by Piper Lennox
Okay, so maybe post-sex cuddling shouldn’t be part of the “vacation fling” deal, but between the temperature and my exhaustion—it has been a really long time for me—it’s pretty much the only option.
Besides, I don’t want to be a jerk. Wham, bam, get the hell out? Not my style.
She shivers, an aftershock, and rests a hand on my chest. Her breath is so shallow, I wonder if she’ll fall asleep. The idea of napping together makes me happier than it probably should.
Soon I’m in that weird in-between state, where you know you’re about to drop out of consciousness but don’t care, where reality melts with dreams. I feel the ocean underneath me, rocking my board and gliding me across low waves. The sun is white overhead.
I hear voices. By the time I register that the sound of footsteps outside the cabana and click of the door aren’t a dream, it’s too late.
“Oh, shit, man, I’m sorry!” P.J. backs up so fast, he bumps into whoever’s behind him. Both are covering their eyes. Thank God, because Mollie and I are anything but graceful as we fall out of the chair and gather our clothes.
“Jesus, P.J.,” I shout, now that he’s closed the door. Once we’re both covered, I grab the handle and jerk it open. “What the hell?”
“I’m sorry,” he laughs, holding up his palms. “Brad and me were just looking to smoke between shifts.”
I glance behind him at Brad, a new server we hired for the busy season. “You should know P.J.’s been written up twice for smoking weed on the property, and that was before corporate came in. I wouldn’t exactly follow his lead, if I were you.”
Brad looks petrified. “Yes, sir.”
“Kai,” I correct him, which I’ve had to do ever since his training week. We’re all basically the same rank—at least, we used to be, before this morning—but as the boss’s son, I guess people do see me as some kind of authority. Which is seriously flawed, for more reasons than one.
“If you can fuck a girl in the cabana,” P.J. says breezily, “I can pack a bowl.” He looks over my shoulder at Mollie, who’s painfully embarrassed. “I am sorry for barging in, though.”
A siren up the hill catches our attention. The four of us turn and squint at the resort, just in time to see an ambulance fly in from the road.
“Whoa.” P.J. steps into the cabana past Mollie, jerking his head at Brad to follow. “Hope nobody else drowned.”
Mollie winces. I glare at P.J., who doesn’t make the connection.
“Come on.” Her hand is slick in mine. We start for the building. “Sorry. P.J.’s a nice guy, honestly—clueless, but nice. And I don’t think he knows you’re the one who almost drowned, so it wasn’t a personal dig.”
“It’s okay.” She keeps one arm crossed over her body, hugging her ribcage like she’s self-conscious. If I still worked here, I’d give P.J. more than an earful at our next shift.
The ambulance is pulled up to a back entrance. Paradise Port policy, enforced whenever possible: if there’s time to get a hurt or sick guest to a more discreet loading area, do it.
I shoulder my way through the employees gathered there. Voices quiet when anyone notices me, which is the first sign something’s wrong. Usually, staff share info like cold germs.
The second sign is spotting Luka, pulling himself up into the ambulance before the doors shut.
“Who is it?” Mollie asks, after the ambulance starts down the road. I curse in a long exhale. The crowd has all turned to stare at me.
I feel her hand slip from mine, but can’t tell which one of us lets go first. “My dad.”
Thirteen
Mollie
This is way outside of vacation-fling territory. But God, how much of a bitch would I have to be to leave now?
Kai’s in such a frenzy getting to the car, instantly loaned by one of the employees after the ambulance leaves, there’s no time to discuss whether or not I’ll join him. It’s just assumed—and cemented by the fact that, even in his panic, he opens my door for me.
The ICU of the hospital is eerily quiet. His brother stalks from one side of the waiting room to the other with a steady, businesslike pace as he explains everything to Kai.
“He said he felt really tired after the afternoon meeting, so I offered to get him coffee or something, and then next thing I know...” He pauses, swallowing. “…he just collapsed.”
