20.
Rich
From the garden, Cal leads me straight through the lobby to a car waiting in the circular driveway at the front of the resort, its engine idling. It’s a real beater, a small four-door sedan with the hood dented in several places and the paint peeling. In other words, the perfect car for my laidback friend.
“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” Cal says as he walks around the front of the car and hops into the driver’s seat. “I don’t usually have passengers.”
Mess is the understatement of the century. When I pull open the front passenger door, a jumble of trash—empty beer cans, unopened mail, scratched CDs, half-empty fast-food containers—comes spilling out. Several minutes are needed to clear out a space. Cal tries to help by tossing some of the junk into the backseat, though there’s not much room back there either.
Finally, I’m able to squeeze in and we set off. Within minutes, we’ve left the beach behind. We’re heading inland, it seems. I think about asking where we’re going and just what it is we’re up to but decide not to bother. I would find out soon enough. Sometimes, one just had to go with the flow. In Hawaii, it felt almost necessary.
We reach town fifteen minutes later. Cal is chattering away as he drives. To be honest, I’m not entirely listening. My mind is back with Becca at the resort. The woman had really done a number on me. After spending basically every waking hour together over the past week, here I was, not gone from her side more than five minutes, and already I was aching to see her again. That certainly had never happened with Charlotte. Well, it was obvious Charlotte wasn’t the one for you…
Our first stop is a bakery, an authentic Hawaiian bakery if I’m to believe the sign. As he pulls into the parking lot, I look questioningly over at Cal.
“Nope,” he says. “Just hungry. And you’re going to love their bread.”
We go in and Cal orders several treats from the big, glass case below the counter. The cashier, a diminutive woman whose head barely peeks above the countertop, says not a word as she fills a paper bag with our goodies. As she rings us up on an ancient register, I go to pull out my wallet only for Cal to stop me with a hand on my wrist.
“Uh-uh,” he says. “On me. Advance payment.”
Back in the car, he lays out our spread across our laps. Aside from the typical Hawaiian sweet rolls, I don’t recognize anything else. Not normally one for sweets so early in the day, with how delicious everything looks, soon I’m stuffing a variety of cakes and pastries down my throat. We eat the entire bounty right there in the parking lot. When the last crumbs have disappeared down our gullets, Cal starts the car (which takes several tries) and off we go again for a ride through town. It’s my first time really seeing anything beyond the resort and I can’t help but look at everything like the awed tourist I am.
“Not so different from the mainland, huh?”
“No, not really. Sure feels different though.”
“For sure.”
It doesn’t take long to pass through the main part of town. We’re heading up into the suburbs now. The mountains are looming ahead of us, the drive taking us higher and higher with every turn. At one point, Cal pulls the car to the side of the road and points out the back window to the shore visible far below.
“See that stretch of white sand?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the resort.”
“Ahh.”
We continue on. I’m getting curious now as we pass house after house nestled in amongst the jungle.
“So…” I finally say, my curiosity getting the best of me, “where exactly are we going?”
“I was wondering when you’d ask.” Sighing, Cal turns to look at me, an abashed grin on his face. “Just to an ex-girlfriend’s house. I need to get the last of my stuff.”
There’s something he’s not telling me; I can tell this immediately. Still, I don’t press. All in due time, Rich. All in due time.
At least I wasn’t going to have to wait long to find out. We were getting close. I know because Cal is growing more and more fidgety by the minute. He’s playing with the hem of his shirt, glancing out the rearview window every few seconds. It’s almost as if he’s afraid we’re being followed. The more nervous he becomes, the more perturbed I get. What did I sign myself up for?
Not two minutes later, Cal pulls off to the side of the road. There’s a driveway directly in front of us, a house set about ten yards or so back in the trees. It’s a small house, a one-story, split-level affair with a mango tree right next to the front door. From here, it’s impossible to tell if anyone is home, though if I had to guess, I’d say no. No car is in the drive and every blind is shut tight. Switching off the car, Cal takes several deep breaths.
“Ready?” he asks, looking over at me.
“Ready,” I say, not feeling ready at all.
Getting out of the car, I follow Cal up the driveway, my heart pounding. What was I about to find myself in the middle of? Obviously, I was only too aware of how crazy exes could be.
Up on the front porch, Cal lifts the mat at the foot of the door. Finding a key, he straightens and slips it into the lock. He’s so nervous that his hand is shaking. He twists the key and the lock clicks. Before opening the door, he turns back to me.
“Thanks for coming,” he says with a nervous smile. “I’m sure this seems kind of crazy.”
“Just a bit.”
