Leaving Lana'i
Page 30
“Sriha?” the woman asked tentatively.
Ri tensed a bit. Then she smiled. “It’s Ri. But yes, that’s me.”
“Nice to meet you!” the woman enthused, shaking her hand. “I’m Kaley. I’m the HR Assistant working with Trish. Did she tell you what the plan is for today?”
Ri’s head spun a little. Kaley’s voice was high-pitched and she talked at light-speed. A flurry of emails had occurred in the hours since Ri’s flight cancellation had kept her from showing up at orientation on time, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember their content. One sleepless night in an airport her brain might be able to tolerate, but she hadn’t slept the night before either, thanks to a fun-filled family going away party that had seemed like a great idea at the time.
She greeted Kaley with a smile, hoping to remember “the plan” in the process. But she needn’t have worried, as the chatty HR assistant was happy to supply it.
“Can I carry anything for you? Oh, you just have the one suitcase and the backpack? Okay! Well, follow me, then! Trish said for you to just leave your stuff in the van, that I should take you straight to the marina as soon as we get to Ma'alaea. This morning’s orientation was all classroom stuff, I guess, but this afternoon all the interns are going out on the boat, and they’re going to wait until you get there, so we don’t want to hold them up. Oh, no!” Kaley stopped abruptly, and so did Ri. “I forgot! I brought your shirt and everything. You’re supposed to go ahead and get changed.”
Kaley reversed course and led Ri toward a restroom, then handed her a canvas tote bag which also bore the Foundation for Ocean Mammals logo. “This has a shirt and your nametag,” she explained. “You can go ahead and change into shorts and sandals if you want. You’ll be going right out onto the boat, Trish said.”
Ri blinked. Right out onto the boat. Onto the Pacific Ocean.
Her heart pounded with excitement. She had waited forever. Now it was happening so fast! No matter. She took the tote, wheeled her suitcase into the restroom, and changed. It was not until she emerged from the stall and examined herself in the mirror that she noticed the name on her engraved plastic nametag, which had already been attached to her shirt.
Sriha Sullivan. Research Intern.
Sriha.
A sinking feeling hit her square in her gut. No! Oh, no. She had specifically asked them to put “Ri” on her nametag. She had asked them more than once.
She closed her eyes. Let her breath out slowly. She wished it didn’t matter. She’d been trying to make it not matter for nearly two years now. But it did.
She opened her eyes. The face that looked back at her in the mirror was sad, exhilarated, and exhausted all at the same time. It was the face of Sriha Mirini Sullivan, daughter of Julie and Tom Sullivan, sister of Mei Lin Sullivan. Holder of a bachelor’s degree in marine biology and a minor in psychology. It was a face with light-brown skin, tightly curled dark-brown hair, and big brown eyes. A face that confused people. A face that frequently brought on lingering, quizzical second looks. Where was she from? Hmm. She had a high forehead and cheek bones, perhaps from her Russian mother, but for whatever reason, most people seemed to think on first glance that she was Indian. But her lips were full, which didn’t quite fit. And she didn’t really look African, either, because her hair wasn’t right. Then again, her hair wasn’t right for anything — it was funky curly, but silky in texture, with such a strange combination of reddish highlights and black lowlights that the color looked fake. Was she Middle Eastern, maybe? Her nose was no help; it looked stereotypical of nothing and was just kind of there. In fact, she had no preponderance of features that pointed to any particular ethnicity. So how to explain her?
How to explain, indeed.
The question of her life…
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Edie