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Content
Driftwood
by
JoLynn Drott
This novel is submitted in fulfillment of final project
requirements for the Master of Professional Writing, the
University of Southern California.
Approved :
Approved :
ram Director
S //o f 9o
o
Date
Date
UMI Number: EP60746
All rights reserved
INFORMATION TO ALL USERS
The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted.
In the unlikely event that the author did not send a complete manuscript
and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if material had to be removed,
a note will indicate the deletion.
Dissartation PüibiisWg
UMI EP60746
Published by ProQuest LLC (2014). Copyright in the Dissertation held by the Author.
Microform Edition © ProQuest LLC.
All rights reserved. This work is protected against
unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code
ProQuest LLC.
789 East Eisenhower Parkway
P.O. Box 1346
Ann Arbor, Ml 48106 - 1346
DRIFTWOOD
by
J.R. Drott
12225 San Vicente Blvd. #212
Los Angeles, CA 90049
(213) 476-3227
"By what strange course of events
have I come to be a stranger
in my own life?"
Anonymous
PROLOGUE
Labor Day is over, the malls are empty and the beaches
nearly so. In Southern California, the summer doesn't really end
until the middle of October, but even now, the leaves are start
ing to fall from their branches. It was a year ago this month
that I left home for my first year of college. I haven't
returned to school this fall, electing to take some time to
gather my thoughts and see if I can't piece the puzzle back in
place. So, I sit here in my parents' home, the only home I've
ever known, and stare out at the cinder block wall that separates
us from our neighbors.
Within one year, a parade of people passed through my life,
most of whom didn't know what a significant effect they had on
me. I wonder if I've had an effect on someone's life that I
don't know about. I suppose we all do and never realize it,
going about our business with very little thought to others.
It's tough to say just when or where everything went wrong. Or
who was to blame for the state my life got to. Maybe no one is
to blame, maybe that's just the way life is. I need to get it
straight in my head, make some sense out of what happened. I'm
sure everyone has a story to tell, something that happened to
them that changed their life and outlook forever. I'm no
different. But, before I get ahead of myself, I have to go back.
Back to where it all began...
PARADISE
"Are you a student?" a strange voice asked behind me. I
turned to see a tall Hawaiian guy standing with a BYU-Hawaii
Campus sign in his hand.
"Depends on if I'm in trouble or not," I said, struggling to
balance my backpack with my heavy typewriter. He looked at me
curiously without laughing.
"You need a ride to BYU?" he finally asked. I nodded and
followed him to a small group of other disheveled kids waiting
near the baggage claim. It was one o'clock in the morning,
Hawaii time, just after four in Los Angeles where I had come
from. I should have been exhausted, but I was too excited. I'd
been waiting for this day to happen for months; leaving for
Hawaii for my first year of college. Finally free of my parents'
domination. Not eight hours before my dad was giving me a
lecture on my responsibilities to my school work and stuff. It's
not that I don't love my dad, but I was so sick of him telling me
how I should run my life.
I retrieved my huge black and brown suitcase from the
revolving carousal, adding it to my load as our group made its
way to the van. Even at one in the morning, the air cloaked like
a shawl, wrapping itself around me. I breathed deep and inhaled
the fragrance of hundreds of plumeria and tuber rose leis around
the tourist's necks.
"Did you even know we had this shuttle service?" the
Hawaiian leader asked. I shook my head. "Then how the heck were
you gonna get to school? It's on the other side of the island."
I laughed merrily at the thought that I had got off the plane in
Honolulu and I had found this guy with his van. Things just
always seemed to work out for me.
"Well, I guess I'm pretty lucky then," I said. He shook his
head.
"Crazy haole," he muttered under his breath.
"What's that?" I asked eagerly, wanting to know everything,
all at the same moment.
"Mainlander. You know, a white person." I nodded,
remembering suddenly that Hawaii actually has a different
language. "We have a long drive ahead of us. You might want to
get some sleep." Several of the other kids had already taken him
up on his advice as the van pulled out onto Pali Highway. It was
tough to see much of anything in the dark but I looked anyway.
We stopped at a Jack in the Box in Kaneohe that was open twenty-
four hours a day. Only our guide and I got something to drink
which was great since it gave me a chance to pour out my
questions.
"Why's it called the Garden Side?"
"'Cause it rains so much, it's always green. Like a
garden."
"How far is the beach from campus?"
"About a quarter mile."
"How far is Banzai and Pipeline from BYU?"
"About ten miles north on Kam highway. Why you ask so many
questions?"
"I have to learn all this somewhere, don't I?" He shook his
head at that and we drove on, up the Kamehameha Highway towards
Laie, the town where BYU was located. Brigham Young University.
The Mormon school. Most people knew about the campus in Provo,
Utah - the one located on Oahu was a well-kept secret.
We turned off Kam onto Naniloa Loop Drive, a street that
curved around Laie and came out on the highway at the other end.
As we approached the darkened campus, I could only guess at its
proportions. There was a huge expanse of grass out front, and
all the buildings were low to the ground, nothing over two
stories. Other than that I could only see a lot of palm trees.
Whenever we had relatives come from the mid west to my parents'
house in Orange County, they never failed to comment on the palm
trees, thinking they were exotic, just like in the movies or
something. Being from California, the palm trees didn't affect
me one way or the other. Except that in the moonlight and wind
that drove out of the east, they looked almost alive.
The dorms were on the back side of the school, nestled up
against the rolling hills that turned into the Koolau mountain
range not half a mile away. The other kids woke and we separated
into girls and guys, each going to separate dorms. The Dorm
mother. Sister Brunswick, (in the church, we call everyone
brother or sister instead of Mr. or Mrs., to make us all like a
family) came, out to greet me and the two other girls, handing me
a key and pointing to the stairway before disappearing into her
apartment. I struggled up the stairs, found the room with little
effort and flopped onto the bed, finally tired. My mind raced
over a dozen things I needed to do the next day: get registered,
unpack, fix up my room, meet my roommate-to-be, and explore the
campus. The last thought I had before I drifted off to sleep was
of Darren, the only boy I’d ever loved.
I woke at six-thirty drenched in sweat. I didn't realize it
would be quite so hot in the islands. The room I'd been assigned
to faced into a courtyard where breezes from the constant
tradewinds did not reach. I went to Sister Brunswick and
demanded a room that faced east and was on the second floor.
There were very few other students on campus yet, so she let me
move. After a summer of fighting with my mom. I'd left for
Hawaii as soon as the dorms opened, giving me a week before
classes started. There were three women's dorms, I was in the
end one closest to the mountains called Hale Pukui meaning House
five in Hawaiian. Hale five. Unit 13 Room B2. It was in this
room, no more than eight by fifteen feet in length, that I had a
best friend, a best girlfriend, for the first time in my life.
It wasn't much to look at, having two twin beds against one wall
underneath a corkboard that ran the length of the room. The
other wall was taken up by built in desks, closets, and drawers
for two. There was only one window at the far end, the side I
took up as my own. After I'd unpacked my one suitcase, set up my
typewriter and put up all my unicorn pictures, I set out to find
the cafeteria.
It was an awful, grungy place filled with peeling wallpaper
in that brown on brown pattern of tapa cloth designs supposed to
make you feel like you're in an authentic islander establishment.
I got a plastic tray and utensils, making my way to the back wall
where the main course was served. All the workers were dark-
skinned; some black, some chocolate-colored, some golden brown.
I didn't know the difference between a Fijian or a Samoan - they
all looked alike that first day with their brown skin, brown
eyes, black hair and foreign languages. I got a dry roast beef
sandwich, a glop of rice, and some ice cream. There was plenty
of food although none of it looked very good. "At least I'll
keep my weight under 120," I thought to myself.
In the daylight, the campus was even smaller than I thought.
A two-story library was at the northwest corner with one long
open corridor running directly south ending at the cafeteria.
There were classrooms and smaller hallways off the main corridor.
On the east side of the cafe was the Aloha Student Center, a
large, mall-like building with a student store, post office, game
room, and more classrooms off the sides. There was also another
cafe for students who didn't live in the dorms. A small street
split the school in half, and behind, wrapped around, were the
gym, P.E. building, administration, tennis courts, and the dorms.
I walked the length of the campus in less than ten minutes.
But the campus didn't need to be big as BYU-Hawaii had only
two thousand students altogether. The school was originally
built to service the people who came from the South Pacific,
Micronesia, and Asia who had converted to the Mormon faith and
wanted to go to school in America. I'd been told the most
prevalent groups were the Tongans, Fijians, Samoans and
Filipinos; islands where the church is strong. The school was
divided nearly equally into thirds: one-third Hawaiian locals,
one-third Mainlanders like myself, and the rest from the whole
Pacific Basin.
I made my way to the administration building. As I stood
there in line waiting to pay my tuition bill, I saw a big blonde
get in line behind me. This girl was huge, maybe six feet tall,
with sandy-blonde hair and blue eyes. She looked like an Amazon
warrior newly escaped from the jungle : beautiful and intimidat
ing. I hadn't seen many other white faces on campus and I wanted
to start a conversation but I didn't know how. I wasn't shy or
anything. Well, maybe a little, but it was her overwhelming
presence that kept me mute. I was startled when her voice boomed
loud behind me.
"I hate standing in lines." I didn't know if she was
talking to me or someone else so I replied to the air.
"Tough," I said. I know it was lame and confrontational but
what could one possibly say to so large a woman? I glanced back
and she was scrutinizing my five-foot four inches.
"Oh? You like standing in lines?" she challenged.
"No, I didn't say that. Just that you should be patient
like the rest of us," I stammered looking ahead at the afro hair
and nearly black skin of the guy who was avoiding the whole
conversation. Two small Chinese girls in front of him were
quietly whispering to each other.
"Who died and made you Queen?" this gigantic woman glowered
at me. I shrank back inside but refused to budge verbally.
"Not Queen, just Princess." She laughed then, much to my
relief. I hadn't meant to get into a fight my first day of
freedom and certainly not with so immense a woman. She wasn't
fat or anything, just tall. After a tense moment, she extended
her hand which I shook.
"You're all right for a Princess. I'm Elizabete O'Neil,"
she said with a smile.
"Jessica Adams..." I started. With a wave of her hand she
dismissed my name.
"I like Princess better." I smiled back, enjoying the
nickname.
"Do you go by Liz?" I asked. She recoiled as if I'd hit
her.
"I've always hated that name. The girls in high school used
to call me Thin Lizzy," she spat. I looked at her considerable
dimensions and wondered after the name. "My sisters all call me
Bete," she continued. I heard the word "sisters" and was
instantly jealous. I didn't have a sister and didn't like the
ones I'd known from my friends in high school. I wanted my
friends to be as independent as me, or rather dependant on each
other and not their sisters.
"Well, I can't call you Bete. Sounds like I'm at a race
track or something. Besides, It's not Lizzy, it's Liz." She
looked at me with suspicion, then nodded slowly.
"I suppose it wouldn't be the same as high school. All
right, you can call me Liz, but no one else."
She had this great smile, wide and generous. Her eyes were
intense, like you knew she really saw what was going on, really
listened when you spoke. I got this sensation of energy rush
through me and I wanted to shout, jump up in the air, I was awed
by the enthusiasm that radiated out of her smile and eyes. I
knew in an instant, on gut instinct I guess, that this woman was
going to play a big part in my life.
"So, who's your roommate?" she asked.
"Someone named Debony," I replied.
"Not Debony Saxon?" Liz asked.
"Yeah, I think that was the name. Why?" I asked, genuinely
concerned. The line moved forward an inch. I was just beginning
to experience the slow pace of life in the islands.
"I'd heard she was thinking about coming to Hawaii, but I
never really expected her to do it. If it's the same girl I knew
in Provo, you're life is going to be hell. Major bitch," Liz
said under her breath. I glanced around to see if any one had
heard Liz swear. That was one of the rules at BYU, no swearing,
"Why's that?" I asked, keeping it to a whisper.
8
"She's an actress," Liz said, throwing her head back drama
tically to emphasize the word "actress." I lowered my eyes,
embarrassed.
"I act," I said quietly. Liz shook her head.
"That's not what I mean. I act too, you know, on stage.
But this girl is always 'on'. Know what I mean? She struts
around instead of walks, and she wears a ton of makeup. And her
name...it's really Debbie but she had it changed after she got
this part in a Tide commercial. She yells at anyone that calls
her Debbie." Liz pushed me forward as the line moved. "Besides,
she's a terror as a roommate. I had a friend that roomed with
her for a week and had to get switched 'cause she couldn't stand
hearing about her wanna-be career as an actress day in and day
out," Liz explained.
I nodded and recalled a girl from my high school that had
got a bit part in a movie and had bragged about it so much we all
got sick of her and stopped talking to her. She left school
early to study her acting but hadn't got anything beyond that one
job. I knew the type Liz was talking about and the thought of
spending a semester with this girl appalled me. I chewed my
lower lip not knowing what to do.
"Well, speaking of acting, are you trying out for Showcase?"
I asked. Showcase Hawaii was the one and only song and dance
troop on campus and I had heard they were really good. I had
been in a similar type group, kids between fourteen and eighteen
who got together and performed a musical variety show for other
church members and to non-members - a missionary effort.
"Yeah, I was thinking about it. Tryouts aren't 'till next
week, are they?"
"No, but you have to get an application from Brother Tata
first."
"Ta-ta," Liz sang out. I laughed.
"I know, it's a totally stupid name." It was my turn to go
to the counter. I finished quickly, writing out a check from my
brand-new checking account. Such a grown-up thing to do. I
decided on impulse to wait for Liz as she went to another teller
down the line. I don't know what kept me there except some
magnetism that drew me to this woman.
"Hey, you waited," Liz said surprised.
"Well, sure. Don't you want to go get that application?"
We walked across the street to the Aloha Center and found Brother
Tata's office. His secretary gave us each a form and we left,
heading towards the dorms. "Well, who's your roommate, anyway?"
"Some girl from Idaho called Paula Emkin. Sounds like a
major Molly Mormon to me."
"Think maybe I could get my roommate switched with someone
else?" Liz and I looked at each other and both knew instantly
what the other was thinking. I had found a friend. Liz nodded
and said, "Okay, Princess, let's do it."
"Just like that? Don't we have to ask the dorm mother first
or something?"
10
"Probably, but if I just move all my stuff in, what are they
going to do?" I laughed then, thinking how simple that was. Her
voice reached into the warm morning air and drew me in, like her
laugh, melodic and solid. She wasn't afraid of anything or
anybody.
We decided my room was best being on the second floor and
all and we spent the afternoon moving in. She was vaguely put
out that I had the window side but didn't make a fuss. She
admired all my unicorn pictures and said unicorns were her
favorite animal too.
"I'm from Orange County," I said in answer to her question.
We were in the process of going through each other's belongings.
"I'm from Milbrae. It's near San Francisco." Liz was
holding up some of my tops which were way too small for her. I
was secretly glad of this as I wasn't used to sharing clothes.
"Hey, what's this?" she asked, pulling a one dollar bill
from the pocket of a shirt.
"Looks like money, Sherlock," I said. Liz unfolded the bill
and found a note inside.
"'For one ice cream cone when you've passed you're first
test'. What the hell's that mean?" Liz asked. I smiled.
"That’s my mom. She always does that when I go away on
trips. Puts money in my pockets for little treats."
"That’s cool. You're mom must be fun," Liz said, going
through the rest of my pockets. I nodded, remembering the fight
11
I'd had with her not two nights before I left. We were arguing
over the amount of clothes I was taking with me. Stupid topic,
Liz held up one of her dresses, a gold lame job. "What do ya
think? Pretty sexy, huh?" I nodded in agreement digging through
my own pile to hold up a satiny full skirt,
"We'll be twins," I said, laughing at the thought. We
looked about as much like twins as Mutt and Jeff. I popped in my
Abba tape, "Rich Man's World" blaring out. I jumped up on my
bed, grabbing my hairbrush and using it as a mike. "Money,
money, money, must be funny, in a rich man's world." Liz joined
me and we sang at the top of our lungs, dancing around the room.
"You like dancing?" she asked when the song ended.
"I live to dance."
"I hear the discos in Waikiki are awesome. And the age
limit is eighteen. You are eighteen, aren't you?"
"Just turned, two days ago."
"Well, happy late Birthday. What do you say we go celebrate
in Waikiki this weekend?" I nodded enthusiastically wanting
nothing more than to go dancing.
"Hey, I was just thinking, I met this girl named Kari
Walker," Liz started. My heart sank. No sooner were we into
planning our first adventure then she had to bring in someone
else. "She's super nice and her dad is Len Walker. The Len
Walker of Walker Productions." The name clicked with me as a big
TV producer. "Anyway, she’s going here this semester and she has
12
a car. I think we ought to get to know Kari better," Liz said
slyly.
"Yeah, well, I hate using people just for what they've got.
It's kind of sleazy," I said, hoping I wouldn't offend Liz.
"So do I, and if she wasn't such a sweet girl in the first
place, I would feel really bad. But I'm only talking about
getting a ride into Waikiki." I smiled slowly, thinking how
great it would be to get an acting job through her father...
"Yeah, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea," I agreed.
That night as we lay on our beds exhausted from the strong
sunshine and intense heat, Liz and I listened to the drums of the
Polynesian Cultural Center. The PCC, as we referred to it after
stumbling over the full name twice, was a 42 acre sight that
bordered the school to the east filled with mini replicas of
seven major islands in the South Pacific. The students who went
to school at BYU from these various islands would work there to
pay their way through school. It was a neat set-up, as the
islanders learned native dances of their heritage that often
times they weren't taught at home, and also they acted like
ambassadors for their countries. We were to learn that there was
a Night Show, an island revue that was performed twice each
evening which was where the drumming was coming from. Liz and I
lay there listening to the primal beats and I felt the first
stirring in me of wanting to be part of it, wanting to be
absorbed into the sound and the night. I never got tired of
hearing those drums.
13
THE THREE MUSKETEERS
The next morning we set out for Waikiki. Liz, true to her
word, had gotten us a ride from Kari. I met Kari at her car, a
brand new jet black 280 ZX that her dad let her use when he
wasn't on the island, which was most of the time. Kari was
stunning. Liz was beautiful with her makeup on and hair fixed
and all, but Kari was one of those golden girls who looked good
with or without makeup, just out of a pool or first thing in the
morning. About five-eight with long golden blonde hair and green
eyes, Kari looked like she'd walked off a page of Glamour
magazine.
"You're not a freshman, are you?" I asked Kari.
"No, a sophomore."
"I'm nearly a junior," Liz said. "I've got almost all of my
G.E. finished."
"Where'd you go?" Kari asked Liz.
"I've been at BYU for two years, but I was sick of the snow
so I decided to finish the G.E. here. What are you going to
major in?"
"Oh, I don't know. I don't really like school all that
much." Liz turned to me.
"How 'bout you. Princess?" I fiddled with the radio dials
pretending to be absorbed by them until I could think of a good
answer.
14
"I want to study communication between dolphins." I hoped
that didn't sound too lame and I covertly glanced at her to see
her reaction. She mused her lips and nodded in approval.
"That's a great field. So, you'll be a Bio major. Tough
choice c"
"Yeah, I guess. But I like theatre, too," I added, not
wanting to sound too academic. Scrunched up on Liz's lap in the
two-seater car, I was positioned to see the coastline as we drove
south along Kam Highway. The green on green of the foliage, the
marked contrast of the white sand and blue ocean made the whole
scene unreal, like someone had painted a perfect picture. Only
the small, ugly houses with their corrugated roofs and piles of
junk lying everywhere spoiled the picturesque beauty. "I would
kill to be out on that water," I said.
"We can go swimming later," Liz pointed out.
"No, I mean sailing."
"I didn't know you sailed."
"Every chance I get." Kari saw a pineapple stand at the
side of the road, the first of many, and pointed it out.
"Have you guys had any pineapple here yet?" she asked. Liz
and I shook our heads no. "It's so much sweeter than in
California."
"You lie," I said. She spotted another stand and angled the
car off the road.
"Seriously! It grows here so they let it ripen on the vine,
or bush, or whatever. They don't have to pick it early and let
15
it ripen in transit," Kari explained authoritatively. She got
out and Liz and I quickly followed. The open stand was filled
with papaya, mango, banana, and coconut along with the pine
apple . We all bought large slices of pineapple and started eat
ing, At times the act of sharing a simple meal with others bonds
you together. I don't know if that's what happened, but a
feeling clicked between us and we all started laughing. Maybe it
was the mess we were making, gobbling down the stickysweet liquid
of the yellow fruit. I'd never tasted anything quite so
exquisite as that pineapple, standing there on the side of Kam
Highway in the bright sunshine with these two girls I'd just
met. It seemed in that moment that life itself was a sweet as
the pulp I held in my hand. I got a local to take a picture of
us eating the pineapple, wanting to capture some memory of the
moment. We finished the fruit and drove away.
"So, where are you guys going anyway?" Kari asked putting a
Cecilio and Kapono tape into the stereo. C & K, as they are
commonly known in the islands, was Lester's favorite group. It
was the first time I'd ever heard of them.
"Don't know," Liz said. "Figured we'd just hang out at the
beach and then go dancing tonight."
"You want to come to my dad's house with me? We could lay
out there and then go into Waikiki tonight," Kari suggested. I
couldn't look at Liz but I knew what she was thinking. We had
made no plans beyond getting to town and the offer of a weekend
at Kari's was perfect,
16
"That sounds like fun," Liz said casually.
"Yeah, I hate staying there alone. It's so boring."
The drive from Laie to the far eastern part beyond Diamond
Head was over an hour. Kari told us it took an hour and a half
by bus just to get to the Ala Moana Center where you have to
transfer to another bus to get to Waikiki. We finally reached
the Kahala district.
Kahala. Home of the very wealthy. We drove through narrow
winding side streets that shielded huge houses behind massive
security gates. We got to Kari's dad's house and went through a
black iron security gate. It was nearly a quarter of a mile to
the main house, "mansion" I was tempted to call it. Liz was
pinching me, making me giggle. She said to me later what good
fortune it was to fall in with Kari the way we had. It didn't
seem like good luck to me at all, it was so natural and easy. I
felt immediately at home. When we saw the two story house I felt
a sense of having arrived somewhere, more like at a point in my
life rather than at a place. I had finally achieved the good
life. Not so much in the opulent surroundings but in the sense
of freedom and "aliveness." Of course, I didn't think that at
the time - then, I only felt a tightness in my chest that made it
hard to breathe. I was happy.
We went in and found a luxurious setting in the midst of
being redecorated. The whole upstairs was one large room that
looked out over the pool and green grass that ran down to the
17
sandy shore. Kari dropped her bag on a new, tropical print
overstaffed sofa and went into the kitchen.
"You guys want to make pina coladas?" she asked, getting
pineapple juice from the fridge. Liz was already getting over
her initial open-mouthed awe of the place.
"That sounds great. Where's the rum?" Liz asked, walking to
the kitchen area. I stood by the window staring out over the
ocean. I could feel the first clash coming.
"None for me, thanks," I spoke at the window. I could feel
Liz's eyes on my back so I faced her and found a look of surprise
on her face.
"You're not straight, are you?" she accused me. I shrugged.
At Green Bay High, where I had been a cheerleader, I was the only
girl on the squad who didn't get drunk at parties after the
football games. Being a Mormon had little to do with it. I
would say, "It's not because of my religion. I don't drink
because it's not good for you." That was the truth, but it
wasn't the reason I didn't drink. I just wanted to be different
from everyone else. If I had been surrounded by nothing but
Mormons instead of non-church members, I probably would have been
a drinker. As it was, I did the opposite just to be opposite and
for no other reason. It was why I could never get along with my
parents, doing the opposite of whatever they said, no matter what
it was.
"I don't drink," I said firmly.
18
"There's hardly any alcohol in a pina colada. It's all
fruit juice," Kari interjected.
"That's okay, I still don't drink." I was half tempted to
join them but after years of denial, I was almost scared of
alcohol. There was a moment with ever so slight tension in the
air. Then Liz shrugged her shoulders.
"Suit yourself. We'll make you a virgin one." I smiled,
smug in my superiority over such evil temptation. We gathered
our drinks and went out to sit in the jacuzzi.
"I want you guys to know I'm not some Molly Mormon, " I said
defiantly. I was wearing my bikini then, the type of bathing
suit we weren't supposed to wear as good Mormon girls. Both Liz
and Kari had on similar skimpy outfits and were most certainly
not good Mormon girls.
"It's all right. It doesn't matter if you drink or not,"
Liz said. "I didn't drink for a long time. And you're only,
what... ?"
"Eighteen," I reminded her. Kari sat back, sipping her pina
colada.
"You're only eighteen?" she accused. "I thought you were
older than that."
"It must be my mature nature," I said sarcastically, "my
mature attitude." They laughed. Liz turned to Kari.
"Well, how old are you?" Liz asked. Flipping her golden
tresses back, Kari smiled innocently.
"Nineteen, but I'll be twenty soon."
19
"You're not that much older than me," I said. Liz
countered the whole argument.
"I guess that makes me the oldest and therefore you two have
to listen to me," Liz stated. I splashed her and drank deep from
the fruity mixture.
"I don't listen to anyone," I glanced around noting the
gardener about a hundred yards away. I had an idea to put me back
into the danger zone with them. "Kari, can we take our tops
off?" I questioned. Liz got a benevolent smirk on her face.
"The Princess going topless, huh?" Liz taunted. I was
already undoing the back of my bikini.
"Sure, no problem," Kari said just before I was naked. Liz
and Kari followed suit and soon the three of us were soaking up
the strong Hawaiian sun and feeling very daring.
"Now this is living," Liz murmured. Kari and I grunted back
in response. Liz opened one eye and I caught her looking at
Kari's perfect breasts, probably comparing them to her own full
pair. I alone was on the small side but that didn't bother me.
"So, Kari, do you have a boyfriend?" Kari shook her head,
sipping the last of her drink and pouring more out of the blender
we had brought down.
"No. I had a guy in Utah but he turned out to be a jerk so
I'm free and single these days," she said lightly. I could
detect no trace of pain or anguish in her voice but I thought
there must be more to the story than that.
20
"Well, I have one," Liz stated» "He's great. Six-foot four
with blond hair and a big bushy beard and moustache. He calls it
his flavor savor..."
"Six-four," I interrupted. "That's huge."
"Well, I'm a big girl. I need a big man to fit me. Not a
guy; a man," Liz added.
"What's the difference?" Kari asked innocently.
"You'll know when you meet one. Dan's twenty-eight, for one
thing..." I found myself interrupting again.
"Oh my God, you're dating a guy eight years older than you?"
"He acts younger and I'm mature for my age and we kind of
meet in the middle," Liz said defensively.
"Aye yie yie, I can't imagine being twenty-eight. That's so
old," I chortled. Liz downed her drink and looked at me with
1000 yard stare eyes and just smiled.
"You'll learn. He's supposed to be coming over here for
Thanksgiving vacation. I don't know if things are going to work
out between us, I mean, I just started dating him last April,"
Liz said.
"Well, have you slept with him yet?" Kari asked. I looked
at her and wondered if we were going to get on such intimate
terms with each other so quickly. Liz laughed again and threw
back her head in delightful memory.
"Oh my God, have I ever. He's the best lover I've ever had,
absolutely infuckingcredible in bed." I leaned forward with avid
curiosity. It was a rare day when I got to hear such details.
21
"Our very first date," began Liz, relishing our total attention,
"we were so hot for each other that we did it in the back seat of
his Impala. Total salesman car. Anyway, we're going at it like
two rabbits and I'm sitting there thinking, 'No way, how are we
supposed to fit in the back seat of a car?' I mean, we're both
big people and a car doesn't have all that much room. Anyway, he
had a roommate and I was living at home and so, that's the way it
was." Kari and I howled in delight over the tale.
"Didn't you get messy?" Kari wondered aloud. That made me
laugh even harder.
"Out of control messy, Kari, and loved every second of it,"
Liz said before turning and looking at me. "Okay, Princess, your
turn. You got a guy back home?" My laughter died out quickly,
the balloon instantly deflated.
"Well, I did," I started tentatively. I glanced at the
friends I'd just made and wondered how far I could trust them.
Seeing their rapt attention gave me the courage to go on. "His
name is Darren."
"Ohhh, sounds heavy," Kari chirped in that high-pitched
voice that came out of her ever so often.
"Well, what about this Darren, did you sleep with him?" Liz
asked. I coughed a bit and tried to sound more nonchalant than I
felt.
"Yeah, you know, for a while. I mean. I'm only eighteen," I
blurted out, not meaning it to sound as defensive as it did.
"So? I was only sixteen when I lost it," Kari admitted.
22
"Well, so was I, but I mean. I've only been with Darren." I
stopped talking then, embarrassed to go on. Liz prompted me.
"Okay, so what's the story?"
"There's not really a story. He's from Guam. I don't mean
he's an islander or anything? his dad's in the military and so
they moved all over. They moved to California in my sophomore
year and we fell in love," I began. Before I could go on, Liz and
Kari had launched into a serenade of the Love Story theme. "Shut
up, you guys. It wasn't that bad." Liz wiped the smile off her
face and quieted down.
"You're right. Being in love is nice. So®..?" I refused
to speak. Kari splashed some water on me.
"Nothing happened. I mean, we just started dating and have
been ever since. I don't know, it's on, it's off, like every
relationship. Um, yeah, that's it," I said. Kari and Liz
exchange a glance.
"Well, what's so bad about that?" Kari asked, bewildered.
"Well, nothing. I told you guys it was nothing to brag
about," I said. Liz leaned back and looked long and hard at me.
"Liar," she accused. My jaw dropped at her frankness. I
don't know how she knew I was telling only part of the story but
there it was. I am compelled by a bizarre sense of honor to tell
the truth when actually confronted.
"Yeah, well, sort of," I started. "Not intentionally..."
Kari leaned in even more confused.
23
"You're lying?" she asked. I flushed and buried my head in
my drink.
"Not exactly lying... All right, wait. Okay, we broke up
about two weeks ago because he didn't want, well, the guy's a
Peter Priesthood, we're talking megaMormon. And I'm not. When
we started having sex I thought I was going to marry him, and
there was nothing wrong with it for me because it was just an
expression of love between us. But for Darren, it was a constant
battle. For him, it was wrong to have premarital sex but once
he'd gotten a taste of it, he wanted sex all the time. He got
caught up in this weird circle where we would have sex and
everything would be great between us then he'd go into a morbid
guilt trip and take it out on me. Does this sound stupid?" I
asked. Liz and Kari both shook their heads and remained silent.
I rambled on. "Well, we'd go back and forth and right now, we're
in the back position." I stopped and stared out to the ocean.
"That's not all there is, is it?" Liz prodded. I shook my
head and sucked in the hot air trying to find some solace in
their interest.
"It's a long story..." I tried.
"We've got nothing but time," Kari said. I sighed deeply
and let the anger loose.
"He's an asshole, okay? I don't want to bore you guys with
the details, but it comes down to this. Last spring when Darren
and I were in one of our "out" stages, I met this guy, a non
member who had started going to the church dances with a friend.
24
He was sweet and smart and, at first, I thought what a perfect
way to get back at Darren and make him jealous. But this guy was
really nice. And very cute. Anyway, one night we were parked
and kissing and things went a little too far. I didn't actually
have sex with the guy, but, you know, afterwards, I felt... I
don't know, it was great for me. I don't mean the stuff we did
was great, but the feeling of being free at last. See, before
I'd always felt this unspoken bond between Darren and me that we
had to be together since we were each other's first. But since I
was with this other guy, that bond was broken and I could be with
Darren because I choose to, not because I was obligated to him,"
I said.
"Wait, I thought you said you didn't sleep with that other
guy?" Liz challenged.
"Okay, he penetrated, but he didn't even finish the job. I
mean it was just in and out and then, the moment was over...
this is so embarrassing," I stammered.
"No, go on. This is getting good," Kari encouraged. We
were already starting to get beet red from the sun. I smiled,
loving the attention.
"I never had to wonder about other guys anymore, but more
important, I knew I wanted to be with Darren for him and not for
a guilty conscience. Sounds pretty convoluted, doesn't it? But
that's the way I felt. Anyway, Darren and I got back together
again, like we always do, and I knew if we were going to get
serious and have a Temple marriage, then he would have to know
25
everything. I had already gone through the whole repentance
thing..."
"Wait, wait, wait," Kari stopped me. "You go and repent for
this one guy that you didn't even really have sex with and not
for all those times with Darren? This makes no sense." I rolled
my eyes and spoke as if to a four year old.
"I love Darren, there was a difference. He's the only guy
I've ever loved and it just didn't seem wrong to me. Still
doesn't. But now. I'm not so sure. He turned out to be such a
jerk. Maybe we'll still get married but right now, I'm so mad I
could scream," I almost yelled in their faces. They recoiled,
questions written all over their eyes. "I had gone through hell
thinking I was tainted and evil and didn't deserve this wonderful
guy, and I repented and came to terms with it all and then I told
Darren about it. And he freaked out. You know how some guys
have that way of slicing you open with just a look? Well, Darren
has... I mean, had that kind of power over me. And all he did
was look at me and say, 'I can't believe you'd do that to me'. I
tried to explain the whole thing about being free and wanting to
be with him because I knew I loved him and all that, but he just
shook his head and said I was a slut." I furrowed my eyebrows,
remembering the humiliation. "It would serve him right if I
really was." Liz cocked her head, studying me.
"And you still think you'll marry this guy?" Liz asked.
"It's something I've felt since I first met him. But who
knows? I'm in Hawaii, eighteen, and free. He doesn't deserve
26
me," I declared, the anger receding like the tide on the shore.
"So, I hope you're planning on dating here and not just
mooning over this guy," Liz said. I looked at her and rose to
the challenge.
"Darren is a lost boy. When he grows up, maybe we'll have
something to talk about," I stated. Liz raised her glass in a
toast.
"To men; the darling assholes. Can't live with 'em, can't
shoot 'em," she said. We all laughed, the moment of anger com
pletely gone from the air. We jumped into the pool to cool down
as the gardener watched us from a distance.
27
POSITIONS
Although Waikiki is on the beachfront, and there are
hibiscus bushes, coconut trees, and plumeria flowers everywhere,
it is still an ugly place: overdeveloped and very crowded, filled
with cheap tourist traps. It looks like a trashy imitation of
itself, or what it tries to project as Hawaiian. As if it's
supposed to be some tropical paradise with innocent natives
running around in skimpy outfits with flowers in their hair or
around their necks. Where fruit would hang on the trees just
waiting to be plucked and eaten. Instead, the locals wore bright
cotton flower prints that seemed more like a uniform; and the
little shops that fight for space along Kalakaua Blvd. would sell
imitation flowers and pineapple slices at outrageous prices. No
self-respecting native would be caught dead hanging out in
Waikiki. It was filled instead with servicemen and tourists
pretending they were in Eden. Having spent the first few days on
the "Garden Side", I had a healthy contempt for the plastic
nature of the few streets that make up the Waikiki area. It
wasn't the "real" Hawaii but it served our purposes well, being
full of bright discos where we could dance.
"Can you help me with this thing, Liz?" I asked.
"How the hell's this supposed to go on?" she muttered,
attempting to figure out the double looped belt.
"I don't know. I've never worn it." I finally got the
shoulders in the right place on the jump suit and stood back to
show Kari and Liz.
28
"Wow," Kari said, I smiled, pleased with the effect.
"Your mom let you buy that thing?" The neckline on the
peach, tropical print jumpsuit plunged to my navel. It would
have been better if I'd had some cleavage to show off, but oh
well,
"She doesn't even know I own it. I went over to Catalina a
few weeks ago with some friends and I found it in a specialty
shop. Cost me a hundred and ten dollars," I said proudly. I'd
never bought anything that expensive before that wasn't a prom
dress or something. Liz and Kari took forever to curl and tease
their permed and styled hair. I had long dark hair that hung
straight and fine to my waist that only had to be washed and
dried. Next to my hazel eyes, my hair was my best feature. At
least that's what I'd always been told. Finally, we were all
ready, and we set out for Waikiki.
Kari suggested we go to Spats in the Hyatt Regency as that
was the best club. Spats tried to evoke a Gay Nineties
atmosphere with its Victorian furniture, parquet floors, dark
wood bars and stools. They even used brass day beds as seating in
two small corners. Dark wall paper and forrest green cloth
panels were the only relief from the wood and mirrors. The dance
floor itself was rather small and had only one set of colored
lights circling it. I had never been inside a bar or night club
before and was dazzled by the rich surroundings. A strobe went
off suddenly and I was momentarily blinded. Liz was having a
field-day watching me gape at everything.
29
"Shut your mouth, you look like a tourist," she whispered to
me. I snapped my jaw shut. The music was loud, blaring out a
Donna Summer song. The rotating lights and strobes made me dizzy,
but Liz took my arm and guided me to the bar. The clientele was
mostly rich Japanese tourists; business men, pale and overweight;
and young handsome servicemen. There wasn't a Hawaiian face
anywhere to be seen except those working behind the bar or
serving drinks. Liz was immediately in a conversation with some
guy sitting next to her and, within five minutes, had him buying
her a drink. Kari, with her stunning golden hair and expensive
clothes, was busy fending off two military men. I was rather
overwhelmed by the whole thing, and sought refuge in the one
place I was familiar with: the dance floor.
"Hey, wanna dance?" I asked the first guy in sight. I was
used to taking boys from the sidelines as Mormon's are notor
iously shy about asking girls to dance.
"Sure thing, honey," the young serviceman said. I wanted to
groan at such a stupid name, but I didn't. I led the way to the
dance floor. The smell of sweat and alcohol competed with the
smoke that swirled around the air. He was a lame dancer but that
didn't matter to me; I was in my element and could go wild.
There is nothing more glorious than surrendering to the beat of a
song, moving your body in rhythm with the music. I lost myself
in the dancing and it wasn't until he dragged me off the floor
did I realize how long we'd been out there. "Don't you ever come
up for air?" he asked.
30
"Not if the guy can handle it," I said as I made my way back
to the dance floor, looking for a new partner.
Halfway through the night as Liz and Kari sat in a booth
surrounded by four men, I was still dancing when I noticed an
older man intently watching me. I always got turned on when guys
watched me dance and I put on a private show for him, twirling
and shaking like crazy. As the song came to an end, he smiled
and raised his glass in acknowledgement of the spurt of effort
I'd put out. I went to join Liz and Kari, the man following
slowly behind. He had a friend with him and the two of them
strolled up to the table.
"Buy you ladies a drink?" the brown-haired man asked,
directing his comment to me. I was flushed from dancing, breath
ing hard. I shook my head no.
I don't drink," I managed. He smiled as if sharing a
private joke with himself.
"How about a Seven-Up then?" he continued. I nodded 'okay'
and he asked Kari and Liz what they were drinking. The other men
at the table looked put out but he just smiled and went off with
his friend to the bar. Liz gave me a sly look.
"So, who's the new beau?" she asked. I shrugged.
"You know as much about him as I do," I said. Kari leaned
forward, speaking in a whisper.
"Isn't he a little old for you?" she teased.
"Jeez, you guys. I don't even know his name," I claimed.
There was something cute about the rather short, slender man as
31
he walked back from the bar, his hands loaded with glasses. I
was too busy being flattered by the attention to give much
thought to anything else.
"I'm Glen Curly, and this is my good friend who's just in
for the weekend," the stranger said. We all shook hands, even
the guys who were already sitting there getting more and more
steamed.
"Jessica," I said and then introduced the rest of us. Glen
stood there staring at me. I downed the Seven-Up he'd bought me,
then I got self-conscious so I jumped up. "Let's go dance," I
suggested.
It turned out that he was a pretty good dancer. He was
short, like Darren, and I didn't have to crane my neck to talk to
him.
"I'm here about every other month. We do trade shows and
inventory, and, I have to keep a pretty sharp eye on the market,"
Glen explained to me. He was in women's clothing, the "rag"
business. He said it was my outfit that had caught his eye.
"Is it awful?" I asked, fishing.
"No, it's great. Are you kidding," he said, laughing. We
stayed out there for most of the next hour, taking a break
occasionally to get a drink of water or Seven-Up.
"I stay right here at the Hyatt. Our company has a
permanent suite here since we have people coming to the islands
so often," he said.
32
"How convenient. To be right upstairs from Spats," I said
thinking how great it would be to dance every night. Glen just
smiled.
"So, you go to school at BYU. You're, what, nineteen?"
"Eighteen. Just turned." I waited for him to be upset by
the difference in our ages: he was thirty-six, but it didn't seem
to bother him. Little did I know my age was the exact reason he
was interested in me in the first place. Young, untouched by the
world. All I saw was that it must have been my self confidence
that impressed him.
"Can I see you again?" he asked after Kari had pulled me
from the dance floor at three o'clock to say we were going home.
"Sure, I think we're going out tomorrow night -"
"I'll be here then," Glen said, wiping the sweat from his
tanned brow. Liz was mouthing "P.T." at me, calling me a prick
teaser. I flipped her off, threw my head back and laughed.
Kari, Liz and I went off to her dad's house and crashed
anywhere we could find pillows. It was a slumber party, with no
one telling us to go to sleep. They both wanted to know about
Glen. I told them all I knew and Liz smirked.
"We know what he's after..." she said.
"He's nice! And I think he really likes me," I said.
"Oh, he likes you all right," Liz countered, getting a look
in her eye that said, 'I know what you're in for.' I didn't
question it at the time because I didn't know up from down when
33
it came to the games men and women play. "Just be careful.
Princess."
The next day was a repeat of the day before. We got up late
and made French toast for breakfast. Even though we were some
what burned, we still laid out by the pool and played in the sea
until we couldn't stand the sun anymore.
"How's your dad manage it, being Mormon and all?" Liz asked
Kari as she was telling us of her life growing up in Beverly
Hills.
"I don't know. He drinks and stuff, but I guess he just
puts a lot of time into his work and doesn't go to the parties."
"And your mom doesn't care?"
"Well, she's been living in Provo for years; they have
totally separate lives. I don't know." It was obvious Kari
didn't like talking about her family, so we dropped the subject.
Liz went to the closet and pulled out a pair of sweat pants.
"Okay, have you guys seen this one?" she asked, wrapping the
sweats into a loop around her legs.
"What are you talking about?" I said.
"Pretend these are a man's legs. Get it?" Kari and I
instantly recognized that Liz was showing us a bizarre sexual
position and we started laughing.
"There's no way you can make that work," Kari said.
"Wanna bet?" Liz claimed. "How 'bout this one?" She put
the pants behind her and got on all fours. "Doggie style !" I
laughed even harder. She demonstrated several more weird things
34
to do, pulling faces each time. I didn't know there were so many
things one could do in sex. I mean, Darren and I were always so
worried about being discovered that it was usually just a quick
thing to be finished. Besides, all that talk was strictly taboo
when I was growing up in the church. Very few of my friends had
ever even had sex and then, we only talked about it in general
terms, not in detail about what happened to us. So, hearing all
that Liz was telling was great.
"Where'd you learn all this stuff?" Kari asked quietly as
if afraid someone might overhear us in the big empty house.
"My sister told me most of it. She's a jack-Mormon, well, I
guess I'm a jack-Mormon too, but she was the first in my family.
She started sleeping with guys when she was fifteen," Liz
explained. Kari and I giggled in delight and leaned in to hear
more as Liz became our instructor.
The night came round and we got ready to go dancing again.
It wasn't just to see Glen, to whom I hadn't given much thought,
but I was glad they agreed to go back to Spats anyway. We
arrived near ten and sure enough, there was Glen and his friend.
I never knew his friend's name, not the whole time we were in
each other's company. But that wasn't important because Glen
totally absorbed my attention from the first moment.
"You girls want to go upstairs and party for a while?" The
dancing hadn't gotten started yet so we all agreed. "You do
coke?" he asked quietly as we walked toward the elevators. I
thought he was talking about the soft-drink. It took me a minute
35
to figure out he was talking about cocaine. Although I knew what
coke was, I had never seen it, and of course never tried it
either. I wasn't sure I wanted to try it at all, it seemed
ridiculous, snorting white powder up your nose.
We went up in the elevator and Glen's friend pulled out a
tiny vile and a miniature spoon, which I thought was darling, and
tapped out some white powder. Liz eagerly accepted the offered
spoon and inhaled the stuff up her nose. I stood there
horrified, thinking, "Oh my God, that looks disgusting." I
wanted no part of it. Liz was happy, she was buzzed and Kari took
a hit or two. When Glen offered it to me I shook my head no.
Glen seemed to like me all the more for my refusal, probably
because it meant sharing less, but I didn't think that at the
time. It made me feel that much more superior to my new friends.
They didn't seem to care one way or the other, being kind of out
there. We had a few drinks in Glen's lavish suite; well, they
had drinks, I had a Seven-Up. I was bored after a half hour and
begged Glen to go back downstairs and dance.
In Spats, Glen never let me out of his sight all evening.
Even when I'd go off to the restroom with Liz or Kari he'd be
right there, waiting for me to come out. Although Liz would
tease me about it, I was flattered and figured she was just
jealous. By one o'clock, Kari was tired and wanted to leave.
Liz was coming down off her buzz and was ready to go home too. I
was stone-sober except for the intoxication that dancing brings
36
on, so I wanted to stay. We almost had an argument right there,
but Glen came to my rescue.
"You can spend the night here, with me," Glen suggested.
My immediate reaction was to blurt out, "I'm not going to
sleep with you." Glen laughed gently. "I don’t do that kind of
thing," I added lamely. He put his arm around my shoulder,
talking to me like one to a child.
"You don't have to sleep with me. I promise, my dick won't
come near you," Glen said. I recoiled at his casual use of the
word "dick." That was still a word we girls giggled about behind
closed doors. Even so, I felt a surge of energy rush through me,
thinking I had gotten a thirty-six year old man to do what I
wanted. How naive I was.
"We can pick you up in the morning," Kari suggested. I
nodded in agreement and they left. As I watched them leave, the
energy began to fade. I realized that I was stuck then, with no
where to go.
We stayed for another hour on the dance floor. I relaxed a
bit as the hour got later, thinking again that I had everything
under control. Finally, the moment came when he took my arm and
led me to the elevators. We didn't talk on the way to his suite
or even after we got inside. I was wondering where Glen's friend
had gone off to when I noticed just how cold the room was, his
air-conditioner set at 60 degrees. There I was, alone in a
strange man's hotel suite, only four days into my eighteenth
year, about to spend the night with someone other than Darren.
37
Even though in my mind I was convinced he wouldn't try to have
sex with me, there was still an odd sensation that what I was
doing was incredibly wrong.
Glen, who'd gotten slightly drunk downstairs, went to fix
himself a shooter, which he downed.
"Relax, Jessica," he said, grinning. That made me mad,
reminding me of my parents telling me how to behave. I hate
being told what to do. Glen took off his shirt and came toward
me. "Let me make you feel good," he said in a low, hoarse
whisper. "I promise, I won't let my dick near you," he added.
There was that word again. "I just want to make you feel good,"
he said brushing my cheek with his hand.
I looked around the suite, grand and expensive, anywhere but
directly at Glen whose red-rimmed eyes didn't look half as gentle
as they had downstairs. Without the support of Liz and Kari by my
side, I didn't know what to do. I didn't say a word, not knowing
how to say no thanks, I felt fine already. He had been buying me
sodas for two nights and had let me stay with him so when he took
me in his arms and started kissing me, I felt obligated to him,
as if in some way I owed him the chance to "make me feel good."
He wasn't a bad kisser, it wasn't that, I just really didn't feel
anything for him. Not even a slight lust. His stomach stuck out
and was flabby, his chest and back hairy. I had my eyes open as
he kissed me, noticing the gray at his temples.
