Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
NATALIE
O nce again, Joel took us to the best food. And, naturally, he seemed to be on first-name terms with this owner as well. The place was a few blocks from his apartment, toward the center of the city. This time, it was a Korean food truck with beef and veggie bowls, ramen, and dumplings. After ordering enough for a small army, we walked down a few blocks to the famed Waikiki Beach and parked ourselves under two big palm trees. We leaned against the trunks, facing one another, then dug into everything.
By now, I was beyond famished and not about to hold back for the sake of appearances. Bob’s had already revealed my hearty appetite to Joel, and I’d never been so grateful for that as I didn’t slow down and pretend to have a food aversion. After finishing a box of Bulgogi spring rolls on my own, I glanced up at Joel, expecting him to find my behavior objectionable. Instead, he leaned forward with a box of dumplings and held one between his fingers, offering me a bite.
“What do you think of this? I find this truck has the best dumplings of anywhere on the island. But there is a little restaurant up on the North Shore that comes in a close second.” He was heartfelt in his asking; his eyes looked brighter than I’d seen them since jumping o! the waterfall. Given the nature of our heavy conversation in his apartment, I was surprised to see him bounce back so quickly.
I took the dumpling and chewed it slowly, stalling a moment. It was delicious. He was delicious. He had to stop sitting so close to me. He’d had a wife. He lost his wife. There were so many questions on the tip of my tongue now that I had time to digest what I learned half an hour before. It wasn’t my place to inquire, but it was seriously taking everything in me to not interrogate him.
Dane calling off our wedding seemed like the least big deal in the entire world. I had thought I’d lost the love of my life, but Joel literally lost the love of his.
Instead of launching into my inquisition, which I knew I would inadvertently do if I even attempted to speak, I pursed my lips together and answered his question about the roll with a content “Mmmm.” He seemed satisfied enough with my answer, and I picked up another take out box to attack.
Chopstick full of ramen midway to my mouth, Joel sat back against the tree again and started. “I was married for just about two years.”
I pushed the noodles in and placed my hand in front of my full mouth. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”
He looked at me with a most gentle expression that had underlying hurt mixed in. “If you don’t want to hear it?—”
“I want to hear all about Charlotte. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me anything.” I swallowed my food and took a drink of Dr. Pepper.
“It’s time I tell the story to more than just my therapist.” He offered a small smile. “We were married just shy of two years. We met in Arizona, where I was working. We dated a year and then quickly got married in California. She was from the suburbs of San Francisco and loved Big Sur, so we had our ceremony there, as you saw from the photograph above my bed. We had a huge wedding since we both had been living away from family. Mine all flew in from Virginia, hers left the city for the weekend. It was amazing.
“We settled back in Arizona, working, living our best life. Then, Lottie’s grandmother was turning ninety, so we went to San Francisco for her birthday party—and opted to drive the 101 and make a long road trip of it instead of flying because it was summer. Lottie said it would be fun. She loved to have adventures.
“We stopped at where we had gotten married—this tucked away place overlooking the ocean. We even stayed overnight in the same suite from our honeymoon.” He paused a moment and took another deep breath. His eyes took on a memory as he relived what he was about to share. Right before he began again, he shifted his body away from me and faced the ocean. “Anyway, our car had a few issues, and we got postponed a couple extra days in San Francisco. I was out of vacation days, and my boss wasn’t interested in making it possible for me to drive back with her when the car was done.
“Lottie was a total independent spirit—she had no problem driving back on her own. I just didn’t want her to have to do it alone, but she promised she would have a great time. I flew home three days before she took off. A drunk driver hit her just outside Phoenix. She was almost home, and she died . . . and I wasn’t there.”
His story broke my heart. I put my food container down and scooted over until we were sitting so close our bodies were brushed up against each other. I swore I could almost feel his heart beating. We both looked out at the waves, and even though there was commotion from the city, noise from the surfers and families all around us, we seemed removed. It was just Joel and me existing on this beach as far as I was concerned.
I cautiously reached out and put my hand on his knee to let him know I was there and hoped it spoke the words I couldn’t form aloud. It was meant to be a quick, reassuring gesture, but when I started to lift my hand, he put his hand over it. My eyes darted to his face, but his eyes were down on our hands, watching as he weaved his fingers between mine.
It was the same feeling as when we stood at the edge of the waterfall. Our hands fit perfectly like two puzzle pieces. As much as I wanted to sit there and never let go, there was a war brewing inside: he was a grieving widower. I was a jilted bride. The conflict I felt looking at our hands, watching his thumb trace circles over my knuckle, made me blurt out, “What are you doing?”
His eyes went wide, as if he worried he offended me. “I’m sorry. I just thought—” He began to unravel his fingers from mine.
I stopped him and linked them back together. “No. I’m not done holding your hand. It feels really nice . . . I think I need this, and I think you do too.”
He gave me a smirk. “Then what did you mean what am I doing?”
I pursed my lips together before responding. “Is this your game? You prey on the semi-cute?—”
“You’re more than semi-cute,” he interrupted.
“You prey on the ‘more than semi-cute’ solo vacationer by sharing your catastrophic tale in hopes they go all Florence Nightingale on you?”
His smirk turned into a full-on grin. And then into a loud laugh that drew the attention of the family closest to us.
