Sunset Sanctuary

by R J Castiglione

  He jumped when I yanked the door open, and instinctively covered his bits with his hand before breathing a sigh of relief after realizing it was me.

  I decided Jeff wasn’t so bold as to camp in my room. Calder, however, was undoubtedly far from meek. After getting over being startled, he no longer covered himself, revealing the full sight of him. I blushed but continued checking him out anyhow.

  Like a giddy gay boy in a bathhouse, I couldn’t help but admire a view I most definitely liked. Even while bathing in cold water, he was packing.

  “I don’t know how long the water will last. Care to join me?”

  I hesitated, then took a sniff of myself. So occupied with Jeff at the school, I realized I hadn’t showered since before the storm. My clothes were dank. The promise of even a cold shower with Calder seemed a treat.

  I closed and bolted my door just as the first wave of guests made their way upstairs, and tossed my dirty clothes in the bin.

  While Calder didn’t have a shy bone in his body, I did. I walked in the bathroom, cupping my hands over my junk, and modestly stepped in, facing away from him.

  I felt his slippery hand on my shoulder, then shivered as he took a small sand pail filled with water and poured it over my head.

  Gasping and wiping the water from my eyes, I felt him spin me around. When I opened my eyes again, he was looking down and biting his lower lip. It seemed he was just as pleased with me as I was with him, although I didn’t know why.

  Calder had six inches on me in height, with broad, built shoulders and a physique that spoke truth to his fitness and virility.

  I was lanky and thin, with a thick scruff covering my entire face, the rough scruff I inherited from my father. Most of all, I was so without muscle and nearly hairless everywhere else that, if not for the ability to grow a beard, one would think puberty had almost skipped me.

  Looking down at Calder and me, compared side by side, now half erect, I couldn’t help but feel inept, a sentiment Jeff liked to amplify above all else.

  But Calder was the exact opposite. With his soapy hands, he prepared to rub me down but stopped just an inch from my skin.

  “May I?” he asked gently. The fact that he asked for permission opened me up.

  As I continued to stare at him, now having mostly adjusted to the water, I nodded, and he got to work. His soapy hands massaged every bit of me, starting with my shoulders and neck, then down my back, around to my front. I giggled as he rubbed under my armpits.

  He traced his thumbs around my nipples, both erect from the icy water. I shuddered as he focused on them more. Jolts of pleasure caused my back to arch involuntarily with every swirl.

  He lathered his hands again, working his way down, and down, and down, skipping over my now full erection. Kneeling so that the water cascaded over him completely, he massaged his soapy hands between my legs, then down my thighs, calves, and the tops of my feet.

  I struggled as he worked between my toes, mindfully cleaning every inch of me.

  With fresh lather, he went right for the prize. As his surprisingly warm hands worked up and down, I buckled back, gripping the sides of the shower. He stood up, wrapping his arm around my back and firmly grabbing my ass, pulling me toward him.

  Releasing one hand, I wiped some suds from my chest and grabbed him as well, sizing up his sevenish inches as we worked on one another, stroking and tugging. As the heat between us built, I took the initiative, and leaned in, locking my lips to his.

  They remained fixed, fused together by passion. Staggering backward, I accidentally turned off the water. We continued to slide our hands back and forth in unison, our legs quivering at the same time as I felt the urgency of release rising.

  “I’m getting close,” I mumbled, our lips still pressed together.

  “Me too!” He pulled at me even faster. I tightened my grip and did the same, until we both seized simultaneously, covering our hands and bellies. The moment lasted longer than I had expected, both of us doing our best to hold the other up as we trembled and quivered, our hips bucking with every ecstatic pulse.

  And then it ended. Our lips separated, and we both let out a single chuckle.

  “That was,” I said.

  “Yeah…”

  He released his hand from my ass and slid it up my back, pulling me into him as I wrapped my arms around his burly, furry torso. We lingered for a few minutes until our joint high wore off, then cleaned ourselves off again, drying off, and lying down, still naked, on my bed, staring up at the ceiling as a gentle breeze blew through the room.

