Fuck, I was dog-tired.
While the sun was streaming through the window, all I wanted to do was sleep, but there was very little hope of that. I’d gotten used to jet lag over the years, and I’d even managed to master the art of the power nap waiting around between too many flights to even remember. Thank God for first class lounges.
Even so, I couldn’t rest with the noise of the traffic going past my window.
So, I put a load of laundry in the washer and sat at the kitchen table going through my mail. It was then that I saw the fancy envelope I knew could only have come from a wedding invitation. When I opened it and saw it was from none other than my high-school buddy and best friend, Brandon, I couldn’t help but grin.
So, Brandon was all grown up and getting hitched. It made me think about how it seemed like only a year ago when we graduated and now, here we were, nearly twenty-eight and settling down. Or, at least, Brandon was. He and Clea had been dating for three years, and she seemed like the only girl who could tame him.
The invitation made me think a little about the crazy times we’d had when we were in high school and later when we went to college. We studied completely different subjects and lived at opposite ends of the campus, but we met up for beers almost every weekend and far too many weeknights, too, usually when we were due to submit assignments.
Those days were nearly seven years ago, and I wondered where all the time had gone. We were free-spirited and, while I’d continued in that vein after getting my degree, Brandon had settled into a steady job at a law firm, and that’s where he met Clea.
I couldn’t blame him for falling for her. From what I remembered from the times we met up for drinks over the last three years, she was a stunning redhead with an incredible figure.
We must’ve seen each other no more than twice. I shook my head. I’d spent far too much time away from home, my friends and my family. It was an adventure, don’t get me wrong, but when I turned the invitation over and over in my hands, I wondered why there was something in me that almost felt like envy.
Maybe I was beginning to want what Brandon had. A nice wife, a permanent home, a job that didn’t take me all over the world at the click of my boss’s fingers.
Wherever I lay my hat, that’s my home.
The words of the classic song had been my mantra for so long and now, I felt the urge to hang my hat up for good.
Until then, though, I had to check in with the office. I checked my watch again. Eleven. Everyone at the magazine would be hard at work. I needed to call them. First, though, I needed to charge my phone and take a hot shower. I still smelled like the jungle, I was sure of that.
There’s no shortage of hot water in Thailand, of course. Quite the opposite, in fact. There were times when I would have given my right arm to brush my teeth under icy cold water. Instead, the only cold water was bottled, and in a fridge. Anything that came out of the tap was always guaranteed to be warm, at the very least. But, there was something about being in my own shower again, able to switch the water to cool any time I liked.
It was strange to be showering inside a cubicle, too. I’d spent so many years outside, standing under the spout of a hose in a ramshackle village, naked as the day I was born, as villagers would come and point at me and laugh at the color of my skin.
The tan I thought impressive was nothing to the beautiful, swarthy skin of the Thai people. Over time, though, I ditched the sunscreen and spent most of my days shirtless. So, I developed a deep tan I knew would fade back here in Nebraska, no matter how much of a summer we were having.
It was strange to call the office from home when I didn’t have to worry about the time difference. They were pleased to hear I’d returned safely, they said, and were looking forward to meeting me in a couple of days in order for us to plan the next trip. They’d been looking at cobalt mining in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and the conditions the employees had to work in. Many of them were children.
“What we want are more of the hard-hitting images you’re so famous for, Jake,” Marshall ordered.
Marshall Pitt was the chief editor of Woke magazine and the man responsible for my many trips around the world in the last few years. “You know what we want. The faces. The hardships. Plenty of captains in the background with big sticks, waiting to hit people who step out of line or stop working for a second. You know the score.”
“Sure,” I sighed. And, as he spoke, my mind drifted away. Just a year ago I would have been thrilled beyond words to travel to such a dangerous area at the very heart of Africa to expose the cruel treatment of young children that we, here in the West, relied on for such things as faster cars and flashier cell phones. It was a noble cause, after all, and yet, I couldn’t put my finger on why it was I felt reason to refuse the offer.