The house is indeed empty. Judging by the mess inside, I have no trouble believing this is where Cal’s ex-girlfriend lives. Food and trash are everywhere. Literally every surface, floor included, is covered with junk. What’s more, the entire place reeks of marijuana. In the sunken living room, I spy the cause—a huge bong filled with dirty brown water. Next to it are several suspicious-looking plants in big pots.
Hmm. The more I was looking around, the less this place was beginning to look like it belonged to a girl. Again, the feeling that there’s a lot more to this story than Cal is letting on strikes me. In fact, now that I was looking more closely, I couldn’t spot a single thing that looked like it could belong to a woman. The only clothes I see are men’s shirts and jeans. Whoever lived here was one big boy. Judging by the size of a shirt draped over the back of a recliner, he could very well be one of my linebackers.
After a quick browse through the house, Cal tells me to wait in the front entry hall, a suggestion I’m only too happy to oblige. Leaving me there, Cal creeps back into the living room, stepping carefully around the various piles of trash. He’s peering at everything intently, searching for what I don’t know. In the living room, he opens the cabinets framing the huge TV and rifles through each one’s contents. I lose sight of him as he disappears around a corner.
“Ah-ha!” I hear him exclaim a moment later. He reappears, a large duffel bag in hand. Oh no. Those better not be drugs.
Just then, I hear the crunch of gravel as a car pulls into the driveway outside. In an instant, the triumphant grin on Cal’s face has disappeared.
“Shit!” Running past me, he peers out the window next to the front door. “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.”
“What?” I whisper. “What is it?”
“Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand. “Let’s go out the back.”
We scurry through the living room and out a glass sliding door onto the back patio. No good. An impossibly high fence surrounds the entire back yard. Just the kind of fence one needed when growing drugs.
We’re stuck. There’s no way out except through the front. I look at Cal. He’s frozen, his face twisted in terror, the duffel bag clutched protectively in his arms. Oh no, I think. I can’t die out here. Not when I’ve just met Becca.
Inside the house, I hear the front door swing open.
“Hello?” a husky voice calls. “Who’s there?”
There’s nothing we can do but await our fate. A second later, fate arrives in the form of what might just be the largest man I’ve ever seen, large being the wrong word. The man is huge, easily big enough to be my entire offensive line.
He spots us the moment he enters the living room, for an instant his face scrunching up with confusion. Just as quickly, this confusion turns to anger.
“Who the fuck are you?” he growls, his eyes flashing to the duffel bag in Cal’s hands. “And what the fuck are you doing in my house?”
Neither Cal nor I say a thing. The man starts towards us, his fists clenched by his sides. When he’s halfway across the living room, Cal makes a break for it.
“Run!” he screams, bolting straight towards the giant. The man makes a grab for him but Cal twists out of the way at the last second, leaping over a couch as he does. He swats at the bong on the coffee table, the huge man hot on his heels. The man grunts as he trips over the bong, the glass shattering as it hits the floor. The giant tumbles to the ground, the entire house shaking on its foundation.
I’m still rooted to the spot, my mouth hanging open in shock. Cal is already out the front door. The man is up in an instant. For a giant, he sure moved fast. He’s facing me now, his face purple with rage.
I move into the living room slowly, circling around him as I do, my hands up, palms facing him.
“Whoa, buddy,” I say. It’s like I’m trying to calm a wild horse. Or a gorilla. “There’s no need—“
He rushes forward. I feint left and then right. He’s closing in. His fist is raised. He swings and I duck under his huge arm. An opening appears. All I had to do was make it past him and—
His next punch doesn’t miss, his ham-like fist connecting squarely to the middle of my chest. The air whooshes out of my lungs as I fly backwards into the wall. I hit the wall so hard a picture across the room falls to the ground, the frame breaking. My God. What a tank!
I barely have time to shake the stars out of my eyes before he’s rushing at me again. If I didn’t get out of here, this man was going to kill me. He was going to tackle me right through the goddamn wall.
At the last second, just as he’s about to slam into me, I leap to my right, just barely avoiding getting caught by his large bulk. The wall cracks as the man crashes into it. Grunting, he tumbles to the floor.
I’m out of there in a flash, not looking back once as I jump over various piles of clothes and dirty dishes. I sprint as fast as I can out the front door and into the wide-open skies of freedom. I’m moving so quickly that I clear the entire porch in a single leap, landing heavily on the gravel sidewalk. Cal already has the car pulled up to the end up of the driveway, the engine running.
“Come on,” he yells. “Hurry!”
