Bonus Chapter Joel
(THE WEEK BEFORE JOEL MEETS NATALIE)
And that is how I found myself on top of the The Ha?ikū Stairs, staring out at Kaneohe Bay, in nothing but a hula skirt and a coconut shell bra!” My date leaned back in her seat and let out a loud single clap as she cackled at the memory of her adventure with friends last year.
I offered her a polite chuckle and a “You don’t say?” before taking a bite of Mongolian beef. Time to change the subject. “You said you teach fourth grade? That has to be rewarding.”
“Oh yes. I just find it so rewarding to help children become lifelong learners. The summers off don’t hurt, either.” She shrugged.
Etiquette books have never dictated how often was too often to check your watch (or phone) during a first date, right? I’m sure I’ve far exceeded what would be deemed polite. Then again, I’m not sure this even counted as a first date. The term date would imply an outing I eagerly looked forward to and even had reached out and arranged myself. No. This was a set-up. By a well-meaning coworker, who had a niece. Beth was pretty and had been decent company, but I wasn’t feeling it. Not even remotely. We had nothing in common other than living in Hawaii and needing to eat dinner after a long day. With a discreetly gentle tap, my phone’s home screen lit up, showing it was only eight-fifteen.
“Want to go get a drink or something? There’s a great bar just down the street.” Beth leaned forward on her elbows, shimmying her sparkly top just right, trying to make my eyes travel south of her face.
My fork pushed the remains of dinner around my plate for a beat. Feeling her eager gaze follow my every move, I swallowed hard. She was not going to let me off easily. Her manicured hand reached across the table, touching my forearm lightly. Before I could sit back in my seat and create a wider distance between us, her foot slid up and down my shin under the table.
Something across the packed dining room distracted me. It was the beginning of peak tourist season, and the Asian fusion restaurant we were in had been named “Best Summer Eatery in Oahu” the week before. All around us guests had phones out, documenting their whole experience, setting up ring lights for better Instagram photos, live-streaming their opinions as each course was placed in front of them. This was not my scene by a mile—the food, the company, or the atmosphere. Beth had been surprised earlier in the evening when I told her I didn’t have a social media handle. It seemed she’d never met anybody who wasn’t addicted to oversharing their life for strangers.
“You know, thanks, but I think I need to call it a night.” I alerted our server to bring the check.
“Are you sure? I’m having such a nice time.” She pouted and batted her blue eyes hidden under thick eye makeup. Her free hand playfully teased her long, blonde hair. “Come on, it’s still early. What are you going to go do?”
The bill arrived, and without looking at it, I threw my card on top. Hopefully, the server would catch my urgent need to escape. “I have an early morning.”
“But it’s Friday night. One drink,” she tried again. “I promise that’s all. An hour tops. I’m just not ready to say goodbye yet. ”
Unrelenting. This was exactly why I had a hard and fast rule about not letting people set me up, especially with their family. I’d have to see Pete at quarterly meetings, so I had to choose my words wisely. “Sorry, Beth. This has been fun, and I’m glad your uncle arranged this, but I’m afraid I really need go home and get ready for work tomorrow.”
Her brow creased. “Uncle Pete doesn’t work Saturdays.”
“I have a weekend job,” was all I offered.
“Maybe another time? I’d love to go out again,” she pressed.
“Sure,” I said flatly.
Smiling, satisfied by my noncommittal agreement, she said, “Okay! But if you’re not going to go with me now, I need to Marco Polo my friends to meet me there. See you later.”
She pushed out of her chair and left, leaving me alone as the server brought back my card. I thanked him and exited onto Kalakaua Avenue. The main strip of Oahu was teeming with people at every turn, coming and going from dinner, hanging out on Waikiki Beach as the moon rose high into the sky, making all kinds of vacation memories.
Three blocks later, I walked right into the empty elevator and made my way toward my small apartment on the eighth floor. Going through the motions of my nightly routine, I changed into old shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed the latest military thriller off my pile, and headed out on the balcony to read. The night, sticky and uncomfortable, wasn’t the only reason I couldn’t focus on the page in front of me.
All around on the streets below and the shared apartment walls, life buzzed. Loud laughter could be heard a few balconies down as bottles clinked together. The guy in the apartment next door was holding his weekly band practice, hoping to make it big someday. I spied a couple, leaning against a car parked along the curb, kissing under the streetlamp. Everybody was doing something. And here I was, on another Friday night, hanging out by myself .
Except I hadn’t been alone an hour ago. For the first time in months, I’d been on a date and instead of attempting to be charming or even polite, I had checked my phone every ten minutes as if willing time to go faster. Why hadn’t I gone to the bar with Beth? What was holding me back?
I knew the answer. It was the thing I simultaneously never spoke about but also couldn’t stop dwelling on every waking moment. Sighing, I closed the book and laid on my bed, being lulled to sleep watching the fan rotate on the ceiling.