He tried to take my dress off, but it was a complex affair
with belts wrapping around every which way so I had to undress
38
myself. Never have I felt as vulnerable and naked as standing
there in that freezing room in only my underwear, my nipples
stiff from the cold air. That turned him on, apparently, and he
quickly took off his shoes, socks and pants. He had on the
tiniest bikini underwear which looked utterly ridiculous on him.
I had the insatiable urge to laugh which I quelled with only the
mightiest effort. He came to me again, taking my hand and led me
to the bed. I sat down and soon he was kissing me again. I tried
to respond with little success. He got forceful, his mouth wide
open, his tongue seeking mine. I was nearly gagging at the
pressure when he released me and sat back. I was statuestill,
waiting for whatever was going to happen. Fear raced through me,
making me breathe deeply as if trying to catch my breath. He ran
his hand across my cheek, down my neck to my breast. My chest
heaving, he took this as a sign I was enjoying myself and smiled.
He lay me back against the cold bedspread, half-dragging me up to
lay full-length against it and him. He started kissing me again,
less aggressive than before. I wondered what Liz and Kari were
doing and wished to be anywhere but where I was.
I could feel his cock hard through his bikini underwear and
tried to ignore it. He started kissing my neck and shoulders.
My nipples were hyper sensitive in the cold and the moment his
tongue touched them, I arched back in surprise and delight. I
experienced a sensememory so vivid and real that for a moment it
was Darren in the room and not a brown-haired stranger. He
sucked harder on them and I was brought back to the icy reality I
39
was in. The flash of delight turned quickly into something else,
something ugly as he reached down with one hand to tug at my
underwear. I was immediately sent into an orbit of pure terror
and wonderment. The night hour catching up to me, the rush of
adrenaline ebbing and flowing, had left me with a desire to just
close my eyes and be asleep. There were goose bumps on my arms,
chills running through my body. Glen decided this meant I was
totally turned on by what he was doing. I wasn't. I was
(
terrified but didn't want to show it. I didn't want to embarrass
him, embarrass myself. I could have killed myself for not going
home with Kari and Liz.
"You have the tightest... you are so beautiful," Glen rushed
on into my ear. Off came the underwear, almost before I knew it.
I stiffened then, he stopped and looked at me. His bleary eyes
must have read the fear there. "There's nothing to be scared
about. I won't hurt you."
"I know," was all I could utter. He brushed my bangs away
and began kissing my neck again. His hands were everywhere at
once. I didn't want to touch him back, but then, he wasn't asking
me to.
He kept muttering to himself, "Eighteen, eighteen, so ripe,
so young." I started to feel beautiful, sexy, grown-up - sort
of. When he brought his tongue back down to my breasts, he
didn't stop there. I felt vaguely disappointed which turned
quickly to astonishment when he kept trailing his way down to my
vagina. I hate that word. In high school we always called it a
40
kertink, which is childish, I know, but it sounds more decent.
Strange things to be thinking about when a man is spreading your
legs and exploring you. Now, the whole time Darren and I had
been having sex, he would never go down on me. Oh, he wanted me
to give him head all the time, but he would never reciprocate,
saying that it didn't turn him on or "do" anything for him. I
suppose it never occurred to him that it was strictly for the
girl's sake. Anyway, the result was this complex I'd developed
thinking there must be something wrong with me, or I must smell
terrible or something equally nasty.
So, when Glen started going down on me, it was awful. There
was no music from a car radio to muffle the sounds of his
actions. There was nothing to look at except the top of his head
moving around, the loud sucking sounds coming from there. I was
mortified. Inside, I was screaming and thrashing about. Out
side, I was still. It didn't feel good, I didn't like it, it did
worse than not turn me on? it made me squirm with disgust. Glen
was really getting into it which embarrassed me even more. The
only thought running through my mind was, "My God, how do I stop
him? How do I make him quit doing this to me without hurting his
feelings or making him angry with me?" I don't know why I was so
concerned with his feelings except that it was a throwback to my
days with Darren and my overt concern over not hurting Darren in
any way. Hurting a male ego seemed to be a dangerous thing, and
the possibility of making Glen mad outweighed my loathing of the
action. Then it hit me. The only way I could stop this guy from
41
going down on me was to have sex with him. Pull him back up and
have sex with him.
So, that's what I did. I touched his hair which was coarse
and brittle. "Please, make love to me," I stammered. He didn't
stop, shaking his head as he continued. I went on, nearly plead
ing, "Please, I want you to make love to me." He stopped then
and looked up at my desperate eyes. It worked. He quickly
pulled off his underwear and climbed on top of me. Relief spread
over me for a moment, then I realized that I'd only jumped from
the fire to the frying pan. What a trite thing to think about.
He jammed himself inside me. At the moment of impact I felt
myself cross over a line I knew I could never return to. With
each of his thrusts I sank deeper into humiliation. My heart and
mind cried out for Darren but there was no turning back. Glen
was furiously fucking me. There is no other term for what went
on between us. Nothing even close to romantic or gentle or
sweet. I couldn't stop him, I couldn't say no; I didn't know how.
He took my legs and tucked them up over his shoulders as he rose
to his knees. Certainly that was one position Liz hadn't talked
about. I felt utterly miserable and stupid lying there, watching
this man do all those things to me. I hovered above the bed,
watching, separating myself from the action.
Being older, he didn't have much stamina, which I was
grateful for. He finished quickly. It was only then he pulled
down the covers to the bed and I crawled thankfully out of the
draft of the icy air. Glen fell asleep immediately and I lay
42
there, huge tears rolling down my cheeks thinking, "My God, what
have I done? What have I done?" I had really slept with another
man. I wondered if Darren could ever forgive me. I wondered if
I could ever forgive myself. I cried for I don't know how long,
thinking of Darren, thinking how very far away from home I was.
Thinking of my two friends I wished I was with rather than lying
next to a total stranger in a hotel bed in a high rise in Waikiki
Beach. I finally fell asleep, exhausted.
I woke long before Glen, dressing quickly and calling Liz
and Kari before he awoke. They were surprised to hear from me so
early but agreed to come and pick me up. Glen rose and reached
for me, wanting a repeat of the night before.
"Sorry, but uh, Kari and Liz are on their way." He looked
disappointed as he got out of bed, wrapping a towel around
himself.
"You want to shower?" he asked, attempting to be seductive.
"Uh, thanks, but I think we're just going straight to the
beach, so I don't need to."
"You're not upset that we made love last night, are you?"
Made love? Is that what he termed it? "No, it was great.
Really," I said, trying to smile. I played a role that morning,
one I would duplicate many times, that of the grateful lover.
"You're even more beautiful in the light, he said, squeezing
my ass as he made his way to the bathroom. I sat on the
balcony, looking out to the ocean and wondered why I couldn't
just say no. It's a simple thing to do. I'd done it a zillion
times when people asked me if I wanted to party. But with sex it
was so hard.
Glen came out, toweling his hair dry. "When can I see you
again?"
"Oh well, with school starting this week, I don't know when
we'll be back in town."
"I want you to call me when you do. There's a hotel here
that has an aquarium with dolphins swimming around inside right
next to the restaurant." I suppose that was meant to entice me
and I agreed to call. Glen kept saying things like how mature I
was, how beautiful, how great I made him feel. They were hollow
words ringing in my ears. God, how I wanted to be away from that
man !
We went downstairs and waited near the Spats' entrance.
Kari and Liz drove up and there was an awkward moment of good
byes. I let him kiss me and then scampered into the car. Liz
and Kari were strangely quiet and didn't ask me about the night.
I wanted to get it off my chest but I didn't know how to begin
without their prompting. We drove home, chatting about this and
that until we were within twenty minutes of the campus.
"All right, all right, out with it," Kari finally said. I
burst into tears, relief spreading over me like cool sheets at
night.
"It was awful!" I shrieked. I told them everything up to
the crazy position Glen had put me in. They were quiet and
listened with intent until I explained the leg-over-shoulder
44
thing and Liz started howling in laughter. I gained back some
confidence then and started telling the rest of the story as if
it had been a funny antic rather than a devastating experience.
In our dorm room I demonstrated the move to them and we went into
fits of hysteria, laughing so loud that Sister Brunswick finally
came knocking. The horror receded in the refreshing joy that
bubbled out of Liz when she imitated the move. She lay on the
bed, twirling her feet around each other and then shooting them
toward the ceiling, crying out, "Yeeaaah Curly!" I came back
into myself with Liz and knew I would never call Glen. Not if
hell froze over and he were the last man on earth.
45
MISUNDERSTANDINGS
The second afternoon we were back from Waikiki, Liz and I
were in our room, fooling around and listening to Queen on my
tape player. We’d had a heavy lunch that day, making pigs of
ourselves in the cafe. The window was wide open, as usual, to
catch what little breeze was blowing that day, but the air lay
almost dead on the ground. All of a sudden I smelled this funny
scent in the air. Smoke. I knew at once it was not regular wood
smoke, or cigarette smoke for that matter. Although I'd never
actually smelled marijuana before, I had an inclination that the
sweet heavy perfume was just that.
"Oh my God, Liz, what is this?" I asked, sniffing out the
window. She came over and took a deep breath then turned around
with a look of genuine surprise on her face.
"That’s pot. Someone’s smoking pot on campus," she said.
"No way!" I cried out with glee, amused by the thought of
someone being so stupid as to commit an act you could get kicked
out of school for right on campus. We both started roaring with
laughter, we laughed about everything in those days. There we
were smelling pot from the second story of the Hale, and we
started yelling out the window, "Who’s smoking pakilolo out
there? Hey, what are you guys doing? Who's got the hash?" We
were yelling so loudly there was no doubt that the entire
dormitory heard us.
Well, we left the window after no one answered back and we
got tired of yelling into the wind. Liz jumped toward me and
46
said, "Quick, pull my thumb." Not knowing what she was up to, I
reached over and yanked real hard. She let out a wallop of a.
fart. I howled again, thinking that was just the most perfect
thing I'd ever heard in my entire life. And it was a nasty one.
She must have had chili for lunch or something. I grabbed my new
notebook, flailing at the air trying to sweep the smell out of
the room, and laughing all the time. Liz started to help me,
when all of a sudden our door swings inward and there stands our
Resident Assistant, Margaret the Terrible. She was big and fat
and ugly as sin, one of those girls you knew had never been
kissed and would probably die an old maid.
I can imagine what the picture looked like to her, Liz and I
jumping around the room, waving our books to fan the air when
only moments earlier we'd been yelling out the window about pot.
Of course, at that moment we didn't connect the two incidents,
knowing we were only fanning the air because of the tremendous
fart Liz had let fly. But there stood Margaret with her hands on
her wide hips, accusation in her eyes and said, "What are you two
girls doing?" Liz, through her chortles, managed to get out that
she had passed gas and we were trying to dissipate the cloud.
Margaret got a pained expression on her face and clearly didn't
believe a word of it. No one could be that crude. She turned
abruptly and left. We giggled over Margaret the Terrible for a
while and then forgot about the whole thing.
That week was tryouts for Showcase. I had been in a similar
group when I was in junior high and high school, so I thought it
47
a cinch for me to get in. Liz was a great singer and could move
well on a dance floor, but her size made her a natural for the
solo end of the group and not for the dancing. Kari had no
musical talent and not much interest in performing, as she had
been around it far too much in her life. This caused a weak link
in our chain, but Liz and I were so into the tryouts we didn't
think much about it.
When we went to the auditions we thought them ludicrously
simple. Most of the islanders that wanted to join hadn't had any
professional training so we were confident in our abilities to
make it. One song and a short dance combination was all there
was. Two cuts later, Liz and I were still in the running. When
they posted the final selections on Friday, we were stunned to
see my name but not Liz's. I was selected as a dancer but Liz
wasn't there as the singer. We thought for sure she had bagged
it. And she was a much better singer than I was a dancer. It was
a bitter blow to her, but she tried not to show it so as not to
ruin my excitement. With Liz not being in the group, there
wasn't much excitement to ruin. We had talked about how much fun
it was going to be touring the island together, but after that
the idea faded away completely. It would mean rehearsals five
days a week, three hours a day and no one to chum around with. I
wanted to back out, but Liz wouldn't let me. She said it was the
best group on the island and I would be a fool to pass up the
experience. As it was, I didn't have to worry about it; the
decision was made for me.
48
The leader of Showcase was a three hundred pound Maori from
New Zealand named Brother Tata. He was as feminine as they came
but being a church member in good standing, that was kept tightly
under wraps. His accent, which was British, made all he had to
say sound important and grand. He was the guiding light behind
the group and his talent gave it much of its prestige. It was
only a few days after the selections were posted that I was
called into his office. School had just started and I hadn't
even been to a rehearsal yet. I went to his office in the Aloha
Student Center and he motioned to me to come in and sit down. He
closed out the noise of the mall and sat behind his own cluttered
desk. I looked around for some possible clue as to why I'd been
singled out already but couldn't find anything.
"Jessica," he started, rolling the word around his mouth
like it left a bad taste there. "I’ve heard some disturbing news
concerning you." I sat up straight, wondering what he could have
possibly heard. My mind raced to Glen and thought maybe some
student in town had recognized me or something. I furrowed my
eyebrows as he went on. "There seems to be an official
investigation going on into an allegation that you and your
roommate were smoking pot in your room." My jaw dropped.
"What are you talking about?" I demanded. Brother Tata
spread his hands wide in a gesture of innocence.
"Your Resident Assistant reported an incident that is being
taken up by the Standards Committee. I probably shouldn't be the
one to tell you this except that your presence in Showcase..."
49
"That is such a lie," I said, interrupting him in a voice
one octave too high. "That's not what happened," I said.
Brother Tata sat his considerable girth back into the chair and
clasped his fingers together.
"Would you like to explain why it was you were fanning smoke
from the air when your R.A. walked into your room?" Was my
hearing correct? Was he, a leader of BYU and a good man of the
church, actually accusing me of getting high in my own room on
campus? I started to become outraged.
"There was no smoke in our room because we weren't smoking
pot or anything," I fumed at him. "That R.A. barged into our
room while we were fanning the air after Liz fartedl" I stopped,
embarrassed at using so vulgar a term with an elder. I sat
silent a moment while he stared at me.
"Uh huh," was all he would say, his eyes steady orbs, his
lips pursed forward in a grimace that said "she's guilty of
something." I ranted on.
"Would we be that stupid to smoke in our own room and be
yelling out the window to announce it to the world? That's
crazy." I guess the word 'crazy' clinched it for him. He leaned
forward and rested his elbows on the table.
"Here's my position, Jessica. I have a group that goes
around the island and represents the church to the outside world.
Whether or not you're guilty is for the Standards Committee to
decide. My problem is that having your name and this allegation
associated with it, well, it just doesn't reflect the image we're
50
trying to create for Showcase. I’m not judging you. I’ll let the
Standards Committee handle that, but I can't have this kind of
gossip floating around about any of our members," he said sweet
ly, his accent bobbing about the room.
Now, I was pissed. I had just spent a weekend with two
girls that made me think for the first time that maybe getting
drunk wasn’t such an evil thing. But I had denied myself. I
denied myself the drugs that were offered, even the Cokes,
drinking Seven-up instead. I had never smoked a cigarette, never
tried a drug and I had certainly never smoked pot before. Maybe
I had other problems that were in conflict with the church, but,
as far as the Word of Wisdom went, I was as clean and pure as
new-fallen snow. Better, because I had been tempted with it all
and denied it. And there sat that fat little man accusing me of
the one aspect of the church that I was firm and solid on. He
sat there accusing me without evidence, without anything except
the assumptions of a repressed girl who was probably just
jealous. I lost all respect for him in that moment, the moment
when he left the unspoken words of kicking me out of the group
hanging in the air. I stood up, pride glowering from me,
"You say you haven't judged me but you have. You say you
can't have the gossip...well, if the reputation of your precious
singers is more important to you than the truth, I don't want to
have anything to do with this group of yours," I declared and
stormed out of the room.
51
Misunderstandings. My life was to be plagued with them.
When I got back to the room there were tears of frustration and
anger in my eyes. I told Liz about Brother Tata and the whole
accusation thing and she got super mad. Not so much for her
sake, as she had smoked pot before with her sister and was a
cigarette smoker as well, but rather for my side, for my
innocence.
"That is so stupid! How can they think we would be that
stupid to smoke in our own room?"
"I've never even had a puff of a cigarette," I ranted on,
still fuming about Tata's accusation. "How can they just condemn
us like that?" Liz laughed sarcastically.
"Well, you know how these Standard Committees work." I
didn't but I knew something about the way church politics worked
which I figured wasn't far off. I was suddenly thrown into a
time warp and remembered my first brush with church authority.
"If it's anything like the church court system..." I
started.
"Seriously. They jump on everything. This is unbeliev
able." I looked at Liz and knew the truth of that statement even
more than she had meant. The year I turned fourteen, I had a
wonderful teacher named Marty Hansen. The memory was so vivid
that I looked up, expecting her to appear.
"I had a teacher once," I began, "when I was in ninth grade.
In seminary. Did you go to seminary?" I asked. Liz paced
around the room, irritated.
52
"Of course. Every morning of the year, six o'clock. My
parents were the original "Church-Goers," she spit out. I
laughed sardonically.
"I know exactly how you feel," I said. "It was my first
year of seminary and our class had ten boys and just two girls.
Of course, I wasn't much better than the boys but they were
really insane. We went through two teachers that first week.
Nobody could handle us. Until Marty Hansen came. She was real
young, I mean she wasn't really young, probably in her mid
thirties, but she seemed young to us. She didn't wear geeky
clothes and she wasn't fat like every other woman in my ward. By
our standards she was very hip.
"Marty came in the second week and just blew us out of the
water. There was something special about Marty. She had a way
of reaching into the heart of a question and answering it without
using the standard cliche response. When she gave her lesson it
was like hearing about the gospel for the first time. When I'd
ask a question about anything, she wouldn't give me flippant
answers and just shut me down. Marty was the first adult who
talked to me, not at me. That was also the year I discovered
love," I mused.
"Love is a many splendored thing," Liz mocked, doing a bad
imitation of Frank Sinatra.
"Oh shut up. Now listen. I'm not talking about puppy dog
stuff. I'm not even talking about Darren here. I'm talking about
your first sense of love as a powerful, dangerous thing." Liz
53
stopped making her faces realizing I was trying to be serious.
She sat down, starting to calm herself. "Our school went on a
field trip," I continued. "We went up to the Grahman's Chinese
Theater in Hollywood. Being exposed to Shakespeare for the first
time; we were seeing "Romeo and Juliet." Something happened to
me when I saw that movie. I was transported, it felt like,
literally, into their world, into their pain. I connected
completely with the thought that love is an all-powerful,
incredible emotion that you should be willing to die for, and
that relationships are everything. All other aspects of life
fade before relationships," I finished. Liz looks at me, her
brows furrowed.
"What's that got to do with your seminary teacher?" she
asked. I looked back at Liz, refocusing on her and our cluttered
room and walked over to the window, widening the slats to their
fullest reach, looking out to the green on green hills that
backed the school not more than a hundred yards away.
"Marty Hansen was the best teacher I ever had," I said.
"She taught me more about God and the church than anybody before
or since. Including my parents. What happened to her, well, it
was a tragedy. One day, I went to church, Sunday School was
first, and I sat with Kathy Moss. There was a rumbling in the
air, a constant hum of people talking in hushed tones. In our
ward it's more like a family than just people you see once a week
so there was an almost instantaneous scattering of knowledge of
anything that happened to anyone. We knew there was trouble but
54
we didn't know what kind. My mom caught me after Sunday School,
before we went into Sacrament meeting, and told me that Marty had
been released from her position as seminary teacher. I was
totally stunned. I wanted to know why, but my mom wouldn't say
anything beyond that. We went into the chapel and there was
Marty and her husband. Brother Hansen, and their three kids all
sitting straight backed with their eyes dead-ahead. It was
eerie, spooky almost. The adults all knew what had gone on but
we kids could only speculate among ourselves.
"Right after the meeting, I went to the lobby to talk with
some of the other kids from my class. Suddenly, Marty appeared
behind us. She said she wanted to talk with me in private." My
nose burned from the tears I tried to hold back. Liz sat quiet
for a minute then gently prompted me.
"So, what happened?" I wiped away a tear that threatened to
fall.
"Well, you gotta understand, this woman meant everything to
meo She didn't have to talk to me. She didn't have to tell a
fourteen year old what was going on. But she did. We went out
to her car and sat there in the front seat. I was poking at the
dash board, kinda scared. She had a tissue, I remember watching
her tear away at that tissue until it was gone. Her voice was
clear and steady but she kept tearing at that tissue. And then,
she told me the story," I said.
"You know the film strips they show in class? Well, she was
chosen to do one of these. Anyway, she went to Utah and met the
55
head of the program. They got to be friends and she found out he
was a lawyer and was moving to California soon. She was a legal
secretary and so when he moved there she started working for him.
He was a good Mormon, had a family and four kids. Marty had her
family and kids. The way Marty explained it, they didn't mean to
fall in love but there it is, they fell in love. She told me she
knew he was the one she should have been with, and that she and
Brother Hansen had been having a lot of problems in their mar
riage. That they'd been going to counseling for years trying to
resolve their differences. But that wasn't the point, whether
their marriage had problems or not. She met this other man, they
fell in love and the thing about it is, that even though they
were in love with each other and knew they belonged together,
they didn't do anything about it. They didn't want to hurt their
families and so they tried to shut it off. How did Marty put it?
They didn't succumb to temptation; they never even slept with
each other. Hell, they never got more intimate than kisses.
They only talked.
"Somehow, this guy's wife found out something was going on
and demanded they be taken to court. It was unbelievable what
that woman did in her righteous anger. So, the church author
ities took Marty and this man through a church court trial and
excommunicated them both. For being in love with each other they
were ostracized from the most important element in their lives.
They hadn't done a thing about their feelings for each other,
they had tried to stop the relationship for the sake of their
56
families, but still they were booted out. The church came in and
pronounced her evil and destroyed her life. Their crime was
loving each other. It broke my heart. Her marriage broke up, but
that was bound to have happened sooner or later anyway. She
wouldn't let this guy divorce his wife like he wanted because
Marty said it wouldn't be fair to his children. He had young
children at the time.
"Both this guy and Marty had been pretty important in the
church hierarchy and their reputations were forever gone. I
mean, a woman gives a life's worth of service to a church, then
has to go through the hell of being whispered about, gossiped
about. Even though she kept going to church, she couldn't hold a
position, she couldn't teach, which is what she loved most.
Nothing's ever been the same for her. She had to deal with the
excommunication, the divorce, the gossip all by herself. Her
husband refused to pay alimony, and wouldn't even pay child
support - just left his kids out to dry. She had no one to turn
to, I mean, I couldn't do anything for her, that was obvious.
"As I sat there in the car that day, I didn't really under
stand much about church politics or adultery or things like that.
I only understood her pain. There was so much pain in her voice.
She sat there crying, the tears running freely down her cheeks.
I still don't know exactly why she told me what she did except
that maybe she thought of all the kids in the class, I needed to
hear the truth. That I needed to hear she still believed every
thing she'd taught us, everything the church represented.
57
Everything. Even that she was wrong to love another man. I
became bitter for her when it came to love and the church. Maybe
that's why it was so easy for me to sleep with Darren, knowing I
was breaking the rules but doing it anyway. I had vowed at
fourteen that I would never let the church stand in the way of
love," I finished. There were tears running down my face in
ancient imitation of Marty's. Liz came up behind me, turned me
around and folded me in her arms. I cried like a child.
After a time, Liz decided that what we both needed was some
cool fresh air. We left campus and headed toward the beach. We
walked north along Naniloa Loop Road passing TVA, the Temple View
Apartments. That was the student family housing projects. Dozens
and dozens of little, brown babies and children ran shrieking
around the grounds, half naked wearing dirty tattered clothes.
Most the occupants were natives of the far-flung South Pacific
Islands and didn't have a high standard of living. It was rare
to see a haole face among them.
Just beyond TVA was the brand new duplex housing that was to
be for the faculty members and their families. They were white
two-story townhouses with red tiled roofs. I couldn't have known
at the time, but I got this feeling that those townhouses were
going to be important to me. On the other side of these was the
most beautiful building in all of Laie, if not the whole of
Hawaii. It was the Laie Temple. Although it was built in 1919,
it didn't look dated. It was a square, egg-shell white building
that sat atop an incline. A green lawn went from the street to
58
the entrance gate, a low lying iron fence that separated the
outside world from the sacred grounds. On the right was the
visitor's center where people could go in and find out about the
church. One could always see missionaries standing near the
entrance, waiting to talk to the tourists that came over from the
Polynesian Cultural Center on a tram visit through Laie. Leading
up to the Temple was a series of fountains bordered by Royal
Palms, plumeria trees, and orchids. A huge Banyan tree lay to
the right behind the Temple, back near the Pioneer's cemetery.
It was all so perfectly laid out that I had to stop and
stare for a moment. Even though I'd been inside the Los Angeles
Temple once to do baptisms for the dead, (that's where you go and
get baptized in someone else's name so those who are already dead
and haven't had the chance to accept the gospel can do it up in
heaven), I hadn't been mesmerized by the place. When I saw the
Laie Temple I became overwhelmed with the desire to go inside and
feel the peace that radiated from the grounds surrounding it. A
thought flashed through my mind that if I were to marry Darren,
that was where I'd want to do it. Liz tugged my arm to get me
out of the way of the tram approaching filled with flower-shirted
tourists.
We trudged on the quarter mile it was down to the beach.
Ironwood trees lined the dirt parking area before giving way to
the sparse grass patches that lead down to the sand's edge, I
saw the sign that named the beach Hokilau. I looked question-
ingly at Liz
59
"Hokilau? That name is so familiar - " I began, trying to
place it.
Liz started doing a bad imitation of a hula singing, "Oh
we're going to a Hokilau, a hoki, hoki, hoki, hoki hokilau.
Everybody loves a hokilau - "
I joined her and we sang in unison, "where the paupau is the
kaukau at the big luau."
"No way," I uttered, astonished. "That is the one and only
Hawaiian song I know and we're living next to the beach?"
"You got it. Don't you know "Tiny Bubbles"?" she asked. I
shook my head no. Liz started blaring the song out. "Tiny
bubbles in my wine, tiny bubbles makes me feel fine." She didn't
know all the words but it was fun to hear and lightened my heart.
The beach itself was only 20 feet deep at most and the clear
area with no houses in front of it was only 50 yards long. The
sand stretched to the east another half mile, passing another
tiny strip known as Temple Beach for its view of the Temple,
fronted small houses, and ended at the cliffs that went up to
Laie Point. To the west the beach curved into a crescent moon
shape which disappeared 3/4 mile away. There was a small island
no more than quarter mile square covered with tall grass and rock
called Goat Island that you could wade out to at low tide. I
looked at the light-colored water that quickly turned a deep
royal blue not 15 feet out. That kept going until a green-blue
took over. The colors were vivid, not like the Kahala side where
60
it just looked blue on blue. We sat down on the sand, joining
the few others taking advantage of the late afternoon sunshine.
"You know, there's a legend about the naupaka, " Liz began,
"What's naupaka?" I interrupted. Liz tugged at the clumps
of waxy-looking leaves that grew everywhere along the shore. She
picked a flower and held it up for me to see. There were five
white petals on one half, the other side looking like it was torn
off c
"It looks like it's only half there, right?" Liz asked. I
nodded. "That's because according to Hawaiian legend a beautiful
princess fell in love with a commoner against her father's
wishes. The night before she was to be sent to the mountains
away from her lover, they took this flower and broke the petals
in two parts. They planted this part on the beach and the next
day she took the other half with her and planted it on the
mountainside. They never saw each other again and both died of
broken hearts. That's why today naupaka only grows near the
beach and in the mountains and the flower is only half complete."
Liz finished her story and studied the flower.
"Is that true?"
"Of course."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I know a lot of things."
I sat there thinking about the beautiful princess dying for
her love and wondered if Liz hadn't made that story up. I turned
to Liz.
61
"I'm sorry I dumped all that on you. I feel like a dragon,
opening my mouth and letting firebreath come out," I said. She
put her hand on my shoulder, gently shaking it.
"You're a princess, not a dragon. Although your breath is
pretty fierce in the morning," Liz said. This made me laugh and
I was ever so glad she was my friend. "It's important to you and
so it's important to me. Don't worry about that stupid Standards
Committee. Nothing's going to happen to us. I promise you
that." She smiled at me and I believed her. I had completely
forgotten about Brother Tata and Showcase. I thought Liz was
capable of anything. I knew that no matter what happened, Liz
would take care of me.
We walked back along Kam Highway, heading for the cluster
of stores the town claimed as the Laie Shopping Center. Across
the highway the road leads up to the Point, a small finger that
projects out maybe half a mile and cuts Laie in two out to sea.
The Center had an A & W hamburger joint, a post office, two
banks, an automotive center, a tiny grocery store, one Chinese
food restaurant, a donut shop which was to play a big scene in my
life in Hawaii, and a few professional offices. What delighted
me was to find there was actually a theater in town. I looked at
the marquee and noticed the movie was over two months old, but
that didn't matter. Just going to a movie, any movie, was a
passion with me. There was a sign stating that Tuesday was
dollar night. It would become a tradition with us, to go to that
theater every Tuesday and watch whatever was playing, even if
62
we'd seen it before, Liz and I stopped at the grocery store,
Foodland, and bought some Ruffles and Seven-Up to take back to
our room.
BYU campus lay directly south of the shopping center but one
had to go over a street to the west and then head south two more
blocks before reaching the huge expanse of lawn that bordered the
front of the whole school. There was only one road leading in
and that had a security guard house near the entrance.
Coming up to the campus Liz and I saw four guys we'd only
just met the night before. I didn't know at the time that these
four would be involved with one of the biggest events I lived
through that semester. All I knew was that they were cool and I
liked them. There was one fellow named Kevin Loutress, whom I
could tell liked me. With the bitter memory of Glen still fresh
in my mind, though, I wasn't the least interested. Not at that
point. He was nineteen with dark hair and brown eyes. His New
Jersey accent set him apart from the others and made him somewhat
exotic. I didn't know many people from the east coast. He was
on the short side, just above Darren's five-seven, and was very
cute even if he did have a big nose. The thing that appealed to
me about him was not only his non-Mormon status but his smile.
He had this killer grin that made you want to crawl right up
inside it.
Kevin roomed with Bret Strickly, a lanky blond sailor from
San Diego who was constantly stoned. Frank Tuscas was a surfer,
also non-Mormon, who'd gone to BYU on account of its closeness to
63
Sunset Beach and north shore surfing. The last fellow in the
little gang was Alan Hill. Alan and I had the same bio class
that fall and we were both interested in dolphins and sailing.
Liz and I told them about the accusations and about Margaret.
They thought it sounded typical of school politics and said
they'd stand up for us if we were taken before the committee. We
walked with them back to the dorms.
Liz and I found Kari waiting for us, having heard the news
of what had happened with Showcase and the rumors that were
flying around about Liz and me. Although outwardly Liz claimed
what a pisser it was, getting a reputation the first week of
school, and how it was irritating, people talking about us all
the time, I got the idea she was enjoying the whole event. I
think she liked being the center of attention and having a bad
ass reputation. It must have built up her self-esteem, which was
sadly lacking after her cut from Showcase. The three of us
planned ways of getting even with Margaret but then realized that
the worst thing that could happen to her was to have to be
herself for the rest of her life.
As it turned out, Liz was right. The Standards Committee
never even called us in. The rumors what flew around about how
we were going to be kicked out were just that : rumors. Brother
Shamis, the head of the Committee even smiled and said hello when
he passed us in the hallways. The accusations had been so flimsy
and the idea was .so far-fetched I assumed they dismissed them on
64
hearing. I don't know that it was ever even a formal inquisition
but it didn't matter whether it was or not. The damage had been
done. I was out of Showcase, a group that might have kept me on
the straight and narrow, and was at the mercy of freedom. Even
though I was innocent of anything, well, anything connected to
the Word of Wisdom, I was instantly categorized as a wild girl,
someone to be avoided if you were good and wholesome. Liz told me
not to worry about it, that those who shunned me because of that
incident weren't good enough to be my friends anyway. I believed
her. After that, we - Liz and Kari and I - seemed to attract a
group of girls that also fell into our "bad egg" reputation.
Strange how things worked like that.
65
SECRETS
We got our schedules; mine included Composition and Reading,
Personal Health, and Intro to Sociology, the usual GE junk one
has to take. I signed up for Intro to Biology with Brother
Brunswick, the husband of our Tahitian dorm mother. I think I
was half in love with him to have taken such a difficult course
in my first semester of college, but it was necessary if I wanted
to study communication with dolphins. I also got into a modern
dance class that both Kari and Liz were taking. They were ahead
of me in GE requirements so we didn't have any classes together
outside of dance. The one class that really sparked me was World
Religion. It was in there I was exposed to other thought
patterns and beliefs, radically different from what I'd been
raised on. I can't pinpoint how that religion class may have
influenced my decisions in the future, but I know that it
certainly woke me up to the fact that a lot of other people out
there thought, believed, and lived much differently.
During the few days that I'd been in Showcase, tryouts for
the school play that semester had gone on. Since I figured I
would be busy with Showcase, I didn't bother auditioning. Liz
had gone and tried out though, going for the lead. When the
notices were put up Liz was outraged to find that the lead went
to Debony. Yep, it was the same Debony from Provo who was to
have been my roommate. I tried to pacify Liz about getting a
smaller part but it wasn't very easy, especially since I could
n't stand Debony myself. I had met her, inadvertently, the day
66
Liz found out she hadn't made the lead. I was looking over the
list when Debony and her boon companion, LuAnn, walked up. She
already knew she had gotten the part and was gloating over it,
showing it off to LuAnn, a small, pert cheerleader-type from
California who fancied herself a rock and roller. Debony and
LuAnn were rarely out of each other's sight. I think LuAnn was a
little frightened of Debony and didn't want to risk her cruel
tongue. I felt sorry for her until she started imitating Debony
and being snotty. Debony kinda pushed me aside then took a good
look at who it was she was pushing.
"Aren't you that girl who's rooming with Elizabete?" she
asked, her snooty voice irking me already.
"Yeah," I said trying to keep my voice even. I thought it
was only Christian to give her a chance and not hate her just
because Liz did. It didn't take long for me to change my mind.
"Oh. I heard you got kicked out of Showcase. That figures,
being associated with the Truck," she laughed with LuAnn. That
did it. No one makes fun of my friends. I put on my syrupy
sweet voice and smiled endearingly.
"Ya know, Debbie, Liz was right about you. You are a major
bitch," I drawled out. I brushed past, knocking her into the
board. Luann gasped in shock, having come from a nice Mormon
home where people just didn't talk like that. I heard Debony
start to retort, but I turned the corner before I could make out
what she said. She wasn't as pretty as I thought she would be to
have gotten a commercial. She had a Roman nose, her eyebrows
67
were too bushy, and it was so obvious she dyed her hair to make
it auburn. With Liz losing the lead to Debony and my now inert
acting career, we were both pretty upset. Liz was a good sport
though, and went to rehearsals dutifully.
Outside of our school work, eating in the cafeteria, and
going to our Tuesday night movies, our big thrill in life was
going into Waikiki on the weekends. The group of girls that we
hung out with shifted from week to week; sometimes there would be
ten of us going in to dance; sometimes as few as three. But
there was always Liz and me. Even if it was just the two of us,
we made it a party. We'd go in early Saturday morning and spend
the day on the beach or go shopping at the Ala Moana Center.
There was a terrific Chinese restaurant there called Pattie's
Chinese Kitchen where you went along and choose selections like a
cafeteria except the food was excellent. And inexpensive, which
always appealed to me, being on a twenty-five dollar a week
budget. In Waikiki, we would hang out on Kuhio and watch the
pale hookers trying to seduce the Japanese men. We heard they
went for as much as a thousand dollars if you wanted them all
night. We laughed about how easy it would be for us to make a
buck. Dancing would get hot and heavy around eleven and we'd
stay till three or four. Sunday was a lazy day that usually
included a movie and finding the Los Angeles Times at one of the
high-rise hotels.
68
One Friday night around the beginning of October, Liz and
Kari and I were sitting in our room debating on what we were
going to do that weekend.
"Let's just go dancing," I said. Kari rolled her eyes.
"Is that all you ever want to do, Jess?"
"What else is there to do?"
"I don't know," Kari said evasively. Liz was busy rummaging
through her clothes, trying to decide what to wear.
"You got something else in mind?" I asked. Kari shrugged.
"It's just that Jack and I kinda wanted to spend some time
together,"
"Jack?" Liz said. "What's all this with Jack all of a
sudden? I mean, doesn't he already have a girlfriend?"
"Yeah, but things aren't going great between them. We get
along."
"Don't tell me you’re falling for Jack. The guy's a jerk,"
I said.
"No he's not. Why would you say that?"
"Well, for one thing, he's got a girlfriend and he's coming
on to you."
"He's not; we're just friends."
"Are we gonna go into town, or what?" Liz demanded.
"Yeah, I guess so," Kari conceded.
We drove in the next day meeting up with Natalie Chawell, an
Aussie gal from Perth who swore like a truck driver, but was an
awesome dancer, and Carol Bennett, a black girl from Utah who had
69
won the title of Miss BYU the year before and was a knockout.
The five of us got a hotel room at one of the cheap hotels on Ala
Wai Blvd. All the expensive high-rises were on Kalakaua Avenue
that fronted the beach. Our hotel was back by the Ala Wai canal
that surrounded Waikiki. We went down to the beach to hang out
for the rest of the afternoon, waiting around for the night to
start.
It was down there that Liz met an incredibly handsome guy
named Greg. It turned out that he was a member of a Canadian
rugby team that was in town for the week. The Ex-Brits. With
five single women all bunched together we were soon surrounded by
a dozen of the players. We played frisbee and Jaws, soaking up
the attention and the sun. They were a lot of fun and when they
suggested we all go to the Rose and Crown pub to drink, we
readily agreed.
We showered and changed and then met some of the guys at the
pub that was just around the corner from Spats near King's Alley.
It was a great little bar, real authentic and all. The bar
tenders and the waitresses were all English - I never got tired
of listening to their accents. The best part of the bar was the
piano player who would play really familiar songs, Americana,
show tunes, and everyone would stand around and sing with him.
I’d never had so much fun in my life. All my friends were drunk
which made them all the more fun. We stood around singing and
flirting with all those rugby players. It was great.
70
"I'll be back in a while," Liz leaned over, speaking into my
ear. Liz disappeared through the crowd. I figured she'd gone out
to buy more cigarettes since she was chain smoking that night.
Kari was downing double Greyhounds and was slurring all the words
as she tried to sing, "Bill Bailey." About an hour later Liz came
back and I noticed that Greg was with her. I hadn't seen them
leave together but there they were.
It wasn't until the next afternoon when Liz and I were alone
at the beach - Natalie, Kari and Carol having gone shopping at
Ala Moana - that Liz told me what had happened the night before.
"It was great. You wouldn't believe how awesome Greg was in
bed," Liz started.
"What? You slept with that guy?"
"Yeah. Well, where'd you think I was last night?"
"I don't know. I figured you'd gone for cigarettes."
"You are such a dolt sometimes. They sell cigarettes at the
bar."
"Oh, well, I didn't know that."
"Now you do. Greg and I went back to their hotel room since
we knew everyone was out and we just had a great romp in bed,"
Liz explained. I laughed, uneasy.
"What, you guys just went and had sex?"
"No, we went and played rummy. What do you think?" I looked
out at the hundred of tourists fighting for space on the tiny
shoreline.
"Are you in love with him?"
71
"No," Liz said emphatically.
"I don't understand. I mean, you just had..."
"...casual sex is the word you're reaching for," Liz
finished for me.
"What about Dan?"
"What about him? We're not engaged. He's got no strings on
me." I thought immediately about my experience with Glen which
had been so ugly and embarrassing, I couldn't relate.
"So, you think that's okay, to have sex with guys you're not
in love with?"
"I'm not a slut, Jessica. You don't have to have a commit
ment to have sex with someone. I mean, look at you and Curly."
"Yeah, but I didn't want to have sex with him."
"Well, I did with Greg. I'd like to do it again. Look,
Princess, as long as you're protected, as long as you keep you
mind and heart straight, then anything you do is okay."
"Anything?"
"Anything. As long as you don't hurt any body else, then
it's okay." Sounded like a good philosophy to me.
There were several times during the semester that Liz went
off with men, sowing her wild oats, so to speak. Sometimes she
would tell me right away. Sometimes she would wait awhile. I
could never figure out why except that maybe she was trying to
protect me or something.
It was only two weeks later that we heard Jack had broken up
wit his girlfriend, Terry. Kari lived in Hale Three on the
72
ground floor and we knew Jack had been going over and talking
late into the night with her. We figured it was like all the
friendships we were making that semester, like with Alan and
Frank and Bret, just buddying around at school. But when Jack
broke up with Terry, Liz and I sat up and took notice,
"So what's with you and Jack these days, huh?" Liz asked
Kari as we walked from the Seasider Cafe with our vanilla ice
cream.
"Well, you know, we're getting along," Kari said evasively
Liz laughed.
"Seems like you're more then 'getting along'," she said.
"Are you in love with him?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"C'mon, Kar, this is us you're talking to," I chimed in.
"I can't eat any more of this ice cream. I'm gonna get
fat." Kari turned and threw up in the bushes. I could never
figure out how she did it, voluntarily throwing up like that.
"That's sick!" I cried,
"So, are we on for this weekend?" Liz said, changing the
subject.
"I don't think so. Jack wants to go in to my dad's house
and do some jet skiing."
"Are we invited?" Liz asked.
"Well, I would, but Jack wants to spend some time alone."
"Sounds like you're falling for this guy," Liz teased.
73
"Yeah, maybe," Kari said, a smile on her face. I wondered
briefly if she and Jack had slept together, but since Kari hadn't
said anything, we didn't press it.
A couple weeks later I had a conversation with Jack that
left me with the indelible impression that he was an asshole. No
one was around on that Thursday night, Liz at rehearsal and Kari
off with Carolyn in Haleiwa, shopping for clothes. I was in the
TV room when Jack came in looking for Kari.
"Hey, Jess, seen Kari around?"
"She's gone with Carolyn shopping."
"She take the car?" Jack had started borrowing the ZX,
racing around Laie and the north shore. Kari was with him as
often as not, but he took it alone a lot of times. I wondered
what he'd done to get Kari to allow him to use the car - Kari
didn't let anyone drive the car.
"Of course."
"Oh," Jack said, disappointed. "What's on TV?"
"Not much, just reruns." He sat down and for a few minutes
we watched the TV in silence. We started chit-chatting about
classes and professors. About nothing really. "So how's the
basketball team this year?" I asked. Jack was tall, about six-
four, and was one of the better ball players. At least that's
what Kari told us since we refused to attend any school function
that wasn't mandatory.
"It's okay. Nothing to brag about. The guys here haven't
got the talent I have, but they aren't terrible."
74
"Oh. That's good,"
"It's a drag, and takes a lot of time up. I'd like to get
more back into my modeling."
"You were a model?"
"Yeah, can't you tell?" It went on from there, his
incredible ego spilling out and filling the room. Not once did
he talk about Kari as a real person, just referred to her in this
third person sense, like she was an object along with all her
dad's other possessions. When I asked him what he wanted to do
after school, all he could say was that he wanted to wait and see
how things went with Kari. What a sleaze.
I told Liz about the conversation and she thought maybe we
should talk to Kari and set her straight,
"You guys, it's not like he's taking advantage of me. He's
not an actor," Kari said.
"Kari, that has so little to do with a relationship," Liz
said.
"Well, you guys haven't been in the same position as me.
You guys haven't had guys saying all these things like they're so
in love with you and they want to be with you forever, and then
be sneaking headshots to your dad. You don't know what it's
like."
"Kari, you should have heard the way he was talking about
your dad's house, like it was his or something," I injected.
"It's just..."
"It's just what?" Kari demanded.
75
"I don't know how to put it into words, it's just a feeling
that he's using you* Are you really sure he's right for you?"
"We fit like lock and key, I know that much." It was
amazing. Kari was so swept away by Jack, she had no perspective
at all. She didn't hear us; it was like we were talking to
ourselves. Her whole focus was Jack. She was definitely in love
and who can begrudge someone being in love? We shut our mouths
and decided Kari knew what was best for herself.
Anyway, as Kari slowly evaporated from the picture, spending
all her free time with Jack, Liz and I became that much closer.
With our weekly trek into town and living together on campus,
there wasn't much we didn't know about each other. I mean, I had
talked till I was blue about Darren, and she had told me every
thing about Dan. I knew her private doubts about her acting
abilities and her chances of ever really making it. I confided
secrets to her that I hadn't told another living soul - not even
Darren, like the fact that I stole things, petty, stupid things,
any chance I got. Turned out she had sticky fingers too. We had
a thieves' code of honor: never take from someone who had less
than you, never take from friends. We became shadows of each
other. It was bizarre the things we would discover, almost as if
we'd had identical childhoods. That couldn't have been further
from the truth. It wasn't until well into October that I finally
learned of Liz's childhood.
76
She'd come back kinda late one night from rehearsal. I was
in the room at my desk, studying my biology, being rather bored
by the whole DNA code thing when Liz came in very upset.
Apparently Brother Ferris, the director, had yelled at her that
night for not having her lines memorized. Debony had made some
sarcastic remark that had sent everyone into fits of laughter at
Liz's expense. It might have been the strain of mid-terms
approaching, or the play, or Debony, or maybe just the isolation
of Laie from the real world, but whatever it was, something
triggered Liz that night.
In our room the two twin beds had been placed lengthwise
underneath the corkboard along the one wall. We had decided we
wanted a "living room" and a "library" so we divided the room by
putting the two beds together perpendicular to the walls, mine
tucked inside my long closet and Liz's tucked neatly under her
desk with just enough room left over for her feet to slide under
Liz now lay on her side of the "double" bed with her feet up on
the desk.
She lay on the bed for a while after spewing out the events
of the rehearsal, bitching about Debony as usual. Then, she
started talking, real quiet like, about her family. I was still
half thinking about the quiz I had the next day in bio and
getting through the chapter before midnight when Liz started
talking about her middle sisters, Sharon and Arlene. It was the
word "molest" that caught my attention, I gave Liz my full
concentration.
77
"He used to molest her, you know," Liz said softly. I left
my chair and went to sit inside my closet on the bed. I didn't
know what to say to a statement like that so I remained silent,
waiting for her to go on. She drew a deep breath and sighed.
"Yeah, she's a lot older than me, nine years. He used to go into
her room at night and fondle her." My eyes widened. I'd never
known anybody that had incest in their family. That was worse
than taboo among Mormons. Among any people, I would think.
There were tears running down the sides of her face but her voice
was steady and clear. It reminded me of Marty.
"That was Arlene?" I asked Liz shook her head.
"No, Sharon. Sharon was older than Arlene by two years. My
parents used to beat them. The two oldest, Tom and Sarah, were
ten years older than my other sisters. My father never touched
them. I don't know, he must have snapped or something when my
two middle sisters came along. He used a razor strap on them.
My mom used a wooden spoon," Liz said. I cocked my head remem
bering.
"My parents used those things on us kids," I said. "Well,
my dad used the razor strap only on my brothers, but the wooden
spoon we all got. All my mom had to do was reach for the drawer
she kept it in to send us running," I added. Liz nodded.
