1.
Becca
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the wonderful state of Hawaii!"
A cheer goes up in the cabin of the plane, by now just about everybody drunk but me. Next to me, an overweight man in a Hawaiian-print shirt kisses his wife. Breaking away, she squeals with delight and leans forward in her seat, her neck craning as she works to look past me out the window at the island far below shimmering like an emerald in a field of sapphires.
"Oh, darling," she says, fingering the large diamond ring on her right hand with the fingers of her left. "It's beautiful. Already I wish we'd booked more nights."
"Next time, love. Next time," her husband says with a chortle. "Next time we'll stay for two whole weeks!"
With a sigh, I lean my forehead against the window of the plane. What the hell are you doing here, girl?
Downing the last of my complimentary mimosa, I hand the empty cup to the stewardess when she shuffles by and go back to staring out the window. Though this is my first visit to America’s most exotic state, already I can tell it’s going to live up to its reputation. On the far side of the island, not too far beyond the airport we’re rapidly approaching, waves are crashing onto what just might be the whitest beach I've ever seen. A hundred yards out, several suntanned surfers sit bobbing on their boards, their faces turned towards the open ocean. Above them, several seagulls wheel and dive.
The stewardess is saying something else over the intercom, some well-practiced list of facts about Hawaii that I'm sure she's recited no less than a thousand times. Not a word registers. I'm too busy thinking about the life I've left behind. Right this moment, he was probably packing up the last of his things. And she was probably helping him, the bastard not even decent enough to keep her out of what, until recently, had been our apartment.
With another sigh, I push the thought out of my mind. The whole point of coming here was to not think about home. I was here to forget about everything, to forget the fact that my life—the life I'd been building for the last five years—had just fallen apart and was now lying in pieces at my feet. How was it that the universe knew just when to yank the rug out from under you? And why did it always have to happen right when you were starting to believe that you were finally going to find the happiness that had eluded you for so long? Had it really been necessary to take away my mom, my job and my boyfriend all within a span of two weeks? Couldn’t I have learned my lesson—whatever lesson that was—without all the heartache?
To be fair, you knew Rob was already well on his way out long before he broke the news. You just didn't know the specifics. But the signs were all there. First off, he was never home. Second, the two of you hadn’t been on a proper date in a year. And finally, when he did deign to show up, remember how he would always make a beeline straight for the shower? How he washed his clothes immediately afterwards? You just didn't want to admit what you already knew—that you were losing him, that the perfect little bubble you'd spent so much time meticulously crafting wasn't so perfect after all. You know the only reason he stayed was because Mom got sick. You knew that even as it was happening. He wasn’t so heartless that he'd leave you while you were helping her fight her losing battle to cancer.
Yeah, but he was heartless enough to dump me right after the funeral. And you know some of those times he left the hospital to go home and “get a change of clothes” he was actually going to see her. Now my job on the other hand…
True. Your job was a surprise. No one could have seen that one coming. Especially because they kept saying how well you were doing. Too bad your boss didn’t—
“Excuse me.”
I’m so lost in thought that several seconds pass before the fact that someone is talking to me registers. Even then, a herculean effort is required to tear my gaze away from the window. As I turn, I notice that somehow the plane has found its way down to the ground. Strange. When had we landed?
I look up expecting to see an attendant. Instead, my eyes fall upon an extraordinarily handsome man in a baseball cap and sunglasses. Straightaway, I’m struck by the feeling that I’ve seen him somewhere before. But where?
“Y-yes?” I stammer, my cheeks growing hot. The plane has completely emptied out; only the two of us and several attendants remain on board. Apparently, I’ve been zoned out for quite some time.
“Hi,” the man says, his smirk widening into a full-fledged grin. His teeth are brilliantly white and perfectly straight. “How are you?”
“Fine…” I brush a strand of hair from my face, my gaze flickering down to the man’s hand resting on the back of my seat. The forearm attached to this hand is corded with muscle, veins like rivers running all the way from his wrists up to where his biceps disappears into his shirt sleeve. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” the handsome stranger says cheerfully. “Just wondering if you’re okay.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Good. Because I’m not sure if you’ve realized this, but we’ve landed. We’re officially allowed to get off the plane now. Unless I misread this situation and you’re actually one of those strange people whose idea of a vacation is to fly from one city to another and you’re about to go back to where you started.”
