by MJ Brannigan
“Much better, thanks. Kamea’s been such a dear—really helped me out. Well, saved my butt, actually. But everyone here’s been so kind, wanting to make sure I’m doing okay.”
“How long you here for?” Laura asked.
“Couple of weeks is all. I’ll head back after Thanksgiving weekend.”
Laura casually brushed the hair away from her shoulder; “Maybe we’ll run into each other again, then? Nice meeting you. See ya, Kamea—lemme go get my coffee and head up to the farm. I’m running a little late as it is.”
Kamea felt Rebecca’s eyes on her as Laura walked inside. It was as though she was waiting for an explanation of sorts. Maybe she was just feeling self-conscious? It was an island after all. You can never keep from running into an ex as long as you live on an island. That’s the way it is.
“She seems nice,” Rebecca said, breaking the awkward silence that followed Laura’s temporary departure.
“She is,” Kamea replied. “I’ll tell you more in a few if you like—after she leaves.”
“Um, okay.”
Quick to change the subject, Kamea asked; “So what are your plans, once you get your car?”
“Well,” Rebecca leaned forward, head in her hands, “I thought I’d head into Kahului and get my phone replaced—don’t think it’s fixable, so might as well see what they can do to replace it. I did pick up some insurance before I left. I should check into that too, see if it covers losing a camera. Other than that, not much. Might go into Lahaina town too, just to check it out.”
“Well, you remember the way to Auntie’s, right?” Kamea asked.
“Sure—there’s only one road going that way, and it’s right in front of us,” Rebecca replied, laughing.
“Yeah—kind of hard to get lost goin’ that way, isn’t it?” Kamea chuckled in return. “Well, I was just thinkin’—if you’d feel comfortable, of course—you’d be welcome to come by Auntie’s later if you like.”
“Um, well…” Rebecca seemed surprised at the offer. “I don’t see why not,” she continued. “What is it that everyone’s going there for today anyhow?”
“Oh, it’s Auntie’s birthday. So pretty much everyone who knows her will be there. They’ll all bring something to eat—plus the fish we took over yesterday—my contribution.”
Laura came back outside with her coffee, waved a little bye to them; “See ya, Kamea—Nice meeting you, Rebecca.”
They waved back in return, watching her get into the old beater, and head back up the road they had just come down a few minutes before.
“So, is there a story there?” Rebecca asked. “If you want to tell me, of course.”
“Well, we used to hang out,” Kamea began. “Dated about nine months, I think. She’s a kind of Maui hippie chick. Like a lot of my friends, we try to do green stuff—organic farming and all, if we can. I used to help her out up at Makena’s. It was sort of our way of hanging out at first. She wanted to get serious, wanted to move in with me—with us, you know; JonJon and Brenda.”
Kamea lifted the lid on her cup and swirled the coffee around; “I guess I freaked a bit. Too much, too soon for me.”
“Oh. I could tell there was a little something between you two. How long since you, well, broke up?” Rebecca asked.
“About three months, I think. I don’t go up that way anymore on purpose. Pretty much keep to myself. I like it that way. I can paint or go out on the water and not get tied up in the farm life the way she does. She loves it—can spend all day in the dirt. Me, not so much. I like being able to get out on the water, be near the beach. Helps me to feel free.”
“I can understand that,” Rebecca said.
Kamea hoped Rebecca would understand how much she relished having her freedom. She liked Rebecca a lot already, but as close as she seemed to feel around her, she just didn’t want to get too intimate with someone that would be leaving to go back to the mainland soon. But she couldn’t deny the attraction to Rebecca she was feeling. It confused her, but she liked her life the way it was and didn’t want it to get complicated with another relationship that probably wouldn’t last in the long term.
“Should I bring something?” Rebecca asked, breaking Kamea’s stream of thought.
“Pardon? Oh, to Auntie’s.” Realizing Rebecca had changed the subject back to the earlier invite.
