shouldn’t presume….”

“You’re not wrong,” she interrupted. The puppy-dog look was kind of cute, but she didn’t like to think of him feeling bad enough to wince. “We weren’t compatible. This honeymoon was a perfect example.”

“It’s your honeymoon?” He tilted his head to the side, and she swore she could almost see the gears in his mind turning, as he tried to figure out her story.

“It’s my ‘alone-y moon’,” she redefined, with a prim nod. “It was supposed to be a honeymoon, but we called off the wedding.”

“And you came here anyway.”

“I really wanted to see Hawaii. I mean, I’ve never been out of the continental United States, you know?” She twirled her fork through the puddles of syrup on her plate, feeling his steady gaze on her. “And Hawaii is a paradise, right? It’s romantic, and it’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and that says honeymoon to me.”

“Not to him?” His voice was neutral, but interested.

She rolled her eyes. “He wanted New Orleans. He wanted to sleep all day and wander up and down the streets all night, drinking and ducking into different clubs to listen to live music.” She sighed. “We’ve been to New Orleans already, twice, and that’s how it went then. He’d be snoring away and I’d be out trying to see all the new, interesting things I could—little out-of-the-way historical stuff, odd little museums and some big well-known ones—and then we’d have dinner and he’d drag me out to the bars and get mad when I got tired.”

“Doesn’t sound like the way to do a honeymoon,” he observed, holding his cup up at the waitress to ask for more coffee.

“Right?”

“But he agreed to come here?”

“He said he did, after I told him my reasons, and he said I made a good, logical argument.” She moved out of the way so the waitress could refill her coffee too. “When I started making the arrangements, I thought about him, I really did. I set up four days in Honolulu, so he would have a chance at some nightlife, and I was ready to go out and stay out all night and not complain at all. I just wanted four days here, on the Garden Isle, with peace and quiet and beauty and things I’d never seen before. I thought it was a good compromise.”

He took a sip of coffee. “Sounds fair to me.”

“Not to Ted. He told me I was being selfish, that it was his honeymoon too, and there would be nothing to do here.”

“Nothing to do,” Derek muttered in disbelief.

Annie pushed the papaya around on her plate, watching it move from side to side. “And then he said, ‘I can’t believe you want me to be bored and miserable on my own honeymoon.’”

Derek winced again, making a hissing noise as he sucked in a breath. “Wow.”

“And that was it.” She gave a helpless shrug. “I mean, I’m not a person who gives up easily. I’m a teacher, for Chrissakes. But it was so clear. Things were never going to change, no matter how much I wanted them to, or how hard I tried. I was just an accessory to his life, you know?” She snorted, reaching for her coffee.  “An annoying accessory. So I gave him back his ring. He called me a selfish, spoiled bitch for breaking up with him because he wasn’t letting me control the honeymoon, and that’s the last time I spoke to him.”

They sat in silence as she took a couple sips of her coffee.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said so much, she thought. The poor guy only wanted to talk about a book, and here he’s getting a monologue of misery.

But Annie felt lighter, now that she’d spoken some truth.

She hadn’t told anyone the whole truth before. She’d used phrases like “incompatible” and “irreconcilable differences”. Everybody loved Ted, and she didn’t want to seem like she was bad-mouthing him.

“Incompatible” was the truth, but not the whole truth. Only Annie knew the whole truth.

Well, Annie, and Derek the Stranger.

“So, Annie.” Derek spoke slowly, as if he was mulling over how to say the next thing.

Here it comes, she thought, feeling her stomach drop like a fast elevator.

She’d overshared and bored him with her whining, and she’d revealed, clear as day, that she was nothing but a dented can that no one wanted.

She prepared herself for the inevitable it’s nice to meet you, but I’ve got to go now.

“I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, or him,” he continued, “and I don’t want to offend you if you still love him.” He sat up straighter, his eyebrows pulled down in a fierce scowl. “But that guy is a douche. Seriously. What is wrong with him?”

It was so not what she was expecting. She felt her mouth fall open slightly and her eyes widen, and vaguely thought she must look ridiculous.

He slumped back into his chair. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said…”

“No, no, it’s fine…”

“…anything, it’s not my place…”

“It’s okay. I should be apologizing to you…”

“What for?”

“For dropping a ginormous boulder of sad right onto the conversation.” She mimed the fall of said boulder, complete with a crashing noise. “We were having a nice little talk about books, and then I went and pulled out my sob story.”

“It’s not a sob story,” he argued. “It’s a hopeful story.”

Annie gave a rueful laugh. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Not at all.” He began ticking off points on his fingers. “One, you realized it was bad and broke it off before it was too late. Two, you’ve obviously done some soul-searching about it, because you seem like a person who wouldn’t put up with him for two seconds anymore. Three, you’re not wallowing around and boohooing, you took this honeymoon…”

“Alone-y moon…,” she corrected.

He slapped his hand on the table. “See, that’s exactly my point! Not only did you take the vacation, you rebranded it and made it your own. You are moving forward and living your best life. I see that as hopeful.” He leaned back in his chair, with a smile as smug as the Cheshire Cat’s. “You know I’m right.”

Annie smirked. She couldn’t help herself; his self-satisfied expression was so amusing. “Yeah, whatever,” she told him, and when he laughed, her smile got bigger.

“I’ll take that as an admission,” he grinned.

A voice behind Annie startled them both. “Can I get you anything else?” The server was looming over them with a cheery but firm smile.

Annie looked around; they were the only diners left in the restaurant.

That’s right, they close down between breakfast and lunch.

How long had they been sitting there?

“I’m sorry, you probably have plans that I’ve distracted you from.” Derek reached for his cup of coffee, finishing it in one gulp.

“Nothing settled. I’m just adventuring today.”

“Adventuring how?”

“Gonna drive north along 56 and see what I find.” They both rose to their feet and shuffled through their pockets for tip money.