I watch Kai carefully as he listens. At first glance, you’d think none of this was affecting him. His face is perfectly still.
But when Luka says that word—“collapsed”—and starts to cry, Kai pulls his brother against him, and I see the shift. He closes his eyes. His brow tenses. I don’t see tears, but I can tell they’re close. Right below the surface.
Meanwhile, I just stand there, since I don’t have any solace or medical knowledge to soften the blow. By the time their mother arrives, I’ve moved to a chair to text Tanya about what happened. It’s like I’m not even here.
I refuse to let it get to me. After all: in a few days, I won’t be.
Kai
Seeing Luka cry shakes me up. But seeing Mom cry, even though I’ve seen it a whole lot more, pretty much breaks me completely.
“He’ll be okay, Mom.” I hand her another tissue while Luka stirs her coffee. She could barely look at Dad when we all went in his room. The tubes and wires startled her, like somebody had leapt out at her from behind the door, and she turned around into Luka’s arms before we even crossed the threshold.
Now, in the waiting room, she’s calm. Still crying, but calm.
“The doctor said the damage isn’t too bad,” Luka reminds her. He hands her the cup, but she just stares into it. “That’s really good. I mean, normally a stroke can be—”
I clear my throat, a not-so-subtle way of telling Luka to shut the fuck up. He’s been combing the internet on Mom’s phone for everything on strokes he can find, which is how he copes with change or tragedy: learn the hell out of it, until you’re an expert and—in his mind, anyway—immune to fear.
Mom doesn’t operate that way, though. She lives her life on the sunny side, preferring faith to probability. While Luka thinks he’s told her good news, that Dad’s damage could be so much worse, I know my mom. All she heard was “damage” and “bad.”
“He’ll be okay,” I tell her again. Unlike Luka, I have no facts or research to back this up, but it’s what she needs and wants to hear.
“I know. I’m praying.” She manages a smile and squeezes my hand. Luka shrinks into his chair and shuts up.
It’s almost sunset by the time we convince Mom to try going in again. “For your own sake, if nothing else,” I urge her. “That way you can see for yourself how he’s doing.”
She decides she wants to go in by herself, probably so she can cry without us trying to comfort her endlessly. I don’t blame her. Sometimes you just want to sit and feel without anyone trying to fix you.
I sit in a stairwell to drink the coffee she forgot about. It’s cold now, and way too sweet for my taste. I just don’t know what else to do.
Mollie sits beside me. Our shoulders touch. When she shivers, I feel it right through to my fingertips.
“I’m sorry. This isn’t exactly a fun date.”
“Don’t apologize. You can’t help it.” She holds out her hand to me. I hesitate, then put my hand in hers.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Her fingers work between mine. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t say that kind of thing, because we said we’d keep this no-strings, but...I am.”
Mollie gives a half-smile, like she agrees with me on both counts: I shouldn’t say it, but she’s glad to be here, too. “Good to hear I’m not in the way. I didn’t want to be a fifth wheel.”
“You’re not.”
We sit for a while, listening to the hospital’s internal workings: pipes creaking, monitors beeping. Here, with cement and metal all around us, it’s kind of like being underwater. Just removed enough to pick up the things you miss when you’re in the middle of it all.<
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She kisses me right as the door opens behind us. I turn. Luka’s hand is on the push bar, his expression weird and unreadable.
“Dad’s asking for you,” he says. The door shuts before his sentence is done.
Mollie holds my hand until I’m at Dad’s room, when I force myself to let go.
“Kai’s here, honey,” Mom smiles through her tears, even though it looks like Dad’s out cold.
When I sit, he opens his eyes.
Both of us look at Mom in the doorway, like she can get us out of having to talk to each other.
She waves. The door closes.
I realize I’m holding my breath and exhale.
“They’re saying,” he whispers, his voice so low and hoarse I have no choice but to lean closer, “that I should consider early retirement.”
My smile’s involuntary. “You? Retirement?”
