December Rain (5 page)

Alex. Alex. I’m here with my love, Alex.
She leans over the railing to peak next door. “This isn’t the same one. Pretty sure it was next door, but how crazy to get so close.”

Alex presses up behind her and nuzzles in her ear. “I remember how crazy we got out here.” His lips graze her earlobe, and she senses his teeth nearing a nibble.

Alex. Alex. Alex.
Chills race down her neck as his hand travels up her thigh, lifting her sun-dress between them.

“Do you remember?” His hand continues around her body, and her knees go soft until she feels his fingers, so different from the ones she dreams of. He can tell she’s not getting into it and backs off.

“I remember,” she says gripping to hold him around her stomach. She doesn’t let go, but he can tell she doesn’t want him. This delicate dance of timing has become a tiring teeter totter they’ve mastered. She closes her eyes and nestles her cheek to his bristly chin, his cologne soothing her.

“What time’s the luau?” she asks as he finally pulls away.

“About an hour. We should get ready and head over. I still can’t believe how late our flight was.” Alex peels out of his T-shirt and smooths his hands over a dress shirt from his bag. He has light stubble from head to navel accentuating every dip and curve of his firm body.

Monica watches, feeling bad about cutting him off.
Look at that sexy man. How can I push that away?
“Do you remember when I first saw you without a shirt, after college?”

He laughs. “Yeah, you were shocked at my chest hair.”

“I wasn’t shocked, I just remembered you completely smooth.”

“That’s cause I was a kid.” He looks down and flexes his chest. “I remember your eyes lit up when you touched me too.”

Monica walks over and runs her hand across his pecs, much larger than they were all those years ago. His body is lean muscle and all man now. She leans in to deliver a passionate kiss, his breath heavy with anticipation. She finds his soft lips and tugs, grasping the soft short hairs in her fingers. He wraps his huge arms around her and takes over, pulling her body close. Just as they start to ramp up he pulls away to catch his breath. He doesn’t look her in the eye as he resumes throwing on his shirt. It’s obvious he needs control, so she gives him space and unpacks while the room cools.

“Wonder if they do anything special for Thanksgiving here?” he says.

“They add turkey and pumpkin pie to the menu.” She suddenly feels a little embarrassed adding, “I looked it up.”

He melts, loving her constant curiosity. “Sounds great.”

“I was a little sad by it actually. We’re in Hawaii, you’d think people would rather stick to their traditional food?”

“I’m good with all of it, except poi. That shit’s gross, but otherwise, I’m not gonna worry about carbs or junk while we’re here. I just want to relax and enjoy.”

“It’s a deal.” She playfully offers her hand to shake, but he kisses the top and then slides his fingers into hers. Alex pulls her out of their room towards the elevator.

“I love how sweet the air smells!” she says. “I’m sure that’s why everything is open here.”

Alex’s wavers when the elevator doors open to a couple in full honeymoon make-out mode. He doesn’t move to get in, but Monica laughs and tugs him inside. The couple giggle as they grope and kiss in the corner, ignoring their company. Monica sees the guy’s fingers curve around her tan butt cheek and dive into her bikini. The jolt of the cab settling to the ground floor snaps her forward towards Alex’s crooked smile. The stainless steel doors reflect a distorted version of the unmistakable activity. The woman’s hand stirs inside the man’s board shorts as the doors open. Their existence is erased by the plumeria breeze and the tug of Alex’s hand towards the hotel entrance.

“We’re the old married couple now,” she says.

“That’s okay. That’s what I signed up for.” He kisses her temple before handing the valet their ticket.

They’re both quiet on the short drive to the Marriott. Their heads bob to the Common Kings on the local reggae radio station as they drive under the canopy of monkey pod trees and swinging palms. This isn’t their first luau by any means, but Alex thinks of Thanksgiving as a gorge yourself silly holiday so it’s fitting that he made reservations. There’s something comforting about sitting amongst so many families though. Over the years their Thanksgiving has gone from a couple of relatives packing into their tiny house to everyone making excuses about travel and life, leaving it to just the two of them.

The first round of mai tais are delivered and Alex raises his plastic cup. “You make a toast babe.”

She stirs the cherry and pineapple around in the glass thinking. “To an entire day without you mentioning your disgust for flip flops.” She laughs expecting him to laugh too but barely gets a grin. He tilts his head and lets the grin fall to a serious gaze.

“To the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. I’m thankful every day that you said yes.”

Wow. He went for awesome sweet thankful toast. I’m an ass.
Her heart, now lodged in her throat, races as she feels eyes at their group table watching their tearful stare. She takes a brief ceremonial sip before leaning over to take his trembling lips to hers. She feels how open he is and wants to crawl inside him. In the effort to keep it PG for the guests, she pulls away, noting their life reflected in his faint smile.

She closes her eyes remembering the frail troubled teenage boy who struggled to feel alive, who wrote poetry in secret, and didn’t mind juvi because it gave him time to read. She remembers the angry twenty year old addict and gang member she left behind for college, afraid he’d take a life if not his own. That young man she left to find his own way shocked her by pulling himself out of that neighborhood and the drugs. He is in her arms and her life for so many reasons, but above all it’s an undying love.

“I want another toast,” she whispers to him. He turns his head down slightly to find her eyes and waits for her. “To the love of my life.” She holds her glass close between them in a private moment. “You’ve had to go through so much to get here, and I’m inspired by you every day. You’ve taught me never to give up, no matter how hard I’ve tried to screw it up. Thank you for not giving up on me.” His eyes shy into her, trying to conceal full tears now running down their cheeks.

