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I brush my hands over my face, running my fingers through my hair before heading out. These people don't wait around for long. If I take much longer, I'll be walking to the other side of the island.
When I step outside, they turn on the truck, and one of the older gentlemen holds his hand out. I grab it, his palms rough from work. He helps me onto the bed of the truck. There is sand, grass, and seed all along the floor. The grainy seeds stick to the bottom of my bare feet, and I run my palm along the bottoms, brushing them off.
The ride is bumpy, and some of the long-timers chat with each other on the ride over. I don't, because shouting across the blowing wind doesn't sound appealing. Instead, I watch the landscape, the hills, the mountains, the forest. I watch all of it. The ocean expands forever, somehow much bluer than the California waters. Where those waters were a dark blue, almost black in some places in California, the water in Hawaii is a bright blue, almost green. Like the rare, teal gemstones that I would find in Arizona.
I pull my hair over my shoulder as the wind whips my dark strands around my head. I grab a handful, securing it against my neck as we drive, and soon enough, we're pulling off the highway.
People with leis walk around. Groups with drums and other instruments, men and women dancing in the streets; it's a festival for as far as I can see. There are booths set up with games and food and little things to buy, and as the truck rolls down the street and swerves around this person and the next, the scents of authentic island foods swirl through the air and into my nose. The most colorful outfits are on display; men, women, children, everyone is out to enjoy the celebration.
The truck parks, and we all hop off the bed. Some of them stick together as they go to explore, while others head off in their own directions. I wander around, going by myself and checking out each booth.
I spend hours wandering around aimlessly. I take my time at the booths, picking up the different dishes that are homemade and deliciously hot. By the time the sun has set, lanterns are set on the streets and people are dancing as others walk around and play the drums. I'm incredibly full and all I can do is sit down next to a colorful building and watch the locals have the time of their lives.
This. This is bliss.
A smile breaks out on my face when I see a young girl and boy dance in the middle of the street, their swimsuits on as they run around and chase each other. It reminds me of Roman and I when we were little. Chasing each other. Soulmates before we knew what soulmates were. Best friends. I loved him then, even when I didn't want to. When I thought boys were gross and didn't want anything to do with them, Roman was always there. We both knew we were meant to be.
We were.
Are we still?
Life is cruel, and as I watch these kids, with a brightness lit in their eyes as they stare at each other, I just hope they don't end up with the same fate Roman and I went through.
"Luna?"
The voice shocks me out of my thoughts, and I turn around, coming face to face with the last person I wanted, or expected, to see.
There stands Willie, with his bag slung over his shoulder. He looks like he just stepped off the plane and walked straight to this party.
I stand up, straightening the skirt of my dress. I'm glad it drapes all the way to my toes, so he won't be able to see how badly my legs are trembling.
"Willie? What are you doing here?"
He shakes his head, his blond locks full dreads now. His eyes are a little lazy, a little unfocused, even as they burn down on mine. "I should be asking you the same thing. I thought you went home."
I bite my lip, hearing the accusation in his tone. He wanted me. He didn't want me to leave, and I left anyway. "I was going to, but plans changed."
He eyes narrow slightly, like he doesn’t believe me.
"What about you?" I ask after a beat of awkward silence. "I have to say, it's kind of a coincidence," I laugh, nervousness filling my stomach.
He shrugs. "Doing what we've always talked about. Coming to Hawaii." He takes a step toward me. "Why did you leave me like that in the hospital? Why didn't you wait for me?"
I take a step back, the heel of my foot hitting a small crate. I look down, pushing it out of my way as I shuffle back. "I was going home. After everything that happened, I wanted to go home. I… I wasn't in a good spot. After what was happening to Neil—wait, what ever happened to Neil?"
His eyes darken, nearly turning black as he stares at me. "Neil is dead."
My eyes widen, my stomach dropping to my feet and my body breaking out in a chill. "What? How?"
"He killed himself in the hospital. He couldn't come out of his trip."
I shake my head, so fucking broken that another one of our friends is dead. "What about Trish?"
He shrugs. "She went home right after that. Didn't want to stick around."
"What about you? Where did you go?"
"I decided to stick around in Santa Cruz for a while."