Shoes laced, I locked up and quietly headed down the hall to the elevator. Once on the street, I saw the sun was peeking over Diamond Head, illuminating the city. A slight breeze wafted eastward, bringing with it the faintest smells from the zoo. Local surfers were getting an early start, parking in the metered parking lot off Kapahulu Avenue and hauling their boards down the street to stake claim on the beach before the tourists rolled out of bed.
My regular path took me along the promenade at San Souci State Park, spitting me out on Diamond Head Road where I’d turn around near the lighthouse. Still early enough to beat the crowds, and I made my way easily down and back, stopping at Queens Beach to do some stretching on the sand and watch snorkelers brave the incoming tide.
Closest to me was a couple with a little boy who consistently took in water through their snorkels as the waves pushed them back up to the shore. Each time this happened, the little boy stood, squealing in delight despite the continual setback, and the couple watched their son with beaming smiles.
Out of nowhere, with one leg pulled up behind me to stretch my quads, I felt wet cheeks. A few lone tears escaped all the way down my chin and caught me off-guard. Emotions were something to experience in the privacy of one’s home or during a therapy session, not alone on the beach in the early morning like half-crazed lunatic. I rubbed my hands over my face a few times and headed home, knowing what would come if I let myself wallow.
After a quick shower and getting dressed, I downed three bowls of cold cereal, while anxiously watching the clock on the microwave until it rolled over to nine. Right on time, my phone lit up with an incoming FaceTime call, and Dr. Adam’s calm demeanor filled my screen.
“Good morning, Dr. Adams,” I said.
He adjusted the glasses on his face. “Hi, Joel, how are you today?”
“I’m okay,” I told him, attempting an upbeat tick in my voice.
He pursed his lips and scanned my face. “Joel, I know you work today, so we have a shortened session time, and you know I don’t usually see patients on Saturdays, so do me a favor and please be honest. I’ll ask again. How are you today?”
“Not great.” I sighed.
“Tell me what’s happened since our visit last week. Again, I apologize for having to move our standing Wednesday to today.”
“I’ve actually been pretty good until this morning. Well, until last night. My coworker set me up on a blind date with his niece and it was . . . fine. I did okay. I made it through dinner.”
“But?”
“But it wasn’t enjoyable.”
“Please help me understand how it wasn’t enjoyable.”
I settled onto my bed and thought a moment. “I don’t know what I want or expect from my rare dinner dates. I think I want it to be easy, like before, but nobody gets lucky twice.”
“How would you know that?” His voice encouraged introspection.
“Because I won the lottery the first time. There is no way I’ll ever find that kind of relationship again.”
He nodded. “Okay. Let me ask you a question: Are you making any attempts to reach out to people and start conversations? Outside of your job, of course.”
We sat in silence.
“Joel, you can’t keep letting time pass you by, going out a few times a year when you’re set up by somebody and feel obligated, and hope to be happy with your life. Happiness will only happen with some elbow grease on your part. It’s a conscious choice you have to make every single day.”
“I know,” I sighed.
“I know you do. I feel like we have had this conversation a lot.” He let out a light chuckle. “Your homework is to put a little effort into creating the life you want for yourself. Whether that is a relationship or finding joy in the mundane again. Can you try that for the next few days and report back on Wednesday?”
I mulled his question for longer than I should have. I liked Dr. Adams. He’d seen me in my lowest of lows and had spent two tireless years helping me find my way back from the brink. The least I could do was play his game a little. This was an easy enough request. “All right. I’m going to do it. Starting today, I’m going to throw positivity out into the universe and hope it sticks.”
My declaration of renewed effort didn’t last long. Two hours later, I was leading a kayaking tour, my resolve gone. There was a honeymooning couple in my group—which was nothing new—but she had long, wild red hair like Lottie and blue eyes. Their build was similar and they were the same height. It was taking everything in me to focus. I couldn’t stop staring at her, watching her movements—the way she threw her head back as she laughed—and reminded myself repeatedly she wasn’t my late wife, but my breath hitched each time she paddled into my peripheral vision.
While everybody stopped to look at a couple sea turtles who’d swam across our path on route to the bird refuge island, I did the math. It had been a while since I had calculated it.
Seven-hundred-forty-eight days—that’s how long I’d been in Hawaii.
Over one million minutes spent without her.
If Lottie could see me, what would she think about how I’ve used that time? I ran away from my friends. Work took over my life as my sole focus. I sought out a second job to avoid being alone on the weekends. Despite being in one of the most beautiful locations on the planet, I had barely scratched the surface of what there was to do. Loneliness was my constant companion.
Loneliness.
I picked a perfect time to finally acknowledge feelings beyond grief and guilt. My chest ached in a new way I didn’t know possible.
