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Immediately, I thought of Asher and his devotion to Morgan but shoved thoughts of my firefighter aside. He was no longer my firefighter, and if the universe were merciful, we wouldn’t run into each other for the rest of my time here. He had one more day off, but then he’d be occupied, putting out fires and saving other tourists…
Pretty young women who’d gladly turn an ankle for him…
I gave my head a shake. “Anyway, I can do this on my own, but I’ll check in with you so you can sleep at night.”
Silas didn’t laugh. “Are you sure about this?” he asked again. “Ten days with a bum ankle, alone, doesn’t sound that fun.”
“I didn’t come here for fun, I came to…”
Be with the ocean…
“Be with myself for a bit. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, good for you, Faith. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Si,” I said. I was pretty proud of me too, and that didn’t happen very often. Or…ever. “Give Max a kiss for me and tell Eddie I’ll bring him a souvenir.”
“I will. He’s been asking afterthe whereabouts of the lovely Miss Benson.”
I laughed. “I love your brother. And I love you.”
“Love you too, babe. Talk soon.”
I hung up with Silas and nodded resolutely as the day stretched out before me. Ten of them, actually.
“I can do this,” I said and got my ass off the couch.
Turns out, crutching around inside a small condo is not the same thing as crutching anywhere else for longer than ten minutes. My underarms were rubbed raw and my shoulders sore from bearing the weight of my ankle in the heavy boot as I made my way to the curved walk that would take me to the beach.
The plan had been to have a little picnic. Carrying a beach chair was out of the question, but I figured I could plant myself on a towel. Sitting down would be easy—thanks, gravity!—and I’d worry about how to get up when the time came. But the bag full of food and my towel kept banging against my crutch, threatening to knock it out from under me. Not to mention, maneuvering over lumpy sand was a million times harder than on concrete. Three steps in, and I realized I was not ready to go off-roading. With sweat dripping down my back and my hair sticking to my forehead, I reversed course, back through the complex until I found a bench next to a koi pond.
My ankle was throbbing, and I realized the boot wasn’t helping but felt like a lead weight. I fed hunks of sandwich crust to the fish and caught my breath. My beach picnic became bench picnic, but I did not give up!
And then it began to rain.
“You’re kidding.”
Clouds had rolled in fast and before I knew it, I was drenched. The rain cooled me down and then I was shivering as I packed my stuff and slowly headed back to my condo, fearful of slipping on the wet pavement at every step.
Inside, I slumped on the couch and removed the boot.
“TV it is,” I muttered to no one. But the rainstorm cleared up as fast as it had come in, and the sun shone brightly, daring me to try again and not lose the whole day.
I recalled that I never did get my Hanalei shave ice. It was a risk, heading north into Asher territory, but what I’d seen of that little town outside his Jeep window had been so darn cute. I vowed to do some shopping—I deserved that at least—get my shave ice, then call it a day. It wasn’t exactly spiritual, but maybe crutching around by myself was the hardship the universe wanted of me. Thanks to my beloved Peloton back home, I was in good shape. I could do this.
I dried off, changed, and rewrapped my foot in the Ace bandage Asher had bought me. It felt a million times better without the weight of the boot, and I steeled myself for another outing.
It was nearly four in the afternoon by the time I was ready to call the Uber, half-certain there was only one driver on this godforsaken little rock, and that the dude with the white Kia was going to pull up. But a gray Camry arrived fast, and the next thing I knew, I was in Hanalei.
Boutiques and restaurants lined the main street on either side, and a little expanse of green grass with picnic tables made up the town center, such as it was. I quickly realized Hanalei was only small if you’re driving or walking on two legs. On crutches, everything felt miles apart.
“Don’t exaggerate and make it worse,” I muttered to myself and spied a little shop with silver jewelry glinting in the window. Like a magpie attracted to shiny things, I made my way there first.
The blue sky was clumpy with gray clouds here and there, but it was mostly hot and sunny. I hobbled into the shop’s cool confines and sighed with relief.
“Aloha,” called the shopkeeper from behind a display. She was an older lady, covered in silver and gemstones.
“Um, hi,” I said, still feeling too awkward to usealoha.I wondered if I was even allowed, considering I wasn’t local.