“Would you like some suggestions, or do you just want to find things?”

“I’d love suggestions. I may not follow them, but it’d be nice to have them.”

“Okay, then. If you’ve got your phone with you…”

“I do.”

“Excellent. You said you like little museums, right? So first of all, there’s the Kauai Museum, in Lihue…”

—

 

Annie wandered back to the hotel in the late afternoon, utterly and completely drained.

She’d taken two of Derek’s suggestions—the Kauai Museum, and Wailua Falls.

The museum had been full of fascinating information about the island and its history. The docent who gave her the tour had been raised on a sugar cane plantation, and he told personal stories that added depth to what he’d shown her. She’d browsed the exhibits after the tour, reading signage for whatever caught her attention.

It had been nice to be able to do that, without having to hurry through so no one else would be bored.

Then she’d found a coffee shop and gotten a lovely fruit smoothie, which she sipped as she strolled through the historic district, taking pictures of the architecture and the parks and anything else that caught her eye.

After that, she’d headed over to Wailua Falls. Derek had said the falls were in the opening shot of an old TV show, which she had never heard of and intended to google later that evening.

The falls were beautiful from where she stood on the roadway; she could have hiked down to the bottom and seen them up close, but she didn’t have the right kind of shoes for such a slippery trail. A rainbow had formed where the sun shone on the mist from the waterfall. She got a couple of pictures and then watched the falls for a while, an aching wistfulness growing ever sharper in her chest.

It felt strange, and wrong, to stand in front of such beauty all alone.

It was terrible, not to have anyone to share it with.

Annie wanted to share it, so much.

She wanted to wrap her arms around somebody while she gazed at the rainbow and the falls. She wanted desperately to feel strong arms around her, pulling her in close to a warm, familiar  body. She wanted to lean her head against somebody’s chest and listen to his heartbeat as the wind ruffled her hair, and feel his lips brush gently against the top of her forehead as they stood, safe and secure with each other, watching the falls and the rainbows and the wild chickens that were strutting along the side of the road.

She’d wanted it since she was a little girl—to love and be loved, to share a life and make a home with somebody, as her parents had done.

But what if I never get to have that?

What if nobody ever wants to share a life with me?

What if Ted was my only chance?

She’d beat a hasty retreat to her car, averting her eyes from the other sightseers. She had made it halfway back down the road to the main highway before the bottomless dark cavern opened up inside of her, and her blurry eyes overflowed with tears.

She let them flow as she drove, pushing her fingers under her sunglasses to clear her eyes enough to drive and wiping her runny nose against her upper arm. She felt the darkness and the fear course through her, searing and scraping at her emotions and leaving her bruised and raw inside. By the time she got back to the hotel, the tears had only just stopped. She sat in the car for an extra five minutes to make sure she was ready to face other people.

Now she wanted a drink, something sweet and fruity and cold, with maybe mangoes in it, or pineapple. Something that tasted yellow or orange, like sunshine, to chase away the darkness of grief and fear.

And one of those tiny paper umbrellas. It had damn well better have one of those tiny paper umbrellas.

She made her way through the lobby and into the bar, ordering a Mai Tai with a little umbrella, a pink one if they had it. She was leaning on the bar, rubbing at the bridge of her nose, when someone called her name.

Derek was at a small bar table, a half-full glass of beer in front of him. He was in a white cotton t-shirt and jean shorts, and his hair was wet.

“Hey!” Annie brought her drink over to join him.

I hope my eyes aren’t still red, she thought. Not that it mattered what she looked like, because it didn’t. But she wasn’t ready to be asked how they’d gotten that way.

His eyes lingered on her face a moment longer than necessary, but he didn’t mention what he saw there. “How was adventuring? What did you see?”

She listed off her itinerary, adding a few opinions and thoughts as she went. She didn’t say much about Wailua Falls, just that she’d been there and had seen a rainbow.

“So what did you do all day?” she asked.

“I did some surfing.” He laughed. “Well, I tried to do some surfing. I’ve never been very good at it.”

“You have to be better than I am, since I’ve never done it.”

“Maybe you should,” he observed. “It’s a thing to do in Hawaii, and it would definitely be a new experience.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” she demurred, taking a sip of her drink. “Oooo, that’s good.”

Derek laughed into his beer. “No, you won’t.”

“You’re right, I won’t,” she agreed.

 “So what’s on the alone-y moon agenda for tomorrow?”

“I was thinking of driving up to see Waimea Canyon. I know we saw it from the helicopter, but I’d like to see it from the ground, too.”

“Excellent choice. Oh, while you’re there, you can follow the road into Koke’e State Park and check out the Kalalau Lookout. It’s absolutely beautiful. Highly recommend.”

Annie scrutinized him as he took another sip of beer. “You know a lot about this island. How many times have you been here?”

He thought for a second, his lips pursed in concentration. “I don’t know off the top of my head. If I think about it, I’m sure I could count back.”

Annie lifted her eyebrows over the rim of her glass. “That many?”

“My parents’ favorite place.” He toyed with his glass, rubbing the bottom back and forth on the table to spread the condensation in a swath. “We came every couple of years when I was growing up, for a family vacation.” A wistful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I learned how to swim in the ocean here. My dad taught me.”

“Did they come with you this time?”

He sat in silence, rubbing his glass along the table for slightly too long. Annie got the feeling that she’d stepped in it somehow. Maybe they didn’t get along anymore, or something. She was about to tell him to forget it, he didn’t have to answer, when he responded, “In a manner of speaking.”

“Sorry,” she offered. “I don’t mean to be nosy.”

Derek dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand. “No, no, it’s okay. It’s hard to know how to answer, because they did, but they didn’t.” He pressed his lips together, then lifted his eyes to look straight at her. “I’m here to scatter their ashes over the ocean. Well, not scatter,” he amended. “They’ve got this eco-container thing that you put in the water, and somehow the waves open it up and scatter them along the ocean floor for you. There’s boat companies that will take you a few miles out from land, and you can even get someone to play the ukulele while you’re doing it. I’m not doing that, though. The ukelele.”

