Penn grabs his earphones and plugs them into his phone, but doesn’t turn it on. “Are you looking forward to seeing Mia? I talked to Shep yesterday, and he says they’ll have the bonfire ready.”
Shep and Mia are two of our friends that live in Honolulu. We met them our first summer there and have been friends ever since, for more than seven years.
“Yeah, I know. She’s been texting nonstop about our welcome home party tonight. Fat chance I’ll be getting out of that one.” I muffle a yawn with my fist and pull out my phone, ready to hit play as soon as we reach the appropriate altitude.
My hand is throbbing, so I pop a pain pill and turn on a random playlist. Hours later, I wake up as our wheels touch down and bump across the runway. My head aches from lack of water and six hours of stale air, and I just want off this damn plane. I take my phone out of airplane mode as we taxi toward our gate. And everything I thought I’d left 2,678 miles away all comes crashing back. Because a text message is waiting from Mick:
Hope u had a safe flight. Maybe we can talk later?
And several from Tyler.
I’m so sorry.
I feel like shit. Man, that was a def right hook. :)
But I forgive u.
I need to talk to u. Please let me fix this. Please.
Crap, forgot u were flying. Please call or text when u land.
Love u.
One text after another, after another. My phone continuously beeps as it catches up with every message I missed while in the air…and that’s all I hear—nonstop beeping. Like my phone doesn’t know how to do anything else. I scramble to try to turn it off, but can’t seem to press the right buttons thanks to my fumbling fingers and stupid cast, as my screen flashes with the next incoming text.
Oh my god, oh my God, make it stop!
After everything I’ve done for the both of them, after all the times I’ve been there for them, they go and do what they did, and expect me to still be here now. Like they want me to soothe them after the rough day they both had yesterday. Like I’ll forgive them so quickly now that thousands of miles are between us.
I can feel my lungs shutting out what little air is left. Penn grabs my phone and replaces it with my inhaler. Somehow he’s able to make the beeping stop, but it still echoes in my ears, reminding me that nothing is ever too far away.
I take a deep pull on my inhaler and close my eyes while Penn grabs our bags and shuffles me off the plane.
Immediately I’m hit with the welcoming scent of tropical flowers mixed with suntan lotion. A familiar smell that somehow makes everything better. And one that always reminds me of my mom.
“Okay?” Penn asks as we walk farther and farther away from the plane.
“Okay.” I nod. In fact, I’m more than okay. It’s like the tropical air is magic, as the breeze that passes through the open walkways floats over me and flutters my hair around my face. And just like that I realize I want absolutely nothing to do with Mick and Tyler. Nothing to do with what’s happening back at home. Screw them both. They don’t deserve any of my time, and they sure as hell don’t deserve me.
Penn has both of our carry-on bags slung over one shoulder, leaving me with only my handbag to hold as we wait for the Wiki-Wiki shuttle that will take us to the baggage claim terminal. We’re surrounded by hundreds of hot and sweaty passengers from our flight and others that landed at the same time, from all different corners of the world. Most of those around us are tourists. Entire families itching with excitement to be here, already wearing matching floral-print Aloha shirts and dresses, preordered from Hilo Hattie’s before their trip. Everywhere I look, there are way too many exposed legs that are far too pale to be seen in public. Several people even rock white knee-high socks, their heat-swollen feet crammed into dingy running shoes that have probably never been running.
I look down at my own pale feet, already sporting a pair of flip-flops I bought here last summer, waiting for their chance to have a go with the sun.
My mom and stepdad, Bob, are down at baggage claim, both looking completely unaffected by the high temperatures and humidity, with beautiful plumeria leis in hand. Mom raises an eyebrow at my cast as she slips the garland of flowers over my head and pulls me in for a hug. I hadn’t wanted to at the time, but my dad made me call her last night to tell her what happened.
“Oh, baby, I’ve missed you so, so much. And your hand! Does it hurt?” She squeezes me tight, and I realize how much I’ve really missed her, too.
“That’s a pretty fierce-looking cast you got there, kiddo,” Bob comments, arm around my shoulders. But if he says one word about where I should’ve put my thumb, I’m gonna scream.
“If you think that’s impressive, you should’ve seen Tyler’s nose,” Penn tells them as he watches for our bags to circle around. “I don’t think any amount of surgery is going to make it go back to what it was like before. Although it’s gotta be an improvement for his looks.”
“Penn, would you shut it?” I glare at him, and he pretend glares right back. I know he’s trying to make me laugh but I’m not in the mood, so I make myself busy trying to rub off a scuff mark on the ground with the edge of my flip-flop.
My mom steps in and whispers so only I can hear, “You deserve so much more, Sloane. The right one is waiting out there for you somewhere, I promise. But maybe next time, you save your hand and don’t break his nose, okay?”
Penn is still going on and on about my trophy-worthy right hook, pretend air jabs included, as he pulls my bag from the carousel with a grunt and sits it on the floor next to his feet. “You do know we’re only here for the summer, right?”
I’m about to really lay into him when my mom steers me out the exit and across the street to where the car is parked. But instead of the SUV she had last summer, she’s replaced it with a shiny new convertible, top down, glistening in the sun. There’s an identical car parked right next to it, but silver instead of red.
“Surprise!” Mom says to Penn and me as Bob pops the trunk on the silver one and starts loading in our luggage. “I thought you guys could use your own transportation this summer.” I gape at my mom, then back to the car. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Sloane—it was practically buy one, get one free!”
Leave it to my mom to buy us a car that will only be used for a couple of months. Not that I don’t love the idea of having a set of wheels while I’m here, it’s just that she tries so hard. She’s always sending stuff in the mail—new clothes, new shoes, expensive handbags. There’s not a month that goes by when I don’t come home from school to find a package on the doorstep, often containing something crazy like a formal ball gown—as well as the shoes, accessories, and clutch to match—even when I have no place to wear it.
I hate to think it, but it feels like she’s trying to buy my love. Maybe it’s because we live so far apart from each other or maybe it has to do with her feeling like she left us when she moved away. But I guess we left her, too. Penn and I had a choice, and we both chose to stay in Seattle. I just wish she’d realize she doesn’t have to prove anything to me.
Penn kisses my mom on top of her head, then grabs for the keys in Bob’s outstretched hand. “Sweet, Mom—thanks! I’ll race you home!”