It was crazy to turn Marshall down, of course. He paid very well for my photographs, and even after I went off grid now and again, thanks to poor communication methods in the wilderness, he always ensured he had someone check in with me as much as possible. He was a good guy, but he was a businessman at the end of the day. He wanted my work, and he knew I could deliver the goods.
But the thought of going back into the wilderness for another project that would take at least a year of my life to complete, left me feeling empty. It wasn’t just taking the shots, after all. It was flying out to a god-forsaken land where, of course, those involved in the exploitation were relatively concealed.
It was weeks of staying in someone’s house as a guest or, if I was really lucky, a small hotel with modest amenities. It was having painful injections for weeks before leaving and, even then, still contracting the kinds of diseases that would leave me bedridden, sometimes for weeks.
It was taking plenty of cash so I could bribe officials, hoteliers, waiters and even kids to give me the information I needed to get an interview or even a phone call with someone on the inside, someone who could take me where I needed to go in order to get the best shots. It had always been a thrill for me and an exciting ride, doing the kind of things I could never tell my mom about because she’d simply worry too much.
The problem wasn’t that I was getting too old, of course. I wasn’t even twenty-eight until October, nearly three months away. I was in my prime, both physically and in my job, and there was nothing stopping me from taking this next assignment.
But as Marshall talked to me as I stood in my kitchen in clean boxer shorts, I couldn’t help but look over at the invitation to my best friend’s wedding and wonder whether the next chapter of my life involved the kinds of things that most other men my age were doing.
So I managed to hold Marshall off for a while. He was disappointed. He wanted me to be the one to take on this assignment, and we made a deal that I’d take the next couple of months off so I could have my first official vacation pretty much since I’d left college, and then we’d talk.
In the meantime, if he wanted to send a rookie or anyone else to the DRC, then I was fine with that. It was not as if I needed the money. I had plenty of that having lived off Woke’s expenses for most of the time and being paid handsomely for the kind of photos I’ve taken over the years.
But, I needed a break and felt good for having given myself a bit of breathing space. So, before I went to lie down on the bed to catch some desperately-needed sleep, I replied to Brandon and Clea’s wedding invitation.
I’d be happy to attend, I wrote, before sliding the card into the envelope they’d provided.
Brandon had offered me an extra guest to the event. So, as I lay on the bed, my eyes heavy, I wondered which of the more than willing single women I knew I should invite to come to Hawaii with me for a few days in early September.
A few came to mind, but none stood out enough for me to want to pick up the phone and extend the invite.
In the end, I decided against asking anyone. I would go alone.
CHAPTER THREE
NIKKI
†
WITH MY FEET STRETCHED ou
t before me, thanks to the extra legroom I’d paid for, I closed my eyes and tried not to feel too guilty for being thousands of feet up in the air in what was essentially, a metallic box that belched out approximately forty-three thousand gallons of fuel for the journey we were taking.
But it was hard to be too worried about anything when the stewardess came over and handed my mom and me complimentary champagne. “A little bird told me you’re off to your son’s wedding,” she winked.
“Yes!” Mom gasped, looking at me.
I grinned. “I told her the mother of the groom was on her first vacation in nearly three years, and it’s been about that since I had the time off, too,” I said, clinking my glass against hers. “Cheers. To a great vacation and to Brandon and Clea.”
“I wish your dad was here,” she sighed, and I had to drink quickly in case I started to tear up when I was just beginning to resign myself to a week away from work. I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes to try and get some sleep. I’d already agreed not to do any work on the plane and had gone as far as to check my laptop in with my luggage, but I couldn’t be convinced to leave it at home completely.
We changed flights in Portland, but we were there for over three hours before the next leg to Kauai. Mom was thrilled, of course, indulging in drinking a beer and eating too many of the delicious golden brown pancakes provided in the upscale airport lounge, but I was happy to see that she was so excited.