Annie had been sitting, eyes wide and heart pounding while he spoke, her fingers tight around her Mai Tai. “Derek,” she murmured. “I am so sorry.”

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s all right, though. Circle of Life, and all that.”

Annie didn’t see how it could be all right. She couldn’t even begin to imagine losing either of her parents, let alone both of them. It was too devastating to even consider.

“When did they die?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“My mom died three years ago, my dad a year ago last month.” He picked up his glass, contemplating the liquid inside. “I kept them with me for a while. I didn’t want to let them go. But I figure, it’s about time to let them rest together in the place they loved the most.”

“It’s beautiful, what you’re doing.” Annie could feel her eyes welling back up again.

“Thanks.” He took a large swig of beer.

He seemed to be here alone, from what she’d seen so far, and that worried her. “Did anyone else come with you?”

He shook his head. “I’m an only child. I have aunts and uncles, but they’ve said their goodbyes and gotten their little glass balls, so it’s just me.”

“Their little glass balls?”

“Yeah. You can send some ashes to a glassblower and have them create this colored ball with the ashes swirled through it. They’re really pretty. I didn’t get one myself. I was either going to keep all of the ashes I had, or let them all go.” He sighed. “Not sure why I decided that. I just did.”

Annie watched him take another long pull from his glass of beer. “When?”

“Thursday morning. Day after tomorrow.”

She didn’t know what to say to him next. She wasn’t sure there was anything she could say.

He was an only child, and his parents were gone.

What was there to say, to someone who was so truly alone in the world?

He chuckled. “My turn to drop a big boulder of sad on the conversation.” He copied her miming action and sound effect from earlier in the day. “Sorry for that.”

“I’m glad you told me,” she assured him. “You should be able to talk about it, if you need to. Find me if you want to talk. I mean that.”

“Nah, that’s all right. Thanks, though.” He finished off his beer and rose from the table. “Definitely check out that lookout tomorrow. It’ll make your whole trip worth it, right there.”

“I will,” she nodded.

“And seriously.” He rapped on the table with his knuckles. “I appreciate this.”

She knew he didn’t mean the table. “Any time. Find me if you need me.”

He nodded and turned to go, but only got a few steps away before turning back to her. “Hey, Annie?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t think too hard, just answer. What was the best thing you saw on your adventures today?”

The image came into her mind immediately. “There were these beautiful wild chickens at the falls. They were doing these wonky little chicken struts all around the place.” She moved her head back and forth to demonstrate. “It was awesome.”

He smiled the big, toothy grin she’d seen that morning. “Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent.”

Then he gave her a quick wave and headed out of the bar.

She stayed at the table, lost in her tumbling thoughts, until her drink was finished. Then she headed up to the room.

First, I’m going to have a warm bath, with the tiny nice-smelling bath stuff they put on the sink. Then, I’m going to order a pizza and watch a movie. I’m going to pick one I’ve seen before, one that makes me feel good. I’ll text my parents before I go to sleep, send them my love. And it will be cozy and comforting, even if I wind up crying again.

And if she did cry again, that was all right. It would pass, and until it did, she could take care of herself.

 

 

Wednesday

Annie looked for Derek in the restaurant when she went down for breakfast, but he wasn’t there. She decided to pick up something from the grab-and-go café near the pool, before heading to the canyon.

She looked for him there, too, but didn’t see him. Maybe he was sleeping in.

She tried not to worry about him. After all, he was a grown-ass man who could take care of himself. True, he was here to do something heartbreaking, but he seemed intelligent and level-headed enough to handle it.

In fact, she envied his presence of mind, his calm demeanor in the face of loss. She’d been crying buckets ever since she got here, over a relationship that should have ended long ago and a man who had never really been all that nice to her. She could use a little of Derek the Stranger’s fortitude.

What if Ted is the best I can do?

She rolled her eyes at her own idiocy. She would have groaned aloud and smacked herself, too, but her mouth was full of bagel and cream cheese and her hands were busy unlocking the rental car.

Annie had read a lot of books about breakups during her first month on her own, and she had a logical understanding that grief could be intense. After all, she wasn’t just grieving the loss of a person. She was grieving the loss of her entire expected future. The fact that the wedding was justifiably called off didn’t mean she would grieve any less.

But at some point, the wallowing would have to end. It was becoming tiresome. And as far as the echoes of Ted in her head, it was time to stop listening to them.

She was not interested in hearing any more negative bullshit from herself, of all people.

She should believe in herself more than anyone else, not less.

She nodded at herself in the mirror, then connected her phone to the car’s Bluetooth speaker and dialed up her Empowering Theme Song playlist.

Time to stop wallowing and go see a goddamn canyon.

 

—

 

Annie returned from her canyon adventure in a much better mood, seeing as she hadn’t cried at all that day. Not once the whole time, and she was proud of that.

And the lookout Derek had suggested—it was the most sublime thing she had ever experienced. She could even describe it as being life-changing.

She went straight to the bar, hoping he would be having a drink, but he wasn’t there.

She stood in the hallway just outside the bar, her arms folded across her chest, her face scrunched up in thought.

She didn’t know his room number, so she couldn’t knock on his door, and she was 100% sure the front desk wouldn’t tell her what it was.

She thought about writing a note and leaving it for him at said front desk, but she didn’t know his last name. She imagined doing it anyway –”Excuse me, I’m looking for a guest named Derek, he’s tall and dark-haired, could you figure out who he is and give this to him please?”

Yeah, that wouldn’t work.

She wasn’t even sure what she would say, if she found him. Her main goal was to see how he was doing, with tomorrow being tomorrow, but she didn’t want to seem as if she felt sorry for him. Being pitied was an ugly thing, at least in her experience, and she’d rather not impose it on anyone else.