Another grin. Despite the foulness of my mood, I can’t help but smile back. There’s something about this man, something kind and genuine; it’s emanating from him like the heat from a lightbulb.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and push myself up from my seat, my neck and shoulders cracking as I move into the aisle. The man watches me silently. He has a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, a small suitcase in his right hand. Standing next to him like this, I begin to feel quite tiny. He’s at least a foot taller than me and looks to weigh twice as much.
I reach for my bag in the overhead bin but he’s quicker and grabs it first. Smiling sheepishly, he passes it down to me.
Dimples. You’ve always been a sucker for dimples.
No, I interject forcefully. No, you can’t start thinking like that. That’s the last thing you need to be doing at the moment. What you need to do is focus on healing. Not jumping into the arms of the first man that smiles at you.
Without another word, I turn and set off down the aisle of the plane, the man following after.
“Enjoy your stay, lovebirds,” one of the stewardesses croons as we pass. “There’s no more romantic place than Hawaii!”
“Oh, we’re not—“ I start.
“Thanks,” the handsome stranger says, cutting me off. When I look back at him, he raises a playful eyebrow.
Smiling happily to herself, the attendant goes back to what she’s doing as the two of us exit the plane. No word nor glance passes between us as we descend the gangplank, though now my handsome interlocutor is at my side rather than trailing behind. As we step into the terminal, not wanting to give him the wrong idea, I turn to wish him well. Unfortunately, I’m afforded no such chance, as out of nowhere, we’re surrounded by a group of women dressed in hula skirts and coconut bras.
“Welcome to Hawaii!” they chant in unison as two of them pull leis over our heads. A photographer appears beside them. Before I can utter a word of protest, he shoves me into the man from the plane.
“Okay, you two,” he says, grinning as he puts the camera to his face. “Smile! You’re in the most beautiful place in all the world!”
The man beside me laughs and drapes an arm over my shoulder. I’m so thrown off by all that’s happening that I don’t even have a chance to smile before the photographer snaps his picture.
“You two can get your photo on my website,” he says, handing me a business card and tapping it with his finger. “Now tell me, are you here for your honeymoon?”
“No, I don’t actually know—“
“Yep,” the man cuts in again, his arm still around my shoulder.
His curiosity satisfied, the photographer nods and turns to follow the women in hula skirts. They’re angling towards another gate where a fresh load of passengers has just begun to disembark.
“Well,” the man says, dropping his arm and turning to face me. “That was something. I’m Rich, by the way.” He holds out a hand. “Though you should probably know that already considering we’re married.”
“Becca,” I say, taking his hand and giving it a quick shake. A part of me is indignant at this man’s presumptuousness, though I can also feel a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
“A pleasure, Becca. Anyways,” Rich continues, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “What are you doing out here?”
“Vacation. You?” The question falls out of my mouth before I can stop it. Damn all those manners you instilled in me, Mom!
“Same. What resort are you staying at?”
“The Sandy. Listen, it was nice meeting you,” I say hurriedly, desperate suddenly to get away. Among the new arrivals that the photographer and women in hula skirts are now assaulting, a couple has appeared that looks identical to my ex-boyfriend and the woman he left me for. A kick in the heart, to say the least. “Thanks for your help with the bag,” I continue, my voice quavering. “I’ve got to go to the restroom. Enjoy your stay!”
I scurry off before Rich can respond, making straight for the restroom halfway down the terminal. By the time I get there, my lip is quivering, the world around me blurry with my tears. What a cruel reminder! Why couldn’t the universe just leave me alone?
Taking hold the handle of the bathroom door, I venture a glance back towards Rich. He’s still standing where I left him, his head cocked to one side, curiosity plain on his face. A tear rolling down my cheek, I force myself to smile.
“Goodbye, handsome stranger. Perhaps in another life,” I murmur.
Pulling open the bathroom door, I disappear inside.