A large wave pulled me back to the present, flipping my kayak and tossing me headfirst into the ocean. Sputtering a large mouthful of seawater and realizing all eyes were fixed my way quickly reprioritized my emotions.
“And that, group, is why I told you the first rule of our tour was to pay attention to the water. She’s beautiful, but she is merciless and always wins!” I called out, treading as I righted my kayak and hoisted myself over the side. A few guests near me chuckled, and a group of rowdy brothers cheered me on as we made our way to the small island, serving as a bird refuge.
“Want to come grab dinner with us?” Maya asked, body hanging halfway out the door. “I think tonight we are trying that new Indian place down the street.”
I looked up from straightening life jackets along the back wall of the multipurpose store-office-reception area. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”
She grinned. “I know you never come, but I’m never going to stop inviting you.”
Maya had been at Island Water Sports for a year, running promotions and guest services. Her boyfriend had recently become a guide for the all day tours out to the Mokolua Islands, five miles off shore, and together, they rounded all employees up every Saturday to eat somewhere new.
Dr. Adam’s advice from our morning session buzzed around the back of my mind like an unwanted fly. I nodded at her. “Thank you, Maya. Hey, keep asking because one of these times I’m going to join you guys. But tonight I have to go do something.”
I locked up, borrowed a surf board from the rental section in the shop, and headed toward my favorite beach. With a couple of Bob’s fish burritos to-go, I pulled into the lot alongside a few cars. Board and burrito under one arm, I ate the second one while studying the water. The surf was just right to catch a few waves before it got dark.
The warm water washed over my board as I pushed it out and paddled beyond the break. Arms methodically taking long strokes, screaming out in exhaustion after a long day of kayaking, I got lost in the rhythm of the movement while scanning ahead for a place to stop. The sun was beginning its dip to the horizon, the sky taking on added colors of orange, pink, midnight blue.
Legs straddling either side of the board, I nodded to fellow surfers nearby, assessing the lineup. On my left a familiar couple caught my attention and the sharp ache returned to my chest. Rubbing my breastbone, my eyes tracked the red-headed woman and her new husband as they paddle boarded toward Pineapple Bay Resort. They were in hysterics about something, struggling to stay upright on their boards.
Again, Dr. Adam’s challenge sat heavy. Again, I was unable to avert my gaze from my late wife’s doppelg?nger. The sun dipped to the other side of the world and the first stars made their appearance.
Bobbing on the water, never taking my turn to catch a wave, something felt different. I pressed my chest in a circular motion as hard as I could once more, trying to make the ache go away. Lottie was sending me a sign: it was time to move on, be happy.
It was now or never.
I readjusted, lying on the board and stared up at the sky. “Okay, Lottie,” I said aloud, over the lapping of the ocean. “You’re conspiring with the universe, aren’t you? You’re tired of watching me be angry, despondent, pathetic. I don’t blame you, but things . . . things have been the worst. I miss you—more than you could possibly know. But it’s time I live again. I’m lonely.”
I sighed. This was so stupid. I was talking to myself like a deranged lunatic. Rolling my shoulders, ready to give up and catch a wave to shore, a breeze whipped up out of nowhere and rustled its way around me. It was warm, like being enveloped by outstretched arms. My eyelids closed, taking it in, and I felt the corners of my lips turn up. “I won the lottery with you, Lot. There is no way I deserve to be that happy again, but I’m going to start trying. But I need your help. I need you to give me that push. And Lottie, if you can hear me, I love you.”
Chocking back the last part, I hopped up and rode a wave to shore.
A week later, I got to Island Water Sports a little early. I had the first tour with an eight a.m. tandem-kayak group, and I needed to make sure I had everything ready to go so the rest of the day would run smoothly.
“Here’s your roster,” Maya smiled, handing me a sheet of paper. “It’s a pretty big group for a Saturday morning.”
“Thanks.” My eyes glanced briefly over the names. “Hey, where is everybody going tonight? I’ll meet you there.”
I noticed her hold back an excited squeal. She smoothed out her face but the twinkle didn’t leave her eye. “We were thinking downtown. This Asian fusion place is all the rage right now.”
A laugh escaped me. “I promise you, it is not. If you change your minds and pick somewhere else, let me know.”
Maya assessed me for a moment before turning on her heels and heading back toward the shop. “Maybe burgers would be better,” she threw over her shoulder.
My phone showed it was time, and I took my spot by the row of kayaks, all lined up at the tip of the surf. Noting the paddles and life jackets draped over each seat, I deemed us ready. “Okay, it is go-time, my eight o’clockers! Gather round for a little spiel before we get out on the water.”
The group’s energy was high as they made their way closer to me. I looked over my charges and noticed a woman toward the back, hair tucked under a hat, nursing a Pepsi. We briefly locked eyes right as a warm breeze rustled by me.
Thank you so much for reading Natalie and Joel’s love story!