Annie sighed and ran her hands through her hair, shaking it out to free up her thoughts, and started towards her building.

He may just want to be alone with the ashes right now.

That sounded like it should be a weird thing, but Annie didn’t think so. Of course he’d want to have some time to remember his parents and say goodbye to them, before letting them go. She’d want the same thing. Hell, she’d probably want to take them on one more jaunt around the island, back to the places where they’d all built memories together.

She came to an abrupt halt as she remembered her first sight of him, on the helicopter, being so careful and gentle as he placed his backpack under the seat.

Oh.

Oh.

No wonder he’d stayed so silent and hardly looked at her. He’d taken them up there with him, for one more family look at their island. He had been saying goodbye.

There were tears in Annie’s eyes again, but they had nothing to do with her broken relationship or canceled wedding. They were for Derek the Stranger, who loved his parents deeply, and who had to let them go.

 

—

 

“How was the canyon?”

Oh, thank goodness.

Annie slammed her book shut and dropped it on the table next to her pool chair.

He looked relaxed and well-rested, although his eyes were a bit puffy, and she inwardly sighed with relief.

“It was beautiful. Sit here, this chair is empty.” She patted the seat, for emphasis.

“Thank you, my lady, I shall.”

She sat up straight, her eyes bright, as he took his seat. “Oh my God, Derek. That place, that Kala…”

“Kalalau Lookout?”

“Yes. That. Oh my God.”

He chuckled. “Tell me.”

“Okay, so, it was raining a little when I got there, because the wettest spot on Earth is right nearby, but you know that already.”

“I do. Go on.”

“There were clouds all over, but I thought it was spectacular, even if I couldn’t see the tops of the mountains or even that far into the valley. There was still a sense of vastness, you know? Infinity.”

He looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry, I wish you’d been able to see it the way it really is.”

Annie gave him a fierce stare. “I am not finished with my story, Derek.”

He stifled a chuckle and adopted a solemn expression. “I do apologize. Pray, continue.”

“Okay.” She swung her body so that it was facing his, “But I didn’t want to see it with the clouds, I wanted to see the whole thing. So I decided to wait. I mean, most days since I’ve been here it’s rained a little, right, but it clears up again pretty quickly. I know the elevation is different, and it’s West Side, not South Side, but why not at least give it a try? So I stood there and waited awhile, and just as I was about to give up and leave…”

She stopped and took a deep breath before continuing, still in awe of what she’d seen. “Just then, the clouds blew away. Like, they literally blew away, I could see them moving, and they were going fast. And the sun was shining right on me, and I could see the tops of the mountains and down into the valley and all the way to the clear ocean water and it was so blue, Derek, all the colors were so vivid and it felt so, I don’t know…so breathless, if that makes sense.”

“So, it was okay, then?”

“Okay? Shut up. It was fabulous and you know it.” He laughed as she continued. “You were absolutely right, the whole trip was worth it, right there. And…”

She closed her mouth, not sure how to explain the rest.

Standing at the lookout, gazing at all the wonders God had wrought (and there had to be a God, she thought, for such ethereal beauty to exist), she’d felt a familiar twist in her gut.

If only there was someone here with me to share this with.

But she did not start to cry.

Instead, she wondered if it would look any different if she wasn’t alone. Would it suddenly become even more glorious if she was with someone?

No. No, of course not. The only difference was there would be two bodies standing there instead of one. The place itself, the colors and the smell of the wind and the distant sound of the ocean—those would all be the same as they were, right then and there.

Being alone didn’t lessen any of that.

Annie had lived her entire life in perpetual anticipation of the day when she’d finally be with someone, as if that would suddenly make an imperfect life perfect. But that wasn’t so, not at all.

“It…it was everything,” she finished, sounding lame to her own ears.

“I’m so glad you liked it,” Derek told her. He was watching her steadfastly, and she had the feeling he knew what she had meant.

He has such kind eyes. The thought came unexpectedly, and it startled her a little. But she had to admit, it was true.

“Anyway, you’re batting a hundred with the suggestions,” she advised him. “Do you have any others?’

“You know, I kind of do.” He hesitated. “It’s a bit different of a thing, but hear me out.”

“You haven’t steered me wrong yet.”

“All right then.” He took a deep breath. “Ready?”

“Spill it.”

“Canoeing.”

“What?”

The word did not evoke pleasant memories for Annie. She’d only ever been canoeing with Ted, and every time she’d stopped paddling to gaze at their surroundings, he’d grumble about her expecting him to do all the work.

“Canoeing. On the Wailua River. Not by yourself, with a tour group. It’s beautiful along the river, and at the end, there’s a short hike to some falls where you can swim. Well, if you don’t have any open sores or cuts, and you don’t drink the water, because occasionally people pick up a bug from swimming in those circumstances. I do it every time I’m here. Not get sick. I mean. Canoe.”

“Is that what you did today?”

“No. Today I went up to the North Shore, to see some of the places we used to go when I was a kid.”

He probably took his parents with him, she thought.

“But I am going on Friday, and I think there are still spots in the morning group, if you wanted to try it.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, considering. Canoeing had always sucked, but then, she’d always done it with Ted. Maybe it hadn’t been the act of canoeing itself that sucked, but the company she’d had with her.

It was worth trying, just to figure that out.

“You don’t have to,” he assured her. “It’s just a thought. I think you’d like it, and this way, you wouldn’t have to paddle by yourself. I’m only a partial stranger at this point, so it probably wouldn’t even be that awkward….”

“I’m in,” she interrupted, her voice decisive.

He gave her a tentative smile. “Are you?”

She nodded.

“Are you really?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “Yes. Give me the web address so I can register already.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket, beaming in excitement. “Excellent. I promise, you will not regret it.”