Once settled onboard again, I reclined in my seat and pulled the blanket up to my chin, getting as comfortable as I could for the following seven hours. I slept for as much of it as I could, but, more than once, the smell of food and the low voice of the captain updating everyone stirred me from sleep.
I tried not to be too irritable when we eventually landed because of it, but, at last, we arrived at the small but pristine beachfront resort in Kauai. The airport taxi was paid on arrival by one of the hotel’s staff members who told us that it was ‘on Elliot Devaney’s tab’.
My mom seemed startled.
“I don’t want him thinking I can’t afford it,” she hissed at me as we waited for our bags to be taken out of the trunk and for the little cart to run us to our room. “I mean, Brandon told me Clea’s father wanted to take care of everything, but I can’t help feeling I should have made more of a contribution.”
Taking out my Ray-bans and placing them over my tired eyes, I held onto the frame of the cart to stop myself from falling out as we whizzed along the neat paths between pretty villas.
“Mom, he’s the father of the bride,” I assured her. “It’s tradition and, from what Brandon’s told me, her dad isn’t short of cash. Besides, nobody’s forced him to pay for everything. I even had the cash ready in the cab to pay.”
She seemed placated by this, and we pulled up in front of our villa. I was surprised to see how huge it was, considering I’d imagined we’d be staying in a room in a hotel, not in our very own cabin.
Mom loved it, soon forgetting her need to save face when she saw how beautiful the villa was. There were three bedrooms, large and airy, each adorned with a towel folded into a different animal so that, all together, they could have made their own little menagerie.
“Which room do you want?” Mom beamed. “And what about Mia?”
“She’s only arriving tomorrow,” I answered. “She couldn’t leave work early enough to get out here today.” My best friend had agreed to come as my plus one although, like my mom, she too had ribbed me a little about taking the safe route.
“Why, in God’s name, don’t you invite… Oh, let’s think… a man?” Mia cried when we met for coffee one afternoon. “It’s Hawaii! And you can’t tell me there isn’t at least one single hot architect in your office you don’t want to get to know better.”
“Oh, several in fact,” I said, faking a smile and glaring at her over the rim of my coffee cup. “Only, they’re either married, or they’re overbearing assholes who think they can tell me how to do my job. Anyway, I can’t exactly have a hot date joining me at my brother’s wedding when I’m sharing the hotel with my mom, now can I?”
“Fine,” Mia sighed, rolling her eyes in a mock display of irritation. “I’ll just have to force myself and join you. You know… seeing that you insist.”
I laughed and played along. “I’m so sorry to be dragging you away from Omaha for a week in paradise,” I said, dryly. “What an inconvenience, but I’ll try and make it up to you somehow.”
Back in the villa, Mom took the smallest room nearest the bathroom so that she wouldn’t wake the rest of us in the night when she had to make one of her trips to the bathroom. “My bladder’s just never been the same since having you,” she’s reminded me more times than I can count over the years.
It meant that Mia and I took side-by-side rooms that overlooked the beach. I dropped my suitcase on the bed and stepped out onto the porch, all my cares seemingly dissolving as I looked over at the ocean.
“Wow, it certainly is beautiful,” I whispered, talking to myself. A light breeze swirled around me, tugging at my ponytail and I let my mind drift with the wind. I felt more relaxed than I had for a very long time and vowed that I was going to enjoy this much-needed break to the hilt.
The soothing sound of the waves licking at the shore nearly lulled me to sleep, so I sat in the large lounge chair, and it wasn’t long before I was asleep.
†
By the time I awoke, it was dark, and I may have been out there all night if it wasn’t for my mom gently nudging my shoulder.
“You’re going to get bitten,” she said. “The mosquitoes are coming out in force.”
“Are you hungry?” I asked, stifling a yawn.