“What?” I snapped and let go of his hand, scooting away from him.
“First off, Florence Nightingale syndrome is when the caretaker falls for their patient, and I’m not your patient. Secondly, I don’t have game. I have the least game of any guy you will ever meet.” He scooted himself closer to me again. “Natalie, I loved Charlotte. I thought we would have our whole lives together, but the universe had different plans for us. Look, I have gone on a handful of dates since she passed away, all because somebody set me up in hopes I wouldn’t become a lonely, bitter old man. Those all were first and only dates. You are the first woman I have asked out since Lottie. So maybe you see that as preying on the cute solo vacationer, but let me assure you that you are the first I have ‘preyed’ on.”
I searched his eyes to determine if he was lying, but they held nothing but hope. Hope that I would trust him and perhaps even feel flattered by the admission. I responded by grabbing his hand and leaning my head on his shoulder. “By the way, I hate your story for you.”
My head lifted with his shoulder as he took a big sigh. “Thank you. I hate it too.”
“You said there was a big question you needed to ask me.” We finished our food and cleaned up our spot on the sand. Instead of heading back to the pharmacy, Joel asked if I wanted to walk down the beach toward Diamond Head. He cleared his afternoon after I left for the pharmacy, and I had lost all motivation to claim the promotion—at least today—after I had seen my face in the mirror.
“Yes, I do have a big question to ask you.” He baited my patience, and I knew I’d have to wait until he was ready to ask it. The beach gave way to a walking path at Sans Souci State Recreational Park, which was full of people skateboarding, biking, rollerblading, and running. We let them weave around us as we sauntered under the palm trees and watched the different tai chi, yoga, and meditation classes on the expansive lawn. A large banyan tree with its roots sprawled out in all directions was covered in children climbing and having imaginative adventures. It was such an idyllic location in the middle of a major city.
Leaving my Vans and bag tucked between some tree roots, I left the path and walked down to the water at Sans Souci Beach .
There were coral reefs just off the shore, and I eased into the warm water, wanting to see if I could spot something exciting.
“See anything?”
I nearly lost my balance, surprised to hear his voice so close behind me. Joel had left his shoes and socks on the sand and had rolled his nice pants just below his knees to come wade in next to me.
“No. I was hoping there may be some fish over here, but it’s just coral.” I continued to walk around, weaving in and out of a grouping of rock.
Multiple families had set up shop for the day on the narrow strip of beach, and a few were teaching their children to snorkel. They splashed about, and shouts were heard farther out each time somebody saw schools of fish. A group of older women swam laps parallel to the beach, complete with bright pink matching swim caps.
I looked at Joel and pointed to the group as they went past. “I love that. I want to be them someday.”
He crossed his arms the way he had done at the bird refuge on Saturday before spouting his first round of facts to the tour group. His attempt to look official was endearing. “Have you gotten any answers to what you’re supposed to do next with your life?”
Something caught my eye, and I bent over to pick it up. It was a medium-sized white and red cone shell. I pocketed it and finally answered. “Not yet. But I’m for sure putting professional kayaker on the list of possibilities.”
We continued to walk along the shallow break of the water, keeping our eyes down for anything of interest. After a few minutes, he spoke up.
“So, I do have something to ask. It’s really a request of sorts,” Joel started, as he walked around the reef, looking at the water. He bent down and fished out a small, flat rock and attempted to skip it. It hit an incoming wave and sank back down to the sand.
I stopped and faced him, putting my back to the ocean. It was about time. “Okay, shoot.” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“Don’t feel obligated at all to say yes, okay? Promise.”
I knew he wouldn’t continue until I agreed. “I promise.”
He nodded his approval. “An old friend is getting married this Friday on the North Shore. The whole thing starts Thursday evening, actually. I haven’t seen him in two years. And it’s not just him who will be here, but the whole pharma team I used to work with in Arizona. He’s the last of the guys to get married, and he knew I live here now and unofficially made me the second best man. You know, since I know how to get around and know where the best places are. I don’t think he actually needs me because they used a wedding planner and everything, but I have been summoned to be a participant in some capacity. I am guessing he wants me to feel included and unable to back out.”
I waited for more and when he didn’t say anything else, I asked, “Have you seen any of them since you moved here?” He shook his head.
“And because this is your first time seeing them, you need a wingman?” I tried piecing together exactly what he was asking me.
He pulled his head down bashfully. “Actually, I was hoping you’d be my date.”
Before I could answer him, a large wave smacked against the reef and the spray hit me, completely soaking the backside of my body. Joel’s face said it all. He was waiting to see how I would react as he held back laughter.
“Well, that trends.” I said and headed back to my shoes and bag.
Twisting my shirt to drain the excess water from it, I gathered my items and climbed up to the walking path where the banyan tree’s exposed roots made the perfect seat to dry off. Joel followed, sitting right next to me, and dried his legs in the hot sun.
“You have seen me at all my classiest moments on this trip— paddling like an idiot, terrified of heights, bee sting, now this.” I chuckled, recounting the weekend. “Although, to be fair to the ocean, I did break the cardinal rule of never putting one’s back to the water . . . But you’re sure you want me to be your date for the wedding, even if I’m kind of a hot mess?”
He broke into his signature closed-lip smile. This time, it reached his eyes and took my breath away. “I can’t imagine wanting to take anybody else.”