I can feel the giant right behind me. Reaching behind him, Cal opens the back door. Without bothering to slow myself, I dive headlong into the trash piled on the backseat. As soon as I’m safely inside, Cal slams his foot on the gas and the car goes screeching down the street. I raise my head and glance back just in time to see the big man come running out the end of his driveway, a baseball bat in his hand. Cal takes the next corner at full speed, the man disappearing from sight.
“What the fuck!” I scream. “What the fuck did you get me into?”
Cal is laughing hysterically now, so hard that tears are streaming down his face. For the life of me, I can’t see what’s so funny. Already I could feel a bruise forming on my chest where the big man’s fist had landed. I was going to be sore for a week. Hell, I’d be lucky not to have a permanent dent.
“Did we just rob someone?” I ask angrily, twisting atop the pile of junk in the backseat until I can sit up. The back door is still open, trash tumbling out of it as Cal, flying like a bat out of hell, dodges around several other cars driving leisurely down the street. “Who was that man? Or what was that man, I should say.”
“I’m sorry,” Cal gasps, barely able to speak through his laughter. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“Told me what?” Seeing Cal’s mirth, my anger is already starting to ebb. “I thought we were going to your ex’s house to get the last of your things.”
“Well…sort of.”
We’re back in town proper now. Cal is no longer speeding but is puttering along. He’s still grinning like a madman though, obviously quite pleased with himself.
“What do you mean ‘sort of’? That man wasn’t your ex, was he?”
“Haha! No, of course not. That man was the man my ex is currently sleeping with.”
“So what were we doing at his house?”
“I told you. Retrieving my things.”
“And what things are those? Not drugs, I hope.”
“Of course not, Rich. Don’t be stupid. Here, look.” Reaching over, Cal unzips the duffel bag in the passenger seat. Pulling open the top flap, he shows me a number of vinyl records.
“Records? You risked our lives for records?”
“Not just any records, my friend. Really rare and valuable records.” He pulls one out and holds it up for me to see. “This one alone is worth somewhere north of a thousand dollars.”
“Why did he have them?”
Cal shrugs. “Probably because my ex knew I’d do whatever I could to get them back and wanted to put them in the safest place possible.”
“Mind if I ask why she’s your ex?”
“Oh no, not at all. She’s my ex because the man she’s currently sleeping with also happens to be the man she was sleeping with when we were together.”
“I see.” I sigh, my fingers gently pressing into my aching chest. Well, nothing felt broken. “Still, I wish you would’ve told me.”
“I know. I really should have. I’m sorry about that, buddy. But you can see why I brought you along, can’t you? That man is one scary sonofabitch. I needed a monster myself.”
“Well, he hit me.”
“Yeah? Damn, man. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s alright. Though I think my heart stopped for a second.”
Cal chuckles. “Well, listen. Why don’t I make it up to you? I know this really great bar not too far from the resort. After what you just did for me, I definitely owe you a drink.”
“Some food would be nice, too. Game day always makes me ravenous.”
“You got it, bud.”
It’s no time at all before we pull up to a little roadside shack down at the bottom of the mountain, the beach just on the other side of a grove of trees. Inside the dim bar, Cal orders two of the house specials from the grizzled, shirtless, sun-baked bartender. The bartender sets two giant mugs in front of us, the yellow concoction inside smelling strongly of rum, pineapple and coconut. The drink is so potent it doesn’t take more than a sip or two before I begin to feel buzzed.
“So,” I say, turning to Cal. “Tell me the story.”
“What story?”
“Of your ex. How did you meet? How long did you date? When did it end?”
“Ahh, okay. Well, there’s really not much to tell, honestly. I met her at a bonfire a few years ago, just after I started working at the resort. You know how it goes. We hit it off instantly and ended up dated for a few years, that is until about six months ago I found out she had been sleeping with that other guy almost the entire time we were dating. So I broke it off. And that’s basically it.”
“Sucks, man.”
He shrugs. “I guess. Though I’m inclined to think of it more as a blessing. I was seriously thinking of marrying the girl. You know how sometimes the universe intervenes to stop you before you make a big, dumb mistake? I like to think that’s what happened here. It was by pure chance that I found a video of the two of them—shot in my bedroom, mind you—one day when I was sitting on the couch smoking a joint and browsing through her computer. And all I’d been looking for were some vacation photos we’d taken a while back.”
“I’m glad you’re not bitter about it. That’s a much healthier attitude than I would probably have had.”
“Why should I be bitter? She’s still a good girl. Even if she did screw me over.”
“Even though she stole your records?”
“Ehh. Maybe you’re right. Maybe she’s not so good after all.”
Our first drinks finished, Cal orders another round. When the bartender brings them over, I pull out a few bills. Seeing this, he waves my money away.
