Sunset Sanctuary

by R J Castiglione

  "Auntie doesn't even know I'm gay," I said.

  "Oh, honey. She absolutely does. I told Ala ages ago."

  I was a bit mad all of a sudden. Upset that my mom took it upon herself to out me to the rest of the family. "And she’s okay with it?"

  "Of course she is, dear. We're all ohana. And that means unconditional love and support."

  I suddenly felt able to breathe better. Maybe she was right. I couldn't always call her every time I had a breakdown. And Auntie and Tad were here for me as much as I was for them. I still worried that Jeff knew where I was, though.

  "Mom, can you do me a favor?"

  "Anything, dear."

  "Can you drive by my old apartment tonight? Just to see if Jeff's lights are on?"

  "Of course. You want me to go in and beat him senseless in the meantime? You know I'll do it."

  I chuckled. Tension washed away from me as though I were suddenly in a hot shower. "No. Please don't. It'll just make me feel better knowing he's still in Atlanta."

  "All right. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself, will you?"

  "I promise." I let the line go silent for a few moments. "And Mom? I love you."

  "I love you too, honey. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

  I heard her breathing on the other side of the line. She never hung up the phone first. It was something she didn't do. I said goodbye and flipped the phone closed.

  I shuddered after hearing rustling behind me and spun around. Where I first expected to see a person jump out at me, because that was how my mind worked, I spotted a chicken—a frightening, feral, man-eating fowl on the hunt.

  I laughed some more to myself. With my panic abated, it was high time for me to head back to the inn. Auntie prepared lunch at noon, come hell or high water. If I weren't there to eat, I would find only scraps left in the kitchen thanks in part to Tad's voracious appetite.

  I pushed thoughts of Jeff out of my mind and abandoned the old cemetery for busier roads. As I approached the inn and spotted a now-empty parking lot, I became quite pleased. I wouldn't have to share my meal with hotel guests. And that meant time to set Auntie straight about free rooms.

  It wasn't her fault, after all, that her friends decided to move. They certainly seemed able enough to pay at least something for their stay, or at least reduce the number of rooms they occupied to a more reasonable amount.

  Yes. Auntie and I would handle her new guests. Despite my mother's request, I wouldn't talk to her about why I came to Maui in the first place. I wasn't quite ready to tell her everything. She had enough on her plate.

  I went inside to rest for the remainder of the day, one that seemed darker and less vibrant thanks to my freak-out. The moment the door rattled shut, Auntie called out from the kitchen. “Lunchtime!”

  5

  Day 7

  My conversation with Auntie two days before bore fruit. Not only did Tad and I manage to milk thirty dollars in tips from Auntie's guests, mostly from Mr. Jones, but we also talked to her friends, who agreed to pay for the damaged furniture.

  The night before, they decided they would buy and cook breakfast for all of us, including the Jones family, to repay Auntie for her kindness. I didn't get to enjoy it, though. With breakfast served at 9:30 a.m. and my needing to be at the supermarket at 8:30, I rolled out of bed with just enough time to shove a cereal bar in my mouth as I sped out the door.

  No one was even awake. As I stumbled down the parking lot toward the main road, I hoped the market had some form of coffee in the break room. I sure needed it. Mr. and Mrs. Jones kept me up well past midnight with the moans and grunts that suggested they were really enjoying their vacation.

  I strolled into the supermarket with five minutes left to spare, pleased with myself for being early on the first day of my brand new job. A half-asleep Jim waited for me at the podium in the front, forming only a half-smile when he saw me.

  He covered his mouth to yawn as I approached. "Glad you're early. That's more than the last guys could manage. Go in the break room and finish this paperwork while I sort out shirts and aprons for you."

  He handed me a clipboard and strolled away, tripping over his feet a little in the process, leaving only a lonely cashier working the entire front end, a line of seven or eight cash registers, all but one closed for business.