He lifts his eyebrow, agreeing with me. “Your mother thinks it’s the best option, too.” Dad turns his head, moving his eyes from the ceiling tiles to me. “What’s your opinion?”
My face burns. I feel like I’m walking into a trap. “I, uh...I don’t know.”
“Tell me honestly.”
“Dad....”
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Even in his weakened state, words slurred and weighted, his tone grabs my attention. My eyes snap back to his from the floor.
I bite my cheek. “Retire.”
Dad nods and looks back at the ceiling. He’s not mad. He doesn’t even seem surprised.
“It all goes to you, you know.” His hand, the one without the IV tube, makes a light sweeping motion. “The resort, the franchise contract. The expansion project. It’s all yours.”
“Wh— Expansion project? What are you talking about?”
He looks at me again. “The tour packages.” Coughing, he tries to sit up. I put my hand on his shoulder and stop him, as though he had a shot of doing it anyway. “We’re going to set up island tours for guests as package add-ons. A shuttle fleet and everything.”
“Dad, no. That’s too big of a project. It—It’s too much work. And besides, we’re already teamed up with Kona Tours. We don’t need to expand.” My pulse quickens, and there’s a headache behind my eyes—as though I’m already chained to a desk in a job I hate, in a building I never wanted to exist in the first place.
“Luka’s idea. It’s already signed off.” Dad says this like it’s set in stone, written in blood. No discussion.
“Dad, look...I just—” I stop. My hand runs through my hair, then down to my neck, where a knot of tension’s forming.
I don’t want your company, I think.
Actually, I almost say it.
And if he weren’t lying there with wires and tubes and machines all around him—if he looked just a little less frail—I think I would. But then I remember this morning.
Not one person has told me his stroke was my fault. They haven’t even hinted at it: that my quitting pushed Dad to this point. They don’t have to, though. I’ve been thinking it for hours.
I can’t do that to him again.
Because no matter what saying yes means for me and my future, it means everything to Dad right now. And, thanks to me, right now is all he’s guaranteed to get.
Mollie
“He left it all to you?”
Kai furrows his brow at his brother, smiling through it, like he isn’t sure if Luka’s joking. “Yeah…?”
We’re all downstairs at the hospital’s café, eating dinner. Their mother—who introduced herself to me as Rose, in the elevator—looks between them, then at me. I shrug; I have about as much knowledge of what’s going on as she does.
“Well...what did you tell him?”
Kai falters, glancing at me and his mom, before answering. “I said okay.”
“Okay,” Luka repeats, slowly. “So you agreed to it?”
“Yeah.” Kai sets down his spoon, a glob of hospital-grade pudding still on it. “What part are you not getting, dude?”
“Don’t ‘dude’ me,” Luka spits, getting to his feet so fast their mom’s drink tips over. I jump up for napkins, if only because I feel awkward following Kai as he chases after him through the lobby.
They head outside, where we can see them arguing through the glass. Rose studies them while I mop up the spill.
“I should go out there,” she whispers, not necessarily to me. Then she’s gone, too, and I’m alone with a handful of soda-covered napkins, watching a silent family spat through the window.
Finally, I decide it’s acceptable for me to slip out and wait by the car. On my way down the ramp that leads to the parking lot, though, I catch a piece of their conversation, and can’t help my curiosity. There’s a stone pillar between us; nobody sees me as I press my back against it and listen.
“...that you don’t even want to run the business?”
“I’m sure if he didn’t before, my quitting this morning made it pretty clear. But even if—hey, shut up and listen, okay?” Kai pauses; I hear Luka scoff. “But even if Dad doesn’t know I don’t want it, why does it matter to you?”
“Speaking of quitting,” Luka shouts, “can we all stop pretending that you didn’t cause his stroke? Huh?”
Their mother scolds him, her voice choked up with tears. I don’t have to see Kai’s face to guess his reaction: shock, like Luka’s slapped him, but resignation. Because the entire time we’ve been here, I knew Kai was thinking the same thing: that he’s to blame.