  I noticed the temperature had risen since we arrived at the inn. No longer a chilly sixty-five with an ice-cold wind, I felt as though the trade winds had reasserted themselves. The island seemed to come to life again, with the sun shining, birds chirping, and sounds of laughter floating in from downstairs. Maui was damaged, sure, but he would soon be right again. Just like his people, Maui was resilient and hardy.

  I began to feel similar hardiness in myself. With Calder lying next to me, our arms and legs entwined, I knew that the people in my life wouldn’t let me down. Maui wouldn’t let me down.

  I closed my eyes and pictured the woman in red standing on the pitcher’s mound, powerful enough to stop the rain, and knew, somehow, the island was watching out for me. So were Tad and Auntie. And now, Calder. I dozed off, awash in optimism. Everything was going to be okay.

  13

  Morning 26

  Auntie couldn’t help but doze off in the chair next to me despite the flurry of activity in the police station, whereas I was nearly blinded by the bright fluorescent lights at seven in the morning.

  Three days had passed since we packed our inn so full of guests, many of whom insisted they pay a higher rate for their rooms. Some offered upward of $200 a night due to them unexpectedly having the time of their lives. They set up a tip jar that needed emptying multiple times a day. When the hurricane hit, they thought their vacation ruined, but we transformed that negative experience into an “off-the-grid style vacation extravaganza.”

  Tad took them out on island excursions as best he could, showing the families with children what fruits and vegetables were safe to eat, collecting them to bring back to the inn to supplement Auntie’s diminished pantry. He found so many coconuts.

  Every night we managed to feed our guests rice and taro, coconut, papaya, and cooked breadfruit. We even had dried meats from emergency supplies our guests picked up at the enduring, vibrant Banyan tree in the heart of Lahaina, hardly damaged by the storm thanks to large wires securing most limbs. Auntie, Calder, and I were amazed at the bounty Tad acquired, wondering how every fruit hadn’t managed to be blown down by the storm. I admired my cousin, a bastion of local knowledge, learned from identifying every fruit tree and edible plant on his zipline course.

  He had to do something productive, he said. It would be weeks before his company opened the lines again. Jim, meanwhile, spent most of his time at the inn or the market, spending nights in my old bedroom. He brooded mostly over having broken up with his girlfriend followed promptly by her throwing all his stuff out the window, her family occupying his apartment until the airport opened. Jim, Tad, and I laughed at the thought of the Serens caked in grime, squatting in the corner eating beef jerky all by themselves, shouting like ignorant cavemen at anyone who might dare offer them help.

  Still, he made himself useful. His main job was boiling water for our guests, either to drink once cooled or bathe with when warm, all made possible by Tad securing a single generator from a friend who left the island shortly before the storm.

  Thanks to that generator, we could cook and keep our lights on at night, and taped the switches on all ceiling fans to make sure the guests wouldn’t tax the generator too hard. We even charged our cell phones, although there was no signal or internet to reach the outside world.

  Calder left before sunrise most mornings, joining the teams to clear felled trees from the long, winding road to Hana, hoping that others
were working at the same chore from the opposite direction.

  He came back at night, exhausted, to enjoy a semi-warm bath I had ready for him, where we washed up, did our laundry, and enjoyed ourselves before joining everyone for dinner.

  Despite the idea that Jeff was still somewhere on the island, things were as perfect as life on Maui could be. Part of me felt this was what native tribes did before the United States invaded and stole their land. The island inhaled compassion and exhaled the aloha spirit everyone expected. Even when the largest hotels opened again, our guests collectively agreed to “stay with Auntie.”

  I scrawled in a notebook our latest figures. With the airport opening the next day and most of our guests departing, we managed to net $14,000, half in checks paid to Auntie for the room, and a promise from most of our guests that they would surely return in the future.