"I know, they sound like normal things to discipline kids
with, but my parents wouldn't just spank them, they would beat
them. Give them bruises and welts in places that wouldn't be
seen by outsiders. They.were locked in closets, made to go
78
without food..." Liz paused for a moment. "Sharon's been in
therapy for years and Arlene, well, she was the tough one. She
went wild. I guess she figured since she was going to get beat
anyway, she might as well do something to deserve it. She
started stealing and lying. And then there were the drugs and
the sex..." Liz had started to get stuffed up. I reached over
and plucked a Kleenex from the box on my desk and handed it to
her. She took it and blew her nose.
"Did your parents ever beat you?" I asked, really wanting to
know if she'd been molested. I had a morbid fascination with
those things. Liz sat up, wiping her tears away.
"With me being seven years younger than Arlene it was
different. When I was old enough to where my parents might have
started hitting me, Arlene and Sharon would protect me. They
never let my father come near me, not sexually anyway. I had
heard all the stories from Sharon and saw what they'd done to her
so I hated my father just as if he'd done those things to me.
But see, on me they used a much subtler abuse. They used the
church, Mormonism, to terrorize me," Liz said, picking at the
edges of the tissue, fraying it. I didn't know what to say to
that either. I had only known the rebellion of wanting to be
different from my parents, not having been abused by our
religion.
"They used to tell me I was going to hell if I did the
tiniest thing wrong," Liz continued. "And that Jesus could never
love someone as evil as me. Once, when Sharon was at college and
79
Arlene had gone out with some friends, my father beat me with the
razor strap. It wasn't the pain of the physical blows that was
so hard to take, it was the look of pleasure in his eyes that
made it all so horrible. I hadn't even done anything wrong. He
just kept saying it was for my own good. They always said that,
especially my mom when she was rapping my knuckles with her
Goddamned spoon. Telling me it was for my own good so I could go
back and live with Jesus after I died." She stopped then, her
breath coming in ragged puffs of anger. She seemed to take a
hold of herself mentally and closed her eyes. When she opened
them the anger was gone, replaced by a sadness I had never seen
before. She looked at me and half-smiled. "That's why I have
such a hard time hugging people. Except Dan. And you." I tried
so hard to empathize with her but nothing in my experience had
ever prepared me to understand child abuse, in any form. My
parents were kind and loving people who, although they couldn't
understand my rebellious nature, had never abused me.
"I'm sorry," was all I could say. Liz was fully in control
of herself by then.
"Nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault. It wasn't
as bad for me as my older sisters. I don't think Arlene will
ever forgive my father. She hopes he burns in hell, if there is
one. She's an atheist now. I had to live with their pain more
than my own. God, I hate my parents. I hate them for what they
did to my sisters, to me. I hate them for using the church to
terrorize me. That's the real reason I don't go to church," Liz
80
spat out. Neither one of us had gone to church since we'd gotten
to Hawaii. It was one of those petty things we did, or rather
didn't do, out of defiance. I wanted so much to share in some
way a part of Liz's pain. To make it go away.
"At least you know your parents," I said. Liz looked at me,
forgetting her anger.
"You're adopted?" she asked.
"Yeah. I mean, my parents never beat me or anything, but
they're not really my parents. I was abandoned as a child."
"You were left on a doorstep?" I shook my head.
"No, nothing like that. I was given up at birth and adopted
immediately. But, you know, I grew up thinking of myself as
abandoned. And wondering about my real parents, what were they
like and stuff," I said.
"Are your brothers real?" Liz asked.
"No, they were adopted too. All different mothers. That's
why none of us look alike. No blood ties in my family." Liz lay
back, musing over the new information.
"Must be hard, not knowing where you come from," she said.
"Sometimes. I mean. I'm the only one of us three that ever
questioned it. I used to ask them about her. About my real mom.
They met her once, just before I was born. Sometimes I wonder
how different my life would be if my real mom had kept me. Would
I still think the same way? Dress the same, like the same foods,
that kind of thing." A sigh escaped me I didn't know was there.
I didn't realize I still had so much trouble inside me about
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being adopted. I thought I'd gotten past the point of feeling
abandoned. I had used that word only for effect to get to Liz.
It had worked but there I was with tears starting to well up in
my eyes.
"When did you find out?" Liz asked.
"I've never not known. My parent's didn't keep it a secret
to spring on us when we were eighteen or something. So I grew up
thinking it was natural and normal until I was old enough to
start questioning my origins," I replied. Liz scrunched up her
pillow, elevating her head a bit.
"So, what did your parent's tell you about your real mom?"
"Just that she was eighteen when she got pregnant, in her
first year of col.ege, and that her father was a full Greek. She
told my Mom about him calling me an abomination and that he
wouldn't talk to her until she'd gotten rid of me."
"Sounds like a great guy," Liz said sarcastically.
"Can you imagine going through nine months around a father
like that, then just give your baby away?" I asked.
"No."
"Neither can I, I could never give away a child that came
from my body.." There was a moment of silence.
"What about the father?" Liz asked.
"You mean my father. He was a sailor - that must be where I
get my love of sailing from. And he was in the navy on a ship in
port when he met my mother. Blond hair, blue eyes, intelligent,
and he doesn't even know I exist. Pretty bizarre thought, huh?"
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"I'll say."
I moved over to the window, deep in thought about the mother
I never knew, about the father who didn't even know I existed.
The grandparents, and the brothers, real brothers and maybe even
sisters whom I would never know. I was their big sister, first
born, but they would never know. In my adoptive family I was the
youngest. I was first-born yet still the youngest. Strange how
things like that work out.
"I guess we both have our little skeletons in the closet,"
she said. I shrugged again. The drums from the PCC had rever
berated their last several minutes before. There was silence from
the night.
"I don't know, sometimes I think I'm better off, way better
off, having been raised by two parents and having all the
advantages of Middle Class America. But other times I just
wonder..." I mused. Liz came and stood next to me staring out
into the blackness of the hills. A gentle rain started. It made
no sound as it lightly fell. Liz sighed.
"Candy Raid," Liz said in the flat monotone of the Clever
Shark from Saturday Night Live. I laughed, the spell broken.
"Incognito?" I asked, playing the game.
"I think it best," Liz said dryly.
To go on a raid it was necessary to dress outlandishly, but
incognito. I put on my bright red robe over my clothes, Liz put
on her flowered one. We donned bandannas over our faces, base
ball hats, dark glasses and silk flower leis we'd been given at
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the stupid Luau they had for new students the second week of
school. We were always wearing these leis when we did something
silly, because they were so silly. By the time we'd dressed it
was after eleven and the curfew was in effect.
With a fistful of change we headed out to sneak past our
Dorm mother's apartment to the only entrance still open. In the
open courtyard. Brother Brunswick had a pet Myna bird named Tuna
that could speak like a parrot. He was forever cackling, "Good
Morning, Tuna", and "Quiet hours", and "Alooooooha!" stretching
out the o just like the tour guides did. When we went past. Tuna
woke and started up, "Pretty bird, pretty bird." We ran out,
hoping no one had heard.
We had to cross six tennis courts and the parking lot that
separated the girl's and boy's hales. It was pitch black, dark
as tar, no moon or lights to guide us. We were giggling so hard
over Tuna, over being outside when we weren't supposed to be,
over nothing really, that when we got to the candy machines, just
outside the entrance to the boy's Hale Four we were out of
control. A light flickered on inside the Dorm Father's apart
ment. We barely had time to slam two quarters in and grab the
Snickers Bar before we heard doors opening. We went tearing back
across the tennis courts, tripping over our robes as we went,
men's angry voices floating high above us. We ran past the
gigantic Banyan tree, past the still squawking Tuna, and upstairs
to the safety of our room.
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There is nothing to compare to the rush of adrenaline a good
scare will give you. Oh, sure, it was a self-inflicted scare,
but still our hearts were racing and our blood pounding from the
rush. We split the candy bar, relishing the danger we'd gone
through to get it, making the candy taste that much better. It
was a small risk, the worst punishment being a thorough talking
to from the Bishop about curfews and rules and common courtesy,
but that wasn't the point. It was doing something, however small
and insignificant, that you weren't supposed to be doing. What
victory, what a sense of accomplishment it gave us to get away
with such a small act of disobedience.
85
ADVENTURE
Liz, dominant in personality, and being older and wiser,
usually initiated all our adventures either in Waikiki or on
campus. But I was to have my own adventure quite separate from
her in the first part of November. The roots of it came from
high school, near the end of my junior year when I'd read an
article about a man named Dennis Hollister from Costa Mesa who
was building his own schooner in his front yard. Mind you, it
took up the whole yard, being 118 feet long, a replica of the
Yankee Schooner that Captain Irving Johnson had built in the
1930's. Dennis Hollister wanted to imitate Capt. Johnson's life
by building the ship and taking crews of young people on cruises,
eventually circling the world. He became a master shipwright and
had spent eight years and over a million dollars building the
Pilgrim.
The article said he was always looking for people who wanted
to help him build her and that they would probably become the
basis for his paid crew when he finally sailed. It was a dream
of mine and Darren's to sail around the world together, and
although we were on one of our "out" periods when I saw the
article, I still wanted to find out more.
I went down to Costa Mesa to find him - it wasn't hard, as
he had the only 118 foot schooner on the residential block. I
walked right up and introduced myself to Dennis, a good-looking
man reminiscent of Tom Selleck. I told him I wanted to help him
build his ship, that I was interested in sailing with him. He
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talked with me for a while about sailing and his plans to build
the ship, then put me to work. I went down as often as I could
that summer, doing whatever was needed: sweeping or painting or
sanding. I figured if I kept it up, that when I graduated from
high school I would be able to go with him. But his funds ran
low and the progress slowed accordingly. By the time I grad
uated, he still had at least another year of work on her. I
decided to go to Hawaii and pursue my interest in communication
with dolphins while I waited for him to finish.
When I got to Hawaii I didn't get to sail at all. It gnawed
at me, and I would make Liz sit on the bed, pulling in the Jenny
and while I tacked on the high seas of our bedroom. It was a
silly game, but I loved sailing and I sorely missed it.
Halloween weekend found Liz and me in town again. It was
there that I read a notice on a bulletin board at the Ala Moana
Center about a guy named Lee Mendiaz who was looking for crew to
sail around the world on a three year voyage. I showed Liz and
she thought it sounded crazy, but being who she was and knowing
my interest in sailing, she encouraged me to do anything
adventurous. I tried to call Lee Mendiaz that afternoon, but no
one answered. I didn't have much fun that night, eager for time
to pass so I could call him again.
We took the bus back early the next day. When we got back
to Laie I called again. A girl answered the phone.
"Hi, my name is Jessica. I'm calling for Lee Mendiaz, about
the position - " I rushed out,
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"Oh yeah," the female voice said. "Hang on a sec." I
couldn't tell her age, her voice sounding neither young nor old.
I could hear her yelling in the background. A husky male voice
got on the line.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this Lee Mendiaz?" I asked
"Yeah, who's this?"
"I'm Jessica Adams. I'm calling from BYU Hawaii - " I
started.
"You calling about the crew job?" he asked cutting me off.
"Yes. I saw your notice - "
"Well, why don't you come down for an interview. I live
near Pearl Ridge," he said abruptly. I was kinda taken aback by
how quickly he jumped into wanting to see me. He hadn't asked me
anything about myself.
"Okay, but I don't have a car so I'll be taking the bus in,"
I said.
"Fine, I'll meet you at the Tops Coffee Shop in Pearl Ridge
Shopping Center in two hours," he said, hanging up quickly. I
was flying with excitement, even if he had been less than
friendly on the phone. Maybe I had woken him up or something.
After all, it was only ten in the morning. I had just gotten off
a two hour bus ride from Waikiki but the thought of another hour
on that awful lumbering bus couldn't dampen my spirits. I took
the 52 around the north end of the island.
88
I got to Pearl Ridge and found the coffee shop with no
problem. I went inside, but couldn't find anyone who looked like
a sailor. I sat in a booth facing the door, waiting patiently for
someone to show up. My mind was reeling with the possibilities
of what a cruise around the world would entail when a man entered
dressed in green camouflage pants, plaid button-down shirt, boots
and a bandanna around his forehead. He was dark, not like the
islanders, more like an American Indian. It turned out that's
exactly what he was, at least partly. I think he had Hispanic in
him, too. He had long black hair and dark brown eyes. He
spotted me and came in my direction. He didn't look like a
sailor to me at least not like the ones I'd known at the Long
Beach Yacht Club. I stood up, my palms sweating.
"Hi, you must be Jessica," he said, extending his hand.
"Yes, that's me," I replied lamely. I hated it when I
couldn't get my tongue to work right. I hoped my handshake was
firm enough. We sat down and just looked at each other for a
second before the waitress appeared. There weren't many people
in the coffee shop and I'm sure she was hoping for some good
business. Lee ordered coffee to which she raised her eyebrows.
"Nothing else?" she asked, almost angry. He shook his head
and I shook mine too, even though I was starving. He smiled at
me and I tried to relax.
"So, you're interested in sailing around the world?" he
asked. I nodded, trying to look as intelligent as possible.
"Well, what kind of experience do you have?"
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"I used to crew on a 28 foot Chote named Ribbet in the Wet
Wednesday Series out of the Long Beach Yacht Club during the
summer," I stated. I thought this sounded impressive, but Lee
remained expressionless. I rushed on. "It was the fastest boat
in the marina, so I learned a lot from the Captain. I learned to
sail on my friend's 50 foot Mariner," I said. He finally nodded
in approval.
"That's good. That's close to what I have. I've got a
fifty-foot Islander. A ketch," he said. I smiled. Islanders
were excellent boats, well-built. "So, you're in school now?"
"Yes, just started, but I've been planning on going on a
cruise with this man named Dennis Hollister. Maybe you've heard
of him? He's the guy building the ship in his yard in Southern
California..." I looked for some sign of recognition but there
was none. I explained about Dennis and his ship, about how I
helped build and fix things for him. This also seemed to impress
Lee.
"That sounds real good. Well, let me tell you a little
about my venture and see if it interests you," he said sitting
back and taking a sip of coffee. I noticed his nails were black
with grease or something but I wrote it off to his having been
working on his boat. "I'm thirty-six and I was in Vietnam. I was
exposed to Agent Orange and what's happened is that I've got some
kind of disease now from it and my doctor says in three years I
will either be dead or totally blind." I furrowed my eyebrows,
feigning an understanding I did not have and wondered what that
90
had to do with sailing. He went on. "Since neither appeals to
me very much I've decided to take advantage of what time remains
to me and see the world. I own several companies in California
and I have a lot of money to back me up. My plan is to take this
boat I have, outfit her with all the best equipment money can
buy, you know like a Tell-Star System, and a Mercedes diesel
engine and basically sail her to all the major ports and islands
starting with Japan. We'd go through the entire South Pacific,
through New Zealand and Australia, up through Indonesia and Asia.
Then, down along the coast of the Middle East to Egypt. We'd go
around Africa up to the Mediterranean and Europe. Over to
Canada, down the East Coast and through the Caribbean. We'd make
a circle eight around South America going down the west side and
up the east, back through the Panama Canal and up the coast,
ending up in California," he finished. My jaw dropped in awe.
"That’s a perfect plan," I started.
"Wait, that's not all. It's not just a sailing trip. I
plan to dock at each of these countries and islands, get off, and
explore the interior of each," he explained.
"That's more perfect still," I stammered.
"Yeah, I don't want to just see the ports, I want to really
see each place. I want to go on a safari in Africa, dive the
Great Barrier Reef, climb the mountains in Nepal, visit the
Wailing Wall, and Europe, well, you can't see Europe from a
boat." I kept nodding my head.
"Yes, yes, that sounds fantastic. That's great," I. said.
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"Do you want to go with me?"
A mild warning bell went off in the far reaches of my brain
that said, "Something's wrong here. He's either going to want
sexual favors or something equally unsavory. Why would he be
asking me after only a short conversation? I mean, doesn't he
want to know something about me beyond that I'm a student and
know a little about sailing?" I didn't even think those thoughts
coherently, it was just a flash that went through my mind,
overridden quickly by my emphatic "yes" I gave him seconds later.
"Great," he said. "Why don't you come over to the house and
meet my girlfriend and we'll go over the plans in more detail.
I'll show you pictures of the boat and everything." Well, that
answered my question about the sex. Or maybe they were the kinky
kind... I nodded my head at him in agreement and we left. As we
were leaving I once again thought about how hungry I was and
wondered why he didn't offer'to buy me lunch or at least ask if I
was hungry.
We drove to his girlfriend's house in his old, beat-up,
white VW Bus. I was too busy thinking about trekking through
Nepal to give the surroundings much notice. I met Cheryl, his
girl, and her brother. Bill, both in their twenties, at the
small, run-down house they were renting. She was a pretty girl
with bright blue eyes and I immediately liked her. I could
imagine becoming good friends with her. Lee showed me maps, went
over the list of equipment he had ordered, the figures showing
the costs of the project. They were just play numbers to me, but
92
I knew it was a lot of money. He assured me he was very wealthy
and could afford to do it right. After a couple of hours, Lee
said that he and Cheryl needed to talk for a few minutes in
private and when they came back he announced happily that they
liked me and wanted me to become their first official crew
member. That was, right after Cheryl's brother. I was off my
rocker with excitement.
"We want you to be the navigator," he said. I bobbed my
head up and down, fear mounting inside me as I knew nothing
whatsoever about navigation. These initial fears dissipated
rapidly though as Lee went on. "We're going to send you, the
whole crew, to San Francisco to be trained by tutors. You'll
need to know everything; diesel repair, satellite functions, CPR,
SCUBA diving, things like that along with navigation. For
insurance purposes you'll have to go before a board and prove
your knowledge, but that should be no problem, you sound like a
bright girl," he said, smiling in a way that made me feel bright
and ready to take on the world. "Now, I'm going to need you to
leave the first week of December. Is that going to be a
problem?" he asked. I looked at Cheryl and thought about missing
the opportunity because it meant leaving school two weeks early.
No way would I let school stand in the way of an adventure. It
took me about half a second to answer him.
"No, there'd be no problem," I said cheerfully.
"Okay, now do you know anyone else at your school who might
be interested in doing this?" he asked. Bret Strickly came to
93
mind immediately. And then Alan and Frank. And Kevin, although
I didn't know if he liked to sail or not.
"Yeah, I know several guys who have a lot of experience
sailing," I said, eager to please.
"Great, well, have 'em call me and we'll arrange for inter
views with them." By that time I had been with him over six
hours. I was so taken up by his whole plan that nothing could
have jarred my belief that it was real and really happening to
me.
He drove me back to the school that night and we talked
about my interest in studying dolphins, which he thought ter
rific. He was a Greenpeace and Cousteau Society supporter. He
dropped me off and I promised to call him soon. I bounced up the
stairs, screaming out to Liz. I was out of control with excite
ment, talking without breathing, trying to get it all out at
once. She made me repeat it all, slower. She finally got the
story out, bit by bit and didn't say anything at first. I could
tell she thought Lee wasn't on the up and up. I had to sit there
for a half hour convincing her that he was legitimate.
"Well, if he's for real, then go for it. You'll never get a
better opportunity," Liz encouraged. Even Dennis' trip paled in
comparison. I went off to find the guys.
"So, what do you guys think?" I asked after finishing the
whole story. They looked at one another for a second, each mind
whirling in fast motion.
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"And he didn't say you had to sleep with him?" Kevin wanted
to know. Kevin still had a crush on me and his jealousy was
showing.
"No, he said I was to be a companion and friend to both he
and Cheryl. No strings," I added.
"Well, what's his phone number?" Bret asked. They all
wanted it and each took a turn on the phone, talking with Lee and
asking various questions. I felt like the Pied Piper, whistling
a merry tune they were all following eagerly after. The four
guys, Bret and Kevin, Alan and Frank all made arrangements to go
into Pearl Ridge the next day to be interviewed.
The problem was that there were only two positions open and
all four were dying to go. They went down in Bret's beat-up old
Toyota Station Wagon, met Lee and Cheryl, and Lee went through
the whole story with them. Lee had asked them a bunch of
questions and told them they were all qualified and that he'd let
them know who he and Cheryl chose within the week. Alan and
Frank found me at dinner and wanted to go over every detail of
the plan. We were joined by Bret and Kevin shortly. We talked
all evening about the places we would go and see. Liz was sick
to death of the whole subject and made herself scarce. Around
eight Lee called the Hale and one of the girls answered, then
found me out in the open quad with the guys.
"Jessica, this is Lee. I met all your friends and I was
very impressed. You seem to surround yourself with talented
people."
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"Yeah, they're great, aren't they?"
"I want your input on the selections since they all seem
equally experienced. Who do you think would be good?" I thought
how weird it was he would rely on my opinion since he'd only
known me a day. But I soon forgot about that in light of what he
was asking me. Whoever I choose would be my friends for the next
three years and one might possibly be my lover in time. I
thought about Darren and how great it would be if he were going.
"Alan, for sure. And Bret. I think he's done the most
sailing of any of us," I blurted out. I realize now that the
two I choose were based on reasons so stupid, it embarrasses me
to think about it. I choose the two cutest.
"Those two were along the lines I was thinking. Glad to see
we're so in tune with each other's vibes. Now, don't say any
thing to the guys until I've had a chance to call them, okay?" I
agreed and we hung up. I returned to the group who were all
dying to know what Lee wanted. I felt bad suddenly, choosing
among friends for such a great trip. But what was I supposed to
do? We talked about this and that, dreaming away the hours.
Lee called Alan and Bret the next day and told them they
were the chosen ones. Although Kevin and Frank were disappointed
they were still excited for us and didn't try to make us feel
bad. Alan, Bret and I became instant buddies. We were never out
of each other's sight. Well, except to sleep, of course. Lee
wanted all three of us to go into Pearl Ridge and have dinner
with him, Cheryl, and Bill which we did the next night.
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When we got to the house, I noticed that Lee was wearing the
exact same clothes he'd been in on Sunday. His hair was washed,
but he still looked messy.
"Hey, it's my crew. Come on in, you guys," Lee said
brightly as we walked up the dirt drive.
"This is so cool, I can't wait to get to San Francisco and
start those classes," Alan said.
"That's what I like to see - an enthusiastic troop. Come on
in, Cheryl's made a whole pot of spaghetti." The whole time I'd
been at the house on Sunday, Lee had kept talking about money,
how much he had to outfit the boat and pay for all the expenses.
Having spaghetti for dinner sure didn't seem like a millionaire's
style. But no one particularly seemed to mind as we were all
obsessed with talking about the trip, up and excited-like. Alan
asked when we could see the boat.
"It's in dry dock," Lee said. "But as soon as it's done,
we'll take her out for a day," he promised. I wondered briefly
why we couldn't just look at her in dry dock, but I didn't say
anything. I caught a glance that Alan gave Bret, but they didn't
say anything either.
On the way home to Laie that night it was Bret who finally
spoke about his growing concern with the legitimacy of the
project.
"Alan, don't you think it's weird he was wearing the same
clothes again today?" Bret asked.
"Hey, he was wearing that when I met him," I added.
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"I wonder if this guy is on the up and up," Bret said.
"Of course he is. Why would he go to all this trouble if he
wasn't?" Alan demanded.
"Okay, what about all that money he ways he has?"
"So he's laid-back. That doesn't mean he's not for real."
"I don't know, man. I'm startin' to get a bad feeling about
this."
"Okay, look, I know this guy in Administration, a friend of
my dad's, who knows this guy in the FBI. Why don't we have him
checked out if you're all paranoid."
"Hey, I'm not paranoid, dude," Bret said. I agreed with
them that we should talk to someone, although it seemed kinda
drastic to me, going to the FBI and all. But, I didn't want to
end up being sold into the white slave trade either.
The next day we went to Brother Miller and told him what had
happened. He listened with one eyebrow raised but agreed to talk
to his friend anyway. Still, even though we had our suspicions,
it was a powerful idea that couldn't be suppressed. I bought a
world map at the BYU Bookstore and began to outline our route.
It had a magical affect on me making me forget Lee's clothes. I
called my parents on Saturday and told them about the trip. Lee
had filled us with so many details that it was easy to overwhelm
my parents with plans.
"Mom, Dad, I'm leaving school two weeks early to go on a
three year trip around the world." How incredibly bizarre that
must have sounded, to my mom.
98
"No," was all my dad said.
"Why not? It's an opportunity of a lifetime," I countered.
"You're not going off on a ship for three years with a
stranger."
"Well, you really don't have any say in this. I'm eighteen
now," I stammered.
"I will not have you leaving school for some crazy trip
around the world. You're not going!" We went back and forth
like this for a half hour, me trying desperately to convince them
this was what I really wanted.
"Look, I wasn't just killing time down at Dennis' all those
summers. You know I've wanted to sail for a long time." There
was silence for a second before I heard my dad hanging up.
"Honey, it's not that we don't want you to see the world,
but I don't think you should be abandoning your education at this
point in your life," my mom said quietly. I rolled up eyes.
"Mom, I can get my degree any time. This is a real oppor
tunity. "
"How do you know this man is legitimate?" she asked.
"Well, we're having him checked out by the FBI if that
helps." Amazing how the name of a government agency can lend
authority to a venture. She finally said just to call after I'd
found out if everything was legitimate and not to withdraw from
school until then.
Having called my parents made the whole thing very real in
my mind. It gave weight and substance to the venture. Sunday
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came around, a full week after I'd first met Lee. Alan went into
Pearl Ridge to spend the day with Lee and Cheryl. Bret and I
hung out, talking incessantly about the trip. Most of our
friends knew about it, in fact, it was kinda the talk of the
school, we were celebrities of sorts, constantly being sought
after to answer questions or tell someone about the trip. Liz
was still avoiding the whole thing without really making a point
of it. Alan returned around dinner and found Bret and me in the
cafeteria.
"This guy's so for real," Alan said enthusiastically. "He's
so legitimate." Alan was sitting backwards on the plastic chair
making a wide sweeping gesture with his hands. "He and I spent
the whole day talking about the rigging for the sails. He knows
so much."
"So, when do we get to see the boat?" Bret asked, peeved he
hadn't been able to go, too.
"He said for us to call tomorrow morning and we'd arrange a
time to meet to see her. I can't wait I" Alan explained. We
caught his excitement about seeing the boat finally and spent
more hours talking about it.
Monday came around and Alan tried to call Lee in the
morning. No answer. We thought it was strange, but just
shrugged it off. We called again at lunch and still got no
answer. By that time we were getting pissed because we thought
we might be going in that day to see the boat and it was getting
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late. Well, we started calling every half-hour until finally at
around six that night Cheryl answered the phone.
"Cheryl, where's Lee?" Alan asked anxiously. "We've been
trying to get a hold of him all day." Cheryl's voice cracked and
Alan looked at Bret and me with confusion on his face. "She's
crying," he told us. I grabbed the phone from him.
"Cheryl, it's me, Jess. What's wrong?" I spoke slowly into
the phone. Cheryl was sobbing so loudly and trying to talk at
the same time that it was impossible to understand her. "Cheryl,
talk slower. What are you saying?"
"He's gone," she got out. "He took off this morning with
everything," she cried.
"What are you talking about? Took what?" I asked,
frantically.
"He took all the plans and maps and stuff. He took my
jewelry and the cash I had in the house and just left," Cheryl
said. I looked at Alan and Bret and must have turned pale as
winter. They both started poking me, wanting me to tell them
what the hell was going on. I shushed them away and tried to get
the story from Cheryl.
"Maybe he just went to get some work done or something," I
offered lamely.
"No, we checked the airports finally and he's gone. He went
back to California. I called his steel company in Sacramento, ya
know, to see if he was legit, and he is who he says he is but
he's gone. He just left, that son of a bitch. We were having a
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good time, just ask Alan, he was here yesterday. Everything was
going great, but this morning he just started freaking out,"
Cheryl rushed all her words together as if by saying them quickly
enough she could make them not be true.
"What do you mean, freaked out?" I asked.
"Freaked, went crazy. Started calling me a liar, saying I
was cheating on him and that my brother was stealing from him.
That's so crazy. Lee didn't even have any money here. I was
paying for everything 'cause he told me he'd put $50,000 in my
bank account in Eureka, but I called there this afternoon and
there's nothing there. My Visa's tapped out, he took what little
money I had here. Goddamnit, why was I so stupid?" she asked.
"This is a joke, right Cheryl? I mean, he wouldn't do that
to you."
"Well, he did. Skipped town and left me with the bills,
that bastard. He said he loved me..." Cheryl started crying
again.
"I can't believe this is happening," I said. Alan was
yelling at me to tell them what was happening.
"You can't believe it? I've seen the boat, he's got the
boat, Jess. He's insane," Cheryl spat at me. I finally put my
hand over the receiver and spoke to the boys.
"Lee skipped out on Cheryl. On all of us. He's gone back
to California," I whispered. Bret slammed his hand down hard on
the table.
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"I knew it, that greaser," he shouted. Cheryl was crying
hard and it was all I could do to try and calm her down. There
wasn't much I could say - we were all poor and had nothing to
give her, except our sympathy. The news hadn't really sunk in,
none of us able to fathom the event. I got off the phone with
Cheryl after telling her to call us if she heard anything.
Bret, Alan, and I sat there in silence after I finished
telling them everything Cheryl had told me. We were devastated.
We couldn't understand why a guy would go to all the trouble of
recruiting us, getting us all excited for nothing. He didn't ask
us for anything, not sex, not money, not favors. Maybe he was
the kind of man that got off conning young kids just to dis
appoint them. It's a pretty sick way of getting your kicks. Or
maybe the disease had sent him on some bad trip. I found myself
looking for any logical reason to excuse Lee's actions.
"What total suckers we were," Bret said.
"How were we suckers, Bret?" Alan asked. "He didn't want
anything from us, he didn't try to con us into anything weird,
why shouldn't we have believed him? Lots of people with boats
look for young people to crew for them," Alan argued.
"Yeah," I said, backing Alan up. "There was no way we could
have known. Besides, he was legit, he was just also crazy. And
we were having him checked out - " Bret interrupted.
"Still, we were suckers to believe this was really going to
happen," Bret said. We couldn't argue with that as we sat there
in silence, our dreams of a trip around the world washing away
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into the rain-filled night. I saw the tigers in Bengal fade back
into the jungle. I saw the Temples in Kyoto wash away in the
mist. I watched as the coconut trees of Tahiti blended back into
the sea. I slammed my hand down hard on the table.
"At least we tried, damnit. At least we tried to make a
dream come true," I stammered out, on the verge of tears. Alan
looked at me and started laughing.
"Which is more than most people do in their whole life," he
said. I started laughing with him, through the tears, and soon
Bret joined in. There was nothing else we could do but laugh
over the whole crazy week. I'd met my first bona-fide psycho.
It was an awful stunt he pulled on all of us, but what a lesson.
A lesson that taught self-reliance when it came to dreams.
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LIZ'S WORLD
Liz had been very patient with me through the whole episode,
putting up with my constant jabbering about Lee and the trip.
When I told her what had happened, she was sympathetic. She
didn't laugh at me and say, "I told you so," She actually felt
bad for me which made me love her all the more, "You'll get your
chance someday," she said. I was grateful for her understanding.
Even though it was easy to laugh with everyone about it, I was
really upset for a while.
Liz's play was fast approaching, going up the week before
Thanksgiving. I signed up to help with Stage Crew so I spent a
lot of time with Liz doing costumes and make-up. Liz was playing
a drunk and we laughed, wondering how Brother Ferris knew to
typecast her. It wasn't a very big part, although she was
constantly on stage, being a passed out drunk. She was little
more than a prop, and I felt sorry for her, having to deal with
Debony all the time. And that was the pisser part of it. Debony
was terrible; I mean, a real stinker. I don't know why she got
the part at all except that maybe it was one of those circular
things where she got a part once when she was younger and people
just kept picking her because she "had experience." Liz was
bright and brassy on stage and totally outshone Debony when she
got a chance to speak.
It was kinda sad, but still, we had our revenge the day
Debony was caught in the costume room with the male lead, a dour-
looking fellow.of immense talent named Cary. They had locked
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themselves in and were into a heavy make out session when Brother
Ferris opened the door with the Costume Mother and several
members of the cast right behind him. Needless to say, they were
humiliated and Brother Ferris would have kicked them out, but
couldn't, since it was so close to opening night, Debony was
engaged to a guy back in Provo and every one knew it. When the
news spread about her and Cary, she was branded as a two-timing
tramp and was known thereafter as The Slut, behind her back, of
course. The best part about it was that she brought it on
herself.
Opening night came and everyone was getting freaked out,
especially Debony who blew half her lines in the first act. I
felt kinda left out when the cast was taking their bows, the
applause filling the tiny auditorium. Even so, it was wonderful
to be around backstage when everyone was running around so
frantically. I loved the theater.
Liz was ecstatic those days not only from the attention of
the play, but because Dan was coming to town for Thanksgiving. I
wasn't looking forward to his visit at all. Since I had burdened
Liz with all my stories of Darren, I felt it only just that I
listen to her rave on about Dan, but I felt a growing jealousy I
couldn't control. He was moving in on our sacred territory, that
of our friendship, and was getting in the way. She wouldn't stop
talking about how great a salesman he was (third in his dis
trict), and how gorgeous he was, and how much she loved his
beard, and how she was going to screw his brains out. Hearing
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this over and over those days made me feel unwanted and unneces
sary. Oh, she made a big show about how she wanted me to go into
town and meet them for Thanksgiving, but I knew she didn't mean
it. She was just trying to be nice, which made me mad 'cause I
didn't want to be some charity case. So, when she left Wednesday
night to meet Dan at the airport, I bowed out. She said she
would call during the weekend and we would all go around the
island together. I smiled and told her to have fun, wishing
Dan's plane would crash and burn.
Thanksgiving Day dawned bright and supernatural. At home,
the weather was getting cold, cold for California anyway. It was
usually overcast and chilly. I thought about my family for the
first time in a while. See, Liz and I had never been separated
for more than a few hours during that two and a half months, and
with her absence I suddenly thought about my family. Wondered
what they were doing and all. I imagined my mom in the kitchen,
no help from my brothers or dad, who would, undoubtedly, be
watching the football games on TV. My oldest brother, Shane,
went to school at BYU in Provo, but he had driven home for
Thanksgiving. I was jealous of him being able to go home like
that whenever he wanted. Not that I wanted to go home much, but
I wanted to be able to when I did want to go home. I missed Liz,
and it had only been one night.
I skipped breakfast, as usual, sleeping in as late as I
could. I spent the morning moping around our room, making a
small attempt at picking up the mess. I separated all my clothes
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with the half-hearted thought of getting laundry done. But doing
laundry alone wasn't any fun since you have to sit there and
watch your clothes so they wouldn't get stolen. We knew how
easily things got stolen because we swiped stuff all the time. I
decided to wait for Liz to get back. I rearranged all my unicorn
pictures and added the two cards I'd gotten from my bizarre
friend Bernie. He was always into something weird like Druidism
or Renaissance fairs or explosives. But he was good fun to get
mail from. Hell, any mail was good to get, no matter who wrote
it. I thought about Liz having a grand time in town and getting
laid and I became angry that Darren wasn't with me. Then I
remembered we weren't even talking, and I started feeling sorry
for myself. That was something I was very good at. I finally
showered and went off to have lunch.
The cafeteria had a notice on it that it was closed all day.
I stood there, a fury filling me, with no one to take it out on.
The school was a virtual graveyard. I must have been the only
person who had nowhere to go on Thanksgiving. That made me feel
like a real loser. I bet that even Debony the Slut had somewhere
to be. I saw a Maori girl I knew casually walking toward Hale
one, the girls dorm that had communal kitchens. I yelled out to
her.
"Hey, Pauline, how come the cafeteria is closed?" I asked.
She waited until I had trotted up to her before answering. She
was a soft-spoken girl who would never dream of yelling across
campus, even if no one else were around.
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"Don't you know? You're supposed to go to your Bishop's
house for Thanksgiving dinner," she said.
"Who's my Bishop?" I asked. She laughed softly.
"See, Jessica, that's what you get for not going to church,"
she said brightly. I wanted to spit in her eye but held my
temper in check. Going to church indeed. "You're in Hale five,
right?" she asked.
"Yeah," I answered flatly.
"Well, then Brother Diamond is your Bishop. He lives on
Moana Street in the yellow house. You can't miss it," she said.
Pauline hurried on as a light rain began to fall. I'd be damned
if I was going to some Bishop's house and grovel for food. I
went back to my room to scrounge up some change for a soda.
There were always the candy machines, I mused, finding enough
change for only one or the other, a soda or a Snickers bar.
Tough choice, but I went with the Snickers.
I wandered around the Hale looking for someone, anyone to
talk to. The place was empty except for Margaret. I wasn't that
desperate. I watched TV for a while, but there was nothing good
on, mostly just lame-brain football games. I hate football
games. Something happens to men when they watch sports on TV.
They become zombies, slaves to these players and their silly
little leather ball. I finally decided to call home.
My mom and I had a system we set up where I would call her
collect and she would refuse the call. Then, she would call me
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right back and we could talk cheaper that way. My mom was always
looking for a bargain.
"Yes, I'll accept the charges," I heard my mom's voice tell
the operator. It caught me by surprise until I figured out my
mom was totally flustered, just setting all the food out for
Turkey Dinner. "Yes, dear, hello I"
"Hi, mom," I answered feebly.
"Dean, put Muffy outside right this instant," she yelled at
my brother. I could hear him arguing with Shane in the back
ground. They were always disagreeing about something or another
and it was a familiar sound. One I could only miss on a day like
that one.
"Guess what? Liz is in town with her boyfriend," I said,
trying to sound cheerful.
"That's nice, dear. Are you studying hard?" She turned on
a blender or something and the sound out drowned any reply I
might have given.
"And the play went really good, too. You should have seen
Liz." My mom grunted every few seconds and I could tell she
wasn't really listening.
"Honey, talk to your father for a minute. I need to mash
the potatoes." Oh, that was just great. Ever since the whole
boat fiasco, my dad had said maybe two words to me.
"Jessica, this is dad." Really? I thought it was Franken
stein. "How is school going? Are you all caught up?" He just
110
couldn't resist bringing up the World Trip thing, about how
behind I'd fallen in school work,
"Yeah, I'm caught up now," I said quietly.
"We miss you. This is the first Thanksgiving you haven't
been here," he said. How true. How terribly depressing.
My brother. Dean, grabbed the phone and screamed "Happy
Thanksgiving!" into the receiver. Big alligator tears rolled
down my cheeks and I went to the height of feeling sorry for
myself. There I was, alone at a payphone in the deserted Hale,
three thousand miles away from home, my family having a good time
without me, Liz off in Waikiki with her boyfriend, and me with an
empty stomach.
"Well, listen, I gotta run. Don't want your dinner to get
cold.
"Where are you having dinner?"
"I'm going to dinner over at my Bishop's house," I lied. I
went upstairs and found a warm soda Liz had hidden in her closet.
We were always swiping sodas from the cafeteria even though you
weren't supposed to take food out. I didn't care if it tasted
like warm piss, I could have drowned in my own pity at that
point. I went through all Liz's trinkets, her pictures of Dan.
He wasn't that cute; I couldn't figure out what she saw in him.
"He must be good in bed," I thought aloud. Liz was a slob and
our room looked like a disaster zone. My puttering that morning
had done little to help the effect. I didn't mind the mess; I
missed Liz and hated being there alone. The hungrier I got, the
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more I resented her boyfriend. If he hadn't come over, then Liz
and I would be together having dinner somewhere. Finally, at
five o'clock, I couldn't stand it anymore and set off to find
this Bishop Diamond's house. I had a headache and my stomach
hurt and I thought "Fuck it. I paid for my meal ticket this
semester, they should be feeding me." I was actually very
uncomfortable going into a Bishop's house alone, but by the time
I found the place I just didn't care anymore. I rang the bell
and a woman. Sister Diamond I assumed, answered the door.
"Can I help you?" she asked, pleasant enough. She didn't
recognize me, but then, how could she? I never went to church.
"Yeah, I'm in Hale Five. They said to come here for
dinner," I managed to get out. She looked curiously at me.
"I haven't seen you at church," she said suspiciously. I
remained silent, not knowing what to say. "Well," she said
finally, "come in. We've already had dinner but there are some
leftovers." I followed her down a dark hallway filled with
pictures of Temples around the world. So typical. She showed me
a long collapsible table filled with picked-over platters of
food. I was so hungry I didn't care. I fixed myself a paper
plate of cold mashed potatoes, dry stuffing and even drier
turkey. I suffocated the whole lot in gravy. They had a horrid
fruit punch that tasted like too many different fruits had been
mixed together.
It was a low point in my life, sitting on the back steps
watching the Molly Mormons and the Peter Priesthoods sitting
112
together in little cliques, eyeing me with disdain. They knew my
reputation and probably resented me being there at all. That's a
pisser thing about Mormon kids; if you're not one of them then
they want nothing to do with you. They are stuck up, self-
righteous little pricks for the most part. And me eating dinner,
if you could call it that, with a plastic fork, alone. Misery.
I wolfed the food down and left as inconspicuously as possible.
I wasn't hungry anymore, but I didn't feel much better. To boot,
it started pouring on the walk back to the dorms. I was drenched
within a minute.
I began to realize just how much I depended on Liz. The
thought at once frightened me and made me happy to know I had
such a good friend. But at that moment I was feeling pretty
unnecessary to her. I wished for the weekend to go by quickly so
we could get back to normal.
Campus opened back up again Friday and I killed time by
studying and writing some papers I hadn't gotten around to. I
went to the campus movies on Friday night and then to the Laie
Holiday theater on Saturday. Liz never called. I spent those
days by myself. Kari and Jack were in Kahala with Kari's dad.
Liz was still in town with Dan; Frank and Alan were spending the
weekend with a friend of Frank's at Sunset Beach, surfing. And
even Bret and Kevin were off somewhere. I never felt so alone as
that whole Thanksgiving weekend, eating by myself or with people
I barely knew. Going to movies alone, hanging out in the TV room
by myself. I hated it.
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Liz finally came back late Sunday night and all I wanted to
do was hug her. But, I was so wrapped up in being hurt and
feeling left out that I acted pissed. I was pissed. I wasn't as
important to her as Dan was and that hurt more than I wanted to
admit, so it turned into anger when I finally saw her, I had
tried to rationalize it in my mind that if Darren had come over I
would have done the exact same thing, but still, I don't know.
"So, d'you have a good time?" I asked sarcastically.
"The best. Dan is more wonderful than I remembered." She
glowed, positively glowed. I scowled.
"I'll just bet."
"What's your problem?"
"I don't have a problem. You're the one with problems."
Liz flopped on her bed, twirling the tuber rose lei she had
around her neck.
"I don't have a problem in the world," she said laconically.
"How come you didn't call? You said you were gonna call."
Liz sat up and looked at my pouting face.
"I did call. No one ever answered the phone." Maybe she'd
called. Maybe I'd been at meals or something, but I didn't
believe her. I'd watched Liz lie too many times to totally trust
her. Liz started telling me about her glorious weekend, and
about how in love with Dan she was. I buried my anger in the
light of her enthusiasm, and I guess she must have known that.
"Look, Princess, I know this weekend hasn't been the best for
you, so let's make up for it next weekend when we go into town."
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I readily agreed, wanting nothing more then to resume our friend
ship.
Well, nothing like having a double header losing streak.
Liz and I planned on going into Waikiki for the weekend, but I
had a test on Friday in biology that wouldn't get over till late
afternoon. Liz wanted to go to Ala Moana and do some shopping
for Christmas with Natalie and Carolyn, so she told me she would
call from the mall at three o'clock. Well, three o'clock came
and went with no phone call. I waited in my room till dinner
time was nearly over, listening for the phone downstairs and
being eaten alive by the Kamakazi mosquitos 'cause I had to leave
my door open. I finally went to dinner, pissed, thinking those
three had just blown me off.
Around nine, Natalie and Carolyn showed up and asked why I
hadn't gone in to meet Liz like she said I was supposed to do.
It took me a while to figure out the miscommunication and by that
time it was too late to catch the bus into town. I tried to find
Jack and Kari, but they had already left. Besides, I didn't know
where Liz was. I couldn't figure out why she wouldn't call and
just find out where I was if she thought I was supposed to meet
her. I started worrying then, images filled me of Liz shot, her
blood splattered all over some Waikiki hotel wall. It was one of
the longest nights of my life. I was sick with anxiety, dreading
the phone call that would inform me she was dead. I was positive
Liz was dead, that her big mouth had finally gotten her into more
115
trouble than she could handle. That her bravado was not enough
to get her out of some terrible situation. I had visions of me
trying to explain Liz's demise to Dan, to her sisters, to her
parents, God forbid. And all of them blaming me for her disap
pearance o
The next morning I awoke to a knocking on our door from a
girl down the hall who said Liz was on the phone wanting to talk
with me. I was bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, but happy to hear
Liz was alive.
"Where the hell have you been?" Liz screamed at me.
"Where the hell have you been?" I screamed back. "You were
supposed to call yesterday - "
"I did call. When you didn't show up I tried calling for
hours. No one answered." I knew she was lying then, as I had
been there all night, but I decided not to pursue it. I was
relieved she wasn't dead, that's what mattered, not who was to
blame. She told me she had waited around not wanting to leave in
case I showed up, not wanting to leave me alone in Waikiki all
night. So, she'd missed the bus back and had to pick up some
Navy boy and spend the night with him. They didn't have sex or
anything, but she had to fend him off all night which was a pit.
Miscommunication at its best. I wanted to hop on a bus and join
her in town, but she said she'd had enough of Waikiki for one
weekend and wanted to come back to school. I was disappointed
that our weekend was ruined, but ever so glad my friend was
alive.
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By the time Liz got back to the school I was kinda pissy
again having wanted a special weekend after the fiasco of Thanks
giving . She came up, bedraggled from the rain falling outside
and wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. I wasn't
about to let her though. I wanted a rousing fight to get rid of
all the energy I had. She obliged me and we got into a row,
arguing about who was to blame for the mixup. I really had been
worried about her and she seemed so carefree about the whole
thing.
"Don't you think I worried about you too. Princess?"
Whenever she used my nickname I became vulnerable.
"No, you would have called then," I retorted, not wanting to
give in.
"I did call, you knucklehead!" she shouted at me. I winced
back, not really wanting to fight with Liz, just needing to know
I was an important part of her life. That she needed me as much
as I needed her. Then it dawned on me in a half a flash of
knowledge what would bring us closer into orbit. I needed to
become part of Liz's world.
On my shelf sat a Lowenbrau beer, still sealed and full. A
local Hawaiian brah had shared his cache with Liz and me one day
when we had hitched a ride with him into town. Not knowing what
to do with it, I had stuck it in my purse and then taken it home,
putting it on my shelf as a reminder of how above it all I was.
I used my sobriety to show Liz up, proving how much self-control
I had, and how strong I was when it came to the Word of Wisdom.
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In her own wisdom, Liz never pushed the issue, never made a point
of me not drinking, never making me feel bad or asking me if I
wanted to join her. On the contrary, I was the ogre, using my
"virgin lips" routine to show off and put myself above her. Glen
had been so impressed that I didn't drink that I continued to use
that tactic as a tool rather than a fact.
So Liz and I sat there, facing each other in a Mexican
standoff, so to speak. I took the Lowenbrau down from the shelf,
got the bottle opener from Liz's desk, and popped the top off.
With one gulp I swallowed the warm beer. No stops for air, no
hesitation. I knew if I were to stop and taste the sickly sweet
hops, I would never finish the drink. The fumes were bad enough.
Liz was shocked as shit. She sat there, jaw on the floor.
"Oh my God, I can't believe you just did that," she
exclaimed. It was a beautiful moment. I had finally, totally
impressed Liz. She sat there shaking her head in wonder. She
began to laugh and slapped me on the back as I started coughing,
tears welling up in my eyes. "That's something most guys can't
even do, I can't believe you just slammed that entire beer. And
warm, tool" she chortled. I was gagging and trying to keep the
burps from coming up. It was truly one of the nastiest things I
had ever tasted.