 

—

 

She’d made the canoeing reservation after dinner (a quick walk to a sushi restaurant, which was so good, by the way), along with appointments at a nearby spa for a facial and a massage for tomorrow. She’d added aromatherapy and hot stones to the massage, because “treat yo’self”.

She’d reserved a seat at the hotel’s luau presentation on Thursday night. When she’d mentioned it to Derek, he’d been skeptical. “I’m not sure you’ll get the most authentic experience at a resort hotel,” he pointed out.

She understood his perspective, but she knew what she wanted. “I don’t need it to be a hundred percent authentic. I just want to watch the hula and see the fire dancers and hear the music and eat the different foods. It’s more of an experience.”

“True,” he’d mused. “I haven’t been to one since I was ten, so maybe I’m judging based on invalid data.”

The way he said it made her wonder what field he worked in, but they’d gotten onto another topic and she’d forgotten to ask.

She would have invited him to join her, but it didn’t seem like the kind of thing you asked a person to do if they’d buried their parents’ ashes that morning.

When she got back to the hotel, she took a relaxing bath and put on her prettiest, flowiest cotton nightgown and settled on the bed with a notebook and a pen.

She was going to make a kind of vision board for her future significant other (or others).

She’d started seeing Ted because he was attractive and charismatic, and he’d asked her out. She hadn’t known what she wanted in a partner, not at all—she just went forward with their relationship as it unfolded. And look where it had gotten her.

Having a fantastic week on a beautiful Hawaiian island, that’s where, she reminded herself, but still. She could do better than him.

It was time to be intentional, and give serious consideration to what she wanted in a man.

She spent the next hour deep in thought, scrawling out character traits, physical appearances, anything she could think of.

Intelligent, open-minded, honest, good sense of humor, family man, interested in life, kind, good kisser, hot, good in bed, affectionate, likes his job, if he doesn’t like his job he’s looking for one he will like, okay just sitting in silence or reading together, likes science fiction but isn’t obsessive about it….

In the end, she had 77 things on her wish list.

She wouldn’t get all of them—no one ever does—so she decided to go through the list again tomorrow and mark her Top Ten Must-Haves. The deal-breakers. The ones she couldn’t live without.

Before she fell asleep, she moved the tissue box from her bedside table back into the bathroom. She could always go get it if she needed it, but she didn’t think she would.

 

Thursday

When Annie returned to the hotel that afternoon, she checked the bar, the pool, the hotel lobby, the beach, and the fitness center.

Derek wasn’t in any of them, which made her sad.

Today of all days, she didn’t want him to be alone.

She tried to imagine what it was like for him, out on the big blue ocean with only the hired boat captain, setting the box of his parents’ ashes down into the water and watching it float away. Or maybe it sank. It was probably heavy, right?

She didn’t know which would be worse to endure, the floating away or the sinking out of sight.

By the time the luau started, she still hadn’t managed to find him. For a second she considered ducking out of the luau to look for him, but decided against that.

He’s a grown-ass man, he’s already been through both of their funerals. Trust him to be able to handle it. You know he’d want you to have a good time tonight, so just do that instead of worrying.

Annie thought she was bringing a good point to the table with that argument, so she decided to listen to herself.

Which was a good idea, since it turned out he was at the luau, himself.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, grinning from ear to ear. “I thought you considered this inauthentic.”

“Gathering fresh data on the subject seemed appropriate,” he responded. “And I figured I could use a little distraction tonight anyway.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered.

He shrugged. “Maybe after. Let’s have fun first.”

It was fun. It was such fun. There was good music and amazing spectacle and delicious food. Well, some of the food was delicious, anyway.

Annie made the mistake of taking a big spoonful of poi, thinking it would taste sweet, or maybe potato-y.

It was sour and paste-like instead.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed through her mouthful, trying to swallow it before she gagged.

Derek nearly spit out the beer he’d been drinking, and sat shaking with laughter as she gulped down a large portion of her Mai Tai and shuddered.

She apologized to the parents of the family that was sitting next them, who were giving her the stink eye. Their little boy was almost falling off his chair with laughter and rattling on about the f-word, and his sister was eyeing the poi on her plate with a wide-eyed look of trepidation.

Annie’s face was beet-red. Nice job, teacher woman.

“Jesus.” Derek wiped the tears from his eyes. “Jesus, that was magnificent.”

“It was gross,” she corrected him, and tossed her napkin across the table at him. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I meant to,” he defended, tossing it back, “but you dove right in before I had a chance. Glad I didn’t, though. Totally worth the price of admission.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he chuckled as he speared his fork into a piece of roast pig.

“It’s sour because it’s fermented,” he explained, turning serious. “Like yogurt, which means it’s full of good probiotics. And not all poi tastes like that. I’ve had some poi freshly made, and it was a little sweet….”

By the time they were finished eating, Annie had learned a lot about taro root and poi. And she had to admit, it was more interesting than she’d imagined.

—

 

They wandered down to the beach after the luau, and found two lounge chairs that were unoccupied. Derek had become quiet, and Annie wondered if he wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

She didn’t think so, though. He would have said goodnight and gone back to his room if that were the case.

“So, how was it?” she asked, after they’d listened to the waves for a while. “Apart from the obvious, of course.”

“About like I expected.” He kept his eyes focused on the water, and she thought maybe he was trying to see the spot where he’d laid his parents to rest. “You know what I keep thinking about?”

Annie shifted on her chair, rolling to her side so she could look directly at him. “Hmm?”

“The Beatles.” He let out an incredulous chuckle. “Which I know sounds weird, but hear me out. So, you know John Lennon died before we were born, right? And George Harrison, when we were kids.”

He looked over at her, to see if she was following him. She nodded.

“So, now there’s only two Beatles left,” he continued. “Paul and Ringo. And at some point, it’ll be down to one. They all had this crazy ride together, as Beatles, and there is no one else in the whole entire world who will ever be able to understand what it was like to live through that, as a Beatle. And once the next one dies, it’ll only be the one guy, the one, lonely Beatle. He’ll never be able to share his memories with anyone who could say, ‘Oh, yeah, I remember that, and what about the time we…did whatever’, I don’t know.”

