by Jo Noelle
I flick.
The shop next door has clothing. Who can come to Hawaii and not go home with a floral print shirt? Liam is helping Mom choose one for her friend Bill when I wander off. I’m debating the virtues of a blue button-down with white and yellow plumeria flowers versus a simple pink T-shirt with O’ahu written on it in floral font, when I see intimate apparel on a shelf near the back.
There are floral-patterned bras and panties. Even on the coldest days of winter, I could wear those and think about my vacation. I would be lucky to wear the button-up once a year, the T-shirt a bit more, and the sari next to never. I sneak away from Liam and Mom to make my purchase. I go ahead and buy the sari as well as an excuse for having the shopping bag like, “Oh, I bought a sari. It will make a great beach cover up.” Good diversion.
Liam’s luggage purchase seems brilliant. We push all our bags into the suitcase and zip it up, and Liam drags it around. At three o’clock, the whole thing folds up for another week.
On the way back to the hotel, we make plans to go swimming in the resort pools and try out the water slide. As we get ready, Mom excuses herself, saying she doesn’t know if she is tired from all the walking today or if she’s having a hard time adjusting to the time change or if it’s here age, but she is going to stay in and watch TV or read a book then go to bed early. Do you know how you can tell when a first-grader is lying? They give way too much information and won’t look you in the eye. Apparently mothers do too.
I whisper, “Thanks, Mom.”
After dinner, Liam and I take a walk on the beach.
“Let’s watch,” Liam says, guiding me along a flagstone path away from the resort.
The surf isn’t exceptionally high, but plenty of surfers are enjoying it. The water is clear, light and dark blue with frothy whitecaps riding into shore. There isn’t much room between the path and the rocky border of the ocean where Liam pulls me in front of him to sit, laying against his chest as he leans against a towering palm conveniently planted by the path. The wind blows with the sweet smells of a floral shop, but there’s a background hit of stink, probably from the water. I try not to imagine that it comes from eons of fish pee concentrated in the ocean.
Stop—I’m on a beach with Liam’s arms around me. His arms. His chest. That’s much better to think about. I brush my fingers down his arms as they circle me, and lay them over his hands.
A surfer stands on his board, then twists and bounces along the wave. As the water flattens out, he pivots his board back toward the open ocean and begins to swim back out. Several others fall early and some make it further, but they all ditch into the water before they reach the rocky shore. Much farther off shore, someone on a Jet Ski is towing surfers to waves they can ride, then picks them up and takes them out again.
The waves lap a gentle rhythmic swish against the rocks. Little sprays of water jet up between the rocks with each wave. Now and again, a white bird flits between the trees. We watch in silence for a moment until Liam begins kissing my neck. Mm, it was brilliant to pull my hair into a ponytail for swimming—or this. His warm breath sends chills rippling through me. I drop my head to the side a bit to encourage him to continue. His arms tighten around my waist and I’m definitely not watching the surfers anymore.
“We’re not the only couple talking on the beach tonight.” Liam points farther down the path to where a sandy horseshoe strip of beach widens and a gray-haired couple is cuddling. Soon they stand and begin folding their blanket. The husband leans over and pecks his wife on the cheek—they’re so cute! The man holds his wife’s waist as they begin to walk back to the resort, moving together slowly. Then his hand drops to his wife’s behind and she lays her head on his shoulder. Whoa—get a room. Oh, exactly.
I giggle and turn toward Liam. He smiles, his eyes gleaming. Can he see us growing old together? I wonder what’s going through his thoughts and smile softly in return. “Is that what we look like?” I ask.
“Maybe in thirty years or so.”
“In thirty years? You would still play soccer, but in slow motion, and I’d whistle at you when you shuffle by.”
“Do we have children?” Liam asks as he raises my hand and begins tracing along the lines in my palm. Then he lifts it to his lips.
“Yes, and grandchildren. They play soccer too.” This sounds so serious and I say, “You know, maybe. Someday.” Someday. My stomach sparkles, and I feel like snuggling in tighter. My voice is just a whisper. “Thirty years.”