“No,” she said. “I’ve been down to the bar area and had a bite to eat with Clea’s parents. Clea and Brandon went to the mall to get a few things for the wedding, so they ate dinner out, and I haven’t seen either of them since we arrived.”
“What time is it?” This time, I couldn’t stop the yawn.
“Seven-thirty,” Mom said. “You’ve been flat out for three hours.”
“My body thinks it’s after midnight,” I said. “No wonder I’m tired.”
Mom was briskly in nurse mode, which was very much like mom mode, only ten times as fussy. “Right, you need water, and you need something to eat,” she fretted. “You can call room service and have them deliver food, and there’s plenty of bottled water in the fridge in your room. It’s the same in my room. And Mia’s. I checked them all.”
“It might do me good to take a walk,” I groaned as I stood up.
I changed out of the clothes I’d been traveling in and then slept in for more hours than my tired brain could work out. I quickly slipped into some jeans and a light shirt. As I did, I saw the laptop lying snugly in my suitcase and had to leave the room before I opened it and started checking my emails.
Leaving Mom to watch TV in the lounge area, I spritzed myself with mosquito repellent and went outside. The crickets were chirping, and the evening air was hot and humid. I wandered down to the restaurant area, and a cheerful waiter invited me to sit at a table.
“I think I’d rather sit up at the bar,” I smiled up at him. “It’s only me eating.”
“No problem,” he smiled back.
At the bar, I ordered a glass of wine and, as I sipped it, I looked up and caught my reflection in the mirror.
I looked tired. My dark eyes appeared to have a shadow underneath them, and there was a smudge of mascara on my right temple from where I’d been sleeping. My dark hair was still up in its ponytail, but strands had begun to escape. My face was pale; although we were nearing the end of the summer, I’d spent so much time in the office and nowhere near enough time outside.
But, this week was going to be spent changing that. I couldn’t wait for Mia to arrive so we could hit the beach and catch up on the weeks it had been since we’d last seen each other.
I ordered a butternut squash curry with rice, which I ate sitting at the bar
while I perused social media and fired a few emails to my colleagues. I managed to control myself and stop at just five, but I immediately felt a little better for having made contact with work. I was about to open my company’s website to check their news page when a hand looped over my shoulder, and I felt two lips kiss my cheek. I looked up at the mirror and my mouth fell open in surprise. I whirled around.
“Brandon!” I cried, throwing my arms around my big brother’s neck. We hadn’t seen each other for months, and he looked so well and happy that seeing him made my evening.
“Hey, Nik,” he smiled warmly, returning my hug. Clea was standing behind him, looking as beautiful as ever with her auburn hair tied up neatly and her delicate face breaking out in beautiful freckles thanks to the summer. I gave her a hug, too, and she smiled at me.
“We’re so glad you could make it,” Clea said. “How was your flight?”
“It all went great, only I’m a little exhausted now,” I said, feeling distinctly underdressed and unpolished next to my brother’s beautiful fiancée. “I just came down to get some food before going back. Your dad’s chosen the most beautiful villa for us to stay in. Thank you so much.”
“Yeah, he’s gone a little overboard,” Clea shrugged, “but he wants everyone to have a good time”
Brandon pointed at the empty seat next to me. “Didn’t you bring anyone in the end? You were welcome to come with someone. The villa was booked for six people.”
“Oh, I’ve invited Mia, but she’s not here until tomorrow,” I explained. “Mom thought about asking aunt Katy, but I think she was hoping she’d get lucky while she was here instead.”
Brandon pulled a face at the thought, and I grinned. We were certainly of the same mind when it came to thinking about Mom getting-her-groove-back, that’s for sure.
Not that either of us would have been mad at her for moving on after Dad’s death. It’s what he wanted, too, from the heartbreaking conversations we had at his bedside when Mom popped out for a drink or to use the bathroom. I think we both started down the same memory path because I saw Brandon’s face drop a little, so I tried to keep things light and poked him in the ribs.
Wanting It Page 2