“Uh-uh,” he says. “A friend of Cal is a friend of mine.”
Before I pick up the thread of our conversation, Cal excuses himself and runs out the door without explanation. He’s back a few minutes later, two massive, steaming plates of food in his hands. Setting one down in front of me, he hops back on his stool.
“Food I promised and food you shall get!” he declares.
I laugh and take a bite. “Delicious. Alright then. On to the next question. How did you end up at the resort?”
“Oh, that one’s easy. In my previous life, I was an engineer—“
“No!”
“Yep. A software engineer in Honolulu. Only I hated it. I hated sitting in an office all day knowing what was out here waiting for me. So one day, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore and I quit. I couldn’t justify, not for one more second, doing something that I knew I wasn’t supposed to be spending my life doing.”
“Don’t you make less money?”
“Sure. But honestly, I’ve never been happier. How many people get to work in paradise every single day of their lives? I have all the time I could ever want now to surf and sleep and read and relax and enjoy myself. Every day is a vacation.”
“Hmm…”
“You ever think about what you’re going to do after your career ends?”
“All the time. Truth be told, I’m not even sure I want to keep playing now.”
“No?”
“I mean, the money is great; don’t get me wrong. And the lifestyle can’t be beat. But like you said, I can’t help but get the feeling that there’s something missing. I don’t want to look back and think I spent all my best years throwing a ball up and down the field. It’s not like I need the money anyways.”
“You should move out here.”
“Now wouldn’t that be wild!”
“Not that wild. You certainly wouldn’t be the first. Then you and Becca could…well, you know.”
I sigh, the food having done nothing to blunt the alcohol. “Speaking of Becca, I have no idea what to do about her.”
“You want my opinion?”
“Sure.”
“Do what your heart is telling you to do. It’s obvious you two really like each other. I haven’t seen two people look at each other like you two do since my parents.”
“Maybe you’re right. Though I am still pretty messed up from Charlotte. I guess I never really realized how terrible people could be.”
“I feel you. I hate to ask again, but now that we both know each other a little better…was any of that stuff true?”
“Not in the slightest. Of course we fought like any normal couple. But I never once raised my hand to her. Never even thought about it. Now Charlotte on the other hand…”
“I didn’t think so. You strike me as a standup kind of guy. Not everyone would help someone they barely knew steal his records back from his ex’s terrifying boyfriend.”
“God, was he terrifying! I didn’t even know they made people that large.”
“I’ve always sort of believed he ate his parents or siblings at some point. He has like two or three people inside of him.”
We end up staying at the bar for another hour or so. By the time we make our exit, we’re both so drunk that neither one of us can drive. Luckily, Cal’s house is just a ways down the road. Even with all the weaving we do, it takes less than ten minutes to get there by foot.
The place, a tiny, one-story house with several mango trees lining the walkway that leads to the front door, is nothing like what I expected it to be. Unlike his car, the inside is spick and span, not a speck of dust anywhere. Before heading to the backyard, he takes me on a quick tour, showing me his bedroom and his converted music studio and his living room with all the latest gadgetry one could imagine lining the walls. Out back, we sprawl out in two large lounge chairs under the shade of a massive palm tree, a six-pack of beer on the patio between us. After a while, when the hummingbirds we’ve been watching pick at the flowers of a large, flowering bush flit away, we relocate to two hammocks hanging side by side at the back of the yard.
“Rich, I’ve got a question for you.”
We’ve been silent for some time now, the two of us just observing the clouds passing by overhead as we swing gently back and forth and sip at our beers.
“Shoot.”
“I’m going to guess you haven’t told Becca yet who you are.”
“You would have guessed correctly.”
“You plan on telling her?”
“Of course. I’m just not sure how. I’m a bit scared, to be honest. The last thing I want is for her to think all of those stories in the news are true.”
“You’re going to have to tell her eventually.”
“I know. But how?”
“Well, I’ll level with you. There’s not going to be a right or an easy way. You’re just going to have to hope that she trusts you enough to believe you. Though if I know anything about women, she’ll probably be pissed you waited so long.”
“That’s understandable.”
“My suggestion would be to do it sooner rather than later. The last thing you want is for her to find out some other way. I completely understand why you haven’t told her. But she might not. People have a way of assuming the worst intentions about others.”
I sigh and take a big gulp of beer. “You’re right, you’re right. So you think I should tell her tonight?”
“Tonight’s as good a night as any.”