He sighed. “I mean, I kept all the old movies and slides and photos, and my dad managed to go through some of them for me before he died, but I am still the only one left with memories of our family.” He pursed his lips, and added softly, “The one, lonely Beatle.”

Annie understood what he meant, on some level. She and Ted had had some good times, some fun experiences together, and now…well, it was almost as if they were just stories, and not things that really happened, because she had no one else to remember with. But she’d only spent five years with Ted; Derek had been with his parents for most of his life.

“You could tell me some of them, if you wanted.” She pulled her arm up and rested her head on it. “Or not. Whatever you want to do.”

He pondered for a moment, looking out over the water before speaking. “You know that story you told me at breakfast the other day?”

“Yes.”

“I was almost engaged once, and I broke it off. Not for the same reasons you did, Stacey was a nice, sweet girl, not an asshole like what’s-his-name…”

“Ted.”

“Ted, yeah, whatever,” he snorted. “Anyway, I figured it out here, on the island, that I didn’t want to marry her. I’d never given any real thought to it, to be honest with you. It was just that we were seniors in college, we’d been together a couple of years, and all her friends were getting engaged. People kept giving us these looks, like, ‘when’s the date?’ It was expected, you know? Like being on one of those moving belts at the airport, where you’re not walking but you’re being moved forward all the same.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Annie admitted. There were times she’d felt that way, too.

“I thought you might.” He gave her a nod before continuing. “And I’d come out here with my parents that February, senior year of college, one last family hurrah before I became an actual full-time adult, and we went out to dinner at this place in the old Kilohana Plantation, have you been there at all?”

She shook her head.

“It’s really beautiful, the restaurant’s in the courtyard, actually outside. Wonderful atmosphere. Highly recommend. Think about it.”

“I will. Anyway…” she prompted.

“Anyway, the thing about my parents was, they were in love my whole life. Like, serious love. Not like they didn’t fight, because they did, and they went at it all claws and teeth. But they were each other’s number one person. You see?”

Annie nodded. Each other’s number one person. That was exactly what she had always wanted to have, and to be.

“And that night, at dinner, my dad glanced over at my mom, and I saw the way he looked at her. She was the heavens and the sun and the moon and the stars to him. And she looked back at him the same way, and I realized…I’d never looked at Stacey like that.”

“And she didn’t look at you like that, either,” Annie murmured. It was a guess, but she was fairly certain it was correct.

“No, she didn’t,” he confirmed, and gave a rueful chuckle. “I would be spending my life with someone who was kind and good-natured and thoughtful, but I would never love her that way. And if I didn’t, then what was the point?”

He chuckled again, this time in amusement. “So I’m at dinner, staring at my plate when it all hits me, and I say, out loud, ‘I don’t think I can do this’. My mom immediately says,”—he made his voice higher—“‘Should I call over the waitress so you can order a steak instead?’ I looked at her like, ‘huh?’ and she says, ‘Or maybe some chicken? You like chicken.’”

Annie giggled. She could imagine his face, screwed up in confusion as his mother went on about chicken.

“I said, ‘Oh my God, Mom, no,’ at which point my dad dropped his fork and facepalmed, like literally facepalmed, and said,”—he deepened his voice, sounding gruff—“‘Goddammit, son, don’t tell me you’re a fucking vegetarian now!’”

Annie began laughing, full-throttle. His dad sounded just like hers (although her dad would have said “goddamn” instead of “fucking”, but whatever).

“And he was loud, my dad, and everybody’s turning around and looking, and my mom says, ‘Dammit, Harold, watch your language’, with no sense of irony whatsoever, and we talk around each other, and finally I managed to explain that I just didn’t want to marry Stacey, and Dad goes, and again he’s loud, ‘Why the hell would you do a damn-fool thing like that?’ and Mom says, ‘Oh, thank God, it would have been the mistake of your life. How about some shrimp?’ and the manager says, ‘Is there a problem, sir?’”

“The manager came over?” Annie was wiping tears from her eyes as she caught her breath.

“Yes, he did. And Dad goes, ‘Tell my kid he shouldn’t get married,’ and the guy looks at me like, what the hell? and I’m slinking down under the table, but I can’t fit all the way under it….”

“…because you’re tall!” Annie blurted.

“You got it, and my mom’s pulled the menu up on her phone and she’s reading it to me and my dad’s telling the manager how much Stacey and I don’t belong together and people around us are all trying not to laugh too loud and my face was just so red…” He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, then summarized in a matter-of-fact voice, “Now that was a dinner.”

“Oh, my God,” Annie had laughed so much that her chest hurt. “That is amazing!”

“That was not the only time like that,” Derek assured her. “Just the first one I thought of.”

“There’s more?”

He nodded.

She called up her best, cutest, most wheedling smile. “Will you tell me another?”

He squinted in thought, and then threw his head back and laughed. “Okay, I’ve got one. So it’s Christmas, and I’m 10….”

 

 

Friday

They decided to drive to the canoe trip together.

It was a logical decision, because why burn gas in two cars if you can use just one, but Annie was a little nervous.

Derek didn’t seem to be a serial killer. They’d been alone on the beach for hours last night and into the early morning, and he hadn’t killed her then. But there was no way of knowing, and she’d always heard that you should never get in a car with a stranger.

Then again, he was only a partial stranger now.

He suggested they take her car so she could drive. He didn’t say it in so many words, but she suspected he was giving her control to let her know she was safe.

“Your musical taste is seriously eclectic,” he noted. He was scanning the music on her phone as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Annie shrugged. “I tend to like songs without reference to a particular genre or band. If it appeals to me, it goes on the phone, no matter who or what it is.”

“Makes sense. You know what?”

“What?”