“That’s enough,” their mom says, both demanding and begging. “Your father had a stroke because he’s working himself too hard. I’m not going to stand here and let you two accuse each other like this.”
“I didn’t accuse him of shit,” Kai counters. He turns his words back to Luka. “Answer the question.”
“What question?”
“Why does it even matter to you?”
“Because,” Luka shouts, like it should be obvious. “Because everyone knows you couldn’t give a single shit about this company anymore. Ever since Noe died, all you’ve done is complain about how much it’s changed.”
“Oh, excuse me for resisting yet another change when our lives had already been completely fucked up, Luk. Seriously, don’t act like you weren’t complaining right there with me the day Dad got the franchise.”
“Yeah, I complained. And then I got over it, because what was the point of constantly bitching?”
Kai doesn’t answer. I turn, peeking past the pillar to see his face. Their mother is between them, one hand on Kai’s chest, barely touching; the other stretches out in Luka’s direction, but can’t reach.
“I got over it,” Luka continues, “because Dad kept saying it was so much better for all of us this way, and I could tell he wanted it to be true. So I stepped up.” He takes his fist and taps himself in the center of his chest, like a heartbeat. “I decided to do whatever I could to make it work. I didn’t want to make things any harder on him.”
Kai sneers. “Oh, and I did?”
“I’m not saying you wanted to, but either way, yeah—that’s exactly what you did. Right down to this morning.”
“So that’s it.” Kai shifts his jaw and steps back from his mother with his palms up, like he’s afraid his anger will erupt and take out anything—or anyone—in his way. “Dad has a stroke, it’s my fault. The business sucks, it’s my fault. Noe dies? Yeah. My fault.”
“Kai,” Rose says, so gently that it breaks my heart for her. She steps towards him, but again, he steps back. She lets her hand drop.
“I didn’t say anything about Noe.” Luka’s voice is quiet. He speaks to the ground.
“You didn’t have to say it. I knew what you were getting at. Everything is my fault. Okay? Happy now?” Kai steps around their mother, putting his hands on her shoulders and sliding past. He gets right in Luka’s face, who leans back, but doesn’t move.
“Did it ever occur to you that that’s exactly why I agreed?” he asks
. Even though his voice is lower now, there’s an edge to it. “For once I’m trying to make things better, instead of messing them up again.”
Kai starts to walk away. I press myself up against the pillar and hold my breath, bracing myself for when he sees me.
“Yeah?” Luka calls, which makes Kai pivot back. I let out my breath.
He hesitates. “Yeah.”
“That why you’re dating another tourist?”
All three of them are silent. I think I hear Rose crying, but I can’t be sure; my own heartbeat floods my ears.
Another tourist?
“If you were really trying to make things better,” Luka says, “you’d be focusing on the business. Not skipping shifts to surf and fuck tourists. Thought you would’ve learned your lesson on that one.”
I don’t see the punch, but I hear it: the crack of Kai’s fist, connecting with Luka’s face.
I push myself off from the pillar and hurry down to the parking lot, then the road. I can still hear them fighting when my shoes hit the asphalt.
Fourteen
Kai
Noe was the one who had everything.
As the oldest, he was set to inherit the family business, no questions asked. He got my grandpa’s longboard when he passed away. He got dibs on seconds at dinner, when there was only one more serving left. He got first showers every morning before school, and took all the hot water.
He got our dad’s middle name and our mom’s smarts. Perfect grades, star pitcher on varsity. More surfing trophies than I could ever hope to win in my life.
It never bothered me much—until he got the girl, too.
Her name was Andrea. She was from Florida, on an extravagant month-long trip with her family to celebrate her parents’ anniversary. A summer girl: meant to leave.
The problem was, she didn’t.
It was my twenty-first birthday. Dad poured me my first beer—at least, what we all pretended was my first beer—at the bar in the lodge, and Noe and I clinked our mugs together while Luka sulked, nineteen and jealous.