"My lips are no longer virgin," I exclaimed loudly. "I have
popped my cherry." I laughed loud and long. "I can no longer
say I have never tasted alcohol. I never want to taste it again,
mind you - " I said. Liz threw a pillow at me and a pillow fight
118
ensued. I won, being the wilier of us two. We stopped and sat
facing each other, breathing hard. I spoke sincerely. "I'll
never again use alcohol as an excuse to torture you, Gizzy."
That was my special nickname for Liz. Gizzy Liz. It came out of
her incessant laughter, her giddiness. But saying Giddy Liz
sounded lame, so it became Gizzy Liz.
"I'm not going to hold you to that. Princess. You're too
perfect..." Liz started. I held up my hand.
"I'm not through yet," I said dramatically. I grabbed her
purse and fished out her pack of Marlboro Lights. I took one out
and put it between my lips. "Got a light, babe?" I asked, using
my most sultry voice.
"Are you serious?" she asked incredulously. I pretended to
blow smoke into the air.
"Absolutely. Will you teach me?" Liz looked at me, unsure
if I was really serious. I grabbed her lighter and ran out of
the room, hiding the cigarette first, of course. She followed me
and then took the lead. We went out back of the Hale to where
the chainlink fence separated the school from the virtual jungle
that bordered it. A gate in the fence made a indent just large
enough for Liz and I to blend into. We stood with our backs to
the school as Liz lit up a cigarette. She took a deep drag,
blowing it out her nose and handed it to me. Without a word I
took it and put the brown paper filter to my lips. I inhaled
deeply, taking the smoke all the way into my lungs, then blew it
119
out again. No coughing, no hacking. It was if I'd been smoking
for years.
Liz looked at me and said, "You don't need me to teach you.
Are you sure you haven't smoked before?" I shook my head, the
nicotine making its way to my brain rapidly, giving me a slight
buzz.
"I swear on the Bible, I never have. I just watched you a
lot," I said. She smiled and took another drag, handing it back
to me. Now this was fun, something really dangerous. To be
caught sneaking to the boy's Hale in the night to get candy was
one thing, but to be caught smoking, well, one could get kicked
out of school for it. We were truly living on the edge. We
stood there cupping our hands around the flame, hiding the light
from the roving security guards on bicycles. We finished it off,
keeping our voices low.
"I don't know if I should be doing this with you. It's a
bad habit," Liz complained.
"I won't get addicted," I shot back. The taste of smoking
was foul and hot. This was not a habit I was interested in
acquiring. Liz faced me and put her hands on my shoulders,
making me look her square in the eyes.
"Promise me something," Liz demanded. I looked at her in
the growing darkness ready to sell my soul to be in this woman's
shadow. "Promise me you'll never do coke." That was like asking
me not to cut myself. Of course, I wasn't going to do coke. Not
only did it look painful, I had heard too many horror stories
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about the awful effects of addiction. It was an easy thing to
promise.
"Surey no problem," I promised. "I will never try coke.
Ever," I said solemnly.
"Good, 'cause I know you'd get hooked. You'd like it too
much," she said. I stuck out my hand and we shook on it. I
looked seriously at her.
"Why wouldn't you want me to do something I liked?"
"It's just too easy to get hooked on. With your obsessive
personality, you'd get hooked... it'd be a bad thing," Liz said.
Obsessive? I never considered myself the obsessive type. The
only thing I was obsessive about was loyalty. And promises. I
made them very rarely, but once I did make one, nothing short of
death could make me break it. She kicked the butt under the
fence and we scurried back up the stairs to our room. We started
laughing then, the danger over and the rush of adrenaline easing
out of us. Liz lay on the bed.
"Well, Princess, when you want to be bad, you certainly know
how to go about it," Liz mused. I don't know why I was so gung-
ho on breaking the Word of Wisdom. Sure it put me in Liz's
league, but we had been friends without it for months. I guess I
felt daring and powerful, going against all my own rules. Not
that drinking a beer or smoking a cigarette were all that bad,
but I did feel a twinge of guilt going back on all those state
ments I'd made about never wanting to get caught up in the peer
pressure thing. But Liz hadn't pressured me - it was me that was
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pressuring me. And it felt so good to be really in tune with Liz
that I wanted it to go even further. I jumped around the room,
possessed by an energy that was the result of mixing beer,
cigarettes, and adrenaline together in one hour. Lethal concoc
tion.
"Yeah," I twittered, "now all I have to do is get high on
some pakilolo." Liz sat up, kicking her robe away.
"That can be arranged," she said.
"Are you serious?" I asked.
"Sure, I can get some tomorrow. We'll go down to the beach
to smoke it though," she said confidently.
"Hot damn," I thought. "Let's see just how far we can go."
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THE PINK HOTEL
Frank was Liz's connection for the pot. He surfed with the
locals and bought his weed from them. He got a mixture of Kona
Gold and Maui buds, red-haired and ripe as they come. Kevin
joined Alan, Frank, and me as Liz led us off-campus the next
night. We went down south along Naniloa Loop to Kam Highway,
then across to an access way nearly hidden from the road. It was
a hundred yard long virtual tunnel of chainlink fence lined with
Norfolk Island Pine and Kukui Nut trees that ended at the ten
foot beach front on the east side of Laie Point. It was dark and
eerie, in keeping with the dark deed we were about to perform. I
was excited just about being included, about the thought of doing
something illegal. Kevin, whose crush had developed into a full
blown fetish, stayed close to me.
We got down to the beach, the waves crashing and the smell
of salt mixing with the scent of plumeria from the tree to our
left. A pocket of Ironwood and Hala trees had created an almost
cave-like area in which we gathered. Frank rolled two joints. I
marveled at his dexterity in crumbling the weed, getting it laid
out on the paper and rolling it up in the heavy trade winds
blowing in. He lit the small white stick and took a deep drag.
He passed the joint to Liz who took an equally long drag and held
it in. I watched in fascination as she held it and held it and
held it. She finally exhaled in a great gust of air and smoke.
Alan chuckled and said, "That's a hell of set of lungs you
got there, Liz."
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"I've been building up my stamina the past few years," Liz
retorted, smiling. The joint was passed to the other two boys
and then to me. It was so fun being there, being part of this
secret covert meeting. I was happy just to watch, but when they
handed me the joint, I knew my moment had come.
"Just take it into your lungs like cigarette smoke, only
hold your breath," Liz coached. I took a deep drag and held my
breath like I'd seen Liz do. I could smell the sweet aroma
rising up from the burning ember, but the only "high" I could
feel was a pressure in my lungs that came from trying to hold my
breath too long. I wasn't very good at it and exhaled rather
quickly, laughing as I did so.
"That your first time?" Frank asked lethargically, taking
the joint and inhaling the perfumes. I was coughing and hacking
then, Liz slapping me on the back.
"It certainly was," Liz said for me. "And a damn fine
effort, I might add."
"Yeah?" I asked, quite pleased with myself. Kevin, who sat
on the other side of me, took another hit and then turned to me.
"Here, try this," he whispered in my ear. Taking my face,
he turned me so I was facing him, then maneuvered the joint so
his lips covered the burning end, and the open end was in my
mouth. He blew on the lighted end sending a pure stream of smoke
into my lungs. I took in all I could, then backed up, my cheeks
puffed out. They all watched as I tried to hold my breath longer,
which I did. I looked anew at Kevin and noticed how sexy he was,
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handing the joint to Liz who smiled funnily at me. The pot that
Frank had gotten was so pure and so potent that those two hits
were all I needed to send me flying.
I looked around and I saw the plumeria trees. I saw Liz on
my left. I looked at Kevin on my right, grinning like a Cheshire
cat. And I thought, "YeahI We're having good fun now." I
reached up and plucked a small white flower from the tree,
ignoring the sticky white sap that oozed from the end, and put it
behind my right ear, the indication that I was single. I started
laughing as Liz and then the guys followed my lead putting
flowers everywhere they could think of, in their hair, their
clothes, their thongs.
Everyone finished off the first joint and then the second.
I took more hits, but I didn't need them. The world was moving
in slow, rubbery motion as it was. We sat there for a while, I
don't think anyone was saying anything coherent; at least none of
it sounded coherent to me. We sat looking at each other, arrang
ing flowers, and smiling.
"How do you feel?" Liz asked me. I understood enough to
look at her, trying to focus, unable to, and reached out to touch
her face instead.
"Feel? I feel everything," I slurred. And I did. Every
tiny thing. "I feel my ten toes. I feel the follicle ends of my
hair where they attach to my scalp. I can feel the ocean," I
mumbled out. She started laughing and spoke to Kevin.
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"Yeah, I'd say we got her high, all right." Kevin was very
concerned about me as I got up and started to prance around the
little cave area. The walls were closing in, so I ran out of the
cave down to the water's edge. Of course the waves were chasing
me, so I had to run away from them. Kevin followed me as I ran
down the beach. Never before had I experienced such total, utter
abandonment and freedom. I was a goddess, a true Princess
running up and down the sand, my arms flapping as I tried to
catch the breeze and fly with the Zebra doves. I was laughing so
hard I would fall down and then find Kevin right next to me.
Boy, he looked good! He would help me up and I'd run on, Liz
and the others came out to watch me flying up and down the beach.
Finally Liz decided it was time to go back. We all had the
munchies something fierce. Time had gone by, but not for me -
that earthly element had ceased to exist.
There are three distinct moments that stand out clearly
against the events surrounding that night. Vivid clarity, almost
like a photograph I can actually look at in a picture album in my
mind. The first is of walking down that long, dark passageway,
underneath the perfectly shaped pine trees. It seemed to stretch
forever like some carnival House of Illusions. Liz stopped me
and said, "Before we get back to campus you must learn to control
yourself." I was giggling incessantly, unable to stop. I licked
my lips and tried to gather some saliva, finding my mouth cotton-
dry and my motor skills sadly lacking. She said, "All right, now
listen. Princess. I want you to stop feeling good right now," in
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her sternest voice. "I want you to concentrate." I looked at
her and she was stone sober. Or so I thought. Her eyes were
intense and glaring. There was no frivolity or joy about her at
all.
I thought, "Oh my God, it didn't affect her. I'm the only
one who's stoned." Scared, I imitated her look, copied her stern
hard glare, her straight mouth, the steady walk. She watched me
for a moment, then all of a sudden she stopped walking.
"Okay, now have fun again," she said. I was concentrating
on my feet moving in a straight line and I looked up in con
fusion. I saw her eyes crinkle with life, a smile stretched taut
across her face and I felt weak with relief. I started laughing
again. "It's just a game you have to play. Pretend you're
straight when you're around school and no one will suspect," Liz
explained. What a wonderful game this was. Playing straight and
playing.crooked. She made me do it several more times. "Okay,
be straight." And I'd pretend I was the serious biology student
going off to my study group. Then she'd say," Okay, have fun
now." And I'd be back with Liz going down that long passage,
Kevin close to my elbow, Frank and Alan, mellow and quiet,
trailing behind.
We played this game all the way back to campus. I had the
munchies real bad and demanded Liz take me to the Seasider Cafe,
where they served the best soft ice cream on the North Shore. I
strolled up to the counter, playing the serious student on a
study break. The boys, even Kevin, had all declined the invita-
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tion to join us, as no one wanted to be caught being stoned. I
wasn't afraid. Liz had taught me well in those few minutes. I
ordered my favorite; soft vanilla ice cream. The tiny Filipino
girl behind the counter who couldn't have weighed more than 75
pounds looked at me, suspicious of the inflamed red eyes, but
didn't say anything. I took the cone, paid the fifty cents and
winked at Liz. I had really pulled that off with first-rate
technique. She smiled, motherly, and got a cone herself, a mixed
combo of chocolate and vanilla. If only Margaret had seen us
then.
We took the ice cream outside, and it was there the second
photo in my camera eye was taken. I experienced a taste
sensation that has never been rivaled. Vanilla ice cream.
Standing in the open corridor on that hot Hawaiian night I took
one gigantic lick and thought I would die of ecstacy. It was
soooo good! The rich creamy texture, the spicy scent of vanilla
reaching down its tentacles into my very lungs. The coldness,
the smooth slide of the cream down my throat, I couldn't move.
I could hardly breathe. I wanted the sensation to go on for
ever, Seemed like I finished that cone in one steady mouthful.
Liz stood there and watched me, amused by my total abandonment to
the ice cream. But she wouldn't let me get another, saying that
it would never equal the first time and I was better off with the
memory, I didn't understand what she was talking about, but I
trusted her.
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We joined the boys who were hanging out in front of the
Aloha Center and headed in the direction of the dorms, as it had
gotten late and it was almost curfew. Kevin, who was very
stoned, a quiet stoned, hovered, never taking his eyes off me. I
was doing my share of staring at him and Liz decided it was a
perfect opportunity for Kevin to have his chance with me. She
made up some story to get something with Frank and Alan. She
turned to Kevin and said, "Take care of her now."
"You can count on that," Kevin said, his voice husky and
gravelly from the pot. I wasn't even starting to come down off
the buzz, so clean was my blood and so pure was the pokilolo we
had smoked. Kevin took me to the grass area between the Hales
where the monstrous Banyan tree lived. I loved that tree. It
was huge, monolithic, and completely cool. I put my arms around
the tree, giving it a big hug. Kevin sat me down on the lawn,
the lights coming faintly from the dorm room windows. I had
become nervous without Liz in sight and started babbling, unable
to control my tongue. I was embarrassed by his silence, by his
constant gaze.
"Say something, Kev," I pleaded. "You look like a Buddha
statue." I was about to experience my third photo. He reached
over and put his hand on my mouth, effectively shutting me up. I
caught my breath. The sensations running through my cheek were
unbelievable. Just his finger tips over my mouth, brushing my
cheek caused a riot in my blood, sending me to a place I'd never
been before. The thought passed through my.mind that nothing in
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my entire life could ever feel quite so exquisite as his fingers
on my cheeks. I was wrong. He leaned forward and kissed me.
Oh, sweet delight! Sweet lips! Kiss me forever! It was soft
and powerful, his hands cradling my face, his lips crushed
against mine. I wrapped my arms around him, locking us together,
I finally leaned back and remembered air. I was breathing hard
and not from lack of breath. I looked at him and really saw him
for the first time. Saw his brown eyes, his thick, dark eye
brows, the pupils small and dark.
I grabbed my hand up, for it didn't feel connected to me,
and traced the outline of his eyebrows, his cheek bones, his
lips. My finger tips tingled, my scalp tingled, my spine
tingled. I was aware of every movement, every shift of breeze,
every drop of light rain that fell on my head. The whole world
stopped and I got off, for half a minute. And in that half a
minute the joy of kissing Kevin on the wet lawn of the BYU girl's
Hales in Hawaii was the best thing about being human, about being
alive. He kissed me again, and kept on kissing me, both of us
getting hot and heavy in the cool night, shivering with plea
sure. We probably would have ripped each other's clothes off if
Liz hadn't come up and literally dragged me away. I hated her.
But after two minutes in our room, I forgot about Kevin and
started laughing about the whole thing.
What a night. What a drug. Liz told me the first half a
dozen times you get high are great, but that after that your body
builds up an immunity to it so you.have to smoke ever greater
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amounts to get just half the effect. I had to believe her, not
knowing anything to the contrary. My life that night was a joy
and a delight and I regretted all those times I'd been in Waikiki
with Liz and I'd refused to get high with her. I vowed to make
up for it in the times to come. During that night, I must have
told her a hundred times what a great kisser Kevin was. Couldn't
wait to see him again. I bounced around the room while Liz just
laughed. "Wait and see how you feel in the morning. Princess,
before you go off and have his baby," she said.
Well, I wasn't sure I wanted Kev's baby the next morning,
but I was convinced that there was a tangible "thing" between him
and me. We started walking to class together, sitting next to
each other at lunch and dinner. On a campus as small as BYU it
is easy to become an "item" which we quickly were. I didn't
mind. Kev was cute, and after all, I hadn't dated anyone that
semester and it was high time I tried to forget about Darren.
Kevin, for his part, was extremely affectionate. I was
flattered, but had it in perspective. I knew we had a long way
to go before he could really replace Darren.
With the fiascos of the two previous weekends still fresh in
our minds, Liz decided we deserved a weekend in Waikiki complete
with our own room. I didn't know she had planned something
special for me - I just thought we were going in to see how long
we could remain high. Liz got a hold of a dime bag for us from
Frank. That made about ten fat joints - should do for the
weekend we thought.
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Natalie and Carolyn joined us that first day, busing it into
town and getting a room at The Pink Hotel. That wasn't the name
of it - I'm sure it was an Outrigger of some kind, since they own
about a zillion hotels in Waikiki, but this place was pink from
roof to ground, so we called it the Pink Hotel. It was very
different from the "Pink Palace" down on the beach - that was the
Royal Hawaiian and a very ritzy place indeed. Our hotel was a
sleazy, ugly place where the hookers would take their Johns and
students got reduced rates. It was rundown and crawling with
geckos and cockroaches. We had geckos in our room at BYU all the
time, but they were cute; their little webbed feet with giant
suckers on the end allowed them to scamper everywhere. And they
were great because they ate the spiders and bugs that infested
our room. But the cockroaches were gross. I hated them. I
never got used to the two and three inch lengths, sometimes more,
that those sick bugs grew to. I mean, there's enough of them in
Hawaii, especially the country-side, that you do develop a
certain tolerance, but when you rent a hotel room in Waikiki, you
expected things to be different. Not at the Pink Hotel.
"Where'd you learn to roll a joint, Jessica?" Carolyn asked.
I smiled at Liz.
"Oh, just something I picked up," I replied, relishing the
secret Liz and I had kept all week. Natalie lit the joint and
took a drag,
"I thought you were straight," Natalie said, passing the
joint to Liz,
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"I was until last weekend. Let me have some," I said. Liz
went to the freezer and extracted a glass she'd put in there a
half hour earlier.
"Just be patient. I'm going to show you something so your
throat won't hurt anymore," Liz said. I had complained bitterly
about the harshness of the smoke going in. She took a straw and
put one end in her mouth. The other end was just above the
burning end of the joint. She pointed the joint into the glass
and blew, sending a stream of smoke into the bottom of the glass
where it swirled around in circles. She handed me the glass.
"Drink up. Princess." I took the glass and swallowed the smoke
as if it were a liquid, and sure enough, it didn't hurt going
down.
"That's too cool," I exclaimed after I'd finally exhaled.
"Where'd you learn that?" Nat asked.
"From my sister," Liz said.
"Where else?" I added, knowing Liz learned a ton from
Arlene. We spent another half hour doing this trick and the one
Kevin had shown me before we were all thoroughly stoned. I can't
remember a thing we talked about - all I remember is laughing.
Laughing so hard I thought I would suffocate from lack of air.
Carolyn showed us her walk, the one she did when she won her Miss
BYU title, and had us all in stitches. Nat just sat there and
swore at everything, the cockroaches, the geckos, the tourists in
the street below in that Australian accent of hers which made it
all sound fun rather than nasty. Finally, Liz turned to me.
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"We have to go now. Princess," Liz said, all mysterious-
like .
"Go where?" I asked, not really caring.
"I have a surprise for you. Now, get up and get dressed.
Wear your red and black dress, okay?" I slowly got up and
dressed, giggling with Nat and Carolyn the whole time. We agreed
to meet back at the hotel before going out dancing that night. I
was stoned out of my mind, but I recall walking down Kuhio
Street. Along the street there were restaurants with tiki lights
lining the entrances. I wanted to touch the bright flames, but
Liz slapped my hand away. I tried to be the serious student for
a few moments, then found myself laughing again, listening to the
Japanese tourists pass, chattering away like monkeys in that
bizarre language of theirs.
"Ha-roe," I screamed at a passing family of dark-haired,
slant-eyed people. They bowed and mumbled, konban wa back at me.
"Hey, it works, Gizi Ko ba wa," I yelled after them.
"Come on, Jess, people are staring," Liz whispered.
"Since when did you care when people stare?" I asked. Liz
had slipped into that paranoid state that I had yet to
experience,
"Just be cool, okay?" she intoned. Not wanting to make her
mad, I did my best to calm down. I didn't know it at the time,
but she had met this waiter the week before who had invited her
to dinner at Nick's Fishmarket, an expensive restaurant in the
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west end of Waikiki, the kind of place we could never have
afforded to go to on our own.
It seemed like a million years before we got to Nick's. My
high heels had connected with every crack and bump in the side
walk and I was tired of tripping. The voices that surrounded me
started sounding the same, like there was just one great voice
reaching into the night. The neon signs that pulsated from every
ABC mini-store sent my vision ricocheting everywhere. By the time
we got to the restaurant, I was on overload. I just wanted
somewhere quiet to sit and deal with life. Tommy, the waiter,
who appeared to me as a blur with sandy blond hair, led us down
the dark, fish tank-filled corridor and seated us in a corner.
The booths were high backed and round so we were assured maximum
privacy. He brought a glass of wine for Liz which I tasted and
immediately despised. Liz laughed and put on her best English
accent.
"It's a bit of an acquired taste, really." Tommy laughed and
google-eyed Liz. I couldn't tell if Liz was yanking his chain or
if she was really attracted to him. Didn't matter to me one way
or the other. He brought us an appetizer, a shrimp/crab/oyster
cocktail. I'd never tried oysters and wondered if that saying
about one's sexual prowess being increased was true. Tommy
brought us a New England clam chowder next, followed by a baby
shrimp salad. The main course consisted of a huge basket filled
with all seafood : shrimp. King Crab, finger lobster, scallops,
clams, and mahi mahi. "Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to
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you, happy birthday, dear Princess, happy birthday to you," Liz
sang softly.
"It's a little late for my birthday," I said.
"Yeah, but this is the eighteenth birthday I've always
wanted to give you," Liz said grabbing for a lobster finger. I
slapped her hand away.
"Well, if it's my birthday then I get the lobster," I said
smugly. She was tiffed, but sat back, not taking it. I smiled,
having won my victory, then proceeded to split the lobster in
two, giving her half. Tommy kept coming over and bothering us,
at least he bothered me, constantly asking Liz where she was
going to be later that night. I mean. I'm so sure, as if she
were going to go off with him or something. For dessert we had
Baked Alaska. Simply heavenly. I don't know if Tommy had meant
he was going to take Liz out to dinner or if he'd meant for her
to come in like she did, but in either case, we didn't pay for a
thing. We just thanked him, stumbled our way back down the dark
entrance hall and left, after promising to meet him at Spats
later.
I was starting to come down off the buzz, as it had been
nearly four hours since we'd gotten stoned. We walked quickly
back to the Pink Hotel where Liz quickly revived me. After half
a joint, I was raring to go. Carolyn and Natalie had grown tired
of waiting for us and had left to go to Spats. We changed and
caught up with them.
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"But you can't make me buy a two drink minimum. I'm Mormon
and I don't drink!" I complained to the man at the entrance of
Spats.
"Sorry, you'll have to buy soft drinks then."
"So why charge me the same rate as the others?" I
challenged. Liz pinched me hard and I dug in my pocket for some
money. I hated paying cover charges.
"You got to lighten' up, Jess. You're gonna get us in
trouble if you don't watch out," Liz warned me as we made our way
to the dance floor.
"You'll take care of me," I smiled back. The colored lights
that circled the ceiling around the perimeter of the dance floor
glowed with unearthly clarity. I started dancing by myself out
there, watching the lights chase each other in a big square.
"Hey, look who showed up," Liz said to me, I don't know how
much later. It was Jack and Kari. They made their way to the
dance floor.
"Hi, you guys. Jess, are you stoned?" Kari asked
incredulously. She hadn't been in on any of our exploits.
"Out of my fucking mind."
"Listen, we need a place to crash tonight. My dad showed up
and we can't stay at his house."
"So get a hotel room, moron," I snapped back.
"We can't afford one," Jack said simply.
"Oh, I'll bet you could, you just don't want to." I held no
love for Jack and wasn't about to make his life any easier. They
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ended up talking Carolyn into giving up her bed for them. What a
sucker. Liz and I stayed out on the dance floor for hours. At
one point in the night, the dee jay started playing the Stripper
Song. I strutted around the parquet floor, flipping my shoes
off, taking my nylons off. There were cat calls from the side
lines and I got excited by the applause.
"Take it off, sister ! Show it all!" I started undoing the
buttons on the back of my dress when Liz came bursting through a
couple of men and roughly grabbed my arm.
"Show's over, boys," she said, pulling me off the floor.
"What'd ya do that for, Giz?" I asked innocently. Liz
rolled her eyes at me and sat me in a booth.
"You're just a little out of control here, girl. Stay here.
I'll be right back. I sat and pouted for a minute, my head a
fuzzy rush of air and sound.
"Well, if it isn't the sexiest girl in Hawaii," a deep voice
spoke into my ear. I turned around and it was Kevin.
"Kev! I didn't know you guys were coming into town this
weekend."
"Neither did we 'till we got here." I was ever so happy to
see Kevin. He put an arm around me and I snuggled up to him. I
closed my eyes for just a second, relaxing in the warmth of his
hold.
"Guess it's time we hit it," I heard Liz say. I came awake.
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"I don't want to go. Kevin just got here." I looked around
and Bret, Alan, and Frank were all there too, looking mighty
stoned.
"You've been asleep for five minutes. Let's go." I grinned
sheepishly at Kevin who just kissed my cheek.
"We're gonna crash on your floor if you don't mind," Kevin
said, guiding me to the door. Mind? I could barely focus on
where I was stepping to mind much of anything. The constant
stoned state had taken its toll. Back at the Pink Hotel I
crawled into bed and fell asleep immediately. I woke sometime
later and found Kevin by my side with his arms around me. My
dress was off and I wore my blue tee-shirt, although for the life
of me I don't remember changing. Kevin was bare-chested, just in
his shorts. At first I was scared, not knowing if something had
happened between us or what. But then I just let myself fall
asleep again, snuggled up with Kevin.
It wasn't until the morning that I realized what had
happened the night before. And it scared the hell out of me. I
mean, I had nearly stripped in a nightclub, and here I lay in
Kevin's arms, having spent the night with him. What was
happening to me, anyway?
"Lazy bones, get out of bed," Liz yelled at me from across
the room. I wanted to run to her, hide behind her smile and
laugh. Kevin smiled as he tripped off to the bathroom. I had
never felt so crummy in my life. My throat was raw from all the
smoking, my arms and legs felt detached and heavy. I could
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barely keep my eyes open, so red and puffy were they. I didn't
like the after effects of being stoned - the awful dragging and
weariness. Oh, getting high was fun enough, but coming down was
a bummer. And to make things worse, everything that happened
when I was high was unreal, like that kiss with Kevin, and I
couldn't trust my own feelings anymore. I loved being stoned with
Liz; she was great fun to be around with her incessant laughter
and boisterous manner, but I was unprepared for the other side of
pot, the side that drags you down.
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THE DARK SIDE
Liz and I had some joints left over from the weekend, and we
went down to our "tree cave" on the beach almost every night to
smoke. I really didn't want to, but since I was officially
inducted into her world, I could hardly say no. I was behind in
school and I was worried I would never catch up. Of course, all
those feelings would disappear once I was high, and then I
wouldn't care anymore. Pot made the world fuzzy and warm; a
place to relax and enjoy oneself. She and I would discuss our
friendship and how much we meant to each other. I had never felt
so close to another human being before.
It was during one of these sessions that I confessed to Liz
my budding interest in sleeping with Kevin.
"He keeps asking me when I'm gonna come spend the night with
him again, you know like in town."
"But he's not talking about cuddling up for the night, is
he?" I shook my head.
"I'm sure he's got more on his mind," I admitted sheepishly.
"So, what's the problem?" she asked.
"Well, I don't know if I really want to - I just said it
didn't sound so terrible."
"You're not still thinking about that Darren, are you?"
"No, I'm over him. I guess."
"Well then, you should let yourself go. Kevin is a lot
better for you than that schmuck." Liz hated Darren, hated what
I had told her about him, on some instinct that told her he
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wasn't good for me. She had said as much to me, or maybe it was
just that she was jealous of him like I was jealous of Dan. I
don't know. Anyway, when I showed interest in another guy, she
was all for it. Liz put the matter into a light of adventure and
sneakiness, making the whole event a game - I could hardly
resist. We discussed the details as we walked back to our dorm
room.
"He told me the Kelikis are gone this weekend." Kevin lived
off campus in a house right next to Hokilau Beach. The owners
were megaMormons who liked to take in male borders during the
school year thinking they were a good influence on the boys.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. Kevin roomed
with Bret and with Alan and Frank just down the hall, well, it
was a wild house. But still, to go there and spend the night was
off-limits to girls. The owners. Brother and Sister Keliki,
would turn in any young man they found breaking the rules and
their rules were as strict as those on campus. The only
advantage of living there was that it was right on the water.
"So, let's do this thing," Liz encouraged.
"Yeah, but how would we get there? I don't want to walk all
the way in the middle of the night."
"We could roller skate."
"Only you have skates, you dope. You're smoking too much of
the crazy weed, Giz."
"What about LuAnn's cruiser..." Liz smiled slyly.
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"You know she values that more than her life," I said. Liz
nodded, laughing. "It would be awfully fun to see the expression
on her face when she finds it missing."
"Now you've got the picture."
Funny thing about being stoned, plans seem ridiculously
complicated and grand. We must have spent an hour deciding when
we would go, and which route we would take. Finally, near
midnight, we set out on the adventure. Liz was going with me to
make sure I got down there okay, and boy was I glad to have her
company. I was just beginning to come down off the buzz and I
probably would have backed out if I'd been on my own.
We biked-skated west off campus, through the TVA grounds.
It was amazingly silent for a place that's usually crawling with
little kids screaming at the tops of their lungs. Of course, it
was midnight - that could have had something to do with it. By
going through the side like that, we avoided the front security
gate. I rode the bike along the dark, bumpy Naniloa Loop,
pulling Liz on her skates. We were gloating over the terror it
would strike into LuAnn's heart, her cruiser gone and all. I
wasn't thinking about Kevin or the night to come; I was fully
absorbed by impressing Liz with how adventurous and daring I was.
We got down to Hokilau and hid the bike behind some bougain
villea near the house. Even though I knew Bother and Sister
Keliki were away that weekend and that there would be no trouble
about me coming over, I still couldn't just go up to the door and
knock in the middle of the night. There were several boys on the
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first floor that were returned missionaries, full on Peter
Priesthood types. I really hate those kind of guys, the ones
that sit in judgement of you if you break any little rule just
because they've been through the Temple and have served a mission
and think they have some intimate connection with God or some
thing. They make me sick.
Kevin lived on the second floor, in a room that faced the
beach. There was a lattice of wrought iron clinging to the side
of the house. It was covered with Morning Glory and I hesitated
to smash all the pretty little flowers as I climbed up it. Liz
was below, encouraging me. The surf was crashing loudly in my
ears, the rush of adrenaline making me feel slightly sick to my
stomach. I waved to her as I got on the balcony and she waved
back. This gave me courage as I tapped on the window. Seemed
like four hours later I saw Kevin get up from bed and come to the
window.
"Here I am," I said as he opened the window, giggling at the
astonished look on his face. I ran back to the ledge of the
balcony and gave Liz a thumbs up sign. She turned and slowly
made her way back to the access way, clumsy in her roller skates.
"Jessica?" Kevin said. "What are you doing here?" he
asked. I watched as Liz disappeared then turned back to Kevin,
disheveled and silly-looking in his blue-stripped boxers.
"You asked me to come, don't you remember?" I said, knowing
full well he knew that already.
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"Yeah, but you said you didn't want to come over," he
argued. I shrugged, shivering in the cool night air and wind
coming directly off the ocean.
"So, I changed my mind," I said peevishly. The same feeling
I'd had when Liz and Kari had left me in the disco with Glen was
descending over me once again. I wasn't scared of Kevin like I
had been of Glen, but still, I was nervous.
"Well, come on in here," Kevin said, opening the window
wide. I crawled in with his help and stood in the middle of
their messy room. Kevin put up his finger to say 'just a minute'
as he went over to the sleeping form of Bret. He whispered
something to him and Bret got up, reluctantly, grabbed a pillow
and blanket and left the room. I stood there thinking of what
the heck I was going to do then, when Kevin came back over from
locking the door and stood there, smiling. He didn't make a
move, probably not sure what to do himself. I was coming down
off my high and the room was sort of swimming in and out of
focus. Finally, he took my hand and we both kind of moved to the
bed and got under the covers.
Poor Kevin. He had been after me for so long he became
flustered and clumsy. He shifted to lay on his side and caught
my long hair under his shoulder. I cried out in pain and he
spent about ten minutes apologizing. It didn't hurt all that
much, but still, it wasn't exactly romantic either. He struggled
to get his arm underneath me, so he could cradle me, but with
each move, he seemed to get us in an even stranger position,
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facing any way but at each other. Finally, we were side by side
and the moment came. He kissed me. Ugh! I thought. What kind
of kiss was this? His tongue was everywhere at once, licking my
face like he was a dog or something. And his teeth clanked
against mine, his mouth having become a huge, gaping hole. I
wanted to wipe my mouth off with the back of my hand, but I
didn't dare. Kevin was so into it. I wasn't in the least turned
on by any of that, not even the danger aspect of the whole night.
"God, this is so great, this is so great," Kevin kept
repeating.
"You're pushing me off the bed, Kevin."
"Oh, sorry, here, come back," he said, scooting backwards.
I pulled myself to him, and it started up again, the kissing. I
was aware of the room around me, the mess of clothes and piles of
who knew what lying everywhere. The pot usually heightened a
good and euphoric feeling, but that night, all that was
heightened was my discomfort. And it hadn't even gotten bad yet.
"Jess, I want to make love to you..." God, what was I going
to do? The impulse to go to Kevin that night had died long
before, standing in the room waiting for Bret to leave. Now I
would have to go through with the horrible act...but it dawned on
me that something was wrong. Kevin wasn't pressing himself into
me, showing me how eager he was. Instead, he was rubbing himself
up and down my leg. Then it hit me: Kevin wasn't turned on
either. He was as flaccid as an old man in a nursing home.
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"Kevin, maybe we should..." I couldn't finish my sentence.
I was dying of embarrassment. He kept kissing me, his yawning
mouth covering half my face.
"I really want this, Jess. I've wanted you so long," he
whispered in my ear. I was absolutely mortified. I'd never been
with a guy who'd had any trouble with an erection, Darren had
been erect most the time I knew him, and Glen certainly hadn't
had any problem. "I need a little help," he finally admitted.
I didn't know what to do. I wanted to cry, I wanted to
smack him for putting me in such an awful position. But mostly,
I wanted to scream in hysterical laughter. "Kevin can't get it
up," was all I was thinking, over and over. Then, I felt bad for
wanting to laugh at him and felt sorry instead. Sorry for Kev,
sorry for myself, being stuck in the situation. I couldn't bear
the thought of actually touching him, not after those wet, sloppy
kisses. He took my hand and put it on his privates anyway. It
was cold and shriveled, a tiny thing all wrinkled up. I instinc
tively pulled my hand away, then thought how embarrassed Kevin
must be too, so I put my hand around his neck and kissed him.
"Kev, I just want to sleep in your arms again, like we did
in Waikiki. I feel so safe and warm in your arms," I added,
snuggling down to his chest so he wouldn't see my face and the
humiliation written all over it.
"Jess, I know I can..." but he didn't finish his thought.
"You really just want to sleep in my arms?" His eyes were
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searching mine in the dull moonlight that came through the open
window.
"I really do, Kev."
"Because, you know, I could - " I put my hand over his
mouth to quiet him. Then I nuzzled in closer.
"It's all right, Kev. This is what I want." In those brief
moments of uncertainty. I'd been saved. I wasn't going to have
sex with Kevin after all. We lay there, pretending to go to
sleep, and I listened to the sounds of the house. I could hear a
dripping faucet somewhere downstairs. A toilet flushed and the
soft padding of feet echoed sluggishly down a hall. The ocean
continued her assault on the shore, the sound so familiar it
barely registered in my head. We lay there for a long time,
faking sleep. I knew he wasn't asleep and I'm sure he knew I
wasn't, but neither of us would admit it. My high was completely
gone, and I was so tired I thought I would pass out.
Finally, two o'clock rolled around and I figured I could get
away then without too much fuss. I pretended to kind of wake up
and Kevin pretended to rouse at my movements. What a sham.
"I have to sneak back on campus before light," I said.
Kevin nodded, all grim and serious-like.
"You want to go out the front door? It'd be easier than the
lattice," Kevin offered.
"No, that's okay. Wouldn't want to get caught by any of
your Peter Priesthood roomies."
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"Well, be careful. I'll meet you for breakfast, okay?" I
nodded, and he quickly kissed me. I climbed back down the
lattice and waved to Kevin who stood on the balcony. I retrieved
the bike and couldn't peddle away fast enough to suit me. I was
almost scared of getting back onto campus, but the need to be
with Liz and tell her everything that happened was stronger than
my fear. I returned LuAnn's bike, slightly bummed at not having
had the chance to terrorize her. I was more relieved at being
home than I wanted to acknowledge.
"It's not funny, Liz!" I said as she rolled around on our
beds, laughing hysterically.
"He couldn't get it up! That's too funny," Liz chortled. I
was smiling despite myself, still feeling sorry for him.
"I'm serious, it was awful. I mean. I'm lying there next to
this guy I hardly know, about to have sex with him..." I started
crying then. Liz immediately stopped laughing and sat up.
"Hey don't cry. Princess. Nothing happened."
"Yeah, but it might have. I don't want to sleep with Kevin.
I only want to be with Darren. And he doesn't even care if I
exist anymore," I wailed.
"He's a jerk, forget him," Liz advised. But I couldn't get
his image out of my head. I kept seeing his face and what he
would look like if I told him I'd almost slept with Kevin on
purpose. Not like the night with Glen. I had gone to another
guy's house for the express reason of sleeping with him.
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"He's not a jerk, and I love him. I swear, Liz, I never
would have gone to Kevin's house tonight if I hadn't gotten
high." It all seemed so clear to me in those few seconds. The
pot was responsible for my actions - not me. "Yeah, it's the
pot. I'm never smoking that shit again." Liz shook her head,
handing me a Kleenex.
"Princess, you didn't do anything wrong..."
"But I almost did. I don't want to be a slut - " I
regretted the word almost before it was out. Liz slept around,
slept with different guys with no more feeling than having a good
time, yet I didn't think of her as a slut. But I knew that's
what it sounded like. She dropped her head, didn't say anything.
"I didn't mean..." I stopped. My tongue didn't belong to me that
night. It was someone else talking. "See, I can't even keep my
thoughts straight anymore. Liz, you got to help me stop."
"It's not like you're a pot-head, Jessica. It's no big
deal, really. Just don't smoke anymore." She straightened out
the covers, crawling back into bed. I knew she was hurt by my
remark, and I also knew if I said one more word even about it,
she would be more mad. I couldn't seem to do anything right.
"Just go to sleep. Everything will be better tomorrow," she
said, flipping out her light.
"Yeah, but I'm serious about the pot. That crazy weed has
messed up my life."
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The next morning Kevin found me at the cafeteria. I was
alone, as Liz had just left for her class. Nothing had been said
about the incidents of the night before except how much fun we
missed not being able to see LuAnn go crazy over her missing
bike.
"Jess, I thought you were gonna meet me," Kevin said,
sitting down. I gulped down the last of my milk.
"Well, I had some stuff I got to do this morning..." I said
lamely. We both knew it was a lie.
"Look, I know last night was bad - " he started.
"We don't have to talk about it, Kevin. Last night was last
night."
"Yeah, but I know that will never happen again, not if you
give me another chance," he whispered, leaning in close. I could
smell the Crest toothpaste still lingering on his breath and
wondered how long he'd rehearsed this speech.
"It's not that, Kev. I just think maybe we should be
friends."
Friends? You coming over last night was more than just
friends..."
"Yeah, but I was wrong. I was stoned and I really didn't
know what I was doing - "
"It's because I couldn't do it, isn't it? I swear it won't
happen again, Jess. You gotta believe me. You just caught me
off-guard - "
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"Kevin, it's not you. It's me. And there's this guy at
home..." He never let me finish the thought, getting up and
storming out the door. I felt bad, sitting there, watching his
tray of uneaten food get cold. I had meant what I said to Kevin;
it really wasn't him. I'd gone out of control, and when I
returned to my senses I was angry with myself for even getting
close to repeating what had happened with Glen. What I really
wanted was to be back with Darren, back in his and only his arms.
I was still in love with him.
I started thinking about Darren again, thinking about how it
had been in the beginning for us. It had been over two years
since we'd met at the start of our junior year. For me, it was
an instantaneous desire, but Darren had a girlfriend he'd left
back in Guam. It took me a few weeks to convince him, and by
Christmas we were in love. It was a sweet romance - the kind
where he would walk me home from school and we'd spend hours on
the phone talking about whatever we could, just to stay on the
line. Sometimes he would even sing the alphabet song just to keep
talking to me. I couldn't have been more happy.
That spring we took SCUBA lessons at school, discovering a
mutual love of the ocean. The guys who taught it were all young,
in their early twenties, and had arranged a trip once a summer to
go down to Cabo San Lucas in Mexico to dive. In truth, very
little diving went on. Most the kids went to drink and you can't
drink and dive. It cost me all my savings from working as a
hostess in the Happy Buddha restaurant across from my high
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school, but I thought it was worth it. I loved diving and I
loved the ocean, but more importantly, I loved Darren and it was
a chance for him and me to be alone together for a whole week.
We'd done some pretty heavy petting and had always been
frustrated about having to go home at night. Not that we went on
this Mexico trip thinking, "Yeah, we can have sex down there." I
mean, we were both active in church. He'was in the Teacher's
quorum, that's a group of guys the same age who hold the Pries
thood - it's just before they become Elders. And I was a secre
tary in the women's equivalent of a Teacher - Miamaids - and I
believed all the teachings of the gospel. While neither one of
us had any intention of having sex with each other, both believ
ing that premarital sex was wrong, we still wanted to be able to
sleep in each other's arms the whole night through.
Mexico was perfect. It was blazing hot, the middle of July,
and everything shimmered with heat all day long. Our group,
about fifty kids in all, was camping on the beach not twenty
yards from the ocean. I thought to myself that there was no more
beautiful place in the world than that grungy little town of
Cabo. I was never more in love as we spent all our hours
together, swimming or snorkeling, or just walking down the beach.
I hadn't expected any more to come of that week than had
already gone on between us. I mean sexually, that is. In fact,
for five of the six nights, nothing did go on past the innocent
making out that we'd been doing for nearly a year. I don't know
what finally triggered Darren, maybe it was the isolation from
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our normal restraints, or maybe the natural inclination of a man
to want sex, or maybe it was the only way he could express the
depth of his own feelings; whatever it was, that last night in
Cabo, Darren made love to me. I hate to trivialize such an
important event with mere words, things like "never before had
the heavens and the earth moved so," and stuff like that, but I
must say that for me, it was and always will be the most beauti
ful moment in my life. The one flash of being so pure and real
that all other human experiences drown before it. A time and
place where two people met in a complete and total oneness of
mind and heart and body - a place where only unicorns could
possibly live. It sounds so stupid to say, I know, but I can't
help what I felt then. Darren made love to me, then held me, and
with tears streaming down his face told me he would love me
forever.
We both knew that we had broken one of the primary dictates
of our religion - that of premarital sex. It wasn't exactly
breaking a commandment - which dealt with adultery and such, but
still, it was ingrained in us that what we had done was wrong
outside the bonds of holy matrimony. But, see, I didn't look at
it like that. Even though I believed sex was sacred, I didn't
think what Darren and I had done was wrong. I couldn't accept
that something so beautiful and loving could be considered bad.
I thought about Marty then and what she'd gone through for love,
and I had a sudden new understanding for her. I believed I was
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going to marry Darren and that what we'd done was merely an
expression of love, not lust.
But like I'd told Liz and Kari that first weekend, Darren
freaked out. He went through his circular morality of sometimes
wanting sex constantly, sometimes not even holding my hand. We
went back and forth, breaking up and getting back together for a
year. And, although we were officially "broken up," I still had
all these feelings for him.
After that night with Kevin, after I came down off the high
and could think rationally again, I knew that it was Darren I
wanted to be with more than anyone else in the world. I had been
angry with him at the beginning of the semester, but after being
with Kevin, almost being with him, I knew there was no other man
for me. I wanted to be Darren's wife. I thought about how much
I loved him and wanted to be with him. How much I wanted to have
his son. I kept thinking if he knew everything about me, all the
lying, the cheating, the petty theft, well I didn't think he
would accept it. Especially the part about Glen and Kevin. I
really tried during those few months to get him out of my mind,
to forget about him and try to be with someone else. But I
couldn't. Even that wonderful first kiss with Kevin didn't break
the cord that sent me back to Darren every time. It wasn't the
same as the gut-level feeling I had for Darren. No one made me
ache to have him inside me like he did.
It was strange, I was doing all this heavy thinking about
him, and as if he was being telepathic or something, Darren
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called. It was only a week and a half from Christmas break and
he wanted to know if I was going home for the holidays.
"Why do you care?" I asked peevishly, wary even in my
excitement.
"I miss you, Jess. It hasn't been the same without you."
"So? Why haven't you written or something?"
"You know how bad I am with letters," he pleaded. I wasn't
making it easy for him.
"Well, yeah. I'm coming home." I stated, then waited for him
to say something.
"Can I see you?" he finally asked.
"I don't know, I mean, the last time we talked you said you
never wanted to see me again."
"Yeah, I know, but everything's different now. I've gone
back to church and I know that what you went through was pretty
rough..." Rough? I thought. He hadn't heard rough. Darren was
talking about the sort-of night I'd had in the spring with that
guy - he didn't have a clue as to what had gone on during the
semester.
"A lot has happened to me since then, Darren," I started.
"I know, and I want to hear all about it when you get here.
I still love you, Jess." At those words I stopped breathing and
remembered all the good and wonderful things about our relation
ship. Funny how just five words can change everything.
"I still love you, too." There were tears in my eyes, but
they weren't from happiness although I felt more happy at that
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moment than I had in months. A different kind of happiness than
what Liz and I shared. The tears were from a shame I felt
beginning to stir in me, a shame at my own behavior during the
semester.
"...but you gotta help me, Jess."
"What?"
"I need help to be good. I, we, can’t have sex any more.
Don't get me wrong, I still want to, but I can't keep doing that
if I want to go on a mission next year. Besides not being able
to go through the Temple someday..." I couldn't tell if he was
hinting around that he wanted to get married or what. What was I
supposed to do? I wanted to make love to him more than anything,
but I knew I could do without it. I mean. I'd gone 17 years
without sex before I was with him. I guess what I really wanted
was the closeness that came out of it. I mean, if we were
married it would be no problem, but that's a stupid reason to get
married. I loved Darren. I'd loved him since the first day I'd
seen him, the first morning he walked into our seminary class.
Even though I'd been in other men's arms, nobody would ever take
the place of Darren. If that was what he wanted than I would do
my very best to not become intimate with him.
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STAR CHILD
I guess it was a combination of a lot of things that sent me
running for the shelter of the church. Mostly it was fear: fear
of being swept away by the new and somewhat strange world of
drugs; fear of casual sex, or would-be casual sex; fear of a loss
of self-control. I was still feeling angry several days after
that night with Kevin. I knew nothing had happened with him, but
still. I'd gone there knowing something might and that was the
point. I thought to myself, "My God, what's happening to me? I
swore I would never drink and here I've tried alcohol. I swore
the same about smoking, yet I learned and worse still, I smoked
pot which is a drug and drugs are the worst of all. I swore
there would be no man other than Darren and here I've slept with
one, even if it wasn't what I'd wanted, and tried to sleep with
another. What the hell's the matter with me?"