  That meant only $10,000 to go and two weeks to find it. Somehow. Even my father, who stopped by to “check on his investment,” looked concerned, leaving quickly after suffering a verbal beatdown by Tad, who assured him he would never get his grubby hands on Auntie’s home.

  I even joined in on the yelling, something I never dared to do to anyone before, especially my own father.

  Still, things weren’t all sunshine and daisies. I kept my promise to Auntie. Called into work the day before, Calder escorted me to the market, where I bagged groceries of mostly dry goods, as the supermarket shelves slowly started to empty, awaiting a much-needed arrival of fresh products from the mainland.

  There, I spent hours checking every single face I saw, knowing Jeff was still somewhere on the island. If he found me at the school, he could find me at the supermarket, or at the inn, or anywhere else I went.

  At the end of the limited-hours shift, Jim walked me back to the inn. Aside from that, the only place I could be at ease for the last three days was my studio apartment, transformed into a haven thanks to Calder. He helped me keep things cleaned, prepared breakfast for us using my kitchenette in the morning, and decorated with island flowers he brought back from Hana Highway after working to clear it all day.

  All those good feelings disappeared with every minute that passed in the cold, too-bright police station.

  The lights flickered above me as Officer Lanna met us at her desk. At this early hour, the station was practically empty. I heard one of the officers as we came in talking to his colleague about crime being at an all-time low, and how they would all be better off at home or taking the ferry over to Honolulu, which was, according to them, quite the mess.

  Officer Lanna was all business, adopting a more professional posture and appearance than most of her counterparts. She got right to business, first by having me explain in explicit detail what happened in the school the night Jeff showed his face, then had me repeat to verify the police report from Atlanta.

  “And you haven’t seen him since that night?” she asked.

  I shook my head. Meanwhile, my foot spazzed involuntarily, tapping out a dance it called “this fucking sucks.” That’s when Auntie took over.

  “So? Have you found the bastard? Locked him up? Why aren’t you doing anything? My nephew can’t go anywhere alone because of that man! He’s terrified! Can’t you do something?”

  I grabbed Auntie’s shoulder to end her rant. “Let her speak.”

  Officer Lanna seemed justifiably frustrated. She slid her chair to face me directly. “Adam, we tried to locate him. I even issued a BOLO, but there’s no sign of him anywhere. I went through the records at the airlines, the car rentals, and the hotels. There’s no indication that Jeff Thatcher landed in Hawaii anytime in the last few weeks.”

  Auntie shrugged my hand off her shoulder. “Are you calling my nephew a liar?”

  “On the contrary. We do know he was seen at the school. He used his real name when he signed in, that much is sure. But he didn’t provide a real phone number or hotel. Given the state of things, with half the island still inaccessible, there’s just no telling where he’s staying and what name he’s using. Without at least that information, getting a judge to sign off on a TRO, even in family court, is impossible.”

  “TRO?” I asked.

  “Sorry. Temporary Restraining Order. And because he has no arrest warrant in Georgia, we can’t arrest him here and extradite him. Despite his dramatics at the school, he didn’t break any local or state laws.”

  “But what about federal laws? You said he used an alias to get here, which means he’s traveling with forged identification. Can’t you do anything with that?”

  “I’ve already contacted the FBI office in Kapolei. And right now, they have other concerns. Things on O’ahu aren’t great. Law enforcement is stretched pretty thin over there. Without more to go on, my hands are tied.”

  I sighed and stretched my back. I felt every vertebra pop, as though my muscle tension had compressed my entire spine. “So you’re telling me there’s nothing I can do?”

  “I wish I had better news for you. But I promised you I’d see this to the end. I won’t stop looking for Mr. Thatcher. We’ve also tripled patrols around your residence.”

  Auntie interrupted. “What about getting security detail?”

  “If you mean a bodyguard, that’s something we don’t have the resources or permission to do. I can give you some information on local companies that provide that service, but you’d have to pay for it.”