He poked at the screen. “I think I’m just going to set it on shuffle, and let the phone decide.”

Annie nodded sagely. “A wise decision.”

Unlike her, Derek had no problem singing in front of other people, or rather, drumming on the dashboard and humming in front of other people. Annie started bouncing her head in time to the beat of whatever song was playing; when she got a little more confident that he wasn’t going to laugh at her, she mouthed the words along with the songs.

He didn’t ask her why she didn’t sing, or call attention to how she was enjoying herself. He simply kept on doing his thing, drumming and humming.

And then, just through the Tree Tunnel section of the road, Gladys Knight began singing, and Derek was unable to control his inner Pip.

“Too much for the man,” he chimed in, “he couldn’t take it.”

Annie gave him a quizzical look. He nodded and pointed at her.

Your turn.

She sang the next line in a near-whisper.

“This is such a great song,” he enthused, before dropping back into Pip mode.

Annie smiled. It was impossible not to, when he was having such fun.

Ah, what the hell?

By the time the chorus rolled around, she was singing along in full voice, handling all of Gladys’ lines. By the time they hit the middle of the second stanza, she was emoting as she sang. She was a bit melodramatic about it, sure, but Derek was over there doing Pips-like moves in his seat, so she wasn’t the only idiot in the car.

At the end of the song, he held up his hand for a high-five, which she happily gave him.

And on they rolled.

 

—

 

Annie had wanted to see if it was canoeing that sucked, or if she’d just had the wrong companion. She knew within the first ten minutes on the river.

Canoeing didn’t suck. It was canoeing with Ted that sucked.

Derek was laid-back about the paddling. At one spot, they’d both stopped in order to take in the scenery. When the rest of the group disappeared around a bend ahead of them, Annie had glumly noted that they’d better get back to it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “We’ll get there eventually.” And then he’d called her attention to an interesting-looking tree on the riverbank.

On the way home from the canoe trip, he offered to drive. When she hesitated, he asked, “You’ve only ever driven through the Tree Tunnel, right? You haven’t actually been able to look at it.”

“Not really,” she admitted.

“So, let me drive.” He held his hand out for the keys. “And you just look.”

It was magical, the Tree Tunnel, like being in Middle Earth or something. She told him so, and somehow they began debating Lord of the Rings: books vs. movies.

They arrived back at the hotel before they’d come to any consensus on the subject. As they came in from the parking lot, he asked how much longer she was going to be there.

It felt like the sun had suddenly gone into an eclipse.

“I leave tomorrow morning.” Her voice sounded every bit as desolate as she felt.

He shook his head. “Wow. That really sucks.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“That sucks, too.”

He chuckled.

“Hey,” he said, “let’s go out to dinner tonight. Let’s do it up right for your last night on the island.”

I’ve almost spent the money I budgeted for this trip. I have to pack. I have to get some sleep tonight, because it’ll be a long day. My hair is a mess from swimming by the falls.

“Sounds great,” she said. “Where?”

 

—

 

They went to the Kilohana Plantation, to eat in the restaurant from his story the night before.

“It’s the scene of the crime,” Annie whispered, once they’d been seated.

He looked around, squinting, then motioned with his head. “That table, right there.”

Annie giggled again, picturing him trying to slink down under it.

“I’m just going to throw this out there now, so we don’t have to go over it later.”

She found that sentence a bit alarming, although she wasn’t sure what he could possibly be referring to.

“Dinner is my treat tonight,” he declared.

“Oh, no. No, I can’t let you do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re an independent woman who don’t need no man to buy her dinner. Whatever.”

“‘Whatever’?” she repeated, in mock indignation. “Really, Derek?”

He ignored her teasing, his face serious, his eyebrows plaintive. “You have no idea what you did for me. How much you helped me. I mean, this was one of the worst weeks of my life, hands-down, or it could have been. I expected it to be. And it was bearable, hell, it was even fun on occasion.” He stopped, seemingly at a loss for words. Then he shrugged. “It means a lot, Annie. It really does.”

The strings of lights strewn above them were blurry in her eyes; they looked almost like stars.

“You did the same for me, you know. I mean, I’m on my honeymoon, alone, and you know that’s got to be just awful. And it wasn’t, not all the time.” She smiled, sniffling. “It means a lot to me, too, Derek.”

They gazed at each other across the table. Annie looked at his face in the flickering candlelight, and while it was still interesting, it was no longer “interesting”.

It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

No. We are not going there. We are not having a one-night fling, no matter how good he looks in his bathing suit.

Which he did, by the way. The man obviously worked out. That afternoon, he’d taken off his shirt by the falls and she’d immediately had to get into the water to cool off.

But a frantic tumble wasn’t what she wanted. She had a list of 77 traits she wanted in a man, ten of which were dealbreakers.

When she started in with someone new, she was going to do it right.

“Settled then,” he declared. “Dinner is on me.”

“If you insist.” She opened the menu and looked it over, tapping her finger against her chin. “Now, what is the single most expensive item on here?”

He threw his head back and laughed.

 

—

 

Somehow, they got on the subject of museums. Big, small, historical, unique. She was listing all the ones she wanted to see.

“The Mutter Museum in Philadelphia, the National Museum of Funeral History in Houston, the Spam Museum, that’s in Austin…”

“Texas?”

She shook her head. “Minnesota.”

“Ah, yes. World-renowned Austin, Minnesota. Ever heard of the Mustard Museum?”

She twirled linguini around her fork. “I have. I’ve never been, though.”

“It’s a few blocks away from my house. There’s an exhibit of different kinds of mustards, and a collection of mustard pots, and a whole thing on mustard through history, plus they sell mustards from around the world. They have a tasting area near the back of the store.”

He stopped abruptly and dropped his gaze to the remnants of his potato croquettes.

“What?” Annie asked, alarmed.

“You better not be some kind of stalker or serial killer, because I just told you where I live.”