After the phone call from Darren, I thought incessantly
about him. And, the more I thought about Darren and what had
been going on, the more angry I got with Liz. Now, how I made
the connection between Liz and my frustration over Darren is
something I can only guess at, not being a psychiatrist or
whatever. Liz had shown me a whole new world, a world of
manipulation, of drugs, of casual sex, of great fun and deep
friendship. It was all so mixed up inside my head that I needed a
way to straighten it out. So I began to see Liz as the cause and
culprit of all the bad things I'd done that semester.
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"We going into town this weekend?" she asked me the week
after the fiasco with Kevin.
"I don't think so, Liz. I gotta study for finals." She
eyed me curiously.
"We don't have to get high..."
"It's not that. I just feel like studying."
"Since when did you ever stay at school on a weekend to
study for a test?"
"Since now. What's the big deal?" I asked.
"It's no big deal. You've just been acting really weird
lately. You sick or something?"
"No, that's stupid." I couldn't tell her that I was scared.
That I felt like my life was approaching a crossroads and that I
knew if I kept going down that path I'd started in her company,
that Darren and I would never be together. And I wanted that
more than anything. I never said that to her, I didn't have the
courage. I just started being mean in subtle ways like
deliberately laughing loud and long with another girl on floor
when I was sure Liz could hear. She was counting the seconds
until she could go back to Dan and that made me even more mad.
It was a strange few days there, me building an anger and resent
ment against the only person who had stood by me through every
thing. She kept after me, wanting to know what was wrong and why
was I being such a bitch. I wanted to scream in her face that
everything was wrong, it was just all wrong, but even then I knew
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I hadn't the words to make her understand the turmoil that was
building up inside me.
These feelings came to a head the second week in December
with less than a week to go before Christmas vacation. In the
church everyone takes a part in helping out by filling various
positions like the Bishop or being a seminary teacher like Marty,
You stay in that position for a few years, then you get released
and called to a new position. Everyone holds at least one
position, some people have two or three. The one calling that
all are given is Home Teaching. You're paired up with another
member and given two or three families (or single people) to
visit each month and check on, help out if they need it, and pass
along a spiritual message each time. In college they are assigned
as well, and one of my visiting teachers was a girl named Karen
Jordan whom I'd seen maybe twice the whole semester. She gave me
a Christmas gift, which I felt bad taking since I didn't have
anything for her. It was a book called Star Child and I wasn't
even going to read it at all except a feeling of guilt prompted
me to, as she was anxious to know how I liked it.
The story centered around a couple, Marie and Chuck, who
were partners in the pre-life and made promises about finding
each other and leading the life they knew they should. Chuck
also had a friend named Larry who was to go to a family that
wasn't Mormon and he was given the test of finding his way back
to the gospel. Chuck also promised Larry he would find him and
teach him about the church. On earth. Chuck.turned away from the
160
church, even though his dad was a Stake President, and although
he met and dated Marie, he wasn't living his life according to
the teachings of the church. Larry kept searching for some
meaning in his life, never satisfied with the religions he
studied. Chuck wanted Marie to marry him, but she knew she
couldn't until he loved the gospel for what it was and what he
could be within it. Eventually Chuck did find his way back and
went on a mission. It was while there that Chuck encountered
Larry and taught him the gospel. The weird thing was that in
pre-life, these friends had studied the constellations and had
"found" one in which they fancied a unicorn with a little boy on
its back. They called it the Star Child, and for them, it meant
the "best that's in us, the best we can be." It was this
connection to the stars that was their special signal between
them, and it was what drew Larry to Chuck, and subsequently, to
the church. I was already stuck on unicorns myself and discovered
that they are the symbol of Ephraim, the messenger of the gospel.
The night I read it, my life changed. I started reading in
the late afternoon and found I couldn't put the book down. I was
alone in our room, Liz off with Kari on one of her still more
rare appearances. I couldn't put the book away from me, not even
for dinner. I sat and read it straight through the night,
finishing at five in the morning. The words, the story, the pain
this boy suffered all bunched up together and touched me deep
inside, and I knew, well. I'm not exactly sure what I knew,
except that I was flushed and sweating and scared. I mean, I
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didn't get any stunning revelations that God exists, or anything
at all directly concerning the gospel. I just got a feeling, an
overwhelming desire to change, to be better. To be worthy to go
through the Temple with Darren.
During the last hour I'd been reading the book, crying the
whole time, I felt a need to be outside, to look up at the stars.
To wonder. To think. To pray. Liz was asleep, turning rest
lessly, as I quietly left the room. I went downstairs, out into
the darkness of the courtyard. It was still, no wind blowing
though the tall palms that grace the perimeter. The night was
just on the edge of beginning to fade, a lightening of the
darkness on the eastern horizon.
I fell to my knees, my heart wrenched open, and I called out
to God. I repented for everything I'd done, feeling a sorrow
that made me sob aloud. I hated myself. Hated myself for all my
sins. For the lying, for the cheating, for getting high, for
fooling around with guys - all except Darren I thought, but even
that I felt bad about in a way, because it had almost destroyed
our relationship. I felt a pang of guilt because it was outside
the bonds of marriage, still not regretting being with him, only
knowing that if we wanted to be together forever and go through
the Temple, we'd have to control ourselves. I knelt there, in
the early morning dew and felt a rush of peace descending on me.
I had always been told that when the spirit was with you, a
burning feeling in your chest was felt, and a peace overcame you.
I didn't feel a burning, but the peace was real enough. I
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couldn't believe it was really happening to me. I'd never been
overtly religious growing up. I'd only gotten up once in my life
to bear my testimony, stating my belief in God, his Son, Jesus
Christ, and in the Holy Ghost, that I believed the Church of
Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints to be the one true church,
restored to earth by the prophet Joseph Smith. I wasn't much for
that kind of show, maybe because I'd never honestly felt it. But
that night I reached down deep in my soul and dug up a peace so
serene, so literal, I thought it could only come from God. I
wanted to call up my Bishop right then and repent to him, like I
had to God, but since it was only five in the morning, I decided
to wait.
I felt such a love fill me, for Liz, for her pain and the
anger she had towards the church. I knew it wasn't the church
she was angry with, only her parents. I woke her up.
"Liz, the most incredible thing has happened to me," I
started. Liz roused a little, looking ay me through half closed
eyes «
"What are you talking about? What time is it?"
"It's early, I know, but I want to talk to you." I guess
she sensed the energy flowing through me and sat up, rubbing her
eyes open.
"What's goin' on, Jess?"
"I just read that book. Star Child, and I know now that what
I've been doing is wrong, all wrong. I've been leading a life
that isn't going to bring me eternal happiness. That's the
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important thing. And if Darren and I are really meant to be
together, then I have to be good, to be with him." I looked
expectantly at Liz who just stared back at me.
"Yeah..."
"Don't you see? I have to change, I have to be the best I
can," I said. I don't think it was just because she was tired
that she didn't understand what was happening to me. She lay
back down, pulling the sheets up under her chin.
"I'm glad for you, really, Jess, but it's five in the
morning and I have a class at eight. If you want to change your
whole life, that's great. But I need to get some sleep."
"You'll help me won't you? You'll help me change?"
"If that's what you really want. I'll back you a hundred
percent. I won't let you get sidetracked into pot, or guys if
you think that's what's making you unhappy."
"So, you'll change with me then..." She sat up again,
holding her hands up for me to stop.
"I didn't say that, Jess. I'm all for this revolution of
yours, but I'm not that unhappy with my life. I like who I am."
She lay down again and I felt suddenly drained of energy. I was
tired, too.
In the late morning when I woke, I didn't have the same
sweet peace of the night before. I felt only a terror at the
thought of having to change every little detail of my life. It
seemed overpowering, impossible even. I almost backed out of the
whole idea, gave up at the tremendous odds against me. I decided
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that before I went to my Bishop to confess everything, I would
talk to the missionaries. There were always missionaries in Laie
because of the Temple and the large number of visitors that came
through there. I knew two. Elder Johnson and Elder Wright who
were way cool. They were straight and everything, being on their
missions and all, but they weren't self-righteous about it. I
went over to the mission house and found them. We sat out on the
grass in front, under a plumeria tree and I poured out everything
to them. My fears of having to change everything and my inability
to do it right. About my concern that I would have to wait a
whole year before Darren could take me through the Temple if I
went to my Bishop and repented. That seemed really important to
me because if Darren was the one and we were supposed to be
together, then I wanted to marry him soon, in the summer maybe.
"You don't have to become a whole new person tomorrow,"
Elder Johnson said.
"That's right. You take repentance one step at a time. And
you're taking the right step by going to your Bishop," Elder
Wright concurred. I looked gratefully at them, relieved and
excited about the coming challenge, knowing I had a way of
gaining back an inner balance. I loved Jesus and I had accepted
him as my personal Savior and I knew that I wasn't being the
person I should be. The missionaries gave me a blessing, laying
their hands on my head after anointing it with consecrated oil.
Elder Johnson spoke.
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"Dear Father in Heaven, please bless Jessica. Give her the
strength and guidance she needs to see her through this trying
time in her life. Bless her with the courage to live up to the
example your Son set for us. Help her to recognize her sins and
be able to admit all of them to herself. We already know she
feels sorrow for these sins which is the second step of
repentance. Please help her to forsake her sins and stop doing
the things that can only bring her unhappiness. Show her the way
to confess her sins freely to the proper authority, and not hide
any act from herself or you. Lord. Let her remember your words,
'I, the Lord, forgive sins, and am merciful unto those who
confess their sins with humble hearts.' We ask these things
humbly in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen." A weight was lifted
from my shoulders. It was a moment I'll never forget. Two young
men releasing me from the burden of guilt, speaking words of
love, help, and forgiveness.
My interview with Bishop Diamond was much the same. I
confessed my sins to him, just like I'd done with the mission
aries. I told him everything I'd done in the last year,
including Darren and my feelings of non-guilt which I was trying
to overcome. He listened with grave attention, nodding
occasionally. I knew I needed help, I knew I wanted to be good
not only for Darren and the chance to marry in the Temple, but
for me too. And for God. God knew what was in my heart. He
knew I wasn't a bad person. I'd made my mistakes and paid for
them dearly. Paid for them by almost losing the only man I'd
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ever loved. I prayed that Darren would be as understanding as
Bishop Diamond was. I figured if God could forgive me, Darren
should be able to. The bishop said that some of the things I'd
done were grave, but that because of my age and because I'd come
to him, my path back to the road of salvation would be easier.
His words reverberated through my head, "Become whole in the
sight of God." Yes, I thought, that's what I want more than
anything. I will be happy if I am whole in the sight of God.
I didn't really understand the difference between being
forgiven by God and being forgiven by myself. I still don't
quite get it, but as I left the bishop's house that day, I felt I
was on the right track, that my life had come to the crossroads
and that I'd taken the right direction. I had this burning
desire to bear my Testimony to Liz. She sat patiently while I
told her of my great love for the church, of my desire to be
good, and whole in the sight of God. She nodded and didn't say
much. I don't know what she was thinking except that maybe it
was just a phase I was going through, or, possibly, that she was
losing her best friend. Or maybe she was thinking she should be
doing the same thing I was only lacked the courage. She didn't
catch my burning spirit so I thought I better stay away from her
for awhile, be around people who held the gospel close to their
hearts.
There was a girl that lived in the next Unit over from Liz
and me named Angela Sperry. She and I had had Personal Health
together and had become quasi-friends passing notes back and
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forth during the more boring lectures. I hadn't really given her
much thought before, but suddenly I found myself gravitating
towards her. She was a Molly Mormon to be sure, but she was a
lot of fun too. She and I hung out quite a bit during those last
few days before break. It was just as well I found a new friend
with Liz being wrapped up in the thought of seeing Dan and her
sisters. I admit I was jealous even as I was the one staying
away because of this new-found goodness.
I didn't feel any different after that first day, but I made
a grand effort not to swear or take food from the cafeteria, or
gossip about people. I was even nice to Debony and Margaret.
After the miracle of that night wore off and I was living my new
life, Irbegan to wonder what happened to that feeling of peace
I'd had. I mean, I was happy, I guess, but it wasn't quite the
same. The missionaries had promised me a feeling of certainty
that I was doing the right thing and I prayed earnestly to feel
that. I kept questioning when this miraculous new feeling would
hit telling me that I was fully cured and a whole person. I
struggled hard to keep that objective in mind, that of being
whole. I was anxious about going home and showing Darren what a
new person I was.
With all the flurry of finals and packing and my new outlook
on life, I gave little thought to Liz and how I'd just shut down
on our friendship. When we parted at the airport, I felt a tug
at my heart, a fear that I would never see her again. I was
tempted to break down crying and hold her for an hour, but I
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didn’t. I just said, "Pray about it, Liz. You'll find an
answer," in reference to the unhappiness she often felt. It
didn't make me feel better to be so high and mighty with her, but
I really thought I was doing the right thing. We parted and went
to our separate planes, I boarded the 747 and thought about
Darren, about how his face would look when I told him about the
changes in me. I was scared, doubting if he would be able to see
how different I was without my saying anything. I knew I could
be strong with him at home. That there would no longer be the
temptation of premarital sex. I was a changed woman.
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HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS
Los Angeles International Airport. What a frightening
experience to disembark into a crowded, busy, loud terminal after
the peace and serenity of Laie. I guess I was more in tune with
the slow pace of Hawaii than I thought.
"Jessica! Over here!" I heard my mom crying enthusias
tically. I rushed toward them, my mom and dad, enveloping both in
a huge hug.
"You guys look great," I said, equaling my mom's enthusiasm.
"You're brown as a native," my dad said, begrudging me the
tan I had.
"That's what happens when you live on an island."
"I think she looks wonderful. Positively glowing," my mom
chimed in. Did my change of heart take an external appearance as
well? I was thrilled my mom had noticed and wondered again after
Darren. We retrieved my suitcase, and I put the plumeria leis
I'd made the night before around their necks. It was all kind of
silly and awkward, but I was very glad to see them, so I didn't
care.
My parents' house is a typical suburban four-bedroom, two
bathroom house. The family room is my favorite place to hang
out, next to the kitchen, because it has a fireplace there, and
Darren and I used to make love in front of it when we were
supposed to be in school. We also used to have Sunday night
meals there, watching the "Wonderful World of Disney" and eating
slices of cooked pastrami and cut up hotdogs with melted cheese
170
on muffins. Our housing tract was old compared to most places in
Orange County having been built in the early sixties. My parents
were the original owners, and it was the only house I'd ever
lived in.
But I wasn't thinking about those things when I went home
for Christmas last year. I only had thoughts of Darren. I had
the idea of waiting until the next day to call him, but my
impatience to see his face and get out all that had happened was
too overwhelming.
"Darren? This is Jess..."
"You're home; this is great. When can I see you?" I was
thrilled by the impatience in his own voice to see me, too. We
agreed to meet at my old elementary school just a few blocks from
my house, in order to avoid the inevitable tangle of niceties
with parents. I sat on the swing set in the upper grade's school
yard thinking about how I would react when I finally saw his
face. He snuck up on me from behind, scaring the daylights out
of me.
"Oh my gosh, I thought you were - " then I was in his arms,
holding him as tightly as he was holding me. Nothing, not the
thrill of opening night, not the kiss with Kevin the night I got
stoned, not the glory of a sail on the high seas could compare to
the happiness I felt being back in Darren's arms.
"Jess, Jess, I've missed you so much." I looked into his
brown eyes, and knew I heard the truth. But, I was ready, and I
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sat him down on the swing next to mine before he said another
word.
"There's a lot about me you don't know, Darren. And I need
to tell you," I started.
"Jeez, you sound like doom and gloom."
"Well, it sort of is. I mean, I'm not the girl I was when I
left. Worse in some ways, but a better person in the end, I
hope." I looked at him once, then launched into my whole story,
about the pot, and smoking, and beer, and the petty theft.
"Yeah, but that's not so terrible, Jess. You were just
experimenting..."
"There's more, Darren." I sighed a bit, not wanting to
darken the joy of being together again. But I knew it had to be
done, so I went on. I told him about Glen and the night in
Waikiki, and about Kevin. I started crying then, not meaning
too, but so afraid I would lose him now that he knew the truth.
He was so silent. I rushed on.
"But I repented, Darren. I found my way back. I read this
book. Star Child, and it changed my life. I went to the Bishop
and repented everything. And he said God could forgive me if I
was truly sorrowful, and I am, Darren, I really am." I was
sobbing, Darren's silence more devastating than any recrimi
nations from a bishop. It took me a minute to get myself under
control, and it was then I realized he was crying too. I found
his arms wrapped tightly around me, and he whispered in my ear.
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"It's hard to hear all that, but I knew you'd come around.
I knew you'd find the right path." It was a glorious moment to
know that he had heard it all and accepted it and still wanted to
be with me. I was so happy. I felt complete and whole.
Christmas was a flurry of activity as always. I spent the
days seeing old high school friends and telling them stories of
Hawaii. There wasn't one among them who wasn't jealous of the
fact that I went to school in Hawaii. It made BYU all the more
special in my mind. Mom and I went shopping for those inevitable
last minute gifts. I found a brass unicorn for Darren which I
knew he'd understand. I saw Darren every night. He had a job at
a local curio shop and was busy all the time, but we managed to
spend some part of every day together. We talked about our plans
to sail the South Pacific together as soon as we were married and
could afford a boat. We went down to see Dennis and his ship,
since Darren had been helping him those summers, too. Dennis was
amused at my story of the trip that almost was, and assured me I
still had a place with him when he went. I thought there could
be nothing better than just being in Darren's presence. We made
sure we never let our kisses get too passionate or that we stay
out too late.
Christmas day came and went. I was showered by gifts from
my parents, as usual. I got an Air Pop popper, the only thing
I'd actually asked for. It was a status thing at the dorms, to
have an Air Pop and be able to make popcorn any time. They got
me a raincoat, which I hated, and a clock radio and some clothes.
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My dad loved the rubberized "Brown Bag" I got him, since he
bagged his lunch every day. I got my mom a Hawaiian recipe
cookbook which she seemed to like although she would pretend to
like anything I got her just 'cause that's the way moms are.
Christmas night Darren came over and he and I exchanged gifts.
As I expected, he loved the brass unicorn and said it would have
a special place on his desk so he could wake up in the morning
and be reminded of me. I unwrapped his gift to me slowly. It
turned out to be a unicorn etched on glass that sparkled with the
colors of the rainbow when I held it up to the light.
"It's beautiful, Darren." And it was. I'd seen it hanging
in the window of the curio shop where he worked. I don't want to
sound ungrateful, but I was kinda hoping he would have gotten me
a ring. An engagement ring. But I wasn't going to push the
point, I was too happy just being with him.
The week after Christmas was slower and more relaxed. I
caught up on new releases of movies, and Darren and I spent a lot
of time just hanging out together. I called Liz to see how her
Christmas had gone and found myself surprisingly depressed,
missing her more than I thought I would. We talked for an hour,
which made my parents mad since Liz lived in Northern Calif
ornia. I didn't care; I knew I hadn't racked up any phone bills
all semester so they couldn't really say anything.
Darren and I talked about spending New Year's Eve together,
but we couldn't decide what we wanted to do. My parents had
their Rook club, the closest thing Mormons get to bridge, so they
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would be busy. We didn't really want to go to one of those mall
dances where the Church rents out an entire mall and sets up
about five areas for different kinds of bands. Thousands and
thousands of kids go to that, and we didn't want to hassle the
crowds. Actually, we both knew we wanted to do something private
and alone, but we beat around the bush for a long time. Finally,
Darren suggested we have a barbecue on the beach.
We took my father's beloved old green Dodge station wagon, a
relic from the mid-sixties, and loaded it up with firewood. We
had blankets with us, but we stopped at the store for food,
feeling more grown up getting our own stuff rather than borrowing
from our parents. Hotdogs, Ruffles potato chips, marshmallows
and root beer. A regular feast. It was terribly cold that night,
no moon overhead, so unlike the Hawaiian nights that, though they
can get cool, never get downright cold. We drove down Pacific
Coast Highway to Bolsa Chica, the only beach from Laguna to Long
Beach that had fire pits and allowed barbecuing on the sand. I
drove while Darren sat and fiddled with the car radio dials. A
song came on. Air Supply's "I'm All Out of Love." He tuned it in
and we sat, quiet, through it.
"I'm all out of love.
I'm so lost without you,
I know you were right.
Believing for so long..."
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That was the song we'd both grown attached to during the
separation right after Mexico. Darren stretched over and kissed
me softly on the cheek. I felt warm and secure.
We got to the beach and unloaded the gear. I was freezing,
huddling under the blanket for warmth while Darren built the
fire. He built it high and big so it would burn for a long time.
I sat there watching him, the light playing tricks on his nearly-
black hair.
"I love you," I said. He looked up and smiled.
"I love you too, Jess."
"I love you more than anything," I started. He stoked the
fire.
"Are you going to get mushy on me?" he asked.
"No, sorry. I didn't mean to. It's just all so perfect. I
mean, it's cold, that's not perfect, but being here together,
ushering in the New Year together...I can't think of another
place I'd rather be." I shivered under the blanket. Darren got
two hangers untwisted and made them into long skewers. We
roasted the hotdogs and listened to "The Best Of Bread" album on
his cassette player. It was the tape we were listening to when
we'd made love down in Mexico.
"What's your New Year's resolution?" I asked. Darren
guzzled the last of the root beer and sat back, thinking.
"I don't have one."
"Oh, there must be something..." I encouraged. I had hopes
he would include me in some new goal of his.
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"To get a truck. And save enough for karate lessons. I'm
getting out of practice," Darren said. I was disappointed, but
kept my mouth shut. "You got any?" he asked.
"Oh, to get straight A's, I suppose. I almost had them
except for this stupid Personal Health class. Such a waste of
time," I said, trying to be as casual as Darren. He nodded his
head as if approving my choice of goals.
"That's good. I should go to college, but the J.C.'s around
here are all so boring," he said.
"Isn't there anything else you want to happen this year?" I
coaxed. He looked at me and grinned knowing exactly what I was
asking.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll get a steady girlfriend that
doesn't run off to tropical islands," he teased. I threw a
marshmallow at him and he tackled me. We used to rough house all
the time; that's how we first became intimate with each other,
not knowing how else to approach such a delicate area. He
wrestled me to my back and sat atop me. It was a familiar
position, and my heart started racing involuntarily. I stopped
struggling and, as if on cue, he bent down and kissed me. His
lips were cold and chapped, but I didn't care. All I felt was
the warmth that spread throughout my body at his touch. He kept
on kissing me, pulling the blanket up around himself. What a
great kisser he was! Just the right amount of pressure coupled
with just the right amount of tongue. We started really getting
into it, stretching out so our bodies were locked together.
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"We shouldn't be doing this," I managed to get out between
kisses. It had been nearly three weeks since I'd had my big
turnaround, almost two weeks in Darren's company. I'd fought
down my own impulses to unbutton his shirt and feel his bare
chest with my hand, run my tongue over him, finding that crook in
his neck that would tickle him so. I hadn't acted on any of my
desires, hadn't even talked about them. I figured if you just
ignored them, they would eventually go away. But I was suddenly
faced with Darren following through on his own urges. His tongue
sought mine and I had to back myself up physically and speak
again. "Please Darren, we shouldn't be doing this."
"Doing what?" he whispered, pulling me back to him.
"You know what," I said, trying to push his arms away.
"Why not?" he asked, sticking his tongue into my ear. That
killed me when he would do that. I was almost powerless against
it. I started speaking, the words sounded like they were coming
from a million miles away.
"Because of everything I told you. Because, because I want
to be worthy to go through the Temple one day. With you. And you
know I can't resist you, if you start kissing me like this - " I
stammered out.
"Like what? Like this?" he asked, covering my mouth with
his own. His tongue darted about seeking mine, his arms pulling
me down underneath him. I surrendered. I wanted nothing more
than to be in his arms, completely his; if that's what he wanted,
well, I was the last person on earth to say no. His hands cupped
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my cheeks as he pressed his now hard form into my pelvis. I was
wet with anticipation, hunger, the madness that descends when
Darren kissed me. His tongue caressed my ever-so-sensitive neck,
and I must have groaned a little in exquisite pleasure. I loved
him so much, I wanted nothing but to make him happy. I would
have jumped into the very heart of the flames if I thought it
would mean something to him. His hand reached under my thick
Fisherman's sweater and undid my bra in back. Part of me, a
small part that remembered the vows I'd made to be good and not
let this happen, grabbed his hand and took it out from under the
sweater.
"Please, Darren, I'm trying to be good for both of us," I
pleaded.
"Jess, I need you. I love you," he whispered harshly, his
breath coming in ragged puffs. What could I do? I loved that
man with all my heart and soul, more than my life. More than
God. I didn't try to resist any longer. I didn't even make the
pretense of resisting, responding to him with equal passion. I
wanted him so badly I thought I would die if I didn't feel him
inside me soon. His hands quickly found my breasts again and I
heard him sigh with delight. He buried his face in me and I felt
the hard tug of his teeth on my nipples. That drove me crazy and
I found myself struggling to get his pants off. He assisted me
and soon we both had our clothes somewhat off. Off enough,
anyway. He plunged inside, and out there in that freezing air,
trying desperately to stay under the blankets, I once again rose
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to a bright shiny place where unicorns lived and rainbows circled
the sky.
"Oh God, Jess, you feel so great," he grunted. It wasn't
like before, it was better. I knew the difference between being
with a guy and making love to someone. Darren and I made love.
At least that's how it felt to me, wrapped in his arms, feeling
him thrust over and over. It was a brief sensation of joy and
happiness I felt that ended all too quickly. It was over almost
as soon as it had started.
Two tears rolled off the sides of my face as he lay on top
of me, spent. A part of me, that girl that went to high school
with Darren and had walked home everyday holding hands with him
and humming love songs was happy; fulfilled by making him happy.
But another part, a tiny vague flash of an image screamed out at
me that something was wrong. I brushed at the tears and wondered
where the hell they had sprung from. I was still mostly
saturated by the very essence of Darren to give anything else
much thought. Darren didn't notice the tears; he just rolled off
me and pulled up his pants in silence.
"I can't believe you let me do that," he said angrily. I
looked at him in confusion. Was this the same man that had just
whispered he loved me into my ear not minutes ago?
"Darren, I thought that's what you wanted. I did that for
you. "
"You know how to push my buttons, this was your fault."
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I felt my heart tighten and I couldn't get a full breath of
air. The part of me that had grown in the past three weeks was
annihilated. With one sentence, one action, he had broken that
tenuous connection I had formed with God. The very connection I
had formed for Darren, so that he and I could be together
forever.
"Darren, no one's at fault here - " I started.
"Oh, don't play innocent with me. It's too late. You were
the one who suggested we come down to the beach. So much for
your big talk on morality," he spat out, getting up to jab at the
fire.
"You could have stopped."
"It's a little late for rationalizations, Jess."
"Who's rationalizing?" I cried out. I was so confused by
his attack on me that I reverted to my standard argument.
"Darren, there's nothing wrong with making love to someone you
love, if you know you're going to marry them someday," I said,
the tears hot and heavy down my face. Darren looked at me, his
face a mask of loathing.
"You don't get into the Temple that way." There was some
thing evil in his voice that I had never heard before. Oh, we'd
been through this routine before, him initiating sex, convincing
me he really wanted it, then blaming me for it afterwards. But
this time was different. I'd never heard a vicious tone in the
past, never a tone that labeled me a whore in his eyes. That's
what I heard that night. That my love for him, the expression of
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love I choose to show was, in his eyes, next to being a whore.
Whether he initiated the sex or I was not the point. I guess I'd
been around Liz and her fierce pride too long to take that
attitude anymore. I sat up, carefully hooking my bra back in
place, rearranging my clothes, straightening my hair. If some
thing had 'snapped' in me the night I first repented, then this
had to be a floodgate erupting. What I experienced in that
moment was total, utter self-respect.
"Well, who the fuck wants to go to the Temple anyway? I
certainly don't, not with someone like you. How dare you blame
me. How dare you try to put a guilt trip on me for an act of
love. There are two people here, Darren, not just one. Don't
you blame me for your actions you immature, self-righteous little
bastard !"
I grabbed the blankets and keys and raced back to the car.
"You better not leave me here, you bitch," Darren yelled,
following quickly behind.
"Who are you calling a bitch?" I turned around and smacked
him hard across the face. His hand went up to strike me and I
froze. He'd never hit me before... he lowered his hand, storming
to the car, muttering to himself. I got in the car and we drove
home in silence, the tension and anger almost visible in the car.
At his house, he just got out and slammed the door. That pissed
me off even more and I peeled out, leaving uprooted bushes at the
side of the driveway. I started screaming at the top of my
lungs, just long loud wails of mixed grief; half indignation,
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half sorrow. I became filled with an overwhelming anger, a fury
of frustrations and vengeance against what I deemed the real
responsible party - the teachings of the church. If it weren't
for those lousy, useless, loveless morals, Darren and I would be
together, as we should be, as we belonged, instead of fighting
over who was to blame for an act as natural as breathing air. I
shifted the blame back and forth, criss-crossing and overlapping
between Darren treating me like a whore and the church for having
the rules in the first place. In the end, I was just plain mad
at the world.
"It's the church, you know. It's the damn guilt trip they
put on anything but their precious doctrine. I'm surprised they
even let a World Religion class at BYU. The stupid, idiotic
rules!" I screamed into the phone to Liz, the only person in the
world I could think of that would understand.
"I know. Princess, I've been saying that all my life. It's
those damn rules that kept my sister in therapy all these years,
that let my parents beat us in the name of God." Angry as I was,
I wasn't sure I could agree with Liz on that point; the church
never encouraged nor tolerated child abuse. But I understood
where she was coming from. It was religion, in any form really,
that allowed people to back away from taking responsibility for
their own actions and hide behind the edicts of a religion, or
use it as a weapon to punish others for not believing the same
way. I raged on about Darren, how he'd taken a simple, beautiful
act of love and turned it into a vile, evil thing.
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"Well, if that's how he wants to play the game, let's see
how he likes it when I become really bad," I threatened.
"You don't have to prove anything," Liz said.
"That's not the point, Giz. I tried, I really tried to turn
everything around for Darren's sake. I wasn't going through
these motions for any other reason except I wanted to marry him
in the Temple. I thought that's what he wanted, too. That whole
repentance thing, well, it was a reaction to not having Darren,
and I really thought this would bring us together. It brought us
together all right, but nothing's changed. He used his same old
tricks to get me to sleep with him, not that I didn't want to
anyway, but I just thought he would want, I don't know, for us to
be good so we could get married. Damn him to hell anyway," I
fumed.
"This is not the girl that left BYU only two weeks ago," Liz
laughed soothingly. "Are you sure this isn't just another phase
and you're really a Molly Mormon at heart?" Liz asked seriously.
"Hal Molly Mormon indeed. I don't know what came over me,
but let me apologize for anything I said. I was demented, crazed
- too much fresh air. I'm back and I'm feeling baaaad," I
shouted jubilantly. A clean rush of power surged though me and I
felt myself again. I really wasn't a good-little-girl type, and
never had been. I may not have been bad like the load-outs at
school or into heavy drugs, but I was no angel either. Talking
with Liz lifted my spirits and made me feel human again. I had
been walking around in a cloud of pink cotton candy, believing my
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life was a Norman Rockwell painting. If all it took was one
night with Darren to destroy all that, it couldn't have been very
real in the first place.
Darren called once before I left to go back to Hawaii. I
had been toying with the idea of not going back if things started
going good for Darren and I, but, after New Year's Eve, all I
wanted was the hell out of California, away from my parents, and
brothers, and most of all Darren. I took the call, unable to
resist hearing what he had to say.
"So, how ya doin'?" he asked as if nothing happened.
"I'm great. Can't wait to get back to school," I said in
the nastiest tone possible.
"Well, that's good. I think you should go back to school,"
he said.
"I really don't care what you think."
"Jess, you don't have to be like this..."
"Like what? Like the evil slut you treated me like? Or
like a jilted lover? Which 'like' are you talking about?"
"You're acting like the other night was my fault. What
happened to this big sweetness thing you were into?" he asked.
"I'm not your little unicorn anymore, mister. What'd you
call for anyway?"
"I just wanted to return your Bread tape. Thought you might
want to listen to it in Hawaii. Think about things." I stood
there in my parents' kitchen, tears of frustration and anger
rolling down my face. He wanted to give me the tape back, the
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one I gave him last summer so he could think of me. That did it.
I stepped back from myself, never to return.
"I don't want that stupid tape. I never want to hear those
songs again as long as I live. And one more thing, Darren...
fuck you." I slammed the phone down. It made me feel a little
better to tell him off, but not much. Besides, I didn't want to
feel better. I wanted to feel absolutely miserable. It was the
one thing I could do really well; wallow in self-pity and misery.
The winter before I had gone to my ob/gyn doctor and gotten
a diaphragm contraceptive. With as much sex as Darren and I had
been having, I figured I needed protection. I didn’t always use
it; it's an easy thing to forget to put in when you're just going
out on a date. I hadn't taken it with me to Hawaii that first
semester, still mooning over Darren, not really considering sex
as a possibility. But, after that last call from Darren, I knew
things were going to be different. I packed the diaphragm in the
hope I would put it to good use. There were only two days left
before I went back and the time dragged by. My plane ticket was
three days earlier than Liz’s and I wasn't looking forward to the
time alone, but anything was better than being at home surrounded
by things that reminded me of Darren.
I withdrew into myself, an anger building inside me. I
thought of Kevin and vowed to try over with him. I thought about
the fun Liz and I would have that second semester, getting high,
dancing in town, laughing in our room chasing down the kamakazi
mosquitos. Maybe I would even learn how to drink .with her. I
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pulled away from everything connected to California and let my
mind drift back to the islands. It was during these last two
days that I went to see a reissue of the Disney film, "Swiss
Family Robinson." Maybe it was the combination of Darren and my
anger that triggered the reaction I had, or maybe it was just
something that really was always there and just got released by
seeing the images. Whatever the cause, I was stunned by how much
the film effected me, how deep it wound into my thoughts. I
wrote a letter to Liz that night:
"Dear Gizzy Liz,
I went to see "Swiss Family Robinson" tonight.
Once again, all those feelings of needing to be in that
environment, those islands, came back. It enthralls me
and captures my heart. I wish I could describe it.
It's like I see pictures or movies of these islands and
my heart starts beating faster, my pulse races and
sometimes I forget to breathe. I want to go... no, I
need to go there. Whatever it is I'm supposed to do or
be, it's out there in the South Pacific. I feel like
someone or something is waiting for me. My destiny
lies out there. I feel it. When I look out to the
ocean, it pulls me like a magnet I can't put my finger
on it, but I know it's real. The longing, the desire,
the absolute need to go gets stronger with each passing
day. There is so much I need to know and learn. Time
is so short. I've always felt this .pressure of so
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little time. Now more than ever. I will go and
discover what fate is sealed and waiting for me. For
now, I will prepare myself.
Princess"
I didn't realize it then, but I had begun a period in my
life that I now like to call my Island Fever. I became obsessed
with the idea of having what the Robinson family had - a tree
house or a hut on some beautiful, remote tropical island. Make a
farm for myself and fish and hunt wild boar. I would find a
fresh water stream and build a house next to it, make a replica
of their tree-house complete with running water and sunroofs in
the bedroom. I found myself loathing all that wasn't purely
tropical, like my parents' house, and everything in California.
I wanted nothing to do with anything that had been part of my old
life. I was truly a new woman. Something was in the air.
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CHANGES
I landed in Hawaii and smelled the fresh, heavy air. Home at
last. And when the shuttle turned up Naniloa Loop to the long
main entrance of the campus, and I could see the palm trees
outlined against the lush green hills behind the school, well, I
breathed a deep sigh of relief. It had been raining off and on
the whole ride, but just then the sun broke out from behind some
heavy rain clouds. The coconut trees were nearly black under
neath from the wet and dark day, but when the sun came out it was
a virtual light show of rainbows and color, the wet glistening
off the leaves. It was magical and mysterious and, as I was
already feeling in a mood of transformation, it seemed to hold a
message of foreboding, although about what, I couldn't imagine.
"Hey, Kevin," I said into the payphone downstairs. "When
did you get back?" I had only been back an hour when the phone
had rung.
"Just this morning. It's really good to hear your voice."
"You liar. It's just that no one else is around," I quipped
back.
"I'm serious. I've missed you." I picked at the wood sur
rounding the phone, flattered.
"Did you have a good Christmas?" I asked, not knowing how
to respond to him. We chatted for a few minutes about the gifts
we'd gotten and parties we'd gone to.
"Listen, Jess, there's a party tonight at Tammy's house.
You want to go?"
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"That sounds great," I said. What a perfect way to get
revenge on Darren.
"It'll probably still be raining so I'll come get you,
okay?" We made the arrangements and hung up. I wasn't too
thrilled about going to Tammy's - she'd never been particularly
nice to me, but since I would be with Kevin it hardly mattered.
I thought about the night to come and went to put in my
diaphragm.
I spent the entire afternoon taking down all the unicorn
pictures in my room. I didn't want anything around me that would
connect me to Darren. I went to the bookstore and bought posters
of tropical islands and lagoons. I covered the corkboard with
these, pleased with the new look. Bret showed up with Kevin in
his beat-up Toyota and I was happy to see them both. We laughed
about the incessant rain coming down, not knowing it was to
become the worst rainy season in a decade. We drove down to
Tammy's house, a big, rambling place near Temple Beach that she
and four other girls rented. I thought how cool it must be to
have a place of your own. Bret asked if I wanted to get high,
but I refused - I wanted to wait for Liz to get there. Since I
didn't drink alcohol there was little else for me to do but hang
out and watch people getting drunk and stoned,
"What's the matter with you, Jessica?" Kevin wanted to
know. I shrugged. He had slammed six beers playing quarters
with Bret and had followed each up with shots of Tequila. He was
getting sloppy.
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"I don't know. Nothing's wrong," I said, pushing him off me
as he swayed.
"What, you don't party anymore?"
"I party. I just don't like the taste of beer." Kevin
leered funnily and went to kiss me. I didn't resist although the
kiss was disgustingly wet.
"Let's go for a walk," he suggested into my ear. His voice
had that same gravelly quality as when he got stoned and I tried
to conjure up those feelings I'd had that first night he'd kissed
me. All I could see, though, was Darren's face on the beach at
Bolsa Chica.
"All right, Kev."
It had been raining steadily, but had ceased for the mo
ment . It was still wet, though, and I was glad of the jacket I'd
grabbed as we'd gone out. We walked north along the beach.
"I really, really missed you, Jessica. I mean, even Sara
couldn't compare..."
"Who's Sara?" I asked.
"She's an old high school girlfriend. I mean, there's
nothing between us now, don't get the wrong idea," he said
anxiously. "We just make it a point to see each other on breaks
from school, that's all."
"It's all right, Kev. I had a guy back home like that,
too." He smiled then and led me to this grassy knoll up off the
beach, sheltered on three sides by oleander bushes. It was wet
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and uncomfortable, but Kevin didn't seem to notice, being
oblivious in his drunken state.
"I really, really, really, really want to make up for that
night..." he started. I knew the moment had come and I was
prepared. Kevin's breath blew foul and hot across my face. I
held my breath and kissed him.
"Okay, Kevin, show me your best."
It was quick and relatively painless. I wasn't in the least
turned on and since there was next to no foreplay, I wasn't
exactly primed for sex. But Kevin was one of those guys that was
so small anyway, it barely hurt at all. I guess he'd been think
ing about it for a long time and must have been hard for an hour
because it only took him about three seconds to finish. I lay
there, this short, drunk guy on top of me and thought about
absolutely nothing. I kept my mind a blank so I wouldn't hate
what I was doing. I tried to like Kevin, and after all, this was
what I'd gone to the party specifically to do. But I didn't feel
anything for him romantically, and the sex was so quick it was
almost like it didn't happen. After a time, Kevin stood and did
up his pants. He looked at me strangely and I had no idea what
was going on with him. I had felt him come so I couldn't imagine
what the problem could be.
"You didn't like that, did you?" he asked suddenly.
"I did, too," I snapped back, standing up and straightening
my skirt. I was covered with sand and muck, but I didn't say
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anything, even though the only thing I wanted at that moment was
a hot shower.
"No, you didn't. You didn't move the whole time," he
accused. I thought about it and realized I had lain there pretty
still. Well, I just wasn't into it. I mean, I didn't want to
touch him, for Christ's sake. I hooked arms with Kevin, steering
him back towards Tammy's house.
"It's a thing to get used to, you know. Sex with someone is
something you have to work at and get comfortable with," I lied.
I'm sure all those things were true; Liz had said stuff like that
on plenty of occasions when she discussed Dan, but I was just
saying them to make Kevin shut up. I rambled on about how it
would just get better until we were in the house. Kevin stumbled
off to the bathroom to throw up and I darted out the front door.
It started to rain again on the 20 minute walk back to the
dorms, but I didn't care. The water felt good, cleansing some
how. I didn't want to see Kevin again. I had thought that maybe
if I actually slept with him that I could begin to forget about
Darren. That wasn't happening. I was still angry, even more so
because I had become what Darren had tacitly accused me of.
There was a part of me that liked the attention, the control I
had with Kevin, who was so desperate to be with me. I knew sex
could be better than what he had to offer - he wasn't very good
when it came down to it. Then I thought maybe I was just being
frigid, maybe I needed to loosen up and explore this sex thing.
I knew I couldn't do that with Kevin. He just didn't do anything
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for me on the romantic level. But I didn't want to give up on
finding someone to be with.
"No way!" Angela cried out.
"I'm totally not kidding," I said, pleased with her
incredulous reaction.
"Wasn't it gross, in the sand and all?"
"Yeah, but that was the beauty of it. Hearing the pounding
of the waves right there, the wind whipping through the trees."
Okay, so I was embellishing a little. Angela seemed so impressed
I was forced to go on. "He's not that great, though. I mean.
I've had a lot better in my day." Ang stared at me with new
respect. She had shown up on my doorstep that morning and we'd
spent every second together since. It was natural, I guess,
seeing that we'd spent so much time together before the break. I
had been prepared to sit alone for two days waiting for Liz, but
when Angela showed up I figured I could kill time with her. I
hadn't even thought about her over the break, but it was turning
out to be a pretty good day after all. I was making no secret
that whatever it was I was going through before the break had
clearly just been a phase and that I was back to my old self -
that of being the opposite of a Molly Mormon.
"I've never even slept with one guy..." Angela admitted
tentatively. I think she was almost embarrassed by that.
"That's no big deal. I mean, it’s not something you do
casually."
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"Yeah, well. I've been thinking about it. Thinking about it
a lot. Ever since I met Mike," she said.
"Mike?" I prodded.
"Yeah, Mike Brody. He's a non-Mormon. You know him, he's
tall with brown hair. He's into motorcross."
"Oh, yeah, I know that guy. What, you two dating?" I was
kinda surprised to learn she had "bad girl" thoughts. I mean,
before the break I had no idea she even thought about sex or
stuff like that. She acted like a Molly, after all.
"Well, we went out a little before Christmas but nothing
major. Just a few movies. We studied together for our Western
Civ class." The rain pelted against the shut slats of my window
as we sat there trading secrets. Angela tossed her permed brown
hair back a little, trying to be casual-cool. "But, I think I'd
like to get to know him better, a whole lot better, if you know
what I mean."
"You know, it's much more meaningful if you're in love."
"I know. I want it to be that way."
"Are you in love with Mike?"
"I couldn't think of anything else over Christmas vacation,
if that counts."
"Well, it's a start." We ended up talking about sex for
three hours, me taking the seasoned veteran role. It was a nice
switch to constantly being told everything by Liz. Mind you,
half of what I told Ang came from discussions Liz and I had had
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that first semester, but as we got to really talking, I realized
I knew more than I thought from my experiences with Darren.
The next day Angela and I got on the bus and went to town to
shop at the Ala Moana Center. Angela and I never stopped
chatting the whole day. We moseyed in and out of stores, buying
little things like blush and Q-Tips, and just talking about how
stupid the rules at BYU are, and how we wished we didn't have to
sit with our laundry to keep it from being stolen. She told me
all about her childhood in Oregon, growing up in Bellvue totally
involved in the church. Frankly it didn't sound all that
thrilling. But, being able to bitch about my animosity towards
the church and the principles, not to mention the rush of ego it
was to have someone looking up to me, brought out new feelings of
camaraderie. I started laughing more easily, revealing secrets
like the stuff about Darren and Christmas. She was shyer than I
was, so I was the dominant force when we were together. This was
also a new experience, as I had always followed Liz's lead
before. I liked having someone to boss around, not that it was
ever, "you do this" or anything. She just turned to me for the
go-ahead, just like I'd turned to Liz.
"You have the most perfect skin in the world," I said,
almost jealous. We were trying on makeup in Liberty House.
"My mom has great skin. She never even wears base."
"Must be nice," I mused, looking at my own flawed skin that
had the tendency to break out at the most inopportune times.
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"You're skin is great, olive-toned. I mean, you look tan
even in winter."
"That's not tough when you live in Hawaii," I reminded her.
"Yeah, but my skin is so white, I never tan," she
complained. I had to admit, although her skin was beautiful, it
certainly wasn't tan. I was really starting to like Angela,
especially since I found out her parents owned a clothing store
in Portland and were forever sending her new batches of clothes.
She and I were the same size, and she let me know I could borrow
her clothes anytime. But it wasn't just that; I really liked
her, the way she laughed about the silly rules of BYU, about how
she wanted to have sex with Mike, her outlook on partying. Not
that she had ever been drunk or stoned, but she wanted to. I was
excited about including Angela in the small circle of friends Liz
and I had formed. It never occurred to me that Liz would feel
any differently once she got to know Angela like I had.
"I thought Angela was a Molly," Liz said suspiciously.
"Yeah, yeah, well, she is, but she doesn't want to be, you
know. I mean, she hasn't actually done anything yet, but she
says she wants to," I explained.
"Why the sudden attachment?" Liz casually asked. I should
have seen it then, heard the pain in her voice, but I didn't.
Stupid me, with my thoughtless ways. I really didn't know why
Liz should be asking me things like this. After all, it wasn't
like she and I weren't going to be friends any more.
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"I don't know. She's fun," I offered lamely. Liz nodded,
remaining silent, so I added quickly. "And she's got a lot of
clothes which she said I could borrow any time." This made Liz
laugh. Seeing the mercenary side of me reassured her.
It had been kinda strange when Liz first arrived. See, I'd
been so consumed with Angela and our talks that the sting of my
separation from Liz had been taken away. I guess Liz was more
happy to see me than I was to see her, although you'd never know
it by the way we hugged and carried on for hours. I mean, it was
great to be able to sit and tell her the story of Darren and then
all about Kevin and the beach scene. I hadn't realized how upset
I was over that until I was telling Liz. She reassured me that
he just wasn't the right one for me and that there'd be more and
better men in my future. It was great to see the strength and
support written all over her face, but almost as soon as I was
finished telling her about that, I was talking about Angela and
how the three of us were going to make a great team.
"Hey, listen, I almost forgot. Craig found this mud hole
back out behind school and we're all goin' down there this
afternoon," I said. Liz looked up, a weird expression crossing
her face again.
"Who's we?"
"Oh, the gang. Angela and Mike. That's her sort of boy
friend now, and Craig, of course, and Tupu King - " Liz
interrupted.
"Tupu?"