  I slipped into the break room, enjoying the smell of coffee in the air. On the opposite wall, a pod coffee maker beckoned to me. In front of the pods, a coffee tin labeled "Honor System. $.50 per pod" waited. I didn't have spare change, so I slipped in a dollar bill, knowing I would certainly take a second pod over my break, slotted the plastic tub into the maker, set a paper cup down, and activated it.

  While the coffee maker worked its magic, I began filling out the short form in front of me with a ton of mundane details from my current address to my social security number to past job experience. The form was already half-filled out by Jim with my position details, starting salary, and hour limits.

  I reached over while I filled out the form and collected my coffee, drinking it down black. I cringed a little when the bitter infusion hit my taste buds but soon adjusted to the bold flavor and started to wake up at last, just in time for the break room door to swing open and Jim to join me.

  "Good. You found the coffee. You'll need it today."

  "Why? Is there something special about today?"

  "Not at all. It's just orientation day. Follow me."

  I handed him the clipboard as he rushed out of the room. He led me to a small alcove near the break room with a punch clock on the wall, tossed me a bundle of medium-sized shirts I looked like I might drown in, and a single black apron.

  "These are yours to keep. Make sure to wash them regularly. I already put your name tag on the apron."

  He showed me the tag and a series of numbers on the back, my employee tracking number. After walking me through how to use it to punch in and start my shift, he led me back into a closet-like room nearby with a single computer and a headset that looked ready to fall apart.

  "I need you to sit here and follow every prompt you see. There’s a quiz at the end of each section. Pay attention to the information. If you get too many answers wrong, you have to start the section over."

  I sat down at the computer and looked at the list of sections in front of me, a daunting arrangement of fifteen different training modules. Jim mumbled something about checking in on me later before he left me to browse through videos on job safety standards, customer service best practices, sexual harassment, bagging groceries, parking lot safety tips, theft, loss prevention, and so much more. Ninety-five percent of what the videos contained was common sense, easy enough for even a monkey to handle.

  It was nearly 11 a.m. by the time Jim returned, just as I was about to finish the final quiz. The door swung open quickly enough to startle me. I looked up from the computer screen to see a big grin on Jim's face.

  "Good. Most of the time I leave new folks in here, they're on their phones when I check in again." He squinted at the computer screen, pleased to see my progress, and took the mouse from me. A few clicks later and the final quiz for a segment on theft prevention was finished, filled out in whole by him. He tossed me a mesh neon vest.

  "Take fifteen minutes to have a snack and do what you need to do. Then I need you to round up the shopping carts in the parking lot. Stack them together, but don't push more than five at a time. It's company policy."

  I didn't need a break, though. I had been sitting in a tiny, freezing room for hours clicking through slides and multiple-choice questions. I was eager to get outside and followed Jim out of the room and into the bustling market, with most registers open to handle an influx of shoppers.

  Eager to escape the cold market, I slipped on my vest and went outside. I inhaled the sweet scent of flowers mixed with a pungent aroma of cooked meats from a burger hut next door. Knowing I had fifteen minutes to spare, I took my time walking around the parking lot, collecting trolleys strewn about, mos
t already placed in tiny corrals by customers mindful enough to put the carts where they belonged.

  I spotted Tad's truck in the back of the lot and looked for him, knowing he was about ready to head out of town for an afternoon shift working the ziplines. I spotted him sitting outside the burger shop with a half-eaten sandwich on the table. He waved me over as he downed the rest of it in one giant bite.

  "Looking good, cuz," he said with a mouth half full of food. He took a swig from a glass soda bottle to help swallow the rest of his food.

  "Thanks," I said. "It feels good to be working again. I thought I would hate working outside, but I kind of like it."

  He began to rustle around in a knapsack on the chair next to him, pulled out a small tube of sunscreen, and tossed it at me. I fumbled to catch it but failed. The sunscreen dropped to the ground and a little lotion splattered onto the pavement.

  As I picked it up, Tad laughed a little. "Just as clumsy as when you were little, huh?"