Annie frowned. “No, you didn’t. You said…oh.” She nodded. “I could google the Mustard Museum.”

“Precisely.”

She took a quick sip of wine, her mind racing.

What do I want?

Did she want this to be a vacation friendship, where they said goodbye and went their separate ways, and only occasionally wondered what happened to each other?

Or did she want to know him for real?

If she was honest with herself—which she really needed to start being—the answer was obvious.

But what did he want?

Well, I guess we’ll find out.

She took a deep breath, and said, “Arlington Heights.”

His eyebrows drew towards each other in confusion, but then he understood. His forehead smoothed out and his eyes got wider, like a little boy gazing at a tower of presents under the Christmas tree.

“Middleton.” He swallowed hard. “Middleton, Wisconsin.”

“Arlington Heights, Illinois.” She gave him a tentative smile. “Not so far away.”

He regarded her for a second, then picked his napkin up off his lap and wiped his hands.

“Derek Milburn.” He extended his right hand to her, careful to keep it away from the candle. “Systems software engineer, Middleton, Wisconsin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Annie wiped her own hand on her skirt before she placed it into his. “Annie Collins, high school math teacher, Arlington Heights, Illinois. I’m very happy to meet you.”

His big, toothy grin lit up his whole face. “Hi, Annie.”

She could feel her own grin, and she could almost feel her eyes sparkle. “Hi, Derek.”

They dropped the handshake, smiling at each other across the table.

“Okay, then,” he murmured.

“You better not be a stalker or serial killer, either,” she warned him as their server approached, and he chuckled.

“Would you care for any dessert this evening?”

Derek shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you. Annie?”

“The chocolate thing. There’s a chocolate thing, right?’

“There’s always a chocolate thing,” Derek affirmed.

“We do have a chocolate dessert, with strawberries and…”

“That. I want that. Thank you.”

The server was halfway down the courtyard when Annie turned and called after him, “With two forks, please!”

Derek shook his head. “Annie, I’m fine, I don’t need…”

“You’ll share with me, and you’ll enjoy it,” she demanded. “Chocolate has serotonin in it, and after the week we’ve both had we need all the serotonin we can get.”

He tilted his head to the side, thinking. “Not at clinical levels, it doesn’t. I don’t think there’s enough to have any kind of appreciable effect.”

“But what about the placebo effect?” she asked. “That’s an actual thing, you know.”

He leaned his forearms on the table, intent on the subject. “I’m not sure about that. Everything I’ve ever read suggests….”

They didn’t stop talking until the dessert came; and even then, the conversation continued around mouthfuls of the chocolate thing.

 

—

 

They stood in the hotel lobby that night, eyeing each other uncertainly.

Annie thought they would most likely keep in touch after they both got home. Most likely.

But this could also be goodbye, for good.

“So, do…” she began.

“Anyway, it’s…” he started, at the same time.

After some nervous giggles, and murmurs of “No, you go first,” Derek took charge.

“You know what I said earlier, about this week,” he started. “I meant that. Thank you.”

“Yeah, it was fun. And I meant what I said, too.”

He shook his head. “Ah, what the hell, you wanna go all the way with this introduction thing and trade numbers?”

Annie yanked her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it. “Absolutely.”

“Excellent.”

They traded unlocked phones, typed in their names and numbers, and then traded back again.

“Okay. Well.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “Have a safe flight.”

“You too,” she responded, and with an awkward flail of arms and more nervous giggles, they gave each other a quick hug.

He felt good, to her.

Annie set off to her room. Halfway through the lobby, she turned to wave at him, because she couldn’t help herself.

He was still standing, watching her go, and he waved back with the biggest grin she’d ever seen.

 

—

 

When she got back to her room, she didn’t start packing right away. She hadn’t brought all that much, so it wouldn’t take her long.

Instead, she googled.

And there he was, Derek Andrew Milburn (she giggled at the initials), resident of Middleton, Wisconsin, homeowner and proud holder of a master’s degree in software engineering. There was his Linked In profile, some high school yearbook pictures (he had been a cute little dork, by the way), and a respectable finishing time in the Chicago Marathon a few years back.

And there were his parents’ obituaries, complete with pictures. Harold Robert Milburn and Jeanne Evelyn Milburn, nee Hartford, longtime residents of Brookfield, Wisconsin.

He had his mother’s eyes and his father’s nose.

She wondered if he was googling for her, and what he would find when he did.

Please, God, no footage of me singing karaoke on my cancelled wedding night.

Although, if he did find that, she knew he would say. He’d call it magnificent.

Finally, close to midnight, she put her phone on the dresser and got down to the business of packing.

 

 

Saturday

She turned the phone back on during her stopover at LAX, when she was in line at Starbuck’s. It almost immediately began buzzing like a hive of indignant bees.

A text from her sister, asking if her flight would be on time.

A message from her friends, sending some goofy selfies from last night’s trip to the movies.

Also, a greeting to someone named Rod, who apparently was in the market for penile enhancement products.

And a whole string of texts from Derek.

Okay, this might seem weird, but hear me out.

She giggled, because she could just hear him saying that.

The first Saturday in August, there’s a festival.

A mustard festival.

I think you’d like it.

Here’s a picture I took two years ago. That’s my dad.

It was indeed his father, giving an embarrassed thumbs-up next to a person dressed like a Culver’s ice cream cone.

There are games and music and the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile is usually there.

You could taste the mustards and dance with royalty.

Another picture, an elderly lady in a bright yellow dress, a mustard bottle hat on her head, wearing a sash that read, “The Duchess”.

Then a link, which she guessed was for the museum, or maybe the festival itself.

My house is a seven-minute walk away, tops, so I could meet you there.

If you want to, of course. Only if you want to.

Annie tapped out her reply.

I do. First Saturday in August. I’m putting it into the calendar now.

The phone buzzed with his response just as she stepped up to order her coffee.

Magnificent.