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"Yeah, the blonde that grew up in American Samoa. Over in
Unit 6." Liz nodded and I went on. "And this guy named Kenny.
He's Mike's roommate and I think they're trying to set me up with
him. He just got off his mission three weeks ago."
"I thought you hated returned missionaries."
"I do for the most part, but you never know."
"Sounds like fun," she said without much enthusiasm.
"Oh, come on. It won't be bad," I said. I knew she was
tired from her early flight in, but one couldn't pass up an
opportunity like this.
"Yeah, all right," Liz gave in reluctantly. I was so
excited about the whole idea, I didn't stop to question Liz's
hesitation. Liz, being the spontaneous, moody gal she was,
quickly rallied and began to act like it had been her idea all
along.
The seven of us took off in our oldest, crummiest clothes.
That was hard for Angela as she had no crummy clothes, but she
managed. We walked about a quarter mile straight behind the
dorms into the hills to a place where construction for taro
patches was going on. There was a great hill of dirt at the
bottom of which lay a fifty foot mud hole. The rain had been
pouring steadily for weeks and had left a giant pool of red mud
just waiting to exploited. All of sat at the top of that dirt
pile and stared down, no one wanting to be first. The suddenly
Craig put a handful of mud on my head.
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"You son of a bitch. I'm gonna get youi" I chased Craig
down the hill and soon all of us were into a full-fledged mud
war. I've never had so much fun in my life getting completely
and utterly dirty. Kenny, who turned out to be very cute, made a
special mud pie for me which he covered my face in.
"I just wanted you to know how much I care," he said in a
silly voice.
"And that's so kind of you, sir," I mocked back. He and I
made a team in a dog fight against Angela and Mike, Liz and
Craig. We girls sat atop their shoulders and tried to wrestle
each other to the ground. Such fun.
"Come on, Jess, let's have a mud wrestling contest," Liz
challenged. Craig MC'ed and the rest circled us as Liz and I
squared off. Angela laughed.
"Get her, Jess, you can do it!"
"Yeah, she's only twice your size," Mike threw in.
"I'll be after you next, Mike Brody," Liz warned, kicking
mud at him. She lunged for me, but I was too small and quick for
her to catch. A few deft kicks to her legs and I had her down,
flailing in the mud and squealing like a pig. It was a beautiful
moment, the instant I got Liz pinned.
By the end of the afternoon we were covered from head to toe
in mud. We walked back to the dorms, all arm in arm, skipping
the dance Dorothy and her cohorts did when they were off down the
yellow brick road. Liz and I showered for 45 minutes, singing
our traditional shower song of "Do Re Me" from The Sound of
200
Music. There were two parts and we harmonized beautifully. At
least we thought so. Even with all that water, there was still
mud flaking out of our hair for three days.
Now, there is nothing significant about playing in a mud
hole except that it was to be the last time Liz and I did some
thing crazy and wild together. Funny how you never know when
those moments happen, when events occur that become a cherished
memory. I don't mean to wax philosophical here, it's just that
this was the beginning of the end. And I didn't even see it
coming.
With school starting up and the flurry of getting class
schedules straight and all, I didn't notice how quiet and with
drawn Liz was becoming. I started to include Angela in on all
our activities, whether it was going off to the cafe for dinner,
or seeing a movie, or even just hanging out. When Liz would get
moody, I brushed it off as her being uptight about the upcoming
tryouts for the school musical. I never connected Angela's
presence with Liz's moods. It wasn't that I was being insensi
tive, okay I was, but I wasn't doing it on purpose. I was just
consumed with my own plans. See, I had a lot on my mind those
days - I had come back to Hawaii with a purpose in mind: going
off to a remote tropical island to live.
When Lee Mendiaz had skipped town on us, I had made up my
mind that I would never let anyone be in charge of making my
dreams come true. Dennis' boat wasn't even close to being
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finished. I was still thinking about going off into the world,
and since I didn't own a boat, I figured the next best thing
would be the island adventure. I became obsessed with the idea
of getting a group together to work a collective farm and live
off the land for a year. Just like the Swiss Family Robinson. I
started to plan it all out: a group of eight of us (four men and
four women), would all go to a valley that had fresh running
water and build huts and grow food. We would go fishing,
swimming, and exploring for a year, maybe longer. Kenny kind of
seemed interested in the idea which made him that much more
appealing. In truth, he was just saying so to get to know me,
but I didn't realize that at the time. I even thought to myself,
if not him then I can find another suitable partner within six
months. That's how long I'd given myself to prepare everything.
I had already sent off to Tahiti for information on the
Marquesas Islands, which are about 700 miles northeast of Tahiti.
They were scarcely populated because their people had been
virtually wiped out by disease when the white man came. They
would rent us a whole valley for twenty thousand dollars which,
among eight people, was not a lot of money. I went about signing
up for a Principles of Tropical Agriculture class to learn about
soils and plant care. And would you believe it? Jack was the
first person who said he wanted to go. His Samoan blood was
calling and he loved the idea of going and hanging out in a
valley, running around naked and making love to Kari all day. He
was fully aware of the work involved as well, and so I couldn't
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say nay to him. He was so psyched on the idea that he quickly
got Kari interested. Of course, Kari would go along with any
thing Jack wanted.
I started talking among my friends to see who was game for
this and it turned out that Angela and Mike loved the idea;
romantic as it sounded, it's no wonder. I tried to make sure
they knew it was going to be a lot of hard work, more than any of
us knew, and not to think about it just as an excuse to be
together. They said they knew all that and were into growing
food and building huts and fishing stuff, too. There was another
girl, Rachel Williams that was way cool; she was also interested
in the idea. I knew her only slightly from my World Religion
class. She had a boyfriend named Ted whom she'd been dating for
about two months who was incredibly good-looking. Rachel was
very excited about the idea and tried to get Ted interested, but
he was somewhat of a prima donna, worried about his looks all the
time, so the idea didn't appeal to him at first, but he listened
willingly enough. I didn't like Ted much from the beginning and
would grow to hate him before the semester was up, even if he was
charming.
Anyway, we'd all sit down and discuss this adventure, doing
things like making out lists of stuff we'd need to accumulate
before going. I mean, primitive lists of such obvious things
like rope and machetes; it was clear none of us had a clue as to
what we were getting into. Liz, for her part, loved the idea,
but knew Dan would never go for it. He was older and couldn't be
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irresponsible, so she said. That started another crack in our
friendship. Well, not our friendship, really, but our common
life structure. I was totally absorbed by planning the adven
ture, so much so I didn't even want to go dancing on the weekends
as I was trying to save money.
The island project became an ongoing thing that was
discussed at least once a day. Liz, although she would be
present, was very left out of these conversations as Kari, Ang,
Rachel and I would jabber on about how great it was going to be.
In the second week of January I found a dog and adopted him.
It was pouring one day, as it did most days that winter, and I
was walking back from the cafeteria when from out of the bushes
at Hale One this wet, skinny dog appeared.
"Hey, poochie, come here," I called. He came directly to me
and I looked into his intelligent brown eyes. "What are you
doing out here in the rain?" I asked the dog. He kind of whined
and licked my face. I was smitten. "Are you hungry? Want some
food?" I coaxed him back to my dorm room and, once inside the
unit, I closed all the doors so he couldn't get out. I knew he
wasn't going to like what came next.
"What the hell is that?" Liz asked.
"I think it's a dog but I'm not sure under all this grime."
I took the dog into the showers and scrubbed him down. He didn't
like that too much and I'm sure he would have bolted if I'd given
him the chance. I rubbed him dry and he seemed to get over his
dislike of showers fairly quickly. Underneath all the filth and
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crud was a gorgeous, long-haired German shepard mutt, whose head
was larger in proportion than his body, which either meant he was
still a puppy (although he looked at least a year, year and a
half) or that whatever else was mixed up in his blood was some
thing smaller than a normal shepard. He had markings of black
around his eyes which made him look like he was wearing goggles.
"What are you going to call him?" Liz asked, amused at my
instant devotion.
"I don't know. Maybe he's not a stray," I suggested. I
started feeding him everything I had in the room, as his ribs
were visible even through his thick hair.
"What about Pilot?" she asked as I wrestled with the dog.
"That is so lame, Liz."
"Well, he looks like he's an aviator," she said.
"Duke," I said looking closely at the dog for reactions. He
just sat there and stared at me.
"Prince," Liz said. Still blank.
"Sergeant, Charger."
"Stinger, Ralph."
"Max," I said. "You look like a Max." The dog jumped up
and down, barking loudly. Max it was.
I get attached to animals very easily and after I found Max,
there was no parting us. I kept him in the room that night, not
wanting him to run away, but I had to let him out in the morning.
He didn't run, only waited patiently by the door for me. I went
to breakfast and he waited outside the cafeteria door. I brought
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him out a huge plate of leftovers which he gobbled down. It was
obvious the dog was malnourished and so I figured even if he did
belong to someone else, they hadn't taken care of him very well
and he deserved better treatment.
Max followed me to a classroom and I fully expected him to
disappear once I went in. But an hour later, he was still there,
waiting. He wagged his tail as I emerged, and when I bent to pet
him, he licked my face. I went and got him more food from the
cafeteria which he promptly devoured. It was incredible, his
devotion to me, following me from class to class, waiting
patiently for me to come out. Even during my dance class, he
would stand in the doorway and watch, barking when we would start
leaping around the room. He would sleep outside my dorm room at
night, maybe wandering sometimes, but he was always there in the
morning. I bought him a collar and leash - not that I ever used
the leash except to take him to the vet - and a bowl for water.
I kept bringing out plates of food after every meal and he grew
fatter, little by little. I loved Max, and that dog showed me
every loyalty an animal is capable of. He was to become my very
best friend as time went on.
So there I was with a new dog, new friends, and a project
Liz wasn't involved with in any way. Liz was doing some serious
thinking those days, which I had no part in, being too busy with
all my little things. I guess all that, plus the fact that she
and Dan had been doing some talking of their own, got Liz to
thinking she was wasting her time in Hawaii.,
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SEPARATE WAYS
"If I don't get the lead in The Music Man, I'm going home,"
Liz announced the night before tryouts. She and I were in our
room, one of the rare moments we were alone together. I sat up,
taking my eyes off my new schedule to look at her and see if she
was kidding. She wasn't.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.
"I mean, if I don't get the lead. I'm leaving. Gone,
vamoose, out-of-here," she said simply.
"But why?" I sputtered.
"I miss Dan. I hate this school, the people are lazy and
slow, and I can't do any more real academic work here - " she
started.
"Wait, wait, wait... you hated everybody last semester -
that didn't send you packing."
"Yeah, well, I really miss Dan. I want to see if there's
anything to us and I can't do that being 3000 miles away from
him. "
"Gizzy, you can't be serious."
"I'm totally serious."
"You can't just leave me here," I pleaded.
"Why not? You have Angela now, and your plans for the
island trip - what do you need me for?" It was at that moment
the pieces clicked in place and I knew that Liz had been suffer
ing inside - and it was my fault. Yet, even in that knowledge, I
didn't know how to rectify the situation.
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"Angela isn't half the friend you are. You're my best
friend..." The words sounded hollow, even to my ears. Angela
had been a constant presence for two weeks.
"Well, it sure doesn't look that way from this end."
"Liz, I never meant to shut you out of the island trip - you
just aren't interested in going..."
"I am sol But I can't. I can't just go off to an island
for a year and forget about Dan. I love him and it would ruin
our relationship." Liz had started crying.
"And there's no way he would go?" I asked moronically, not
knowing what else to say.
"How can he? He's a salesman and they can't just up and
leave for a year."
"Well, even so, we're not leaving till July. I mean, we
still have this whole semester together - "
"It's not the same, Jessica."
"What do you mean, not the same? Just 'cause we haven't
gone dancing..."
"That's not it and you know it. If you're not off with that
stupid Kenny somewhere then you're deep into a discussion on how
to plant taro. You're just not 'here' anymore." Liz started
pawing through her closet, looking for God knows what.
"So, if you hate me so much now, what's all this about the
play?" Liz took out a sweater then tossed it aside.
"I still haven't given up on my acting, you know. If I got
the lead it would be worth it for me to stay.. It would look
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great on my resume and it would be fun. I could just take a
minimum of classes..." she let the sentence trail off. I looked
around our cluttered, comfortable room and tried to imagine it
without Liz. I couldn't.
"Then you damn well better get the lead," I said firmly.
Liz smiled, a sad sort of smile, as if she were already packed
and ready to go. I was so stupid and self-centered I couldn't
even see it. I had never had to fight for a friendship before,
having gone from boyfriend to boyfriend since seventh grade. I
didn't know how to. I had assumed that once you were friends
with someone, friends like Liz and I were, that you just stayed
together, at least until someone got married or something. I was
beginning to see the transitory nature of college life. Angela
may have been a lot of fun, but she wasn't Liz. She didn't have
the bravado, the charm, the sheer magnitude of personality that
Liz had. I thought about what a shit I'd been to Liz, ignoring
her while I made plans for my island adventure. Too late, too
late, too late.
BYU-Hawaii put on one musical a year and it was always a big
deal. Everybody who was anybody tried out, just to be in on the
action. Unless they were surf-cats or something. They were
doing The Music Man, which is a totally stupid play, but that
didn't really matter. Debony, fortunately, couldn't sing to save
her life. She had a deep husky voice that was great for drama,
but awful for musicals. She had come back from Christmas with a
tiny diamond ring, not even a quarter carat, all excited about
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finally getting the ring from her finace in Utah. Liz and I just
raised our eyebrows at each other, remembering the scene with
Cary in the costume room, and wondered silently how long that
marriage could possibly last. We imagined her fat and pregnant,
moaning about her lost acting career, having affairs with old
boyfriends just to reassure herself she was still good-looking.
It was an easy thing to imagine, with her cozying up to Cary all
throughout tryouts. What a jerk she was. Cary loved the atten
tion, I'm sure, but being the good little Mormon he was, wouldn't
dream of trying anything with her now that she was "officially"
taken. But I wasn't laying any bets against it. Anyway, knowing
she wouldn't get the lead, Debony refused to even try out,
becoming a cheerleader with LuAnn instead. What geeks those two
were, running around in their long cheer skirts, since BYU
wouldn't allow them normal short skirts. Well, bottom line, Liz
figured since Debony was out of the running, she had a pretty
good shot at the title. There were several really good singers
on campus, but Liz still thought she would get it. We went to
auditions; I was trying out too, but since I was a better dancer
than actress, I knew I didn't have much of a chance for anything.
But if Liz was there we would have fun during rehearsals, which
was the point of being in the play for me. Liz sang her heart
out, and she was good too. She had a strong alto voice and a
fine stage presence. She made it through two cuts and it came
down to five girls. As the fates would have it, Liz didn't get
the lead. That went to an incredibly buxom (we're talking triple
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D cup here) blonde girl who had just arrived from Idaho. God,
she was a Molly of the tenth degree. Sweet, high-voiced and
utterly sickening. She couldn't act at all, but her tits and
voice got her the part. Liz didn't even get the comedy role of
the Mayor's wife; that went to a hysterical, overweight New
Zealand girl named Gretchen who rightfully deserved it, since she
was funnier than anything. Liz ended up with Mrs. Tofflemeyer,
the pianist. It was a blow to end all blows, insulting with her
kind of talent. I made the chorus myself, but I didn't care a
whit about that. I thought maybe since both of us had made the
play she might stay, that maybe there was still a chance.
I got back to the room and found Liz already packing.
"I didn't make the lead," was all she said for a moment. I
looked at her mounds of clothes on the bed and started bawling.
"You can't leave me here alone," I blubbered.
"You won't be alone. You have Max, and Kenny, and Angela,
and there's still Kari..."
"And all of them put together don't add up to half of you."
I sat down at my desk, miserable. Max nuzzled up to me and I
absentmindedly scratched behind his ears. Liz had a resilient
look on her face, like she'd already been through this with
herself and she wasn't going to break down and change her mind.
"There's nothing left for me here..."
"I'm here," I whimpered.
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"I know, and that's the only part about leaving that I hate.
But I know you'll be okay and I really do need to see if there's
anything to Dan and I."
"I hate that guy."
"You don't even know him."
"He's taking you away, isn't he?"
"No, I'm the one that made up my mind."
"I could tie you up and keep you here."
"But you won't."
I couldn't believe Liz was actually leaving. I mean, during
the days of the auditions I hadn't spoken once about the trip.
And, although Angela was around, I made sure I didn't pay too
much attention to her. That really wasn't hard because with the
threat of Liz leaving, I realized that there wasn't as much to
like about Angela.
"My life is over," I wailed.
"Oh, get off it. Princess. I'm not your whole life.
Besides, there's always the phone and letters. Now you'll get
lots of letters all the time."
"It isn't the same."
"It isn't easy for me to leave, either, you know."
"Then why go?"
"Because I have to."
A knock at the door produced Kari.
"Is it true you're leaving?" she asked Liz. Liz nodded and
Kari sat down on the bed.
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"So am I."
"Not you too, Kar," I blurted out.
"You guys wouldn't believe the mess I'm in."
Kari's dad owned a condo at Kuilima Estates, a private area
near the Turtle Bay Hilton just twenty minutes north of school.
Kari suggested we go out to the condo and sneak across the golf
course so we could lay out naked. We readily agreed, needing to
get away from reality for a moment. It was almost fun, running
along the green grass toward the beach, avoiding people on their
golf carts. Almost. We got to the beach and took off our tops.
Just like the first time we were together at the house in Kahala
Kari finally explained.
"You know how Jack and I started spending the night at my
dad's condo here? Well, the manager of the properties got wind
of it and called my dad. He came over last weekend and caught
Jack and me. It's all so crazy now." Liz and I looked at each
other, exchanging a worried glance.
"So what happened?" Liz asked.
"Jack and I are getting married."
"What?!" Liz and I cried in unison.
"My dad's making us. He said that if we are sleeping
together and need each other that badly than we have to get
married."
"You gotta be kidding me," I said.
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"No, 'fraid it's true. And it's happening next weekend at
my dad's house in Kahala. He's already made all these arrange
ments and I can't even invite you guys - he says with the family
flying in there's no room." Kari sighed.
"Do you want to marry him, Kari?" Liz asked.
"I love him. And I want to be with him all the time. I
always thought I would have this big wedding, you know, if I
didn't get married in the Temple, and have a flower girl and
bridesmaids and a big reception. Now, it's just a cut above a
Vegas wedding."
"So why didn't you tell your dad no?"
"You don't say no to my dad."
Liz and I lay there, momentarily forgetting our own problems
and didn't know what to say. I wanted to congratulate her except
I knew Jack was bad, and that eventually his conceited attitude
and fierce temper, not to mention his possessiveness over her,
would catch up to them and make her unhappy.
"So, where will you live?" I wanted to know.
"At the condo here. Jack's thinking about finishing
school."
"But he's not even done with his GE," Liz said.
"I know, but there's nowhere else for us to go. He might
try to find a job. I don't know."
I had a vision. I saw Kari and Jack living off the fat of
her dad's career, wallowing in the luxury of his money. And then
I saw a shadow that would follow Kari. Never getting to know
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herself or what she's capable of. I could just see Jack gloating
over his snare and felt more sorry for Kari than I did for
myself. It was a weird moment and one I tried to shake off.
Kari started telling us about the dress she was going to
wear, and how some of her dad's TV series actors would be there.
And how Leroy Neiman was going to sketch her and Jack during the
wedding and draw them a picture. It sounded very nice and all,
but I knew Kari had a hard, difficult life ahead of her. And I
didn't envy one iota of it.
We heard some noise and saw a few golfers way in the dis
tance. Kari sat up and put her top back on, afraid they would
see us. Liz and I followed suit. We stayed a while longer, but
it was obvious each of us was too wrapped up in a cocoon of our
own thoughts to really reach each other. I thought about the
fact that I was losing two of the most important people in my
life, and that, at least on Liz's end, part of that loss was my
own fault. I hated myself more in those few hours then I had
known was possible. There was no way to take back all the little
hurts I'd heaped up on Liz in the past weeks, not to mention what
I'd done to her just before the break.
In the car on the way home Kari put in a cassette that Jack
had made for her, filled with songs he loved. Most were your
basic hard rock crap, but one, the one Kari wanted to share with
us that afternoon, came to be a standard for me. A group I'd
never heard of, 707, did this song and Kari played it over and
215
over for us that day, Liz squeezing my hand tightly as we zoomed
past the lush green countryside.
"I'm heading on down a One-Way Highway,
Searching for a sign that leads the way.
So fast from day to day.
I'm heading on down this One-Way Highway,
Somewhere down the road.
Another morning waits for me.
Each day another mystery.
I'll take it on my own, ever alone.
Lately I wonder what I'm learning on my way.
There's so much left I need to know.
My life is a river that's searching for a source.
How far do I still have left to go?
Looking out to the highway,
I search for love but still I'm alone.
What's wrong with me? Am I losing ground?
I can't find my way back home.
Turn the page around.
And find what I left behind.
Now that I'm on my own.
It's not what I want to find.
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1... I want to settle down,
1... I turn the page around.
I want to find my way back home.
Why can't I find my way back home...?"
One-Way Highway by 707
For two days Liz and I were never out of each other's sight.
Although we didn't talk about it, Liz's imminent departure was
the only thing on our minds. For two days we walked around Laie
and the campus talking about what we would do together that
summer when I went to San Francisco to visit her. Liz promised a
zillion times that she would write at least once a week, and call
when she'd gotten herself settled somewhere. Liz wasn't going to
move in with Dan just yet - she wanted to have her own place in
case things didn't work out between them. Liz's flight was due
out on Friday night and I was going to take the shuttle bus in
with her and see her off at the airport.
It dawned on me as we sat up late on Thursday night just how
dependant on Liz I actually was. She had taught me every
thing... and I didn't know how to say good-bye to her. I didn't
know the words that would explain the love I felt, the embarrass
ment over the past few weeks, the anger and frustration that was
welling up in me because I couldn't control life, I couldn't
control what was happening. I wanted nothing more than to throw
my arms around her and be able to convince her to stay, but I
didn't have the words. And so we sat there, chatting about who
217
knows what, stringing leis of plumeria flowers together for Dan
and her sisters while inside I felt that peculiar tightening in
my chest that I had felt when Darren and I had broken up the
first time and I thought I would never see him again.
I drifted through my classes the next day, dreading the
coming evening. I went to my Animal Behaviorism lab, but I had
forgotten the book and had to go back to the room to get it. I
walked up to the dorms through the quad. Max at my side as
always, and it was there that I saw Liz, with her arms loaded
with luggage.
"Giz? Why are you loading your bags already?"
Liz shrugged and looked off toward the shuttle van. I could
see the driver standing near the open door and heard the sound of
a running engine. It hit me that she wasn't just loading her
bags - she was leaving.
"What are you doing?"
"I thought it would be better this way..." She stopped,
choking on a breath and sucking her lip in the way she always did
when she was really upset and didn't know what to do.
"You were going to leave without saying good-bye?" I asked
incredulously. She could only nod.
"I'm not very good at good-byes. They sound so final and
our friendship means too much to me to hear that kind of sound.
I need you to be my friend..." Hot tears streamed down my face,
mixing with the rain that started to fall.
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"Oh, Gizzy, why'd ya have to go?" She put her arms around
me and hugged me, her strong arms holding me too tightly.
"You know I do. I'm sorry. You be careful...don't smoke
too much of that crazy weed," she said, trying to lighten the
moment. It didn't work. I only cried harder, remembering the
first time I'd gotten high with her.
"Don't go..." I pleaded.
"I love you. Princess. Always remember that, no matter what
happens, I love you," she whispered.
I couldn't say anything, my mouth wide open with sobs. She
untangled herself and fled to the waiting van. I didn't even get
to tell her how much I loved her.
219
THE DUPLEX
I sat at my window and stared out at the rain-drenched
world. I had loved the rain when I first arrived. Having been
raised in Southern California, I wasn't used to rain that fell
any harder than a heavy sprinkle. But the rain in Hawaii was
great, tapping gently down against the concrete block walls,
swishing down the sidewalks or soaking deep into the grass. And
quiet; the only way to know it was raining was to listen to the
wind whipping through the trees, sending the spray against the
window panes. The red dirt would give off a perfume that let you
know it had just taken a long, deep drink. At least that's how
it was during the fall. But winter had brought a new kind of
rain. A kind that pelted as it fell, devouring whole streets and
even houses. For days on end it would rain without ceasing,
drowning all in its cleansing path. Rain. Nothing but rain. I
came to hate the rain.
"Do you still want me to move in?" Angela asked tenta
tively, standing in my open doorway. I turned from the rain and
saw her.
"What?"
"Jess, you've been sitting there for hours. What's your
deal?"
"Just thinking."
"Well, what about it? Still want me to move in?" Angela
and I had briefly talked about the possibility of her moving in
220
with me after Liz left. I had forgotten about it until that
moment. I sighed and got up.
"Sure. I'll help you."
We moved Angela's things the rest of that afternoon. I was
astounded by the amount of clothes she had. It took up all of
her closet and half of mine and there were still clothes in her
suitcase. What's a person need with so many clothes anyway?
Funny thing about Liz leaving like she did - I began to see
everything differently. Before, when Angela had been shocked or
appalled at something, I thought it amusing and would egg her
reaction even further. But it suddenly just seemed childish and
naive. I was tired of being the leader and the one who knew so
much. And to boot, Angela was allergic to animals and so Max was
never allowed in the room. I wasn't very happy about the
situation.
Life resumed its pace fairly quickly. I went to class,
Angela and Rachel and I ate dinner together, I registered Max to
me legally. I was walking around in a daze, not really caring
about anything. Not even about the position the Bishop called me
to. Angela and I were asked to be Visiting Teachers to some
girls named Carol and Val. If it had been the semester before
and Liz had been with me, I would never have accepted the
position. They don't ever force a person to accept it; you just
always do. I didn't even care about fighting against it. I just
said okay. I mean, here I'd gone through a spiritual revolution
before Christmas, and, of course, everyone knew. When you go
221
through one of those things you make no secret of it. Everyone
thought I was totally a new woman. So when I came back, other
than that episode with Kevin, which was very private, everyone
thought I was the same. No one knew of my backlash into
despising the morals of the church except for Angela and then,
even with her, it was just all talk. I mean, I hadn't gotten
high, I hadn't gotten drunk or anything. So everyone assumed I'd
turned Molly Mormon and stayed that way. I got this calling, and
I thought, "You know, it will make my life here easier if I just
go along with the program, and Angela and I could do this
together and just laugh about it or whatever." Being a Visiting
Teacher's not tough. All you do is go over to somebody's house
once a month and see how they're doing. Give them this stupid
little five-minute lesson that the church provides. Some
nonsense that's supposed to enrich your life and make you a
better person.
As it turned out, the two girls that Ang and I were assigned
to were really cool. Carol was a nondescript, mousy girl that
just followed Val around like she had no personality of her own.
I wondered briefly if I had looked that way with Liz then im
mediately dismissed the thought as being ridiculous. Val was
major cool. She was older, twenty-one, and had been to Israel on
a BYU Study Abroad tour and would eat all this strange middle
Eastern food. She was laid back and beautiful; from a rich
family in Pasadena. I immediately liked her and, although we
222
didn't have that much in common, I though maybe I could become
friends with her.
Within a week of Liz's leaving, my life turned upside down
again. See, our dorm mother. Sister Brunswick was having a fit
about Max being inside the dorms. I convinced her that he slept
outside my door, but that wasn't good enough for her. She didn't
want the dog anywhere near the place and threatened to call the
pound if I didn't get rid of him. Well, I'd be damned if I was
going to give up my dog. The dorm room had become considerably
smaller with Liz gone and I thought how great it would be to be
away from BYU rules all together.
"...so why don't we just move off campus?" I asked Angela as
we walked to our dance class together.
"I don't know, Jess, wouldn't it be more expensive?"
"Not really. We could buy our own food and that would be
cheaper. Besides, think about it, you could have Mike stay over
if you wanted." That convinced her, and we set about trying to
find a place to live off campus. By that time, we were three
weeks into school and although we scoured the Housing Board and
found a dozen possibilities, they were all taken. We tried the
newspapers and found a couple of maybes, but they all turned out
to be duds too.
"This is crazy, Jess, we're never going to find a place this
late in the semester," Angela whined.
"Sure we will. We'll look for a house instead of just a
room. There's bound to be a house for rent."
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"How are we gonna pay for a whole house?"
"We'll get Val and Carol to move out with us." I was
determined to get off campus and save my dog. Val and Carol said
they might be interested, depending on the house. Angela and I
spread the word to everyone we met that we were looking for a
house and hoped for the best. It was a long and fruitless search
and, by the end of three days, we were both ready to give up. I
didn't know what to do about Max and was sitting in the room with
him when a knock at the door produced a haole lady named Joy and
a Tongan named Veti.
"We hear you're looking for a house," said Joy.
"That's right."
"I own a duplex on Kam highway across from PCC. It's the
downstairs unit and Veti is looking for some roommates to live
with her."
"That sounds great," I said enthusiastically.
"Want to see it?" Joy asked. I ran to get Angela from the
TV room and we went together to see the house. It was great, a
two-toned brown duplex with three bedrooms, a living room, dining
area, bathroom and small kitchen. She said the rent would be
$165 dollars a room, or $82.50 a girl, each month including
utilities. It was situated at a place right on Kam that was
directly across from the Polynesian Cultural Center, which meant
there was a huge parking lot across the street. No houses or
buildings to block the view, the extraordinary view of the Koolau
mountains behind Laie. And on the other side, although we didn't
224
have a direct view of the ocean, we were only twenty yards away
from the sand. There was a small house in front of us that was
right on the beach. Joy showed us how we could walk down this
path next to the house and be on our own private piece of
paradise. It was unbelievable and so perfect we could hardly
stand it. We knew Val and Carol would die to move in with us and
all we needed was one more roommate for Veti to live with.
I fairly flew back to the dorms and went looking for Rachel.
She was the only person I could think of that would possibly want
to move out with us.
"Rachel, you've gotta see this place. It's too cool! And
we can cook all our own food there - no more stupid cafe food.
Think about it, Rach, Ted and you could spend a lot more time
together." The same argument that had convinced Ang worked on
Rachel who agreed to check it out.
Anyway, to make a long story short, (too late!) we moved
into the duplex the next day. As it turned out, Carol and Val
weren't interested in the house, but that was okay as Veti turned
up another Tongan friend, Teffi, who would room with her while
Rachel took a room all to herself. I think Ted had a lot to do
with that decision.
I suddenly found myself very excited about life again. I
had a new adventure to thrust all my energy into - that of fixing
up my very first apartment. Angela and Rachel and I spent hours
bubbling over the possibilities. But I never knew how much work
it was to fix a place up - jeez, it took a whole day just to
225
scour the filth away. I had never cared what my dorm room had
looked like, clothes strewn about and nothing put away, but
suddenly I became hyper conscious of the fact that men would be
coming over and I didn't want a messy place any more.
Rachel, Ang and I went shopping at Pay and Save, a discount
department store, and bought sheets, dishes, glasses, measuring
cups - I can't begin to describe the thrill of buying my first,
very own mixing bowl. I mean it sounds stupid, I know, but it
was a sense of freedom that went beyond what I had experienced in
the dorms when I first came to Hawaii. This was real life, and I
was totally in control of it. We could buy whatever we wanted to
eat, no more cafeteria food for us! We bought curtains and new
beds, Ang and I getting a double bed we shared that we figured
would come in handy if any men stayed over. We got a floor
matting of woven pandanus leaves from friends of Veti's, and an
old pull-out couch which was used very often.
I was coming into a feeling of domesticity that my mother
would have been proud of. There was never a dirty dish in the
sink, Rachel being even more fanatic than me. Those first few
weeks were filled with endless activity, going from one store to
the next, fixing and cleaning and settling in. Max had been the
reason I'd moved, but once there, my mind was caught up in the
nuances of living on my own. It was the first time in my whole
life that I really thought about what it would be like to be
married and have a family. With Darren it had always just been a
fantasy of he and I somewhere by ourselves making love all the
226
time. This was real and tangible and something I could deal
with.
Veti and Teffi, both hefty and way Tongan, were my first up
close view of the modern Polynesian. They and their friends, who
were constantly, and I mean continually, present at the house,
showed us how different islanders live from we mainlanders. I
hate to generalize, I really do, but there are certain traits
that I've noticed in all Polynesians that held true for Veti and
company. They dress consistently in lava-lavas, big pieces of
material that all islanders use on a daily basis around the house
that wrap around the waist and is then tucked in. That and tee
shirts were the main staple for them as they hung out, sitting on
the floor rather than chairs, eating their boiled green bananas
and talking in loud, cackly voices. I didn't mind any of it at
first. It was all new and exciting and strange and wonderful all
rolled into a space not bigger than my parent's living room. But
it was our space and that made it okay.
"Hey, I know what we should do," Rachel said as the three of
us lay on our beach the second weekend after we'd moved in. It
wasn't sunny, but it wasn't raining either, and we figured the UV
rays would give us a little color.
"What's that?" I asked.
"We should put on our Sunday best and go down to the Hilton
to have a Champagne Sunday Brunch." Angela sat up, adjusting her
purple one-piece suit.
"I heard that place is great," Ang remarked.
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"It is. Ted took me there a few weeks ago and we had a
blast. "
"Are we talking about a group date here?" I wanted to know.
"No, just us girls. What do you say?"
Angela and I nodded and it was agreed. The next morning, we
all got dressed to the hilt. Angela let me borrow her white
gauze dress that had tiny pink flowers sewn all over it.
Although it didn't suit me at all, I felt pretty wearing it. We
took the 52 bus up to Turtle Bay Hilton, looking silly in our
high heels and frilly dresses amongst the shorts and thongs of
the other passengers. I was happy that it was just us girls
going out. I had spent two weeks surrounded by Mike, Ted, and
Ted's ever-present friend, Jimmy. It wasn't that I didn't like
them, I mean, we talked about the island project a lot and we all
got along, it was just that I didn't really feel included as the
evenings would wear on and the couples would pair off. Kenny had
been around a few times, but it wasn't like he was my boyfriend
or anything. He hadn't even kissed me yet.
"Isn't this place fabulous?" Rachel asked us as we walked
through the flower-filled lobby toward the large, airy dining
room.
"Liz and I used to come here and dance sometimes when we
didn't feel like going into town," I replied.
"Are you ever going to stop talking about what you and Liz
used to do, Jess?" Angela asked.
"Sorry."
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"Have you guys ever had champagne?" Rachel wanted to know as
we sat at a huge corner booth. Angela and I both shook our
heads. "Well, you're gonna love it."
"I thought you were a Molly, Rachel. No offense."
"None taken. And no. I'm not one. I just keep my life
private unlike some people I know," she said looking straight at
me.
"What? Just because I don't hide under a bush..." I shot
back.
"You make life hard on yourself, Jessica. You need to learn
to be discreet. Then you can do anything."
"Oh, like what? Get high? I can do that anyway"
"Yeah, but you have people coming down on you for it, too,
don't you?" I couldn't argue with Rachel's logic and was thank
ful the waiter had shown up with the first bottle of champagne.
"Here's to men..." Angela toasted, raising her glass.
"...Can't live with 'em; can't shoot 'em," I finished. I
drank deeply from the bubbly sweet drink and my nose started
burning. I guess I drank it a little too quickly or something.
We went to the buffet table and piled our plates with pineapple
and mango, apple struddle, sausage, pancakes, blueberry muffins,
and bacon. I went back to the omelette table where they had a
dozen different fillings and you watched the chef make it right
there for you. I got crab with sharp swiss cheese put in mine.
I had never seen so much good food in my life, not even when Liz
and I had been at Nick's Fishmarket. It was great.
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"So, come on, Rachel, tell us the truth. Have you slept
with Ted or not," Angela prodded, as we ate the delicious food.
"Truth?"
"Yeah, no being discreet," I said.
"Okay, the answer is yes." We burst out giggling thinking
this was terribly funny. We were into our third bottle of
champagne. Our waiter, Sean, was too prompt about filling our
glasses up and I don't think any of us realized how much we'd
drank.
"And...?"
"And what? How is he? Is that what you want to know?"
"Absolutely."
"He's...fanfuckingtastic." That sent us into more gales of
laughter and we started attracting attention. Not that any of us
cared.
"Did it hurt?" Angela asked, morbidly interested.
"No, not really. I mean, he took his time and all. But we
really didn't know what we were doing at first. Ted was a virgin
too. "
"Ahhhhhhh," we sang in unison. Rachel blushed.
"So what about Mike, Angela? Are you going to sleep with
him?"
"I sure hope so. Last night he told me he loved me," she
said in a hush as if it were some great secret.
"He's greasing her up," I said to Rachel who laughed.
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"No, he really meant it, Jess. I know he did." I could see
the sincerity in her eyes and only hoped it was as true as she
believed it to be.
"Well, maybe you'll get lucky when we have our house warming
party," Rachel encouraged. Angela downed another glass of
champagne and we all went back for yet more food.
"So, whatever happened to you and Kenny?" Angela asked me.
"Nothing yet. It's kinda been crazy with moving and all.
I'm sure we'll get to spend more time together now that the dust
has settled."
We sat there the rest of the morning, eating and drinking
until we were all so sick we couldn't move. Rachel told us all
about her family, how her dad had been in an accident and that he
couldn't concentrate for long periods of time so he couldn't keep
being the cameraman he'd started out as. Rachel's mom had kept
the family going and I got the impression Rachel had had to
struggle to get money together to go to college although you'd
never know it by the way she spent her allowances. Angela didn't
tell us much about her family except that she was an only child
and that they had moved around a lot. I told them about my
episodes with Darren and they both agreed I needed to find a
boyfriend. It was nice to have people around that cared.
Sean had become very concerned over us getting back to
school but we assured him we were quite capable of managing
ourselves. It wasn't so easy. Being drunk was not like being
high. Things become blurry, not ultra defined. And there is a
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certain carelessness and awkwardness with being drunk that I
hadn't noticed while being high. I don't know. All I felt that
afternoon as we navigated our way back out that luxurious lobby
was a kind of satisfaction of belonging with my two new room
mates. I liked being a part of this intimate new world and I
didn't care if I had to drink to be a member.
A few days later, Angela and I were at the duplex alone and
we decided to get drunk again.
"Damn I love being drunk," Angela slurred. We were deep
into the six-pack of Budweiser that Mike had brought over for
himself to drink when he visited Angela. She had convinced me he
wouldn't mind if she and I drank it ourselves.
"And well that you should," I slurred back, giggling at the
cockroach that skittered by us as we sat alone in the tiny living
room.
"It's a Quan!" Angela screamed running for the bug spray.
Quan was the nickname Ang had given to all cockroaches after
she'd seen this movie about a prostitute whose pimp was named
Quan. We spent five minutes chasing the roach before cornering
it in the kitchen.
"Wait, let's catch it and put it in Veti's room," I said.
We laughed about that until we realized Veti and Teffi wouldn't
be scared as they were used to the disgusting creatures. We
finally decided to just kill the thing. "Goddamned cockroaches.
I hate them."
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"Oh, come on, you have to admit, they're kinda cute."
"Now I know you're drunk."
"Yeah, you're right. Too bad Mike isn't here to take
advantage of me," Angela said, smiling that perfect-teeth smile
of hers.
"What's with that guy, anyway? I thought he was all hot to
get you in bed..."
"He is, but we haven't had the chance."
"Oh, puh-leese, Angela. Pull the other leg, it plays jingle
bells." Angela laughed and threw a thong at me.
"I'm waiting for the right moment." A knock came at the
door and Angela went to answer. It was Kenny.
"Hey, how you guys doin'?" he asked, walking in from the
rain.
"Hi, Kenny," I said in my most sexy voice. "Hey, are you
coming to our Housewarming party tomorrow night?" I went to kiss
him, but he recoiled from me.
"Are you drunk?" he asked incredulously.
"No, we're blotto, Kenny. Can't you tell?" Angela asked,
flopping onto the couch.
"I can't believe you, Jessica. I thought you didn't do
those kinds of things." I looked around for an escape, but there
was none.
"What kind of things?" I asked innocently, spit sneaking out
at the corner of my mouth.
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"Jeez, you two smell like a brewery." Angela and I both
started howling about that thought.
"A brewery! That's a good one, Ken," Angela shrieked.
Kenny shook his head sadly.
"Jess, I'm very disappointed in you. I thought we had
something good going between us." I looked at him through red-
rimmed eyes and saw Darren's face.
"What are you talking about, Kenny? I haven't done anything
wrong."
"Oh, breaking the Word of Wisdom isn't wrong?" he accused.
"Kenny, you've got to loosen up, live a little," Angela
coached.
"I think I've got my life in pretty good order. And I don't
think you've got a lot of room to be telling me how to live,
Angela."
"What the fuck do you know about living, Kenny? You've just
spent two years living with another man doing nothing but reading
the Bible and preaching to people. Is that what you call
living?" I yelled. Angela looked at me and started laughing
again. I chuckled a little with her, my anger cooling a tad.
"Oh, and now I'm a bad person because I spent time spreading
the word of the gospel and coming closer to the Lord."
"You don't have an earpiece to God, Kenny, and you don't
have the right to judge other people."
"Well, it's obvious you and I want a different quality of
life. I'm sorry for you, Jess."
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"God, Kenny, you're such a... such a..." I searched for just
the right word, the alcohol slowing my thoughts down. "...such a
Returned Missionary." That sent Angela into gales of laughter
and Kenny just turned around and walked out. I stared after him
and then started laughing with her.
"That was too perfect - a Returned Missionary!"
"I've got to find me a new man. Someone that isn't hung up
like that." I said.
"That's for damn sure."
235
MADNESS
That following night Rachel, Angela, and I gave our first
party. We invited everyone we knew from school, but wouldn't you
know it, only the party people showed up. What a surprise. Mike
came with a new friend named Tony, this huge guy who already
balding. He was cute though, and had brought a quart of rum with
him.
"Rum and Coke, anyone?" Mike asked as he strolled in the
door. Angela had worn her latest outfit and I got the feeling
that tonight was going to be "the right moment" for her and Mike.
"Is that all you guys have?" Ted asked.
"I don't see you with any libations, Mr. Perfect," Mike
snapped back. Those two didn't like each other much.
"Now, everyone is on their best behavior tonight. That's an
order," Rachel warned. Tony had made â bee-line for me.
"You're Jess, right?" I smiled at him, loving the attention
and his green eyes.
"That's right, who wants to know?"
"Tony. Want a drink?" I nodded and we commenced to get
drunk. I actually would have preferred to get stoned, but since
everyone was drinking, I just went along with them. Maybe
fifteen people showed up, but I was drunk by the time they did,
so I'm not sure who all was there. I only had eyes for Tony that
night, and he seemingly didn't see anything but me.
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”Yo, Tony, didn't I tell you?" Mike said, tripping over Max,
who'd ventured inside for a moment. "Fucking dog. Whose fucking
dog is this?"
"It's my fucking dog and you leave him alone," I said,
rescuing Max from Mike's hand. Mike leered and leaned into Tony
with a pseudo whisper.
"She's hot. I'm telling you, Tony, old man. Listen, keep
her occupied for a while. I'm taking Angela to the room." They
gave each other a brotherly slug and Mike stood up shakily.
"You gonna be able to perform, old man?" Tony asked him.
"No problem." Mike saw Angela coming back from the bathroom
and made his way to her. I saw him whisper in her ear and then
Angela led him toward the bedroom.
"Looks like someone is going to have fun tonight," Tony said
to me as I resumed my position on the couch.
"They don't have to be the only ones," I said coyly. Tony
kissed me then. It was a nice kiss, not too wet and sloppy like
Kevin's had been. I had slammed three large rum and Cokes and
was felt blurry. Time seemed to compress and when I looked up
from the kiss, Angela and Mike were back in the living room.
"Jesus, you guys ever come up for air?" Mike asked. Angela
was flushed and disheveled-looking. Angela was never disheveled,
so I assumed the obvious.
"You finished already?" Tony teased Mike.
"We've been gone for an hour, old man. Let's see you do
better."
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"An hour. That's kid's stuff. Come on, Jessica, let's show
them what it's really about," Tony took my hand and we walked
back toward the bedroom. I was so drunk I didn't stop to think
about what was happening, but I at least had enough sense to go
into the bathroom first and put in my diaphragm.
Wow. Tony. I don't even know another word to describe him.
This guy was so into sex it was frightening. He had a solid
man's body, not some whimpering thing like Kevin. He stripped
down while we were still standing there, no embarrassment or
hesitation. I felt compelled to do the same, matching him step
for step. He took me in his arms, his hands everywhere at once.
I wish I could say it felt wonderful, but I didn't have enough
feeling in my nerves to even comprehend his touch. I was just
going through the motions, reacting to whatever he would do.
Tony was certainly the most experienced man I'd ever been with,
and he went through all sorts of strange things that night. Like
he would get himself all worked up and I thought he was about to
climax, but then he'd stop and make me switch positions and he'd
start the climb all over again. At one point he grabbed my head
and made me give him head for about an hour. I nearly gagged,
but he was so into it, I couldn't stop him. I kept thinking
about how Angela and I would compare notes in the morning, and so
I kept going.
I don't know how long we were in there, but Tony came three
times that night. I was amazed that anyone could manage more
238
than once a night, and I was thankful when he finally rolled off
me the last time and fell asleep.
As with all forms of mind-altering substances, the rush of
good feeling soon dissipates when you come down. And dissipate
it did. I heard Tony snoring and I guess I sort of woke up to
the fact that I was in bed with this man I didn't even know,
having just had sex with him. On the one hand, it felt great to
be wanted and held and everything, but on the other hand, I was
scared to death. I was actually becoming what Darren had con
sidered me. I got up as quietly as I could, lifting his heavy
arm off me, and got out of bed. I put on the nearest clothes I
could find and crept out of the room. The party had long since
broken up and the duplex was quiet. Mike and Angela lay curled
up on the pull-out couch, asleep in each other's arms. I looked
at them for a moment and wondered if they were really in love. I
went out the back door and down to the beach.
It was raining lightly as Max followed me to the water's
edge. There was a massive tree trunk lying on the beach that
served as our seating whenever we went there. I sat and
scratched Max behind his ears. He licked my face and I realized
there were tears to be licked at. But I wasn't crying. Does
that make any sense? It was like the tears were cleansing me,
washing the scum of casual sex off, while inside, I was still; so
still as to be not there at all. The moon was full, and, every
few minutes it would break though the rain clouds, shining on the
waves lapping at my .feet. I burrowed my face deep into Max's wet
239
fur until he shook me off, not understanding my fierce grip on
him. I finally went back in and crawled into bed.
The next morning I woke long before Tony, my head pounding
from the hangover. I got up to shower, taking my clothes into
the bathroom so I wouldn't have to change in front of him. I
went in to get my books just before I left for school. Tony
roused.
"Mmmmm. My little sexy thing."
"Morning."
"You look great, Jessica."
"Thanks."
"Why are you dressed already? Don't you want to stay in bed
all morning?" he asked, pulling down the covers to reveal his
erection. I looked away, searching for my books.
"I have a class this morning. Principles of Tropical
Agriculture," I answered haltingly.
"On Saturday?" I retrieved my books from under the heap of
clothes on Angela's side.
"Uh, yeah. We have a study group and we're going over
mineral content in some soils." Tony nodded and got up,
completely at ease with his nakedness.
"Mike told me about this island adventure thing you guys are
doing. I'd like to hear about it sometime." I stopped my
frantic actions and took stock of him.
''Seriously?"
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"Yeah, sure. It sounds like a lot of fun, going off to an
island for a year." Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all. "I
could come back later today." He kissed me, his morning breath
more rancid than sour milk, and walked out toward the bathroom.