  “Don’t bother,” I said, thinking about what that might mean. “We can’t afford it.”

  Auntie whacked my shin with her cane. “How about you let me decide what we can and can’t afford, Makani.”

  I rubbed my shin and jokingly asked Officer Lanna to arrest her for assault. She only smiled slightly, preferring to maintain her professional tone.

  “What I meant to say is there’s no need. The police patrol is fine, and even though I’d prefer not to, being around people at all times isn’t so bad.”

  “What about your father? I know he’s on the island and works for a real estate developer. Perhaps you could ask him for help with security.”

  I balked at the idea. There was no way in hell I’d ever ask for that man’s help for anything.

  “Have you thought about other options? Since Mr. Thatcher is actively stalking you, perhaps you should return to Atlanta and press charges. I looked it up. Since this constitutes aggravated assault, you have time. My guess is they’re just waiting for you to prosecute.”

  Returning to Georgia was an idea I didn’t want to entertain. When I first got to Maui, I ran away from a horrible situation. Returning to Georgia would feel like running away from a really good one. Despite Jeff, I was almost at a place in my life where I felt at peace. I had a close relationship with my family, a job and money of my own, a home I loved, new friends, and the possibility of a relationship that was, by all accounts, very good for me.

  I had even started feeling more confident in myself than I had before.

  “I can’t do that, I’m sorry.”

  “I’d like to say I understand, Adam, but I don’t. You have the chance to put this man away for up to twenty years after what he did to you, and with all the evidence stacked against him, it would be an easy case. You wouldn’t even have to take the stand. In the case of domestic violence, most judges allow written statements from the victims. You could not only save yourself, but you could also save future victims of his. And trust me, there are always future victims.”

  I remembered Debbie and how her husband killed her and then took his own life. I felt guilty. If we had planned our escape even days before, if I hadn’t been such a coward, the two of us would be here right now. She would know what to do.

  “I’m sorry, I just can’t. You’re asking me to give up what I’ve accomplished here. I feel more myself than I have in a long time, and going back to the mainland feels wrong.”

  Officer Lanna leaned back and turned toward her desk. She passed me a document to sign detailing our conversation and her commitments. “Very well. I�
�ll continue to search for Mr. Thatcher. If we find him, I’ll get started on paperwork immediately for the TRO and inform the FBI of his location. Just promise me you’ll be careful? In situations where stalkers are involved, they always wait until their victim is alone before acting. And don’t forget that you can be alone either by yourself or in the middle of a crowd. Make sure you’re with people you trust, who know what you’re going through.”

  “Thank you for your help,” I said.

  Auntie scoffed a few times. I knew she wouldn’t be pleased without Jeff’s head on a chopping block. She’d even petition the state to legalize the guillotine again and pull the lever herself.

  Officer Lanna shuffled some papers together and said her goodbyes, leaving Auntie and me alone. A few minutes later, we sat on a bench outside the police station, Auntie not yet ready to go home.

  Thanks to Tad always seeming to find the time, Auntie’s car waited for us parked at the curb, prepared to run as poorly as it did before it broke down. I guessed the fix involved twine. Or duct tape. Or twine and duct tape. And a few angry whacks with a hammer to the engine.

  We sat in silence, enjoying the beautiful day. With the hurricane petering out hundreds of miles away, the climate had returned to normal.

  “Can I tell you something I haven’t told anyone else?” I asked Auntie.

  “Of course, Makani. You can tell me anything.”

  “Just promise me you’ll believe me. It’s about that first night when the hurricane just started, and Jeff chased me outside. I saw something weird.”

  I paused, thinking about how to best explain it. Auntie turned toward me, her curiosity piqued. “What did you see?”

  “Well, not something, per se. I saw someone. Around midnight, after hiding in the dugout for a while, the storm almost seemed to stop. And I don’t mean it just died down. It felt as though the rain and wind froze, droplets suspended mid-air. I saw a woman standing on the pitcher’s mound.”