  "Yeah. I've never been one for sports, although I did make for a passable soccer player in middle school."

  "Really? What position you play?"

  "I was quite a good bench-warmer. Some say I was the best." It was a bad joke. Tad cringing at me proved it. I sat down with him for a minute and began slathering sunblock on my arms, neck, and face. Already I could tell the time spent outside the last few days had started to change my skin. Despite my darker complexion, the years I spent working in a comic book store or hiding out in my room playing video games left me looking more like a white guy with a tan rather than half-native Hawaiian.

  The tell-tale sign of sunburn shone on my arms. I guessed my cheeks and ears were also turning a bit red. I pocketed the sunscreen after Tad insisted I keep it and leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes.

  "What time do you have to be to work?” I asked.

  "In an hour. Thought I'd check on you. I wanted to make sure Jim was treating you right."

  "I'm treating him just fine," a voice called out from behind me. I jumped in my chair, startled by Jim standing there.

  "I can tell. You let all your employees lounge around all day?" Tad asked. He playfully joked with Jim. I guessed the two had been friends for a while, although I didn't recall Jim from elementary school.

  "Leave your cousin alone. He's on a break." Jim spun one of the chairs around so he could sit in it backward. Resting his arms on the back of the chair, he arched his back to stretch himself. He reached across the table and claimed a handful of Tad's soggy-looking french fries. Tad swatted his hand away, but Jim was too fast.

  "Come on, guy! I need all the energy I can get this afternoon. I have two tour groups coming in."

  "All the more reason for you not to stuff your face. I'm surprised you haven't busted the zipline."

  "It's tested for up to 500 pounds!"

  "My point entirely," Jim joked.

  "Come on, cuz, are you going to let your boss talk to me like that? I'm not that fat!" Tad feigned anger, his hands held up, pretending to defend himself.

  "I don't know. You're quite a bit more portly than I remember you."

  "Last time you saw me, I was ten!"

  I started laughing. So did Jim. This time, Tad looked less like he was pretending to be angry. He seemed legitimately upset. I could tell we touched on a soft spot. I didn't think he was the kind of guy to be self-conscious, but then again, I didn't know my cousin all that well. He began to pack up his stuff and finish his food, eager to leave.

  "Don't be like that," Jim said. "I'm sorry. Adam and me are both sorry, right, Adam?"

  "Right." I added, "To be honest, I'd rather look a bit more like you. I was the one who was a skinny little fuck. If not for your pounding every bully that picked on me, I would have been a miserable kid."

  "Damn right!" Tad said. He relaxed again and settled back into his seat.

  Jim stretched one more time and stood up, turning his attention back to the parking lot and the store. "As much as I'd love to chat, I got work to do. See me when you’re done out here. We'll have you bag groceries before you clock out."

  He spun around to walk away but stopped. "Oh! And before I forget, a bunch of us are going to Big Beach for a cookout later. Tad, you in?"

  Tad shook his head. "No can do. I work 'til seven."

  "Adam, how about you?" Jim asked. Tad looked at me, silently compelling me to go. He was right. I couldn't start treating Maui like my home again unless I began building a life here. Auntie and Tad, though great, couldn't be my only friends.

  "Sure thing," I said.

  "Great. We're meeting there at five. Just look for the red canopy when you get there." Jim sauntered off, back into the market, leaving just Tad and me. Tad looked at his watch and sighed.

  "Time to go, brah. Just make sure when you park at the beach, you leave the car unlocked and the windows down. And don't leave anything valuable in the car."

  I nodded at Tad as he stuffed the rest of his food in his mouth. Once he finished eating, he grabbed his things. "Also, have some fun, won’t ya? You've been moping around too much since you got here."

  "To be fair, I was injured."

  "Yeah. Are you ever going to tell me about that?"

  "Maybe in a bit. I just don't want to talk about it right now."

  "Well, if you need me to go to the mainland and beat the shit outta anyone, you let me know." He looked like he wanted to say more but stopped himself. He said his goodbyes and left, leaving me with a pile of his trash on the table to throw out.