I was seized by a growing excitement that maybe I'd found a
companion after all.
I finally got a letter from Liz that day. It didn't say
much except she'd moved in with an old girlfriend from high
school and that she'd gotten a job as a receptionist at a law
firm. She said she missed me, but somehow I didn't get that
feeling from the letter. I mean, it was only like half a page
long and she was all chatty about Dan and how he'd taken her into
San Francisco when she'd gotten home and treated her to an
incredibly expensive dinner. I cried when I read it, not just
because Liz wasn't around anymore, but more because I was jealous
of her relationship with Dan. I sat down and wrote this big long
letter back about the duplex and the party and Tony. I made it
sound like Tony and I were in love and planning a June wedding.
It was ridiculous, I know, but I didn't want Liz to think I'd
just curled up and died after she left.
Angela met me at the Seasider Cafe for lunch, and for the
first time I didn't want her company.
"I can't tell you how great it was. Why didn't you ever
tell me sex was so great?" I shrugged, pretending to sort
through some papers.
"So, I guess you had fun then." .
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"Fun? It was the best 1 I mean, I didn't know what I was
doing, but Mike explained everything and it was great."
"I'm happy for you, Ang. Really. Just make sure you're
protected." She socked me in the arm.
"I'm not dumb, you know. The only thing I didn't really
like was the oral sex." I looked up at her.
"Giving or receiving?"
"Giving. Mike is so huge that I got a cramp in my jaw after
a few seconds. And he wouldn't let me stop."
"Sounds like a terrific guy there, Angela."
"No, I mean, I didn't want to stop. He liked it a lot and I
wanted to go on. It just hurt for a while." We took our empty
trays to the conveyor belt and set them on it. I grabbed up some
left-over hamburgers from another tray to take to Max who was
waiting outside for me. "So, what about you?" she asked.
"What about me?"
"Well, Tony told Mike and Mike told me..."
"Jesus, Angela, isn't anything private anymore?"
"What's with you? You were the one who couldn't stop
talking about sex for weeks on end and now, when it happens, you
clam up," she snapped at me. We walked outside and I shook my
head. Max gobbled the food down.
"Sorry. I'm just not feeling that great. I think I'm
coming down with tonsillitis. I get it every year and with all
this rain..." I finished and saw that Angela wasn't buying it.
"Okay, he was magnificent in bed. A true master."
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"That's more like it. Are you going to see him again.?"
"I don't know. I think he might be interested in going with
us to the Marquesas, though."
"Well, Mike and I are going out tonight to the movies." We
walked across campus toward the back entrance of PCC. We had
gotten Mahalo passes that allowed us to cross PCC to get home so
we didn't have to walk all the way around.
"What's playing?"
"I don't know. We're just going. Are you going to be home
later?" I was kinda peeved she hadn't asked me to join them, but
I didn't say anything.
"Probably. Why?"
"I just thought maybe Mike and I could use the room
again..."
It was the beginning. Angela and Mike were inseparable
after that. Rachel and Ted had always been joined at the hip,
but I was unprepared for Angela to desert me. I told her there
would be no problem with the room and found myself using the
couch more and more often. I didn't mind at first. I mean,
Angela was so in love you could hardly blame her. And besides,
Tony was around and we used the room a number of times ourselves.
I got used to his huge body, which, next to Darren's, was
intimidating. He wasn't all that good-looking, although his
balding didn't really have anything to do with that. He was just
kind of a regular Joe - nothing special about his face at all.
243
He did have these awesome forearms, though. Big and strong with
the muscles nearly bursting from the skin. Forearms turned me
on. He wasn't very good at conversation, but I had told him all
about the island and he got enthusiastic about going. That made
me happy, and I, in turn, got more comfortable around him. He
was obsessed with sex and showed me positions that I wouldn't
think were possible until we actually did them. There was a
growing intimacy between us that I clung to as Angela grew more
distant.
For three weeks this went on, the six or seven of us ( Ted's
friend Jimmy was still constantly around) would get together and
drink. I laughed and played with them, feeling very much a part
of the whole. Tony would put his arm across my shoulder and I
would feel safe and protected, wanted in every way. It was
always the same - we would drink heavily in the early part of the
night, play poker for pennies, or just sit around and gab. Then
Mike and Angela would start kissing, forgetting everyone in the
room until they finally disappeared into the back. They would
emerge later, flushed and happy-looking, wrapped up in each
other's arms. I would look on in envy, snuggling closer to Tony,
trying to feel the same excitement. He and I usually ended up in
bed at some point during the night and, if I was very drunk, it
would be terrific.
Once, though, I was almost sober and I noticed how rough and
forceful he was with me. After that night, I began to watch him
more carefully and little things started really bothering me.
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Like the fact that he never asked me if I was okay, or enjoying
myself or whatever. That and his aloofness whenever I brought up
a personal subject like his plans for the future. The little
warning bell I have went off, asking why I didn't know any more
about this man than I did on that first night. I guess we just
never got around to the "getting to know you" stage. I was sort
of stumbling through the motions of being in a relationship until
one night when I had had a little too much to drink and found my
tongue out of control.
"You never talk about your family, how come?" I asked as we
sat on the couch waiting for Mike and Angela to come out of the
bedroom.
"I don't know. They're boring."
"Not to me. Don't you think we should get to know each
other better if we're going to be spending a year on an island
together?"
"What, you mean sexually?" he asked, reaching for me. I
pushed him back.
"No, I mean as friends. Maybe we should be friends for a
while and just get to know some stuff..."
"Jessica, you're really beginning to bore me."
"I'm serious. We're going to be depending on each other for
everything on this island - "
"Will you cut with the island shit, already! No one is
going to that moronic island of yours. No one cares, Jessica.
They all just let you talk about it 'cause they don't know how to
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shut you up." I sat there stunned, barely able to comprehend
what he had just told me. One great thing about being drunk -
people say things that are the honest truth that they wouldn't
have the courage or tactlessness to say otherwise.
"So all your talk..."
"Is just that, talk. Look, we have a pretty terrific thing
going here. I mean, you've come a long way in the past few
weeks..."
"We don't have anything but sex!"
"What more do you want? I can't believe you're getting cold
feet..." What I was getting was furious, unable to control
myself.
"How about a conversation once in awhile? How about a
concern for the other person..."
"I'm concerned about you
"What utter bullshit. You didn't even care enough to ask if
I'm protected or not."
"I told you, that's a woman's job. She's the one that can
get pregnant, not me."
"That's asinine. It takes two to tango, buster."
"Oh, you just can't handle it 'cause you don't know shit
about sex. You're as green as they come. In fact, you don't
even do that !"
"What, come? Of course I don't. You're too worried about
how many positions you can get into in one night to worry about
pleasing the woman. And I know one thing about sex that you
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haven't got a clue about. I know that sex is more than sticking
your dick into me and jacking off. It's about two people caring
about each other, not just getting off. I feel sorry for you,
Tony. I really do."
With that I walked out that back door and called to Max. We
ran down to the beach together, down the sand to a hollow I'd
discovered about 100 yards south of our duplex. I sat there,
drunk and crying, holding onto Max's neck. He whined and tried
to lick my face. It was pouring out and I was soaked completely,
but I didn't care. It was all too much to handle. I thought
about Angela and Mike and how they seemed like they were in love.
A friend never feels so unwanted as when a boyfriend comes into
the picture. I felt like a fool; like an absurd, childish little
girl who couldn't even control her own life. And so I was.
I finally went back to the house when I was shivering
uncontrollably. Tony was gone, of course, and so was Mike. I
crawled into bed wanting nothing more than to share my pain with
Angela, but she was fast asleep with an angelic expression on her
face. I couldn't talk to her. God, how I missed Liz! I knew I
didn't want sex for sex's sake anymore. I knew I didn't want
that. But I wasn't sure I wanted what Mike and Angela had either
- I didn't see them being really good friends, although I knew
she was in love with him. Rachel and Ted were so consumed by
their own private world, it was hard to tell just what they had.
I wanted what Darren and me had had, and I knew that wasn't going
247
to happen. I vowed never to let a man in my bed again when there
was no love or caring between us.
I woke with a burning throat and knew immediately that it
was tonsillitis. I welcomed the sickness and ignored the growing
fatigue and soreness. I didn't mention anything about the fight
Tony and I had to Angela, and when she asked why he wasn't coming
around anymore, I made up some story about him being more inter
ested in this Filipino girl that actually had been baking him
pies and stuff for several weeks while he and I had been sleeping
together. She accepted that, not questioning it further as she
was too wrapped up in Mike to notice anything beyond the
superficial. My drinking changed then. For a week I drank
steadily with Angela and Mike, or by myself. I liked the feeling
of being so inebriated I didn't know what was going on. It
helped to ease the ache of being alone on the couch while Mike
and Angela indulged themselves. But the combination of tonsil
litis and alcohol didn't mix well, and my sickness grew worse.
On Friday, a week after Tony and I had broken off, a
hurricane hit Hawaii. I was at school late, having gone to my
study group to avoid being in the duplex. It had been raining
hard all that day, like it did most days, but this day was
especially bad. The rain didn't just fall, it slashed and stung.
I didn't know how bad storms in Hawaii could get, and no one
bothered to tell me that I shouldn't be outside when one hit. I
just thought it was a nasty downpour like all the others until I
walked out of the study lab with the teacher's assistant, Danny,
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after all the other students had already left. It was the one
time during that week that I was sober, not having any money left
to buy rum.
"Jeez, look at it come down," Danny said.
"Looks like a wall of water," I said, slipping my sweatshirt
over my head.
"Hey, you gonna be all right getting home?"
"I'm gonna try to find someone to drive me."
"I'd offer, but I don't have a car."
"That's all right. I'll be fine." He took off towards the
dorms and I felt a slight tug of apprehension as he disappeared.
Max was with me and we searched the corridors for someone with a
car. There was no one around. I waited for an hour, hoping
someone would turn up, but no one did. It was getting late and I
knew I had to just go for it. I mean, by road, it wasn't more
than a mile, and across PCC only half a mile, but in that kind of
rain, it wouldn't be easy. The wind was blowing so hard, the
coconut trees bent at unnatural angles. Max was whining and we
were both shivering from being drenched by the gusts of rain that
flooded the hallways. I had no umbrella, not that it would have
helped, and no raincoat either.
Finally I set out for PCC. I hadn't walked twenty feet in
the open before I was soaked completely. I hung onto Max so he
wouldn't get blown away. We passed the guard at the PCC gate
booth who didn't even bother checking my pass and took no notice
of Max. Normally, Max would never be allowed to cross PCC,
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leaving us to walk around the forty-two acres, but the center had
been closed for a few days as most the villages were ankle deep
in water. We walked through the ghostly, deserted place,
listening to the howling winds and vicious rain slashing down.
PCC has a canal that meanders throughout the seven villages and
shops with bridges over certain spots. From the back gate to the
front I had to cross the main bridge that dips on the other side
before it ascends again, toward Shop Polynesia.
As Max and I stood on the bridge we stared at the path. It
wasn't there, not even the outline of it. Only a river, a
virtual river of waist-high water running over the canal and up
the embankment, completely covering the path. There were other
ways around, but I knew they would be as bad. I was so cold, so
wet and miserable, I just started crying. Tears mixed with the
rain as I picked Max up and carried him through the torrent to
where the water was only shin deep and set him down. He licked
my face and I held him for a minute. There was no one to help
me, no one to make the night an adventure instead of a plight.
Angela was off with mike, as usual. Rachel was never even
around. Kari and Liz had both left school, Darren was gone... I
didn't have a friend in the world. It was just me and my dog and
the rain.
I stood finally. Max urging me onward, out the front
entrance and across the flooded parking lot to our small, wind
and rain punished house. I brought Max inside when we finally
got home. It was something that Veti and Teffi.had fits about
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and I usually kept him outside. But there was no way I was
leaving him outside that night. No way. I took him into the
shower with me to warm us up and then spent an hour drying him.
My throat hurt worse than ever.
I went to bed, sleeping fitfully. I woke up in the middle
of the night, choking on my own spit because ray throat was too
swollen to swallow it. I gasped and realized my lungs were
completely cut off. I couldn't breathe. I hacked out a huge
ball of flem into a tissue and sucked in cool air. My throat
burned and I couldn't even swallow my own salvia. I wished I
were dead. I was afraid to sleep, afraid I would choke again and
not wake up in time, so I sat up in bed staring at Angela who was
oblivious to the whole drama.
I started thinking about where I'd gotten to from where I'd
started in this island paradise. I thought about Liz and all the
fun we'd had, how we'd watched out for each other, and I missed
her... so much. I thought about how pathetic my life was,
drinking and pretending to like it. I thought about Angela and
Rachel, how I didn't even like them very much, yet clung to them
anyway. I mean, Angela had virtually ignored me since she and
Mike had started sleeping together. Maybe that was why I didn't
like her as much anymore. I don't know. Yet even in the face of
Ang's indulgence with Mike, even though Rachel never really made
an effort to deepen our friendship, even in the knowledge that
none of us were really good friends - I needed them. I needed
their companionship and if that meant drinking, or staying on the
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couch while they were with their boyfriends, then so be it. I
needed to belong somewhere and that was where I was.
The student health clinic was closed on Saturday so I went
to the Kahuku Medical Clinic and met Dr. Branch. He confirmed
that my sickness was tonsillitis and gave me some antibiotics to
take. He ordered me not to drink while I was on the medication
and I was secretly pleased, having a valid excuse not to party
with Angela and Rachel. That night, Ted and Jimmy showed up
around six and they made a huge spaghetti dinner with Rachel.
Our pull-out couch was open, as usual, and I sat in a corner of
it trying to study. They had brought two bottles of Chianti and
polished them off quickly. Angela came home around eight with
Mike and Mike's friend, Tom, in tow. They had brought with them
a couple of twelve packs of Bud and more rum and coke. Veti and
Teffi had left to spend the weekend at one of their girlfriend's
houses, so it was just us haoles there that night.
"Come on Jess, we're going to play quarters," Angela said,
pulling me off the couch.
"You know I can't drink for a while. You guys go ahead.
Don't mind me." They cleared off the small card table we had and
proceeded to play the drinking game. I came over and watched,
laughing with them at the antics of Jimmy, chugging his beer. It
was cozy and inviting, but I held out and didn't have any
alcohol. For a few hours it was pleasant and fun, before every
one was so drunk they didn't know what was going on. It was the
first time I hadn't been drunk with them and I finally got to see
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how it was from a sober standpoint. Angela started kissing Mike,
but he was having none of it.
"Lay off, Ang. I'm not in the mood."
"So, what's gonna get you in the mood?" she asked.
"How 'bout the truth."
"What are you talking about?" Ang said, getting up to fix
herself yet another rum and Coke. She stumbled on the way to the
kitchen, reaching out to right herself on my arm. Rachel, Ted,
and Jimmy were deep into a debate on drink-mixing techniques.
"You still saying there's nothing going on between you and
Craig?"
"Oh, puh-leese, Mike. He's just a friend," I interjected.
"Shut up, Jess. I wasn't asking you."
"She's right, Mike. Craig and I are just friends. I don't
see why you're getting so upset..."
"You're lying." Mike had followed her into the kitchen
getting another drink himself. I edged closer, wanting to hear
the argument, thinking I could pacify Mike. But he was too drunk
to listen to reason.
"Having lunch with someone doesn't mean I'm having an affair
with them," Angela countered.
"Lighten up, Mike. Angela wasn't doing anything wrong."
"I told you to shut up," he yelled and pushed me backward.
I fell back into Tom who started laughing.
"Mike..." Angela started, but stopped as he roughly grabbed
her arms. "Stop.it, you're hurting me."
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"Good, maybe this will make you learn not to fuck around on
me," he screamed in her face. Just then Rachel yelled out.
"That's a great idea! We're going swimming!" She ran out
the back door into the rain. I could see her fall as she slipped
in the mud, but she just laughed and kept going. Jimmy and Ted
followed quickly and I was torn deciding which scene was poten
tially more dangerous - Mike getting rough with Angela or Rachel
drowning. I ran after Rachel.
I grabbed up some towels on the way out and found them all
stripping down near the water's edge. Rachel hit the water
first, laughing and splashing water at Ted. Jimmy's small body
was a stark contrast to Ted's tall lanky one as they both got
naked and jumped in after Rachel. I watched from the relative
shelter of an Ironwood tree. Then I saw Rachel go under.
"Ted! Rachel's underwater!" Ted didn't hear me, being into
a wrestling match with Jimmy. I dropped the towels and leapt
into the ocean. I grabbed Rachel's hair and dragged her to the
surface. She sputtered out some water and then started laughing
again.
"Jesus Christ, Rachel, you scared the shit out of me," I
yelled at her.
"What?" she asked. I don't think she was conscious of the
fact she'd been underwater.
"Come on, it's freezing out here." And it really was cold
in the rain and wind off the ocean. She dutifully followed me
and grabbed up one of the towels before dashing back to the
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house. The guys followed a moment later and I gathered up their
wet, sandy clothes. When I got back inside, Rachel had put on
her white terry robe and was in the kitchen fixing another rum
and Coke. Ted got two lava-lavas from Veti's room and he and
Jimmy wrapped these around themselves. Mike and Tom were nowhere
to be seen and I went to find Angela. I found her in our room,
crying.
"Angela? What happened?"
"He hit me, Jess." She turned around and I could see the
beginnings of a huge welt on the side of her face. "Fuck him to
hell." I hugged her, but she vehemently threw me off. "I'll be
out in a sec."
"Don't you think you've had enough for one night?"
"No fucking way." I left her in there and went back to the
kitchen. Ted had dropped an empty rum bottle and no one had
bothered picking up the shattered glass from the floor. I swept
up the pieces then went to put on some dry clothes. Angela
passed me, fresh makeup on. My throat was on fire and all I
wanted to do was lay down and go to sleep.
"I feel sick," Rachel said just before she threw up in the
sink. I had been following around behind all of them as they
resumed their drinking games for yet another hour. I went to
Rachel and guided her to the bathroom. I held her head over the
toilet as she purged herself. The smell was putrid and made me
feel nauseous myself. I held my breath as long as I could,
finally breathing into a towel behind me. Fortunately, Rachel
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passed out quickly. I didn't have the strength to carry her to
her bed so I left her lying there. I went to find Ted to help me
with her and found he and Jimmy crowded into the doorway of
Angela's and my bedroom. Angela had ACDC's "Back in Black"
blaring from my tape player. She was doing a strip tease on our
bed. She was spinning and laughing, peeling off her clothes
piece by piece.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I asked, pushing
the boys further into the room to see what was happening.
"Having fun. What are you doing?" she giggled, burping as
she did so. "I want you to go and them to stay," pointing at Ted
and Jimmy. I wasn't given a choice in the matter as Jimmy pushed
me out the door and closed it. I retreated to the couch not
knowing what else to do. It crossed my mind to break down the
door and stop her, but Angela appeared to know what she was
doing. I could hear her high-pitched voice giggling and carrying
on. After a while, I found Ted was next to me, naked and smil
ing, his face flushed with excitement.
"This is so fantastic. Angela is hot. I mean, smokin'.
She wanted it, I swear to God, Jess, she wanted it. We couldn't
say no. She did this outrageous dance, fuck, I had no idea she
could move. I got her first, Jesus, I never knew I could go so
deep. Rachel's so small..."
"Ted, what the hell are you saying?"
"We fucked her, man, we fucked Angela."
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"We? You and Jimmy...?" A horrible image filled my mind of
the two of them on her. I went to get up, but Ted pushed me
back.
"Oh, no, you don't. Jimmy's doing her right now and she's
loving it. Oh, God, it was so great. When I had her Jimmy was
massaging my ass and Jesus, it felt hot. I mean. I'm not a fag
or nothin', but talk about erotic. And when he fucked her, I did
it back to him." Ted was getting so turned on by describing the
events to me that he had grabbed his cock and started rubbing it.
"You bastard. Rachel is lying on the bathroom floor and
you're fucking Angela?"
"Yeah, I took so long to come. God, it was great. Hey, you
want to join us?"
"Get the fuck away from me," I yelled, pushing him out of my
way. I raced down the hallway and burst into our room.
"You just want to watch, am I right, Jess?" Ted asked,
coming up behind me as I stopped short, staring at Angela. She
was lying lengthwise on our bed, Jimmy's face buried in her
snatch. Ted was still wanking off as he grinned at the scene.
"Angela?" I asked tentatively. She turned and looked at me,
an expression of pure delight on her face.
"Fuck Mike," was all she said, arching back and holding
Jimmy's head. Ted grinned at me and nodded approvingly. Then he
went inside and closed the door. I stood there outside the door
for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of Angela's ecstacy.
I had never heard her vocalize with Mike before and wondered if
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it was because he wasn't a good lover or because she was just
blind drunk at that moment. I backed down the hallway and caught
a glimpse of Rachel lying on the bathroom floor, oblivious to
everything. I felt nauseous, like I wanted to join Rachel in the
bathroom. I was terrified and furious, but I didn't know what to
do.
I let Max in the house and sat with him in the living room.
I was shaking, feeling a cold spread over me that had nothing to
do with my tonsillitis. It wasn't long before Jimmy appeared,
naked, and flopped down on the couch.
"That was fuckin' great," he exclaimed. He rolled over and
looked at me, his bleary eyes grinning with lust. "Angela
fuckin' loved that. And she tasted so great." I kicked him,
hard in the shoulder.
"Leave me alone, you prick." He laughed in my face, playing
with his flaccid cock.
"Fine, miss out on all the fun. You know, Jess, what you
need is a good, hard fuck, loosen up a bit." He vanished down
the hallway and I buried my head in Max's neck. I could still
hear Ted, grunting, trying to get another round of action in on
Angela. I put two pillows over my head to drown out the noise.
Finally, it stopped. I kept my head buried, just able to hear
Ted and Jimmy laughing as they gathered up their clothes and
walked out the front door. I didn't move until I heard Jimmy's
car drive away.
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I got up then, going slowly back to our room. I opened the
door and saw Angela, curled up tightly, rocking back and forth in
the corner. I rushed to her side and wrapped her up in my arms.
She cried and cried, repeating the question, "What's Mike gonna
say?" I had no answer and gave her none. She was close to
passing out so I got her back in bed and sat with her until she'd
fallen asleep.
I went to Rachel and dragged her into her room and put her
to bed. As I reentered the living room, Ted showed up at the
door. He just grinned at me, brushing by.
"You're not touching Angela again, do you hear me?" He
looked at me as if I was crazy.
"I'm not here for that slut. I'm staying with Rachel." My
jaw dropped open at his insidiousness. He left me standing there
and went into Rachel's room, locking the door. It was all I
could do not to smash it down and take a bat to that son of a
bitch's head. I didn't know what to do except clean up. I was
too wired to sleep and so I spent an hour picking up the mess. I
finally fell into an exhausted slumber on the couch.
In the morning I brought tea to Rachel and sat with her as
she held her head. Ted had gotten up early and left.
"Rachel, you gotta know what went on last night. What Ted
and Jimmy did."
"He already told me," I raised my eyebrows in astonish
ment .
"He did?"
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"Yeah, he said that Angela was so drunk she just flung
herself at them and that he really didn't know what he was
doing."
"Are you kidding me? That's the biggest crock of shit I've
ever heard. They knew exactly what was going on." Rachel
shrugged, sipping the tea.
"I believe him. We all do things when we're drunk that we
regret the next day. It's no big deal."
"It's no big deal that Ted fucked Angela?" She shrugged
again, wincing at my raised voice.
"I'm not sure any of it happened in the first place and even
if it did, I believe Angela was to blame."
"They took advantage of her when she was stone drunk!"
"Quit yelling at me, Jess! It's none of your business
anyway." I stood then, backed away from Rachel. It dawned on me
that she was taking the whole episode with just a little too much
ease. She didn't even care that her boyfriend had not just slept
with another woman, but had done it taking advantage of her
drunken state. I saw that Rachel either wanted to pretend it
never happened or minimize the events till they meant next to
nothing. I was filled with a loathing for her then, seeing how
her need for Ted outweighed any sort of self-respect or morality
she might have had once. I left her and went to Angela.
The story was much the same. She claimed she didn't
remember a thing that went on. That I must be making it up just
to make her feel bad. There was nothing I could say to her that
260
would change her mind. Not even about Mike hitting her. She
said it must have been an accident and, when he showed up the day
with some flowers, she took him back immediately.
I decided within hours that I was moving out.
261
SERENITY
"I've got to get out of there, Val." I said as I sat on her
tropical print couch in the living room of her house.
"I thought you loved that place."
"Well, things aren't going so great. I need to find some
where else to live." Val tucked her toes under her long skirt
and looked out at the rain tapping on the huge French windows
that took up an entire wall and looked out over the ocean toward
Hokilau beach.
"You know, it just so happens that there's a room available
here," Val said. I looked back toward the kitchen as if seeing
the two rooms beyond the wall.
"Where? I thought you and Carol had the only two rooms..."
"There's a room downstairs. It's been rented by a girl from
the Mainland from May till September, but there's no one using it
right now."
"I didn't even know this place had a downstairs."
"Yeah, I'll show you." Val led the way across the large
airy living room to a stairwell neatly hidden behind a low-lying
bookcase. We walked downstairs to a small room that opened onto
a cement patio. The view out the windows was picture perfect,
complete with just enough Ironwood trees to balance the vista of
the sea.
"And there's a bathroom down here, but they haven't finished
the drywalling so it's kinda primitive." I looked at the toilet
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set among wood two-by-fours. There was a large spider in one
corner that I absent-mindedly stamped out.
"I love it. What's the rent like?"
"It's $170 for the room which wouldn't be that much if you
were sharing it with someone else..."
"No, thank you. I've had my share of roommates for a while.
You don't mind if Max is around, do you?"
"Not at all, as long as he doesn't come upstairs."
"This is too perfect. When can I move in?"
"Let me talk with the owner and see if she minds. I'm sure
she won't. I mean, this place is supposed to be a vacation
rental, but with this nasty winter we're having, she's lucky to
have anyone in the house at all."
I packed up my meager belongings the next day and moved away
from the duplex. Angela pretended she was upset and all, but I
knew better. I knew it was an act because now she had the room
to herself and she and Mike could spend that much more time
together. Rachel didn't say much except "keep in touch" which
made it seem like I was leaving school instead of just moving up
to the Point. It was weird and I was very glad to get out of
there.
Laie Point lies east of the school, right across from the
shopping center and up a hundred foot incline. The finger-like
extension runs maybe half a mile in either direction from the
access road. I lived to the left, five houses down from the
center. 55-398 Naupaka Street, my new address. The house was
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situated back from the road, up a small incline so no car noise
could be heard. I had fallen in love with the aqua green house
the minute I'd seen it when Val and Carol had first moved in not
long after Ang and I had moved out of the dorms. There was a
long lanai, with Val and Carol's rooms off to the right, ending
at the kitchen. You could enter the living room straight on as
well, but no one ever did. It was easier to just enter the
kitchen and leave wet, muddy stuff there. The living room was my
favorite area with its wood-paneling and woven-mat floor of
pandanus leaf. The kitchen was small but serviceable, also
decorated in the Polynesian style. The whole place was light and
airy, with no noise except the sound of surf 80 feet below and
the wind through the Ironwood trees.
"You're awfully quiet these days, Jess," Val said as she
came out my bedroom door onto my private patio. I had found a
water-logged bamboo couch frame in front of one of the three
hundred homes that were flooded during the hurricane. I had
sanded it down and restained it, sewn up some new cases for the
cushions, and was using it on my terrace. Val sat next to me as
I contemplated the Sea Grape which grew almost as profusely as
the Naupaka along the slope behind the house.
"Yeah, goes along with a deep mind," I said. Val laughed.
"Oh, right, Ms. Einstein."
"This is incredible up here. You're so lucky."
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"So are you. Now. So, why haven't you been upstairs?" I
shrugged, listening to my tape of Pink Floyd's The Wall.
"I haven't been in a chatty mood, I guess."
"That's the understatement of the year. You've hardly
spoken to anyone for weeks," I couldn't explain to Val that I
was healing. That the silence was my way of dealing with life.
It was a far cry from the days with Liz.
"Well, I've been trying to catch up in school. And, you
haven't exactly been a social butterfly yourself." Val had no
answer for that one and remained quiet for a moment.
When I had first moved in, Val and I had spent many hours in
the living room, drinking herbal tea which soothed my still
swollen throat, and talking about her adventures in Israel. But
as the weeks wore on, we stopped seeking each other out so
frequently. "Well, how's your life otherwise?" she asked. I
shrugged. There was nothing happening in my life. I had cut
myself off from all party activities, and so I saw very few
people and did even less. Val and Carol were Molly Mormons, and
so there was never the temptation of alcohol at the Laie Point
house.
"It's fine. Can't complain. Although I could use some
money. I'd like to get a job at PCC, if I can," Val nodded and
shifted in her seat. It was quiet, except for the surf, and I
heard my heart beating. I scratched Max behind the ears. "I got
another letter from Liz."
"How's she doing?"
265
"She's great. She was in a car accident and broke a finger,
but she's okay now." Val looked at me a second.
"You really miss her, don't you?" I nodded, unable to
speak, and returned my gaze to the ocean.
Since the night of that last party, all plans for the island
fell through. Even if Angela and Rachel had still wanted to go,
which Tony had made quite clear they didn't, there was no way I
was going to go with them. I came to the conclusion that if I
was serious about going off to live on an island, I would have to
do it all myself. I was writing a "paper" farm in my agriculture
class, hoping to put it to practical use in the Marquesas. I
thought about the ways I would need to live, what I needed to
know, and it dawned on me that I had the greatest resource for
knowledge at my fingertips - the Polynesian Cultural Center.
Granted, it was mostly a place for tourists to watch the native
dances and see the ancient costumes, but there were many places
in the villages where they demonstrated actual techniques of
island living, like weaving and coconut tree climbing. I not
only needed the money, I wanted to learn from the old men and
women who worked in those villages, who had come from these
various islands.
I went to PCC's main offices right inside BYU's administra
tion building and begged for a job. I knew I would never be
hired to work in any of the villages as I wasn't a local to any
of the islands, but there were plenty of shops and restaurants.
266
For a couple of weeks I went faithfully every day until I finally
got hired on. I was assigned to the roving carts, small moveable
stores that sold film and souvenirs. They were stationed at
different places in the park. I stood around all day selling to
the tourists, but it gave me a chance to get inside PCC anytime I
wanted and get to know the people that worked there.
The Marquesas were the islands I had set out for myself,
being the least populated and the easiest to rent land on. In
the village at PCC, there were no students because no one ever
came to Hawaii from there. It was really just a tribute to a
culture that had been virtually wiped out; scourged clean by
white-man's disease. The buildings in that village were actually
kind of ugly. I mean, maybe that's because there were no kids
around to liven the place up - it was empty and desolate, at the
far end of the park. I didn't like it much and wanted to build
my hut closer to the Tahitian style. It was silly, wanting one
style over another. I would probably have to do it the way the
locals of the area wanted to do it, but going in, I thought maybe
I could direct them or something. Actually, there are only minor
differences in the various cultures huts, as they all had basic
features; Mino or Ironwood for supports, hibiscus or bamboo for
the thinner, interior framework. All of these were lashed
together with sennit rope, and then thatched with palm fronds,
sugar cane leaves, or some such leaf.
I knew I wanted my hut situated above the ground, at least
six feet up, with an open front towards the trade winds to keep
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the bugs away. And I wanted it made with bamboo. Call me
romantic, I liked the look of bamboo better than hibiscus. I
wanted that Swiss Family Robinson look. I learned how to strip a
palm frond in half, braiding the leaves back and forth to make a
semi-solid plait. Once I made enough of these, I would have to
layer them onto the framework until it was maybe half a foot
thick. That's a lot of palm fronds and I was hoping to get some
villagers to help me.
The trick with bamboo, of course, is to cut the mature,
yellowed canes instead of the young green ones. That way, the
insects won't invade your house and eat it out from underneath
you. And when cutting a bamboo tree I was taught to keep my feet
clear because bamboo doesn't fall over - the trees grow too close
together for that. Instead, they shoot straight up then come
slashing back down. If I wasn't careful I could loss a foot.
The Samoan village gave the most practical information. It
was there I learned how to climb up coconut trees, the first step
to becoming native. Sing, one of the Samoan boys who did the
coconut demonstrations, showed me how to take sennit rope and
loop it maybe four times thick, twisting it into a figure eight
and wrapping it around my feet so they were about fifteen inches
apart. That gave me the leverage to shinny up the tree, which
had a rough, beveled exterior for easy holding. Of course, it
took a lot of strength in the arms, and I fell several times
before I got ten feet up. I vowed to start lifting weights to
build up my muscles. Anyway, the way he explained it, once up
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the tree I could cut down either green nuts for water and certain
food dishes, or the brown ones for every other use. Of course, I
could always wait for the mature nuts to fall, but if I needed
green ones, then up the tree I'd have to go.
Sing was very funny when he'd show the tourists everything
about the coconut. First, he husked the nut by slamming it down
on a sharp stick wedged in the ground. It took him only three
seconds to pry off the thick husk; he made it look so easy, and
it sort of was, once I got the hang of it. Then he would show how
to start a fire with any two pieces of wood by rubbing one
briskly against the other stationary piece. A small glow would
appear on the stationary piece and he would dump the ember into
the opened husk, fanning it back and forth until a flame ap
peared. That was always a crowd pleaser and I was happy to know
such a trick, should I run out of lighter fluid.
Sing would go on and show how to crack a nut open by giving
it a good, hard rap along the seam between the "face" on it.
They nearly always produced two exact halves. My dad had always
made such a production about it at home, using a hammer and
pounding it until there were maybe ten little pieces. I tried it
the Samoan way and sure enough it worked. They always made some
poor tourist drink the milk inside which, in a mature coconut,
was not as sweet as in a green one. Sing showed me how to get
all the contents of the nut out with a scraper tool that was
lashed to a log. He just sat and literally shaved the nut empty.
I had always done it the hard way of prying the flesh out with a
269
knife and breaking off the chunks as they would loosen. This
other way was much more practical. The shredded flesh could then
be used in a dozen different ways in the cooking process.
It was also in the Samoan village that I learned how to make
sennit rope. The fibers inside the husk of a coconut were used,
being removed and then pounded against a log with a stick - never
a rock as the fibers were too fragile. When all the gunk was
removed, the fibers were soaked overnight in water, then set out
in the sun to dry for two days. Once dry, they were ready for
use. The individual strands were maybe twice the thickness of
hair, and the old man, Keno, who sat and braided all day long,
showed me how to grab enough to make tiny strand about a six
teenth of an inch thick. I sat with him for several days getting
the hang of braiding. He would do it underhanded instead of the
normal way I'd learned as a girl. I began with just three
strands, then when I was to the end of one length, I would add
another strand to keep the braid going. The finished product was
only about a quarter inch thick, but strong as any hemp. This
rope was used for everything from lashing houses together, to
making fishing nets, to binding anything you could think of.
All of the villages had "kitchens," open huts separate from
the main huts. I learned how to keep food penned so animals
couldn't get at it, and also how to create my own oven. It was
called an earth oven or an imu. They took banana leaves or palm
fronds and lined a deep hole, then put in rocks that had been
sitting in a burning fire for several hours. Another layer of
270
leaves, any fresh green leaf would do, then the food, whatever it
was, pig, or chicken or breadfruit or a mixture of things. This
was covered with more leaves and then another layer of rocks and
then more leaves. The roasted pig, Kalua pig, as it was called
in Hawaiian, was the best food I'd ever tasted in my life. I
didn't know how much I was up for killing pigs and chickens, but
it was good to know how to cook them just in case.
There were so many types of foods I learned about; taro root
that, raw, could be pounded into poi, a foul-tasting, purple
paste that was a staple in the islander's diet; bananas that
could be eaten raw, boiled into a starchy, firm state that wanted
to taste like potatoes but didn't quite, or could be mixed with
anything; breadfruit, a small yellowish-brown orb that was only
eaten in a cooked state and was used on a daily basis - boy, were
there a lot of uses for breadfruit! There were also arrowroot,
sweetpotato, and even the "keys", the fruit of the pandanus tree
which were made into a paste and could be kept for weeks.
The pandanus tree would be vital to me, I knew. It was from
that tree that all the material came for weaving mats, pillows,
baskets, hats, and other little things. These were the "walking
trees" in the Disney movie Fantasia, called that because with
their aerial root system, they look like they are walking. In
the Hawaiian village I learned to gather the fallen brown leaves,
long, straight, prickly things, and put them to soak for a few
days. Once they were pliable, I shaved off the outer edge of
spines and let them dry either wrapped in coils or flat. Then,
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it was just a matter of cutting the width I wanted and weaving
the strips together. It was easy once I learned how. I would
sit in the Hawaiian village with the old woman, Leilani, plait
ing place mats together, dreaming about a farm in the Marquesas.
Between the foods I would grow, raising chickens for their
eggs, and maybe a goat for milk, the main source of protein I
would need would come from the ocean. This was my weakest area,
not being much of a fisherman, but I did learn the Tahitian way
of splitting bamboo to make thin reeds, lashing together small
ends and leaving the center wide - a primitive fish trap that
they told me worked well enough. I also learned how to make a
prong spear for reef fishing and how to weave a net for scooping.
The more I learned about this part of the adventure, the more I
wished I had someone going along with me, to do the fishing if
nothing else. I had this wonderful, romantic picture of myself
dressed in the traditional lava-lava wrapped loosely around my
waist, working from dawn till dusk growing food, preparing meals,
making a home, while my man, faceless, but real, would return
home from the sea with his bountiful catch of lobster, mahi mahi,
and prawn. It was silly of me, I know, because I was dead sure
no one was going to accompany me to my South Pacific retreat.
The Tahitian village didn't really teach me anything else of
importance. Mostly, the students would just instruct tourists
how to do the tamure, that hip-swinging grass skirt dance that
symbolizes the island. It was fun to watch the girls perform and
I even learned how to do it, but.I didn't think I would have much
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need for dancing on my farm. The other villages of PCC - Fiji,
New Zealand, and Tonga - held only minor interest for me as most
were concerned with the dances and costumes and history of their
country rather than with practical things I could use. And even
so, the stuff I was learning at PCC was not real life. I hadn't
actually tried any of the recipes, I only knew about them. I
wove place mats, sure, and I had done maybe a foot of rope, but
PCC had to be a long way from the real thing. I decided to take
the route of caution and find a native, living in the islands,
whom I could live with for a while to learn the real, functional
way of doing things. It was this idea that lead me to Michele
Jones.
"You can't be serious, Jessica," Michele said as we sat in
her dorm room.
"I'm totally serious. I have everything planned; where I'm
going to live, who to contact once I get to the Marquesas..."
Michele flung her blonde hair behind her as she struggled to get
it pinned up. I had met Michele the first semester as she was in
the adjoining unit from where Liz and I had lived.
"Why would anyone want to go and live by herself on a
practically deserted island?"
"I didn't want to go alone, but everyone who was interested
has flaked out on me. Now, how about it? You think Joe knows
anyone who could help me?" Michele straightened out the ribbon
bow at her neck. I wanted to roll my eyes at the Molly Mormon-
ness of her, but I needed her at the moment. Joe was her fiance,
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a native of Rarotonga, the capitol of the Cook Islands that were
situated halfway between Tahiti and New Zealand.
"I don't know. I could ask him, I guess. Are you sure you
know what you're doing?" Michele asked me as she gathered up her
books to leave.
"No. That's why I need to live with a real native for a
couple of months to learn everything." Michele nodded.
"I suppose that would make sense. I'll call you after I
talk to him."
As it turned out, Joe had an Auntie, Aka Monga, whom he
thought would be quite willing to take me in and teach me, as
long as I would do my share of work around her house and all. He
wrote to her and told her my needs, but he was positive she would
say yes. It seemed too perfect. I laid out a plan of action
that would be set in motion in July. My itinerary was a layover
in Tahiti for seven days, or long enough to make arrangements for
the Marquesas which can only be reached via Tahiti unless you own
your own boat, which I didn't. I knew I couldn't rent a whole
valley by myself, so I wrote to several people who lived on Fatu
Hiva and Hiva Oa through the Chamber of Commerce in Papeete about
living arrangements. Hopefully, I would be able to secure my
plans before going on to Rarotonga to live with one 400 pound
Auntie Aka. I made a reservation for July 10th and all that was
left to do was earn enough money to make it really happen.
I begged and pleaded for work anywhere. As it was a small
town, there were extremely few opportunities. The semester was
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drawing to a close and the foreign students who didn't work at
PCC, the Chinese, Japanese, and Filipinos, had snatched up all
the spring and summer jobs on campus. My options were limited,
and so when I heard about an opening for twenty hours a week at
the tiny Country Donut's coffee shop, I leapt at the chance.
It wasn't a real coffee shop, not like there was a menu or
anything. Just a donut store with soft drinks, milk, O.J. and
coffee. The shop was less than tiny, maybe twenty by forty feet.
There was little more than a donut case, a glassed-in fridge for
drinks and three minuscule tables which were seldom used. The
owner, Donna, was a half local, half Californian who was con
stantly stressed out. She ran the main Country Donuts in
Haleiwa, the little surf town at the far north end of Oahu. She
would bring the fresh donuts down every morning and collect the
previous day's take. It only paid $3.25 an hour, but at least it
was something. Combined with my job at PCC, I hoped to earn at
least a thousand dollars by July. It was only April yet and
there was time.
It was a great job in one respect - I got food. It was
during the month of April that my funds ran dry and I had no
ready cash. I survived on donuts and coffee, the two items I was
allowed to have without paying for them. I had never liked the
taste of coffee, but I learned to love the Kona blend of the Big
Island. Besides, anything that's free tastes great. Anyway, the
other nice thing was that there wasn't a boss hanging over my
shoulder every second, telling me what to do and how to do it. I
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hated that with a passion and didn't have to deal with a boss on
the carts at PCC either.
The thing about life working out the way you want it to is
that it never does. I finally thought that since I was taking
this adventure into my own hands and relying on nobody but myself
to make it happen, there was nothing that could stop me. I knew
my parents wouldn't be happy about the plan, but since I was
paying for it all, they couldn't prevent me from going either. I
felt for the first time in months that I was completely in
control of my life. How wrong I was. For it was halfway through
April that I met Lester Wong.
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THE PADDLER
I was operating my cart in the Hawaiian village one day when
I noticed this gorgeous Hawaiian guy working the kitchen hut
where he was demonstrating how to make poi from taro root. He
happened to look up from his pounding as I was watching. His
nearly black eyes locked onto me and I felt a brief sensation of
being completely naked. He lifted his head and eyebrows in
silent greeting and I smiled back in kind.
"Howzit?" an unfamiliar voice said. I looked up from the
cash box and there he was, standing so close I could smell the
sweat that glistened off him from the strong sun that day.
"Hi," was all I could manage.
"You new round here, or what?" he asked, speaking in
Hawaiian slang, a slurred drawl I'd finally gotten used to after
eight months in the islands. You know, it's not really that they
just drop words from their sentences or use colloquialisms, it's
more the intonation that made them sound so different. They
would accent distinctively on unusual words or parts of a word
that gave the sound an almost song-like effect. I did a fair
imitation of it, but unless you're born and bred to the language,
there's really no way you won't be pegged as a haole. I didn't
even try.
"Been here a couple of weeks already. You haven't noticed?"
I asked coyly. He smiled.
"I notice plenty." He glanced back to the kitchen hut which
gave me the chance to get a good look at his forearms. They were
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huge, nearly hairless, the right arm bearing a scar down the
inside. Forearms always got to me.
"My name's Jessica Adams," I said when he turned back.
"I know. I asked around about you."
"Oh? Well, who are you?"
"The name's Lester Wong," he said, extending his hand for me
to shake. His fingers were long and spidery, his grip firm and
slightly moist. Or maybe that was moisture from my own palms -
it was hard to tell.
"You don't look Chinese," I said referring to his last name.
"It's in there somewhere, and some Filipino too." He smiled
again and showed off a perfect set of white teeth. I fiddled
with the film stacks, avoiding direct eye contact. His chest was
so close - the guys in the villages wore the native costume of
that island, and in the Hawaiian village the costume was just a
piece of bright yellow cloth wrapped around their waist, almost
like underwear, with a flap in the front and back. Lester's
chest was amazing. Defined and smooth, a deep brown hue that
rippled when he moved. I tried not to stare.
"So, how you like it here?" he asked.
"It's great. I'm learning a lot," I stammered out.
"What are you learning? How to sell film to Japanese old
men? You learning Japanese?"
"Domo arigato gozaimasu."
"You're welcome. That's pretty good for a haole."
"Hey, I'm no haole. I'm kama'aina by now," I retorted.
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"You an island girl? Right, you probably know a lot about
island living," he taunted. Not knowing what else to say, I told
him about my plans, and how I'd been learning things at PCC. He
smiled and laughed a little.
"What's so funny?"
"I just can't imagine you farming. Too pretty." I blushed
then. I don't know how long it had been since I last blushed,
and I felt incredibly aware of his presence. A group had
gathered at the kitchen hut, waiting to see the demonstration.
Lester smiled again and gave me the "shaka brah" sign. I had
always felt ridiculous waving my hand around with the thumb and
pinky stuck out - only tourists and surfcats did it - so I just
kinda waved back to him instead.
"Come watch the Canoe show," he called out as he walked
away. "I'm a paddler on the Hawaiian canoe." I nodded at him
and watched his back. God, he was good-looking 1 And he had been
asking about me. Life was getting better by the moment.
One of the main attractions of the Polynesian Cultural
Center was a parade they had several times during the day :
Pageant of the Long Canoes. A canal wound through the park,
passing by each of the villages, excluding the Marquesas. Every
other hour, the canoes, which were really two canoes connected by
a platform in the center, would pass through the park and
students would perform dances from each of the six main islands.
My favorite had always been the fa'ataupati; the Samoan slap
dance where the men beat out a. rhythm and song by slapping
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various parts of their bodies. I guess I really liked the tamure
that the Tahitian women did, too. But that afternoon I came to
appreciate the ancient hula of the Hawaiians.
Lester wore the same costume plus a string of kukui nut
beads as he manoeuvered the canoe along the shallow canal. The
women performed the ku'uhoa, a love hula, and then an ancient
traditional one. There were three men dancers and, at one point,
Lester and the other paddler joined the hula dance in their
procession. He did his movements from a sitting position, but
even so, it was easy to recognize the difference. Those spidery
fingers became willowy and elegant. His masculine forearms
flowed with the music. His whole manner took on a regal and
commanding respect. When he had spoken to me, his speech had been
crude, but out there on the canoe, Lester turned into a graceful
warrior.
"I saw you watching yesterday," Lester said as he approached
my cart the next day.
"Yeah, I caught the show," I answered evasively.
"You didn't like it?"
"No, I thought it was great. Too bad you didn't get to do
more dancing." He nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, but those guys have been here for years."
"This isn't a career for you, then?"
"Nah. Just a job."
"So, what do you want to do?" I asked.
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"Don't know. Still got another year of school left."
"Well, what are you studying?"
"Poly Sci. I worked the Republican campaign during
elections last year and I liked the politics."
"So, you want to go into politics?" He shook his head, his
black, shoulder-length hair tossing.
"Nah. I don't know yet. Hey, what's this, twenty
questions?" I looked down, embarrassed.
"No, I was just curious."
"What about you? What do you want to be when you grow up?"
he asked jokingly.
"I want to study communication with dolphins," I said.
"Sounds pretty heavy for a sophomore."
"I'm a freshman."
"What, you only eighteen years old?" His eyes widened a
bit.
"Yeah, why? How old are you?"