“Well, maybe just some fruit or something. If you see a dish in the store—nothing big. There will be a lot there already. But I know it doesn’t feel good to show up at someone’s party empty-handed. Flowers would be good too. They always have them at the grocery store near the check-out, if you want to do that.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that. Who doesn’t like flowers, right?”
“You done with your coffee?” Kamea asked.
“Sure am. Doesn’t get cold as fast here as it does back home.”
“I know, right? Let’s go get your car, and we can meet up later—that is, if you feel like coming by. People will start getting there around three, so any time after that would be fine.”
“Thanks, I’d like that—as long as you don’t think it would be an imposition?”
“Not at all. You’ll have fun—lots to eat, music—Uncle Leo plays slack key too, and sings old Hawaiian songs.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened in delight; “Oh, wow, that’s so cool! I love slack key! That was on my things to do list while I was here—to listen to someone play some good Hawaiian guitar. Just wasn’t sure where to go.”
“Well, now you know. He’s good too; plays at the resorts sometimes for tourist concerts and luaus,” Kamea replied, smiling at the simple look of joy on Rebecca’s face. “Let’s head out, then.”
* * *
On the drive home, Kamea thought about the little awkward hug between them as they parted at Rebecca’s rental car. Rebecca wanted to hold on just a bit longer than Kamea felt comfortable with and stiffened before ending the hug. They had known one another less than twenty-four hours. But she couldn’t deny feeling a connection. Maybe it was only the kinship of feeling responsible for saving her life—not a small thing, but something she had never known before now. Is there some sort of responsibility that comes with?
She found Rebecca lovely though. Her kinky blondish hair, tossed about in the breeze, seemed to fall naturally across her peek-a-boo eyes. And her eyes; piercing, green, and intelligent. Rebecca was no athlete, but looked as though she could hike and swim, no problem; the lovely roundness of her figure—built for comfort, not for speed—as she jokingly confessed to her. Her feminine mannerisms though; even when holding a coffee cup, were a delight. And Kamea found it difficult not to stare, to look along the curvaceous lines of her figure, her skin; soft, pale, cool, and inviting. When she sat next to her in the truck heading to Auntie’s, Kamea found it necessary to talk, tell stories, and point out the scenery, just to keep herself from constantly looking at Rebecca’s face, or her lovely legs, peeking out from under the skorts that rode up a little on her as she sat next to her on the bench seat of the truck. But two weeks. Just two more weeks and she’d be back in Detroit, back to her regular life—whatever that life may be.
It dawned on her just how little she knew about Rebecca, and that she hadn’t asked her all the usual questions people do when getting to know each other. They somehow didn’t seem important. What seemed important was being with her. She didn’t need to invite her to Auntie’s birthday, but she did. She didn’t need to take her to the clinic in Paia, stay with her the rest of the day. But she did.
“Auntie and her rainbows,” she said to herself out loud as she pulled into the driveway at home.
CHAPTER 8 - REBECCA
Rebecca was surprised by the invitation to Auntie’s birthday gathering and could feel her mood lighten even further. The thought of it warmed her, made her feel special to be invited to something that was not on any tourist itinerary. She had second thoughts though—perhaps Kamea was just being nice? Well, she was being nice, certainly. But the invite still th
rew her a little, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
She had a new smart phone in her pocket, and learned, once she sat on hold for twenty minutes or so for an insurance agent, that yes, her camera loss was covered—along with the new phone. She felt relief that even though she wasn’t in any way a professional photographer; she had thought to get insurance to cover such things, just in case. She assumed any loss would most likely come from theft or something along those lines, not from her own near-death experience.
After coming across a little food truck by the side of the road selling fish tacos, she decided to try them for the first time and take them down to the beach park to enjoy the view. A picnic table under tall palms, fronds blowing in the gentle sea-breeze would be perfect for a lunch spot. These were the things she had come to Hawaii for; time on her own, fish tacos for the first time, and a view that, back home in Detroit, one spends long winter months wishing for and never truly believing could exist for them.