They can’t help but laugh at themselves and scoot their chairs closer as the show begins. Their fingers are intertwined through the whole night, even juggling forks and glasses one handed, wanting to remain one. By the time they walk into their room a little tipsy and tired, their pace is slow and steady. They undress each other gently, thankful for every vulnerable inch, and make love like it’s the first time, with a nervous hesitance, neither wanting to be greedy or rushed.

The sound of the calming waves lapping through the screen door makes Monica feel so connected to him and the island. She feels so at peace in his arms as he gently rocks inside her. She strokes his firm backside just as she feels his release, knowing he loves the tickle on his sensitive skin. They fade into the white noise washing ashore with their jet-lagged limbs twisted around each other.

November 25th - Friday

The time difference on the island meant waking up before dawn as the birds start singing. The alcohol left her head a little groggy, but Monica couldn’t resist the urge to see the sunrise. She squeezes into her sports bra and laces up her running shoes before tiptoeing out the door.

“Have a good run,” Alex mumbles as the door clicks shut.

She makes her way down to the ground floor, past the lush atrium garden still glowing from the lanterns sprinkled along the paths. There are only a couple of employees preparing for the day, each surprised by her presence. Monica resets the time on her Garmin, hits play on her iPod, and takes off into the last darkness.

The path winds around the pool towards the ocean and heads south. Each drag of humid air drains her enthusiasm up the steep hill that climbs away from the resort. The path opens to a public parking lot where a couple of early adventurers and surfers are unloading and stretching. She keeps going up Makena Road past acres of slumbering construction equipment and orange cones that plague this part of the island. The sky was lifting while the beats of 311’s “Amber” eases the burn to a steady pace.

The two lane road narrows through dry brush and patches of lava rock. The occasional wave from a passing work truck or pick-up packed with surfboards makes her feel less like a tourist. After a mile and a half a string of mansions surrounded by grand stone walls and ornate sculptural gates break up the nearing ocean view. POD’s “Youth of a Nation” stirs her pace as the road twists to an area of jagged black rock just feet from the shore. There’s a feeling of belonging as the morning clouds break to reveal a pale blue sky.

This is where I should be.
Her pace slows when she sees an empty lot.
I know I’m dreaming, but talk about the ultimate location.
It’s just a patch of black gravel packed flat and tight, ready for construction, but oh, the possibilities. She daydreams as the waves lap against the rocks and the tapering pavement separating the road from the Pacific. She comes to a series of huge McMansions with wraparound lanais and green manicured lawns. They nearly eclipse a tiny and very old plantation style house sitting back from the road.

Scaffolding looks like it’s holding up the roof on the north end as painters scrape and gut rotten wood, and a man in a backhoe works a trench near the foundation.
That’s a lot of work. It’s awesome that they’re saving it though. Most people would tear it down.

The man in the backhoe whistles to someone standing on the porch just as a truck full of surfers startles her by revving their engine. Monica snaps out of her daydream and waves them on. She rounds the corner and sees a mass of guys waxing their boards. The surf is growing and the word was out.
God, I love it here.
The tan muscles and chiseled smiles launch her into a turn in the road that lifts away from the shore.

Soon a vast desert of black lava rock and brush lay out for miles. The new terrain is lonely and isolating, and the sun now above mount Haleakala stings her fair skin. Her thoughts twist unexpectedly.
We’re going to be okay. We’re both here and working on things. Last night was so fun. It’s been so long since we just let go and were just us... no baggage or role playing. No Quinn.
It sinks in.
No Quinn. That’s a good sign.

The Garmin beeps hitting the three mile mark and signals it’s time to turn around and head back.
I’ve earned my french toast today.
On the way back she kicks up the pace and nods a “good-bye-for-now” to each property and the amazing ocean front road that leads back to their resort, and eventually breakfast.

Alex found a great local’s restaurant in Keihi years ago when they got sick of paying thirty-five dollars for a mediocre breakfast at their hotel. Now, like everything in their life, it’s an assumed ritual before heading to the beach. The diner serves loco moco and macadamia nut pancakes the way it’s supposed be served, in large portions.

“So we have a massage appointment at three o’clock,” Alex says.

“Shut up! Are you serious?” She watches his grin and nod when her jaw drops. “You went all out didn’t you? Is it in those beach cabanas or-” His continuous nodding makes her shrill. “Oh honey, just like our honeymoon.” He winks and swallows his mouth full. “So you wanna do some snorkeling this morning and hang at the resort all day?”

“I thought it would be nice. We can go explore the town tomorrow.”

He knows his planning is setting up the perfect first day. As soon as they get back to the resort Monica is all about digging her feet into the hot sand and taking in a little beach reading. They snag a couple of lounge chairs under an umbrella and strap on fins to swim around the rocks in search of sea turtles.

In the peaceful hum of the ocean, the blurry sight of Alex in the distant water resembles Quinn.
I didn’t think about him at all last night. That’s a first. At least since August. Wonder where he is? In this ocean? No. Get a grip! Last night was so great. If I can do one night without, I can do another, and eventually get him outta my head.

As usual Monica tires of the turtle search before Alex and heads to their chairs to dive into her Kindle. Hours melt away as the sun moves high above and they go through drinks and a lite lunch. Once they’re covered in coconut oil and hot stones in a private cabana along the sand, they’re in heaven. Alex reaches over and takes her hand as the stones sink in.
What a wonderful man. I am lucky. I shouldn’t have been so hard on Tris. I love him so much.

She thought for sure Alex would want to head upstairs after the rubdowns to experiment with their slick bodies, but he motions to the enormous shuffleboard game that’s set into a grassy area near the pool. She’s never seen anyone play or even taken much notice of it before.

“You want to play shuffleboard?” she asks.

He smiles and runs over to the activities hut returning with the tangs, which were really just pushing sticks and the weighted disks.

“They call these biscuits the guy said.” Alex shrugs putting the disks on the ground.