“I don’t see it.” But before my happy-bubble pops he adds, “I can’t imagine you looking any different than you do right now. To me, you probably always will.”
As the sky darkens, so does the water, now gray, blue, and turquoise. It ripples toward the shore as if it were silk blown by a fan. The clouds flame brilliant yellow and florescent gold as the sun sinks into the ocean while we walk back. Before we reenter the resort, Liam points to the thin windbreak of trees beside the path.
“There’s a legend that if you stand in the shadows of the ironwood trees in a full moon, the trees will tell you the future.”
I tighten my arm around Liam’s waist and he hugs mine in return. If I’m lucky, gray-haired couples on the beach do, too.
Liam left for the airport after breakfast, so Mom and I go to the market district in Waimea. We mostly just look—after our day at the stadium yesterday, there is little left to tempt us. But it’s enjoyable to walk and talk and wander with nowhere we have be. After lunch, we have appointments at the hotel’s spa. The warm scent of coconut milk from my footbath mingles with the scents of flowers and ocean. I wonder how long you have to be in Hawaii before you no longer notice the air is always fragranced.
The massage therapist has moved from the top of my head and is now massaging my lower head and neck. This is sooo good. I no longer desire to open my eyes, and now and again I stop thinking in words as colors float and whirl behind my eyelids. Her thumbs push and smooth the muscles of my shoulders in easy rhythm; push and smooth, push and smoo. . .
Crap! I sit bolt upright. My underwear. We left our shopping bags in Liam’s suitcase to take back for us, including my cute plumeria-print underwear. Take a breath—it’s okay. He probably won’t unpack. He’s going straight to Vail to be with his family … unless he uses that suitcase. Of course he will—it would save time not having to find another one.
“Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” The masseuse’s hands stop momentarily.
“No. Not at all. I’m fine.” I’m an idiot. “Really. Fine.” Chagrin is apparent in my voice. It’s just underwear—not a big deal. He has a sister—it’s probably nothing to him (probably). Just forget it. But I can’t and don’t. It feels so personal. The rest of the massage and pedicure doesn’t blunt the edge of embarrassment I imagine I’ll have when I retrieve my shopping bags from Liam.
A note is taped to my door to remind me that I have morning recess duty all month from ten fifteen to ten thirty. My students couldn’t be happier to have me with them at recess. Melissa and Cashel spend a couple of minutes each holding one hand and walking along with me as I make my first circuit around the yard before they go off to play. Several times during recess, students from my class skip up to check in and say hi or walk with me for a while.
For about half the days of this week, Liam is a sub, so on the other days he’s on recess duty as well. Apparently, you can play soccer in all weather. On Friday, Chad waves to me from the field, and I pause to watch the game.
David—you know shy, quiet, respectful David, with large dark eyes and long eyelashes, who is an angel in class—is a demon on the soccer field. He’s quick and coordinated. It’s obvious he knows this game. While everyone else just chases the ball around, David is aware of the whole game and waits for an opportunity to steal the ball or throw a slide tackle. The student he tackled jumps up and pushes David, though I can’t hear what he’s yelling. Liam looks like he’s explaining to the student that tackling is okay, and they all start playing again.
At Saturday’s partnership meeting, Kevin says, “There’s an opportunity to list some properties in Avon, Breckenridge, Aspen, and Vale. If we plan it well, we could hit several and come back with some high-end listings. What do you think?”
“Sounds great. What would we need to do?”
The next Monday at lunch, Kevin calls. “Can you get this Friday off to make a trip out to Breckenridge and Vail, then again next Friday to run to La Junta and Lamar?”
“Two Fridays in a row? I don’t think that’s a good idea for my class. Which one would have better leads?”
“Definitely the Breckenridge trip this weekend. I can move the La Junta trip to Saturday, and we could go out and come back the same day, if that helps.”
“It would. Count on this Friday, though, I’ll find a sub.”