Lahaina had been a busy little tourist town, many of the structures a reminder of its old whaling history. Reflecting on that history, she couldn’t imagine the characters of the past, killing such magnificent creatures for profit. Now, the whales bring tourists, and a dollar value much greater than any whale oil could ever provide.
The fish tacos were delicious—wonder if any place back home has them? Then, of course, no. How could they have fresh Mahi-mahi fish tacos in Detroit? She’d enjoy them on her vacation and rave about them to everyone when she got home.
Flowers were her next thought. Flowers would be the ideal thing to take to Auntie’s. Not knowing what people might like to eat, and not wanting to bring some pre-packaged food, she decided flowers would be the better option. She pressed the wake button on her new phone to check the time. Rebecca realized she could make it to the grocery store she passed on the way from Kahului, and then get to the B&B to shower and change in time to get to Auntie’s sometime well after three—maybe closer to four. Don’t want to get there too soon, she thought.
She wondered about Kamea’s history with Laura. Laura seemed nice, even if the surprise encounter was a little awkward. Laura looked to be a retro hippie chick of sorts, with just a little goth thrown in to be current. It was an interesting mix. It made Rebecca feel just a bit old though. She didn’t feel stylish anymore. Her closet held practical clothing—nothing fancy or belonging to any particular fashion, as the clothing she had when she was in her teens and early twenties.
Kamea was younger than her by just a couple of years, she guessed. Laura, she imagined, about the same age. Here I am feeling old when I’m not, Rebecca thought. But perhaps it wasn’t so much her age in years that troubled her, but rather her age in miles of the heart. She felt tired from the journey. The past year had been rough.
Kamea had saved her life—and along with it brought an awareness of life to her in ways she felt was just now awakening. She wondered if her incident out on the rocks hadn’t mirrored some sort of death wish that haunted her—not truly wanting to take her life from the heartache of the past year, but never making a conscious decision to live it to the fullest either. She had just been hanging on.
Kamea was a gift. From what or where, she didn’t know. But she was a gift delivered by the sea, to a life that had become tired of itself. She was still here for a reason, and so she thought she would do her best to see what that reason was. Stay awake for possibilities, she thought. And then there was Auntie’s vision of a rainbow for her. “Not sure about that,” she found herself saying out loud as she finished her lunch, taking one last long look at the stunning view, and headed for the car.
* * *
Rebecca pulled a white eyelet sundress from the closet and placed it in front of her still-wet, towel-wrapped figure. Moving side to side in front of the full-length closet mirror, she thought this, maybe with the red sling-back low heels? There was a red bead necklace she brought with her as an accessory too, with matching earrings. Oh, what was she thinking? Everyone would be wearing board shorts, t-shirts, or mumus, and she for sure didn’t want to stand out.
All she brought with her were her summer clothes from Michigan. She didn’t have board shorts, flops or a mumu. This would have to do, and it was as good a time to wear this ensemble as any. She didn’t know if she’d work up the nerve to go to that laua in Lahaina by herself after all, and there was not much else to get dressed up for that she could think of.
Putting on her lipstick, and leaning in to make sure her mascara didn’t have any wayward blobs, Rebecca could feel the butterflies in her stomach as she thought about seeing Kamea within the hour ahead; what would she think of her girly look? Would she feel comfortable meeting her friends and family? Maybe she shouldn’t bother going at all? No one would miss her anyhow. They don’t even know she exists in the first place. Doubt was rearing its head.
And then there was Kamea—the apparent source of these butterflies. Just the thought of her—my God, what was happening?
She didn’t know how their lives could be fated—if at all. But she made a pact with herself and took this as a sign her life was worth saving, worth living to the fullest—whatever that meant, wherever it might lead. And she would stay in touch with Kamea for as long as circumstances allowed.
The little crush she was feeling for her must, she was certain, have more to do with the rescue event than anything else. So she also made another pact with herself not to let her feelings carry her away. Kamea had a good life, a simple life. She seemed to state her life choice of not wanting to be too involved with anyone relationship-wise when Laura showed up this morning. Fine. Understood.