  By the time I finished clearing the trash and the rest of the carts in the parking lot, I only had thirty minutes left on my shift. I finished it out bagging groceries. My last order of the day involved an old biddy in a heavy raincoat who seemed to know I was new. She inhaled through her teeth every time she felt I did something wrong, either making the paper bags too heavy or putting her precious produce in the bag in some nonsensical order.

  I held up my hands in surrender when she took over for me, pulling all the contents out of the final bag to make sure I didn't put her loaf of white bread on top of her precious tomatoes.

  "Don't worry about it. Some of our customers are just like that. They complain about every little thing," Jim said as we walked to the wall clock. "I'll see you tonight," he added as I punched in my code to end my shift.

  "Looking forward to it," I said to him, but he was already gone, speeding back to the front end after being paged. I was back in the parking lot at the inn in less than ten minutes, pleased with myself after having finished my first day of work, albeit a very short shift. I couldn't wait for my first paycheck and wondered how much of it I would use to make improvements to the inn.

  So many things needed improving, from the landscaping to the front porch to the gray and chipping shutters. The entire front of the house needed a good sprucing up so I could take new pictures to advertise online and bring in real guests, not these second-hand rejects from other hotels or folks leeching on Auntie's kind nature.

  The parking lot was empty, save Auntie's car parked at the side of the house. I climbed the steps and went inside, looking around for any sign our guests were present. I heard none. Looking at the guest register, I noticed her friends had checked out. Auntie stuck a note on the corkboard next to the podium with their room numbers on it, rooms I needed to clean sometime soon so we could use them for other guests.

  I went to pocket the note and start cleaning, but a noise from the back of the house stopped me. I panicked after realizing it sounded like someone struggling. Flashes of Auntie wrestling an angry Jeff flashed in my mind for some reason. I nearly knocked over the podium on my way to the kitchen, fearing the worst.

  Instead, I found Auntie on her hands and knees with a bucket and soapy sponge. She was straining, trying to get herself off the floor. Her cane was on the opposite side of the kitchen.

  "Auntie! I told you yesterday I'd mop the floors after work! What are you doing?"

  I slipped a little on the wet fl
oor as I crossed the kitchen to help her up. Behind her, a nearly empty pitcher of juice sat on the ground. I guessed she dropped it and wanted to clean up the mess before anyone noticed.

  "Don't talk to me like I'm an old lady!" she said as I helped her back to her feet. She proved more tired than usual, mostly from her exertion on the ground.

  She set the sponge on the counter and started dusting herself off. "I needed to clean the floor before the ants came in. Anyhow, I would have gotten myself up eventually!"

  "I wish you would have waited."

  "Nonsense. I've been cleaning these floors every day for as long as I remember, and I will continue cleaning them until I'm unable to."

  "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

  She took one look at me and smiled to put me at ease, although I thought I detected some worry in her eyes. She sat herself down in a chair at the kitchen table and motioned me to join her, a turkey sandwich and chips already waiting for me. "I'm not hurt. Sorry for snapping at you. I’ve become a dreadful old woman."

  "Now that's nonsense. You're as kind and caring as I remember. Although, you've always had a bit of a temper."

  She chuckled and then melted a little in the chair, resting her elbows on the table. "I want to be honest with you, though. It's the first time I've had trouble getting back on my feet since my fall. It did startle me a little."

  "It startled me, too. I thought..." I stopped myself from continuing. "Forget it."

  "You thought what? That your ex-boyfriend came here and was beating up on me like he did you?"

  I swallowed a little as my neck tightened, worried about where the conversation was headed. "Mom told you?"

  "She didn't have to. The moment I saw that black eye and the bruises on your arm, I knew what happened. You're not the first victim to recover under this roof."

  I held her hand from across the table and swallowed again. I no longer felt tense. Auntie, knowing more or less what happened, put my mind at ease. "I love you, Auntie."