Just the thought of telling Becca is enough to make my armpits sweaty and my hands shake with nervousness. But I know Cal is right. I’d been putting it off for far too long. The longer I waited, the more likely it became that someone would recognize me. If Cal could, why couldn’t someone else? And as I had told Cal, the last thing I wanted was for Becca to think I’d been hiding it from her for some terrible reason.
Cal is humming happily to himself. I settle deeper into the hammock and run through a few possible ways of telling Becca. Would it be best to do it at dinner? Or when the two of us were alone in my room? Maybe I could get a bottle of wine and run us a bath and…
I’m getting sleepy. This hammock is just too comfortable. My eyes drift shut. I’m talking to Becca. She doesn’t mind that I’ve hidden my identity from her. In fact, she understands completely. We’re back on the floating dock, just the two of us, the moonlight so bright on the water that it’s like sitting on an ocean of silver. Her hand is in mine. Our eyes are sparkling with love. I push the table along with all of its food off into the water and wrap my hands around her waist. Out of nowhere music starts to play. We’re swaying back and forth, holding onto each other for dear life. Becca, I whisper. Becca, I love you…
The day is just starting to darken when next my eyes open. For several seconds, I lie there completely disoriented, not a clue as to where or who I am. It’s not long before it all comes rushing back—Cal’s dirty car, the bakery, the giant man with the face twisted in anger, the bar, the beers, the hammock, telling Becca my secret…
I push myself up out of the hammock and pad across the yard, through the open back patio door, and into Cal’s living room. He’s sprawled out on the couch. Hearing me enter, he looks up. On the coffee table next to him is a large pizza and another six-pack of beer, two bottles already empty.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he chuckles. He points at the pizza. “Hungry?”
“Starving. More parched than anything though.”
“There’s beer here and water in the fridge if you want it.”
“Water’s probably a good idea.”
I make my way to the kitchen. The fridge is near empty, nothing on the shelves save a few bottles of water, a half-empty bottle of wine, and milk that looks like it might have come with the house. I grab a bottle of water, crack it open, and down it in a few gulps. I return to the living room with a second bottle, whereupon I drop into a recliner next to the couch, grabbing a piece of pizza on my way down.
“Those hammocks are dangerous.”
“You’re telling me. I can’t even tell you the number of times I’ve accidentally spent the night out there.”
“What you watching?”
“An old surf movie. The Endless Summer. Ever heard of it?”
“Nope.”
“It’s pretty good. About a couple of guys that go trekking around the world in search of good waves and good times. They teach a few locals about surfing along the way too. A classic.”
I open up the recliner, sighing as I stretch out. Though my head hurts a little from the alcohol, I otherwise feel great. What a strange sort of day this had been! Good, but strange. Exactly what I had needed though. Lately, I had been getting a little too far into my own head. It was always nice to take a break from your own life and spend a little time in someone else’s. Too easy it was to get sucked into your story and forget what else was out there.
When the movie ends, night has fallen in full. The pizza has long been gone. For some time I’ve been thinking of my plan upon my return to the resort. Whew boy. I was not looking forward to confessing to Becca, not at all. Still, as Cal had said, tonight was as good a night as any.
After one more celebratory beer (as Cal calls it), he drives me back to the resort (while I’d been asleep, Cal had walked back down to the bar and retrieved his car), neither one of us talking much along the way. Amazing how comfortable I felt around this man already. Boon companions we were. Regardless of where I ended up or even if I were never to see him again after leaving this place, he always be a friend.
Back at the resort, we shake hands. I climb out of his car without a word, waiting until he’s disappeared down the street before heading inside. When he’s gone, I go straight to Becca’s villa, my heart thumping faster and faster the closer I get.
Okay, boy. Don’t worry. Just be straight with her. It’s Becca. She’ll understand. She’s not like other women. She’s kind, caring, compassionate. She’ll know you’re being genuine, that you had good reasons for keeping who you were a secret. You have nothing to worry about.
This pep talk doesn’t do much in the way of help, not that pep talks ever did when one was about to do something extremely uncomfortable. Stopping just outside her door, I take several long, slow, deep breaths.
As luck would have it, she’s asleep when I enter, curled up on top of the covers, her legs wrapped around a pillow, another pillow beneath her head. Seeing how peaceful she looks, I decide not to wake her. Why bother? I could just tell her in the morning. Tonight, this morning, the next night. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t make a bit of difference, especially as I had every intention of continuing to see her.
She must have been eating in bed because there are crumbs all over the place. I gently sweep them onto the floor. Doffing my shoes and shirt, I crawl into bed beside her. Even in her sleep she can feel my arrival. Without waking, she turns over, her tiny hand reaching for mine. I kiss her fingers and settle in. The morning, then. I would tell her in the morning.