Rebecca didn’t want to bother her with the trouble of another possible relationship—especially with someone feeling so mixed up. She’d be heading back to Detroit before she knew it anyhow and she wasn’t here for a vacation time fling either. This wasn’t a singles cruise after all—the vacation idea suggested by friends and family.
I’ll enjoy my quiet time on Maui, let the beauty soak into my skin. Maybe if I’m fortunate, a little of it will sink in deep enough to take home with me. I can always come back for a recharge if the design work stays consistent back home.
* * *
The sun was behind her as she drove the famous winding road to Hana. Maybe I’ll take Kamea up on her offer of seeing some of the sights? she thought. It sure is beautiful. Turning off onto the little road into Wailua, she felt some butterflies—nervous butterflies, yes. Driving into this small community almost felt, for a white person at least, as though one was trespassing on private land. But it was a culture she felt as though she might be trespassing on instead.
Nothing here looked like anything touristy she had seen earlier today in Lahaina. In fact, it was an enclave with no tourist in sight. This time of the day, they would be on their way back from the drive to Hana, thinking of their evening meals at the resort, or at the waterfalls on the Mauka side of the road. That was a Hawaiian word she already learned from Kamea—Mauka: the inland, mountain side of the road, as compared to the ocean side: Makai. A little of Kamea was rubbing off on her already. She smiled at the thought, and thinking of Kamea; the butterflies returned.
The grass around the little house was a parking lot. Cars lined the road on each side. The only traffic in and out would be those coming to Auntie’s anyhow, Rebecca surmised. The rest of the people in the community would just walk on over from their little houses.
She saw a spot at the end and pulled in. Getting out of the car, she could hear the music—island music—from a radio. It sounded more like Caribbean reggae than Hawaiian. But the air smelled of barbecue and smoke, mixed with a gentle breeze off the ocean. The low light of the afternoon stopped her in her tracks as she left the car and moved towards the little house. She could see the people—so many people for such a little place. Auntie must be pretty popular, she thought.
As she stood there, wondering whether to keep walking towards the house or not, the butterflies in her stomach in
tensified. Fear? Nervousness? What am I afraid of? I could just leave—no one would care or even know if I ever showed up.
She stood there, mesmerized by the late afternoon light. And turning towards it, closed her eyes to feel the sun on her face, the breeze off the sea, holding the flowers for Auntie, attempting to quiet her fearful thoughts of doubt. What should she do? Move ahead, or just go back to Haiku? Time stood still for a few moments as she felt the warmth of the sun on her face. She felt the gentle breeze caress her, rooting her in place, inviting her to stay. The lingering moment was a calming bliss, and an interruption to her doubts. She let the peace of the moment last as best she could.
That was when she heard her name: “Rebecca! Over here! So glad you made it!”
And seeing Kamea’s smiling face, the butterflies; the nervous, fearful ones, at least, evaporated in the warmth of her breast.
CHAPTER 9 - KAMEA
Kamea had been enjoying a few nibbles from the prepared Ono, lying out among an array of local fruits and veggies, pork—the fall-off-the-bone kind—sushi, poi, and sweet cake desserts. So many friends and family had come to pay respects to Auntie. She was the matriarch of a generation, not just for one single family.
Earlier in the afternoon, Auntie pulled Kamea aside, remarking that she looked a little nervous; “What’s the matter, keiki? Doesn’t look like your mind is with you today.”
Kamea knew better than to try to hide her feelings from Auntie. She could pick up on the vibe, the look—whatever it was, Kamea’s will was no match for it. She had always called Kamea ‘keiki’ for as far back as she could remember. It was a simple word that meant child, but was the term of endearment she used for her always, and it held a warm spot in Kamea’s heart to hear it.
“Thinkin’ about Rebecca is all,” she replied. “I invited her over so she wouldn’t have to sit by herself so soon after her incident. She looked as though she might need to be with people to pull her out of her thoughts, I figured.”