Liam has been subbing in fourth grade today. After school, I walk to Kristen’s class to talk with him. “Hi,” I say and sit on top of a student’s desk, lifting my feet onto the chair. “I was wondering if you’re free on Friday to sub for my class?”
He looks up and walks toward me. “Sure. You know, I haven’t subbed for you yet. I’ll get to sit at your desk and ask your students to tell me all about you.” He reaches the desk I’m perched on, placing his hands on the back of the chair, and leans toward me.
Since Beth’s New Year’s party, which most of the staff attended, it is known that Liam and I are dating, or at least went out that night. Of course, if they were paying attention at midnight, they might have noticed that we didn’t appear to blush or struggle with technique as we kissed to welcome the New Year. We’ve been practicing. The end of the date was much better than the beginning. When Liam picked me up, he held several bags in his hands from the Hawaii trip. The light blush to his cheeks and the slight smile on his lips told me everything I needed to know. He had looked in the bags.
“It would be my pleasure. Are you doing anything fun?”
“No. I’m going on a listing trip out to Breckenridge and Vail, then we’ll be back on Saturday night. What would you like me to have ready for you?”
“When you say you are going on a listing trip, what exactly is that?”
“We’ve been researching the notice of default letters sent to people at risk of losing their homes. We make an appointment with them to see if they would like us to try to sell it before the banks repossess. If they do, we list the home.”
“Who is ‘we’ and ‘us’?”
Um. It’s okay—he knows about Kevin. Right—Kevin who sends flowers. “Kevin and I are both going to the appointments.” That sounds like we’re separate.
“You are taking a weekend trip with Kevin?”
What? “No, it’s not like that. We are both going, but we aren’t on a trip together.” Seriously, Liam?
“It’s not like that for you, but how about him?”
I slide off the student’s desk. “It’s not. It’s just business.” I peck Liam’s cheek. “Thanks.” Then I go back to my room to clean up. It’s not like that.
Chad noticed Cashel and Melissa walking with me at the beginning of recess last week. Now he races to see if he can beat them to one of my hands. And he has, every day this week, so the girls hold a hand on one side and Chad is on the other as mitten in glove, we circle the playground. When we get to the soccer field, Chad joins the practice and the girls move on to join other games too.
On Wednesday, Jason walks with us. Chad is a poor sport when Jason holds one hand and the girls hold the other, so he stomps off. He watches and pouts the whole time our little group circles the fields.
Today is an inside day for recess—yay!—too cold to go outside.
At lunch, Chad bops up to the front of the line, smiling. “Do you want to come over to my house to play video games?” he asks as we wait for the rest of the class to line up.
I smile brightly at his hopeful eyes. “No thanks, Chad.” I turn to the rest of the students. “Show me you’re ready to go into the hallway.” The line straightens up, and they all face forward.
After lunch, Chad finds me again. “Can you come to my house to watch a movie?”
“No, I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Then how about dinner? You have to eat.”
“No, Chad. I can’t come to dinner.”
“You could come tomorrow. Do you want to come to my house to ride bikes? Do you have a bike?”
“Yes, I have a bike, but I can’t come over to your house for dinner. I’d like to hear about where you ride your bike though.” I finally see where this is going and try a diversion. “Do you ride your bike a lot?”
“Yeah, our whole family rides bikes. My baby sister is in the trailer behind my dad. Sometimes my little brother rides in there too, but he’s bigger now so mostly he rides his bike.”
That seems to work—keep him talking. “Where do you go on your bike rides?”
Chad ignores the question and walks back to his seat.
Okay, that was seriously cute and persistent! In a few years, that approach will really work for him.
Arrrg … a morning person. Kevin is at my door at six a.m., smiling. I grab my suitcase, my coat, a pillow, my computer case, a blanket, and my purse.
“Here, let me.” He reaches for my suitcase.
Gladly. I shuffle to his Explorer and settle into the front seat, squishing my pillow into a wad between my head and the window and arranging the blanket around me.
“Okay, we can talk about today’s listing appointments later,” Kevin jokes.
“Thanks.” I’ll take him up on that.
“Sophie? Sophie, we’re almost there. Our first appointment is in forty minutes. Can we get some breakfast and talk over the files?”
“Sure.” My eyes are barely slits. The sky is lightening—not sunrise yet, but soon. Or it’s cloudy.
“Fast food okay?”
“Yeah.” Anywhere they sell Diet Coke will be fine. I sit up as he pulls into a parking space, and I flip the visor down to straighten my hair in the mirror. Then I grab my purse and coat. We walk inside the restaurant’s door, and I shuffle to a table.
“Do you want anything?”
“No.” I should probably have some nutrition. “Yes. Orange juice.” I reach for my purse.
“I’ll get it.”
“And Diet Coke—large.” He nods toward me. “Just the Diet Coke,” I amend as he moves to the counter.
He’s back in no time. We leaf through the files and he runs over the schedule for our day. We have three appointments in Breckenridge this morning, then we’ll drive to Vail. We have one appointment there this evening. In the morning, we’ll do two more appointments and drive to Avon to meet with two more potential clients before we drive home.
After our Friday appointments and dinner, we return to our hotel. “We make a good team. You’re smart and beautiful, then I move in for the close,” Kevin says as we walk to our rooms.
“Thanks. It was a good day.” I pull out my room key.
“Good night, Sophie.” Before I notice how close he is, he leans over and kisses my cheek. On autopilot, I kiss his cheek too.
Oops. Lighten it up. I quickly add, “Good night, partner. We have another big day tomorrow. Ciao.”
I enter my room and sit on the bed. This was a mistake. Yes, I find him attractive, with black hair and golden eyes, a large smile and very kissable lips. I shouldn’t know that. He’s tall, and the cut of his suit hints that he’s in great shape. He’s intelligent, masterful in negotiations…Stop. Under other circumstances, I might be interested. It’s not like I’m suddenly blind, and he is interested, but I’m not available, by choice. I’m into Liam—way into Liam. I’ll just keep it light and businesslike tomorrow. It was a kiss on the cheek, European style, to say good-bye, like you would do to anyone. But I don’t think he was being European.
I wake at two a.m.—wide awake, but my dream is still clear. Meg’s smile mocks me as she stands in Liam’s doorway, wearing a soccer jersey—my nightmare
from Christmas. Not a great thought for when you’re loopy anyway.
After I dial, Liam’s phone goes right to voice mail. He must have it off. “Liam, I’m sorry. I didn’t understand what you were saying, but I do now, and maybe it wasn’t what you were trying to say, but I think I understand why I don’t think I should have arranged this trip. I love you. I miss you.” I disconnect the call and turn to go to sleep, the phone still in my hand.
I pick up my purse before I leave my room for breakfast and notice a waiting text message from Liam.
dinner with me tonight 1/12/08 07:36 AM
I tap reply.
i don’t know when (send)
My phone buzzes with another message.
I’ll wait. 1/12/08 07:41 AM
I send one last message: *hug*, then go down to the restaurant to meet Kevin for breakfast at eight.
He stands as I approach. “Good morning. How was your night?”
“Fine, thanks.” I avoid another cheek kiss and sit on the chair opposite him. “What’s on the schedule for today?” It sounds much the same as yesterday with appointments and traveling. “What time do you think we’ll be back?”
“Maybe seven.”
The server steps to the edge of our table. “I’d like a bagel and a Diet Coke. Separate checks, please.” We eat breakfast and plan a little strategy. Then we hit the road again.
The listing trip has been worth it. Out of eight appointments, we have listed three homes and a fourth potential client is thinking it over.
We’re back in the outskirts of Colorado Springs just after seven. As we approach my neighborhood, I pull out my phone and text Mina to help me get my stuff in the house so I can avoid the doorstep with Kevin. She texts back saying she isn’t there, but suggests Liam can help me since she let him in before she left. There’s no way I’m texting Liam for help. In fact, if I’m fast, maybe I can be out of the car and into the house before he notices our arrival.