"Twenty-five." It was my turn to be shocked. Les didn't
look twenty-five and I'd always figured that by the time someone
was twenty-five they should be doing whatever it was they were
going to do for the rest of their lives, not still in school,
unsure of a future.
"But you have another year of school..."
"I got a late start. I worked for a year after high school
while I was investigating the church. And then, when I joined, I
decided to go on a mission."
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"You're a returned missionary?" I asked, my heart dropping.
"Hey, I ain't no Peter Priesthood, if that's what you mean.
I was just into it at the time."
"You party then?" He looked around to see if anyone was
within earshot of us. No one was.
"Yeah, I slip every once in a while." I don't know why I
was relieved to hear that. I mean, I hadn't had anything to
drink in a month and I hadn't smoked any weed since before
Christmas, but I didn't especially like being around people who
condemned it either. "What about you?" I shook my head.
"I used to, but I'm kinda out of that now." Les smiled.
"I knew you weren't as pristine as you pretend to be."
"I don't pretend to be anything." It was almost a tense
moment, but Les was so laid-back he just shrugged it off.
"So, you want to study for finals together, or what?"
Well, it didn't take long for my whole life to start
revolving around Lester. I couldn't stop thinking about him,
about how he looked on the canoes, how he looked at me with those
huge dark eyes, how he smiled. We talked every day while I
worked at PCC. I never got tired of him showing up for a few
minutes when no one was around the kitchen hut. He would have to
leave if the Village Chief showed up, or some tourists wanted a
demonstration, but we managed to get in several short conver
sations a day. We met at school the next week to study for
finals. I'll admit that, not much studying went on. We ended up
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talking most of the time, sitting in the far carrels on the
second level of the library.
"So, how come you ain't got no boyfriend?" he asked.
"I don't want one. I mean. I'm going away for a year and I
don't think getting involved with someone would be very smart at
this point."
"You serious about your island? I thought maybe you were
just saying that to impress me." I laughed.
"I'm dead serious."
"So why don't you have someone going along with you?
Someone to do the fishing..." He smiled at me and I couldn't
tell if he was teasing or shyly suggesting he wanted to go, or
what.
"I tried that a couple of times. People said they were
interested and all, but they were just into the romantic idea of
it." Les moved a little closer to me.
"Well, it is a romantic idea, you got to admit. Are you a
romantic, Jessica Adams?" It killed me when he would talk soft
and low like that. I wanted to squirm and back up a little, but
his eyes held me.
"Want to get some ice cream?" I suggested. Les sat back and
considered me.
"You buying?" I nodded and we walked down to the Seasider
Cafe. I got my usual vanilla ice cream, smiling a little to
myself remembering that crazy night with Liz. Lester led me to
the grass in front of the Aloha Center and we sat in the gentle
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rain that fell. With the passing of winter, I had once again
come to appreciate the rain. And after so many months of being
constantly wet, no rainfall bothered me.
"I want to kiss you," Lester said. I choked on a swallow of
ice cream and ended up coughing for a minute. "What? Is that so
bad?" he asked.
"No, you just caught me off guard." I was still trying to
gather my wits when Les reached over and plucked the cone from my
hand. He took one giant lick then reached over and kissed me. I
don't remember what I was thinking except about my ice cream
melting all over his hand. His lips stayed fastened to mine and
I soon forgot all about the cone. It had been a long time since
I'd kissed anyone and it felt great. I wanted to keep on kissing
Les, out there in the rain, but he stopped and started eating my
ice cream.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" I shook my head, unable to
talk as he took the moment in stride.
"I um...I uhhc,." I couldn't even finish my thought. Not
that I had a coherent one at the time.
"Come on. Island Girl, I got a final to study for."
I wasn't sure what to make of Lester Wong. I mean, some
times he seemed like he wanted to get involved and then, just as
quickly, he would be onto another subject. I couldn't figure him
out and that only made me want to be with him all the more. He
walked me home that night, sitting with me on the terrace as we
watched the water for awhile.
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"I don't know how you did it, but you got under my skin,
Jess." I played with Max's ears, scratching and tickling.
"Nahhhhh. It's all your imagination," I retorted. I didn't
know how to handle this guy.
"I'm serious. You're the kind of girl a man could fall in
love with." I stopped scratching Max.
"I won't be around long enough for anyone to find that
out..."
"Too late." Les grabbed my face and started kissing me
again, this time with an urgency. It only took a second for me
to responde in equal kind. Max barked and I nudged him away. I
could imagine him sulking off into a corner, but I kept my
attention fixed on Lester's lips and face. I got that familiar
feeling in my abdomen - that tightening that said I wanted him,
and I wanted him bad.
"God, Les, you don't know what you do to me," I stammered
out.
"Not half of what I'd like to do to you. Island Girl. Let
me come inside..." That woke me up and I sat back, pushing him
away.
"No, I mean, I don't want to hurt your feelings - "
"But you just said - "
"Yeah I know what I said, but that doesn't mean I can sleep
with you." Les stood up, pacing the tiny patio.
"What? One second you're all over me and the next you just
turn it off?"
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"No, it's not that at all. I just... damnit Lester, you
don't even know me I I've had a lot of bad experiences..." I
couldn't go on, my voice threatening to crack. Les looked at me
and sat back down.
"Like what," he asked softly. I shook my head. "Come on,
tell me."
"It's just, I mean, everyone has their story, the terrible
boyfriend - or girlfriend - I guess. Mine's no different. I
just made up my mind that I wasn't going to sleep with anyone
again unless there's love and caring between us. I don't mean to
put you down, but we hardly know each other..."
"I know I care about you, Jess."
"Well, if that's true then you'll understand why I can't let
you stay tonight. Besides, we have finals tomorrow," I added
laughingly, trying to lighten the moment. He kissed me tenderly
and stood again.
"You're right. And I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."
"No, don't be sorry. It's just me." We hugged for several
minutes before he disappeared up the slope. I sat for a while
with Max, breathing in the deep fragrance of some night-blooming
jasmine. I thought about Darren, pleasantly surprised to find it
didn't hurt at all. Maybe Lester was really good for me. Maybe
he would even join me in my adventure... but, I knew that I
couldn't count on that. Still, his kisses had stirred a long-
dead fire in me, and I looked forward to seeing him again.
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Angela came to see me, the day before she went back home to
Oregon. We didn't have much to talk about, but she did give me
her ten-speed bike. I knew it was her way of saying sorry, that
she hoped we could still be friends. We hugged and promised to
write to each other. As I watched Angela disappear down the
slopes, I wondered briefly if she and Mike would ever get
married. Some instinct inside me said they probably would.
My job at PCC ended with the last day of finals. The spring
semester had only the overseas students left at school and they
got all the positions. I was kinda pissed because it meant I
couldn't see Lester as much, but I didn't have to worry about
that. He started showing up at Country Donuts all the time, and
we began spending all our free time together. I managed to get
five more hours at the shop which made up a little for PCC, but I
was still struggling to save money. When the girl from the
Mainland arrived whom had rented the room for the summer, I had
to move out of the house on Laie Point. Val set me up with a
girlfriend of hers named Robin who was house-sitting for one of
the English teachers, Sister Anderson. I felt very lucky to have
landed a room in one of the brand-new townhouses they had built
for the faculty members. The room would be open for two months,
the exact amount of time I would need a place before going off on
my adventure.
"Are you sure there's going to be no problem, Val? I don't
want to get stuck..."
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"Quit worrying, Jess, Robin is great, and she already told
me that it would be fine." I nodded, packing up my things. Val
sat on the bed.
"It won't be the same as living here on the Point."
"No, it will be better. You have a TV, stereo, dishwasher,
microwave oven, your own bathroom - what more could you want?"
"A view."
"You can see the Temple from the townhouse." I rolled my
eyes.
"Oh, that's exactly what I want as my next door neighbor."
Val laughed and helped me load up my books, Lester was going to
help me move that afternoon.
"So, you and Les going into town today?"
"Yep. Tonight's the night. Cecilio and Kapono, live at the
Waikiki Shell."
"That guy must really like you," Val said.
"He seems to."
"You like him as much?" It wasn't like Val to be nosy and
so I knew it was important to her.
"I think I'm falling in love with him." Val raised her eyes
in surprise.
"Love? What about your trip?"
"Oh, nothing's changed about that. But, you know how
Polynesian men are..."
"No, I've never dated one."
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"Well, I don't know. They're impossibly romantic. I mean,
we'll be walking along and he'll just stop and pick a flower for
me, or he'll just want to sit and stare at the stars or the
ocean. He's not like anyone I've ever met."
"Yeah, sounds like you've been bitten by the love bug all
right." We laughed at that, an easy companionship. I was going
to miss seeing Val every day.
Les and I had packed a picnic dinner to take with us to the
concert. Cecilio and Kapono were two of the best-loved musicians
on the island and well deserved their popular reputation. Most
of their songs were love ballads, but they could get the crowd
rockin' as well. Les and I sat close during the performance,
holding tightly to each other's hand. During one song, "Night
Music," Lester nearly suffocated me with one long, tender kiss.
"There's no record going around
When you start dancing to the sound
Of the Night Music
Falling with the rain..."
They harmonized perfectly and I was totally within the
moment. It had been a great week, with school out and nothing to
do but work and see Les. He hadn't mentioned a word about
sleeping together again, and I wasn't sure if I was happy about
that or not. I mean, on the one hand I was staying true to my
resolve, but on the other, I was falling in love with him, and
wanted to be with him. It was a strange balance and I didn't
question it too deeply. As we drove home that night, I sat as
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close to him as I could in his Toyota B210. It was a gross
little car, rusting and dirty, but I didn't care.
"That was the best concert I've ever seen," I mused.
"You go to many concerts?" Les asked. I laughed.
"No, but that was one of the best anyway." Les kissed my
hand as he drove along. It was two in the morning and I was
struggling to stay awake on the long drive around the island.
"You look beautiful tonight," Les said suddenly. I kissed
his cheek.
"You're not so bad yourself, sailor."
"I'm serious, Jess. You're da kine." I never was very good
at accepting compliments and so I didn't say anything. I just
squeezed his hand in thanks and we drove on in silence. When we
arrived at the townhouse complex, it took us a minute to figure
out which one I was living in. It had been a frantic afternoon,
dropping off all my bags and stuff, meeting Robin for just a hot
second as she was going off to class, and getting ready for the
concert. We finally located P3 and Lester parked the car. He
got out, to walk me to the door, I assumed, but the moment we
reached the entrance, Lester started kissing me. I was sleepy
and relaxed. His kisses woke me up.
"I love you, Jess."
I stood stock still. No one had ever said those words to me
except Darren. "I'm not just saying that because I want to make
love to you. I really love you." He kissed me again. I couldn't
breathe.
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"Lester, oh Jesus, Les, what are you doing to me?"
"I just want to make you happy, my little Island Girl." He
was making me happy all right, and I could hardly resist his
passion. We stood for several minutes, our kisses growing in
intensity. "Let me come upstairs with you," he whispered, his
breath hot in my ear.
"But Robin's here..." I argued feebly.
"She won't hear us. And I'll leave before she wakes up.
Come on, Jess, I need you." His hands started straying over my
body, and I could feel his erection pressing against me. I could
do nothing but nod and take his hand.
We went quietly upstairs, past the sleeping Robin's bedroom
door, which was ajar, down to my room. I barely had the door
closed when Les was kissing me again, taking me to the bed. We
stumbled over my suitcase and I started giggling, half
embarrassed, half-relieved that something had broken up the
moment. It had been a long time since I'd been intimate with
anyone, and I wasn't sure what to do. Lester didn't even break
stride. He had my top off in seconds and was exploring my body.
God, what a sensation! His fingers never stopped moving as he
took off my clothes and then his own. His tongue was everywhere
at once. I guess I was more excited than I thought because there
wasn't even a flash of discomfort as he slid into me. Lester
kept asking me how I felt and I kept telling him I felt fine. I
wasn't into dirty talk and since we had to be quiet anyway, he
didn't press it. We hadn't been in the room more than ten
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minutes when Les was already climaxing. I wrapped my arms
tightly around him, feeling desired and wanted and very sexy. He
finished and got to his elbows, brushing the bangs from my eyes,
"I love you, girl," he said softly. I kissed him and it
started all over again. Only this round, he took time, really
exploring me. He went down on me and, although I still didn't
like oral sex much, he was so into it that I didn't want to spoil
his pleasure. I did my share of investigating and by the time he
was ready to peak, I was thoroughly exhausted. We fell asleep
immediately after, wrapped in each other's arms.
I awoke in a panic, daylight streaming through the windows.
Les was next to me. My immediate thought was of Robin. I
quietly got out of bed, slipping a lava-lava around me. I went
out to the hallway, to her room, and saw that she had already
left for the day. Relieved, I used the bathroom, then went back
to my room. Lester was awake, still laying in bed.
"Guess we overslept," I said coming through the door.
"You look great." I automatically put my hand to my messy
hair then lowered it, not wanting to look self-conscious. "Come
here. I want to make love to you in the daylight when I can see
your eyes."
I was never very comfortable with sex when harsh light
showed every little detail, but that morning with Lester was
different. I didn't feel stupid or awkward; on the contrary, it
was one of the greatest times I'd ever had in bed. We laughed
and giggled, not needing to be quiet, playing with each other as
292
much as we were intense. He lay there toying with my hair when
we were done, I with his chest. He pulled me back and looked
into my eyes.
"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"You're teasing me again."
"I mean it, Jess. I love you." I looked at him for a
moment and saw the sincerity in his face. I examined my own
feelings that morning, lying so close to him, and traced the
outline of his face.
"I love you too, Lester."
293
THE NEWS
"So, Val tells me you're from California, too," Robin said
as we sat together in the kitchen talking for the first time. I
had been very worried about Lester being there the night before
and hoped Robin didn't know.
"Yeah, I come from behind the Orange Curtain," I said
laughing. Robin looked blankly at me. "That's a joke. Ya know.
Orange County...it's so conservative it's like living behind an
Iron Curtain." Robin smiled slowly. "I thought you were from
the San Fernando Valley."
"I am, but only since my last year in high school. I grew
up in Montana." I nodded, looking at her ruddy complexion and
husky frame. I could picture Robin as a farm girl. We talked
for a while about school, about how she wanted to be an
elementary school teacher.
"How could you stand being around so many screaming kids at
one time?" I asked.
"I love children. It's one of the things that drew me to
the Mormon church in the first place; ya know, the way the family
is the center of everything and how important it is."
"So you're a convert..." I left the statement hanging.
"Yeah. I investigated the church for a long time before I
finally got baptized last summer. My parents flipped. They
thought I was joining this cult that worshipped Joseph Smith,"
Robin said.
294
"Don't you hate that? People slam the church and they don't
even know what they're talking about, I can't tell you how many
people I've run into that don't even know we believe Christ is
the Savior and all that."
"Well, I didn't know when I first heard about Mormons. I
mean, all I knew was that they weren't allowed to drink Coke or
Pepsi."
"Yeah, that's the big 'thing' everyone fixates on. I don't
know. Growing up in the church, there's a lot of doctrine I just
take for granted that probably sounds bizarre to outsiders. But
you never think about when you're a,kid."
"I think the thing that sounded the weirdest was the three
kingdoms. Terrestrial, Celestial, and Telestial. . . "
"It's Telestial, then Celestial."
"Yeah. And then in the highest kingdom of Celestial, there
are three levels. And in the highest level of the highest king
dom, you get to be a God yourself and populate your own planets.
Now that was bizarre." I nodded.
"I guess anything taken out of context sounds crazy. When
it's something like that, anyway."
"No doubt about it. It was the Temple thing that finally
decided me," Robin said. I looked at her and rolled my hand
around, gesturing for her to go on. "Where you get married in
the Temple and you're sealed to your husband and so that after
death you're still together. Married for time and all eternity.
And that your family.is sealed to you too, so like even if a baby
295
died, you would still be together as a family in the next life.
I think that's the greatest promise a religion can make." I knew
all about those promises and had always assumed I would event
ually be good and be able to go through the Temple. But to hear
the excitement and wonder of the idea coming from the lips of a
recent convert made it sound that much better.
"I know what you mean," I said feeling a twinge of guilt
over my moral deviances. Robin looked up to the back sliding
glass doors where Max was scratching to be let in.
"I don't think Sister Anderson would like it if Max were
allowed in her house," Robin stated. I was comfortable with
Robin and I liked her straightforward way of talking, but I
wasn't about to abandon my dog.
"Well, I'll just confine him to the downstairs. How's
that?" Robin nodded reluctantly and we started making dinner.
Les came over again that night and the three of us watched
"Magnum P.I." together. I don't think Robin even had a clue as
to what was going on, studying her calculus in between good spots
on the TV show. Les held my hand and winked at me as he nodded
towards my bedroom. I shook my head to say no, pointing to Robin
whose bent head saw nothing. I didn't know Robin well enough to
know if she would get mad if Lester spent the night. I mean, I
knew Robin was straight and didn't party or anything like that.
And I knew she didn't have a boyfriend in Hawaii, although there
was a guy back home, a non-Mormon whom she'd seen in high school,
whom she still wrote to. But I didn't know where Robin stood on
296
the morality issue so I thought I'd play it slow and find out how
she felt about premarital sex before I trusted her with the
knowledge that Les and I were sleeping together.
"Well, I got another early class tomorrow so I think I'm
gonna hit it," Robin said as she gathered her books up.
"What? You got class five days a week?" Lester asked.
"Yeah, spring and summer classes are always jammed together.
Good night." Robin climbed the stairs to her room which would
have overlooked the living room, had the wall been open. I
listened for her door to close, but my attention was pulled back
to the living room as Les slid his hand under my tee-shirt and
pinched my breast. I yelped out and slapped his shoulder. He
kissed me and went right on kissing me until I thought I would
bust from anticipation.
"Let's go upstairs," I whispered.
We went quietly upstairs and down the hall to my room. If I
had been expecting a repeat of the night before, I was in for a
surprise. This night was ten times more intense. Maybe that was
because I was hyper-aware of Robin being not twenty feet away.
Or maybe it was because Lester took about three hours to even get
his pants off, concentrating solely on me. Whatever it was, that
night convinced me that Lester, with all his crude speech, with
all his laid-back attitudes, was the best thing to happen to me
since Liz had left. I was happy.
297
For two weeks my life was perfect. I went to work at
Country Donuts five days a week, usually the six a.m. shift. I
served donuts and coffee to nearly every one in town and was
collecting a nice "South Pacific tip fund" along with my regular
salary. Robin and I split the cost of food by shopping together,
and I came to like her more, even if I didn't fully trust her
sense of morality enough to share my exploits with her. Robin
was the most stable, down-to-earth person I'd ever known. It was
dull on the one hand; I mean, we never got crazy together, or had
deep, intimate talks, but I liked that she didn't pry either,
even when I knew she suspected something was going on between Les
and me. And boy, was something going on! I would see Lester
every single day, or at least in the evening, if he had to work
at PCC. He spent almost every night of the week with me. Our
love-making was always passionate; he never seemed to tire of
trying new things - nothing wild, just varying the diet all the
time. The more we were together, the more I fell in love with
him.
One night, a couple of weeks into this new affair. Les
rolled over and playfully took my hand and put it over his heart.
"Jess, how can you leave me? Go off to some island and
live? No way you gonna live without my lovin'," he said. I
looked up into Les's eyes and thought I saw real pain there. Our
bodies were pressed full length against each other, our legs
entwined. How could I ever leave him? He started nuzzling my
neck and a thought flashed, through me about how dependent I was
298
becoming. We had never talked about Les coming to the island
with me - I had always figured if he were seriously interested,
he would bring it up. He never did, only said things about me
not going.
"Les, how you going live without when I leave?" I threw
back in his face.
"You ain't gonna leave. Island Girl. I'm gonna keep you
right here next to me." God, it felt good to be wanted that way i
"Yeah, but you know I am leaving. The end of next month."
The point was moot and we dropped the subject.
I was sitting in the donut shop, taking a break after a
fairly busy morning when Val walked in.
"Hey, Jessica, how's it going?" she asked, going to the
fridge. She pulled out an orange juice.
"Couldn't be better. How's the Point without me?"
"Quiet. The new girl, Sally, she never even comes upstairs.
And there's no more Pink Floyd filling the house." I smiled,
missing Val suddenly. A cramp gripped my abdomen then and I
nearly doubled over from the pain. "What's wrong, Jess?" Val
asked, concerned. I straightened up.
"Nothing. I mean, it's just premenstrual cramps. I've
always had a bad time with them." Val pointed to a Bear Claw and
I got one out for her.
"Are you on the pill?" she asked.
"No."
299
"You should try the pill. It fakes your body out so it
thinks it's sort of pregnant and you don't get bad cramps at your
period."
"Yeah, but isn't it bad for you, I mean, don't you get
retarded children that way?"
"You can't get pregnant on the pill, silly. And, besides,
it's worth it to not have cramps every month. Hey, how's Lester
doing?" I sat down, the pain passing. I couldn't remember
cramps ever hurting like that.
"He's great. Can't complain."
"So, you still planning that wild trip of yours?"
"Definitely. Got my tip fund going..." I tapped the bottle
on the counter and Val dug in her pocket for some change.
"I always support a good cause. Listen, Jess, Robin asked
me to talk to you about Lester." I raised my eyebrows.
"Oh? What about him?"
"Well, she doesn't know how to talk to you about...it seems
that...is Les spending the night, Jess?"
"What's it matter?"
"It doesn't matter to me. I mean, what you do is your
business, but Robin feels that you're infringing on the hospi
tality of Sister Anderson. Ya know, abusing the privileges of
the arrangements and all."
"You've got to be kidding me. She said that?" Val nodded,
eating her Bear Claw.
"What does she care? It's not hurting anyone," I argued.
300
"Maybe, but Robin feels responsible and she knows Sister
Anderson would blow a fuse if she knew."
"Yeah, but she's not gonna know unless Robin tells her."
Val shrugged.
"Whatever. I told Robin it's between you and her and that
she should just talk to you about it, but she begged me..."
"Well, you can tell her from me to mind her own business."
Val kind of nodded and if to say. Hey, I'm not really a part
of this whole mess, so leave me out. "Just talk to her, Jess.
I'm sure you guys can work things out. I gotta go to school -
meet my T.A. for bio." We said goodbye and Val left. I was
angry that I learned about Robin's real feelings in such a
roundabout way, but even more so that she should care what I did
in the privacy of my own room. Another cramp struck and I forgot
about Robin.
"Jesus Christ, Jess, I'm so sick of hearing you complain I"
Lester yelled at me as we drove home from the Laie Holiday
theater, I stared out at the dark night, close to tears.
"I'm sorry, I can't help it."
"Every night for a week you've said you had cramps. That's
hardly an excuse not to have sex."
"Well, it's not just that and you know it. Robin had a fit
about you staying over and I'm not about to jeopardize my living
arrangements when I've only got five weeks left..."
301
"There you go changing the subject again. And always the
trip. 'I've only got seven weeks left...I've only got five weeks
left'," Lester mocked. A tear fell.
"It's true," I said quietly.
"It's just an excuse not to stay here with me," Lester said,
pouting. We pulled up to the dark house; Robin had gone into
town to spend the weekend with a girlfriend.
"You know I've had this thing planned a long time, since
before I met you."
"Yeah, but you did meet me and I don't want you to leave.
Can I come in, or what?" It had been several days that we had
gone without sex and I was just as anxious as Lester, despite my
discomfort.
"Of course. Les."
I made up my mind by the next morning that I was going to go
to the doctor to get some birth control pills and put an end to
these silly cramps. I was as tired of hearing myself complain as
Lester was. I already knew Dr. Branch down at the Kahuku clinic,
and I decided to go there because I knew the student health
center at BYU wouldn't stock B.C. pills. I made an appointment
for the next Tuesday.
"It's about time," Lester said. I looked questioningly at
him. "As long as you're there you can find out if there's
anything else wrong with you." I laughed.
302
"There's nothing else wrong. I'm just having a bad month,
that's all." Lester rolled over on the bed, his firm and brown
butt enticing me.
"Yeah, maybe; maybe not." I leapt on his back and started
tickling him. Lester pulled at my thin robe and I was soon naked
with him. It had been a glorious two days without Robin in the
house.
"Tell me you love me, tell me you love me," Les insisted as
he wrestled me to the ground.
"Never !" I cried, flipping him off me. He grabbed my arm,
twisting it behind me.
"Say it! Say it, or I'll break your arm," Les demanded.
"No. No, no, no." Les twisted harder and it began to
really hurt." Stop it. Les, you're hurting me."
"Say it."
"All right. I love you. There, now let go," I said. Les
did and I scrambled away from him. It was the first time Les had
been really rough with me. I was used to rough-housing with my
brothers and Darren, but Les's grip had a certain edge to it that
I had never felt before. It had the feeling of real danger and I
was scared. Les started laughing again and my fears dissipated
quickly enough.
Tuesday came around. I had forgotten all about the appoint
ment when Les drove up to the donut shop and honked.
"Aren't you ready yet?" he asked, coming into the shop.
303
"Sonia is due any second. You know, Robin is gone for the
day...we could just skip this whole thing and go back to the
house," I said as provocatively as possible. Sonia, the three-
hundred pound Hawaiian woman who worked most afternoons, came
bustling through the door.
"Sorry I'm late, Jessica. Had to watch the end of General
Hospital," Sonia said as she put the white apron on.
"Not the soap opera excuse again."
"Oh, you wouldn't understand, little Miss I'm-above-soap-
operas."
"See ya later, Sonia," I said, as I followed Les out the
door. I got into the B210 and Les pulled out onto Kam highway
heading north to Kahuku.
"I can't believe you forgot," Les accused.
"I didn't forget, I just wasn't thinking about it. I mean.
I'm only getting a prescription, after all." Les didn't say
anything, just looked straight ahead. "Can we stop by the egg
farm on the way home? I need some eggs..."
"Sure."
"Look, Les, I can go anytime to get these pills. We don't
have to go today," I suggested.
"You want to turn around?" I looked out at the passing
Koolau mountains as they began tapering off.
"Well, we're almost there. We might as well keep going.
But you don't have to be so ominous about the whole thing."
"I want you to ask the doctor about your cramps."
304
"Oh, puh-leese, Lester, that's nothing. My period is due
any day, and that's all there is to it."
"Well, I'm tired of hearing you complain."
"I don't complain," I refuted.
"You do. Night and day."
"Now I know you're lying. I've never complained once at
night," I said. He reached over and gave my shoulder a squeeze.
"That's 'cause there be nothin' to complain about in that
department." I smiled and reached over for his crotch. He
slapped my hand away. "You have to wait until after the
doctor's." I put on my play pout and rolled down the window some
more.
Les turned off Kam Highway and drove up past the hospital to
a small U-shaped building which was the Kahuku Clinic. The low-
lying structure was really a horseshoe of offices and rooms, the
open courtyard enclosed by a fence. There were green, vinyl-
covered chairs that bordered the open-air hallway. The center of
the courtyard was filled with Torch ginger, hibiscus, and grass.
It was a beautiful setting.
I walked in and motioned to Lester to take a seat while I
checked in.
"Hi, I'm Jessica Adams. I'm Dr. Branch's patient. I came
to get some B.C. pills."
"Oh, yes, Jessica. The doctor needs to do a full examina
tion before he can prescribe the pills."
"That's fine."
305
"Okay, first off, we need a urine sample," the clerk/nurse
said. I took the little cup and went to the restroom down the
hall. I could always spare a little urine. I returned the
sample to the front desk.
"Now what?" I asked. The nurse lead me to a scale and I got
on. 126. Wow. I'd never weighed above 120 in my life.
"Is that correct?" I asked.
"Dead on," replied the nurse.
"Must be all those donuts. I work at a donut shop," I
finished in answer to the nurse's questioning eyes. She took my
blood pressure and temperature. Then she asked the date of my
last menstrual cycle. "Well, I don't really know. I've never
been regular, but I know I'm due any day now."
"Okay, just take a seat and we'll get to the full examina
tion as quickly as possible."
I sat with Lester in the hard green chairs, trying to read
the Issac Asimov novel I had. Foundation. But I couldn't focus on
the words. I had to read the same paragraph over about three
times before I understood what was going on.
"Are you nervous?" Les asked.
"No, what makes you say that?" I asked. He glanced to his
hand and I noticed that I had a death grip on it. My knuckles
were white as I squeezed. I laughed self-consciously and let go.
Lester kissed me on the cheek.
"There's nothing to worry about, Jess." My name was called
and I got up, winking at him.
306
"I know that."
"Dr. Branch will see you in his office," the nurse said,
guiding me back into the building. I should have taken my cue
from there - no doctor wants to talk to a patient before they've
even looked at them unless they have some news to impart of the
most delicate nature. Still, my naive mind refused to consider
the possibilities. I sat down and faced the middle-aged, white-
haired doctor who looked up through his thick glasses from the
chart he was reading.
"So, someone tells me you're pregnant," Dr. Branch said
casually. His words shocked through my body.
"No, it isn't true. There must be some mistake, some mixup
I can't possibly be pregnant," I stammered, the words echoing
dully behind my eyes.
"No, the results are positive. Look, right here on the
paper..." the doctor pointed to some words. Tears had suddenly
blinded me, but I managed to see one word; positive. I looked
out the window, past the palm trees to the blue Pacific, and
silently screamed. The tears had become a stream down my face,
and my voice cracked as I tried to speak.
"That can't be. It's not possible. I've been using a
diaphragm. I know I've been safe. I mean, there's no way I can
be pregnant." He looked down at the paper and did some quick
math in his head.
"No," he said. "It's possible if conception took place on
the fourth of May." My mind raced back to that night. Oh my
307
God, that was the night Lester had taken me to the concert. The
first night Lester had made love to me. I hadn't been expecting
us to have sex so I hadn't put my diaphragm in. The one and only
night I hadn't been protected. I recalled that afterwards I
thought briefly about it, but knew that the night had come too
close on the heels of my last period for me to have become
pregnant. It had all been so beautiful that night, so impossibly
romantic. I slowly refocused on the doctor's office I was in,
and I sat facing the reality of that romance.
The doctor said something about examining me. I didn't
quite catch all of it as I rose and followed him down the hall
way. He turned to me and spoke quietly.
"This isn't what you expected, is it?" Expected? No, I
didn't have a clue, not an inkling that this was going to happen.
Those kinds of things happened to other people, not to me, not to
the adventurer. He ushered me into a small examining room and
left me while I undressed. I fell on my knees, sobbing.
"Dear God, dear God, please let this be a mistake. Please
help me. Don't let me be pregnant..." I stopped suddenly,
hearing the hypocrisy of my prayer of desperation. God wasn't
going to help me. I was the one who'd "sinned" and now I was
going to be punished for that sin. Within seconds what was once
an act of love had been turned into an act of evil that needed
punishing. I got up slowly, my mind darting in twelve directions
at once. I tried to just focus on the room, the tapa-patterned
cloth curtains, the vinyl on the examining table, the paper dress
308
I slipped over my naked shoulders. The doctor came back in. He
put on a pair of thin, rubber gloves and told me to lay back. I
could feel him poking around, prodding each wall of my insides.
He didn't speak throughout his examination. I kept quiet as
well. I stared at the ceiling and tried to pretend none of it
was happening.
Dr. Branch got a cold, metal speculum and inserted into me.
Damn, it was nasty! I wasn't paying much attention to him,
caught up in my own thoughts, until he stood up, snapping the
gloves off. What had started as traumatic information, that of
being pregnant, was about to be turned into a nightmare,
"Well, Jessica, we seem to have a problem here. I hold a
suspicion that you may have a tubal pregnancy," he said.
"A what?" I asked.
"A tubal pregnancy," he repeated. "A pregnancy that forms in
the fallopian tube which may rupture and cause internal bleed
ing . "
"I don't understand."
"It's too early to tell, and I'll need to take a blood test
to make sure, but you should be aware that tubal pregnancies are
not normal. They can be dangerous if they rupture and the
patient is not near a hospital. I don't mean to frighten you,
but you should be aware of the possibilities."
"Is it fatal?" The doctor hesitated, clearing his throat.
"If the tube ruptures you would need an emergency operation.
Many women have tubal pregnancies. It's not uncommon, but it
309
does need to be watched carefully." The doctor's hesitation was
enough for me. My mind reeled with the frightening possibility
that what was growing inside me could actually kill me. "The
nurse will draw some blood and I'll call you tomorrow and let you
know the results."
"Fine, fine," I said, trying to absorb it all in. He patted
my shoulder and gave me a sad little smile.
"This has been quite a shock, hasn't it?" I could only nod.
"Don't take it too hard; you're young and healthy. I don't think
you're in too much danger." He left the room and I slowly got
dressed. A dread filled me, a feeling of utter horror at what
was happening. I started crying, unable to help myself. The
nurse came in and I quickly averted my eyes, wiping my face. She
must have seen me, but she didn't say a word about it.
"We'll need some blood, dearie. Just follow me." She led
me to another room where I sat on a hard metal chair while she
tapped my veins, looking for a large one. I was never any good
with giving blood or anything because I hated needles and
couldn't stand the smell of blood. But for once I had something
so overwhelming on my mind I didn't even flinch. "There, all
finished. Just take your chart to the front desk." I was
shaking all over, and I'm sure my face was deathly white as I
took my chart from her. I stood up, a strange buzzing in my
ears, then all was black.
310
PROPOSALS
When I came to, I was lying on a cot in a semi-dark room. I
was alone, but I could hear the sounds of the clinic outside the
door. I sat up, wondered for a moment just what the hell had
happened, then I remembered. I felt the piece of cotton and
bandage on my forearm and remembered the blood test. And remem
bered what it was for. I had the strangest feeling flowing
through my finger tips, like they were asleep, but just beginning
to wake up - that prickly, tingling sensation. I shook them
hard, wiggled my toes. Yeah, I was still in one piece. Then I
touched my abdomen. It felt like it always had, sooth, hard,
maybe just tending toward soft around the center, but otherwise,
the same old stomach. I got up slowly, the room becoming bright
er as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. A nurse strode in a
flicked the lights on,
"Feeling better, dearie? I guess we took more blood than
you could spare," she said in a sprightly voice. I stared at
her, not recognizing the face.
"I fainted?"
"You did indeed, but not to worry, the doctor said not to be
concerned. Have you got someone to drive you home?" I nodded.
"Yeah, my boyfriend is out front." The nurse looked at me
as if the word "boyfriend" explained my fainting spell. I guess
it did in a way.
"Well, here's your chart. You can just take it to the front
desk whenever you feel up to it." She smiled sweetly and left
311
the room. I walked to the chart she'd lain on the counter
feeling slightly foolish for fainting. Walking slowly to the
front desk, I pondered my options about the doctor's bill. In
the past, I had always sent the bills directly to my parents with
their insurance forms and they paid them. But I knew I couldn't
send this bill off, not with the information it contained. I
wrote out a check for eighty dollars, handing it over to the
receptionist. As if the whole news about the pregnancy didn't
stop the idea of the island adventure, when I saw the figure in
my checking account diminish, I knew I would never be able to
make up the money in time to go. What was I thinking? I was
going to have a baby.
I walked out to where Les was waiting, thinking I wouldn't
tell him the truth, thinking I would wait until I had it straight
in my mind what I was going to do before I said anything. But it
must have been written all over my face, all over my eyes,
because the minute he saw me, he knew. We walked the short
distance to his rusty little car in silence and then he pulled me
to him. As he held me I felt a closeness to him I hadn't ever
felt before. I started crying.
"You're pregnant, aren't you?" I nodded, not being able to
speak. "I knew it," he said.
"How did you know?" I asked.
"I don't know. I had a feeling." We stood there for
several minutes, me crying, him smoothing my hair, kissing my
forehead. "It's gonna be all right, Jess. It's gonna be all
312
right." I kept shaking my head, the magnitude of the situation
descending on me with every kind word he said. He put me in the
car at last and we started driving back towards Laie. I forcibly
stopped my tears, trying my best to be brave about the whole
thing.
"Could we stop by the chicken farm?" I asked, feigning a
calm I did not feel. "I still want to get some eggs," I said.
"Sure, no problem. Jess, I thought you said you were using
a diaphragm."
"I was, except that first night - the concert..." Les
smiled.
"The first night. Wow, I sure work quick," he said, kinda
laughing. I looked at him and wondered why he was taking this
whole thing so lightly, so "in stride." We didn't say anything
for a few minutes until Lester pulled off Kam highway at the
Cackle Fresh Farm turnoff.
"Will you marry me, Jess?" I turned to look at him.
"What?"
"I said, will you marry me? You're pregnant with my child
and I want to marry you." My chest tightened. I thought it
would burst open from the pressure inside.
"No, Lester, I won't marry you. I can't marry you."
"Please, Jess, please. I want to marry you. I want to do
right by you."
"Les, I love you, I really do, but I can't marry you just
because I'm pregnant. That's not right."
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"Come on, Jess. You know we'd be good together." I looked
at him, listening to the whining in his voice, then turned to
look out the window. All I saw was one thing: Darren.
"I can't marry you, Lester. There's Darren..." I started
to explain to the man who'd gotten me pregnant when I suddenly
realized as he stopped the car and we got out, that I didn't
think of him as "the man who'd gotten me pregnant," but rather as
the father of my child. What a rush that was! Like a roller
coaster's final descent just before the ride ends. I looked at
Lester and thought, "This is the father of my first-born." And
suddenly, although I still knew that getting married for the sake
of a pregnancy was just asking for a divorce, a weight lifted off
my shoulders and a glimmer of possibility opened before me. We
got the eggs and started back down the hill.
"Look, Les, you know how I feel for you, but that doesn't
mean I could marry you. And...I don't think I'm ready to raise a
child. I mean. I'm only eighteen. I think I should give it up
for adoption." He pulled the car back onto the highway heading
south.
"I'll bet it's a girl," he said. I looked at him in
surprise for at that very moment I had been thinking the exact
same thing.
"Why do you say that. Les?" I asked.
"Well, it's fitting. A nineteen-year-old girl had a child
she gives up for adoption. That adopted girl grows up and has a
child at nineteen, which she in turn gives up for adoption." A
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coldness rushed through me and I shivered. Inky darkness started
filling my eyesight, replaced by an image - a fantasy of how I
envisioned my mother. Not my mom, but my mother; the woman who
had borne me and given me away. A question formed in my mind, a
question that would repeat itself mercilessly at me: was history
doomed to repeat itself?
We drove home in silence, each deeply engrossed in our
private thoughts. He dropped me off at the townhouse and wanted
to stay, but he had to be at work.
"Will you at least think about it, Jess?" Lester implored,
restating his desire to marry me. I told him I would, and he
left promising to return that evening. Once alone in the house,
I felt trapped, as if the walls were actually closing in on me,
as if that my head would blow up if I didn't get out of there.
I went down to Hokilau beach, northward, out to the low part
of the crescent. Max had followed me, of course, and sat next to
me near the huge, white log. I buried my face in his soft fur
and started crying. I think that was when I first thought about
the baby. A baby. I was going to have a baby. No more laughs
or flippant remarks like, "This can't be happening to me." It
was happening though. I looked at Max, his brown eyes, his
eyebrows cocked as if trying to understand my words.
"What am I going to do. Max? I'm gonna have a baby. A
baby. Jesus, what the fuck do I know about having a baby?
Enough to get pregnant, I guess. I should just keep going. Go
to Rarotonga and live with Auntie Aka and have this thing down
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there. But that's not really fair, is it. Max? I mean, it's not
like I wrap myself in a flag when I go to sleep or anything, but
we've got things pretty good in America. Can you imagine having
a baby and giving it to someone in a foreign country? It would
grow up speaking a different language, for Pete's sake. I guess
that wouldn't really bother the kid, unless she found out she was
American by birthright. Yeah, that would chap my ass if I was an
American but had been raised somewhere else. Or is that just my
arrogance talking here?" Max barked in response. I laughed a
little, not because it was funny, but because I was engrossed in
talking to an animal that had no way of knowing what the hell I
was really saying.
"That's right, pal, doesn't matter if it's yes or no, as
long as you listen. Well, if I'm not gonna go to Rarotonga and
have the baby, what about staying here?" I stared out to the
ocean a moment, considering what life would be like in the
islands, somewhere on the other side to be sure. "But what about
Lester? He's asked me to marry him. I can't marry Lester. I
want to marry Darren..." and I started crying again. "It's
supposed to be me and Darren. I know we got in that fight and
all, but I didn't really mean it. Maybe a little at the time,
but not when it comes down to being married. How could I tell
him I not only slept with another man, I got pregnant by him?"
I got up from the log and started running toward the north
end of the beach. Max followed thinking we were playing our
usual game of tag. I was just trying to get all this wild,
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uncontrollable pain out of me. It was low tide and it was an
easy wade across the two hundred yard span of water out to Goat
Island. There was no one on the beach and I knew the small
island would be deserted as well. Max followed me, but I ended
up having to carry him halfway across.
"Jeez, Max, I thought you were supposed to be lighter in the
water." He struggled in my arms and I was thankful to set him
down in knee-deep water. "So, what do you think, dog, should I
marry Lester? That's a laugh, isn't it. Can you see me - this
huge, fat thing, waddling from room to room, waiting for Lester
to get back from being a paddler at PCC? That'd be a great life,
wouldn't it? Eighteen, another lost teenager about to become
part of the statistics. Hell, I guess I already joined the stats
when I got pregnant. What the hell do I know about cooking and
cleaning and managing a budget? Not that we'd have any money to
manage. No more school, no more adventures, no more studying
dolphins. I've barely begun my own life and here I'm contemplat
ing raising someone else's. Is that the stupidest thing you've
ever heard. Max, old pal?" Max had wandered off to leave his
mark on the island. I could see him lifting his leg every few
minutes as he explored the tiny beach, littered with bushes and
naupaka. "Ah, you don't care either. Why should you? It's my
problem. I mean, I guess it wouldn't be so bad to have my own
place and be able to fix it up the way I want... But that has
precious little to do with having a baby. It's crazy for me to
even consider that. Except I do love the guy. That counts for
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something. I just don’t know if I love him enough to make a
marriage work. Or a family, for that matter." I got up and
walked the length of the island, picking up shells and bits of
driftwood scattered on the far end of the beach. Max joined me
again when I finally sat facing east out to the great ocean.
I knew I wasn’t going to solve any of my problems sitting
there on the beach, and it was starting to get dark, so I headed
back across the water. It seemed like ten miles back to the
townhouse. Funny, I think about it now, it never occurred to me
to call Liz and share my burden with her. I was so wrapped up in
the turmoil of the moment, that I didn't even think about her. I
cleaned and dried Max off on the back patio when we got home
before sinking into a hot bath myself. I played a game with
myself to see how long I could go with out thinking about what
was going on. It worked for thirty seconds. I just kept seeing
this image of the woman I imaged to be my mother. Kept wondering
how she must have felt. Each time I actually thought about
having a child taken away from me at the birthing table, I got
this sick feeling in my stomach. I started talking to the
faucet.
"I mean, my mother had the guts to go through with a
pregnancy and then give me away. Can you imagine how hard that
must have been, to go through nine months of pain like this, and
childbirth, Jesus, think about childbirth, and then just have the
baby taken away from her. What kind of woman could do that? I
mean, yeah, sure I went to a great home with two parents and all
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the advantages, but how could she have done that? Does she
wonder what I look like? How I act, or what I'm interested in?
I mean, doesn't she care if I turned out smart? What if I were
retarded? Would that have made a difference? What kind of a
mother did I have that could have given me away, a part of her
flesh, a part of her soul? I couldn't stand not knowing what my
child was like. Never getting to touch her cheek, or curl her
hair. Never being able to hold something that my body produced.
I couldn't stand that. Oh, Jesus, what am I going to do?"
Robin knocked on the bathroom door.
"Jess, who're you talking to?"
"Just myself."
"Well, are you going to be in there all night?" Robin. I'd
completely forgotten about her in the events of the day.
"No, I'm coming out right now," I managed. Should I tell
her? Should I try to keep the whole thing quiet until I knew
what I was going to do? What about the tubal pregnancy? The
doctor had said I would need an emergency operation if it
ruptured. What if Robin was the only one around? Could I trust
her? I decided as I got dressed that it would be better to keep
a lid on it until I had my head together enough to know what I
wanted.
"You want spaghetti or macaroni and cheese?" Robin yelled
upstairs. I hadn't eaten anything since morning and found myself
suddenly very hungry.
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"Macaroni and cheese," I yelled back. I went downstairs,
blotting my hair dry with a towel.
"Is Lester coming over tonight?" Was that accusation in her
tone?
"Yeah, I think we're just gonna watch TV or something."
Robin nodded and busied herself boiling water. I tried to make
small talk, asking about her classes, but the words rang hollow
in my ears. I was relieved when Lester showed up around eight
and we could turn our attention to him.
"Hey, Robin. Howzit?" Les said as he walked into the
kitchen. I wasn't sure what to make of his cavalier attitude. I
assumed he was acting nonchalant and casual so Robin wouldn't
suspect anything.
"Les. How's the poi?"
"Still purple." Robin and I cleaned up the dishes and we
all went to watch TV. I knew Robin wasn't interested in the
absurd movie that was on - I got the feeling she was keeping an
eye on us. I guess I was being a tad paranoid.
"You want some water. Les?" He let go my hand.
"Sure." As I was returning to the living room. Les met me
half-way and gave me a quick kiss.
"Hey, mommy," he whispered in my ear. I found myself
smiling at the intimate secret, turned to find Lester smiling at
me. We stayed up till eleven-thirty when Robin finally decided
to call it a night. It didn't take long for us to get to my
bedroom,
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"God, I thought she'd never go to bed."
"She knows, doesn't she?" Les asked.
"About me being pregnant? No, I don't think so. But about
us sleeping together, of course."
"So are we going to knock it off?" Les said as he wrapped
his arms around me.
"No way."
We didn't talk about the baby that night. I didn't know if
he had meant what he said about marrying me, I just needed to
feel like one thing was still stable and secure - that of our
passion for each other's bodies. That night I felt in my heart
something good, something I couldn't quite put my finger on, an
awakening to a sense of place and being. Our love-making was the
most tender, most sincere we'd ever had and when I spoke the
words "I love you" in the heated darkness, I felt them in my
heart.
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THE SCARE
I left Lester in bed the next morning to be at Country
Donuts by six. God, I hated to get up early! I thought it was
because of my old resistance to getting up for seminary when I
was in high school, but I had the feeling it was compounded by
the fact that I had no energy left. Was that from being preg
nant, too? Funny thing about being sick in Hawaii, it doesn't
seem real. I mean, during the winter when it rained night and
day and homes were flooded, well, it seemed all right to be sick
and miserable. But when the sun is shining and the mountains are
bright green and the ocean calls out invitingly, then it's just
eerie to be ill. I had cramps that made all my other periods
look like indigestion in comparison, and my abdomen was prone to
seizing up. I could actually feel it stretching and growing.
But the doctor had put a new twist on these pains with his
"suspicion of a tubal pregnancy." What the hell did that really
mean anyway? I had gotten an "A" in biology the semester before.
I could tell you the DNA codes and the stages of fetal growth,
but we had never discussed any abnormalities like that. So many
questions rolled around my head as I peddled toward the shop in
the bright morning air.
"You're late, again, Jessica," Donna snapped at me as I
neared the shop. I didn't own a watch, but I thought I'd left
the townhouse in plenty of time.
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"Sorry," was all I mumbled. Donna had already loaded most
of the donut trays into the cases, but I helped her with the last
few.
"I want the back area mopped today. It didn't get done very
well last week." I nodded, going about making coffee while Donna
arranged a few donuts. "And, there's to be no more letting Sonia
be late. I want to know if she shows up late, is that under
stood?"
"Sure, Donna, no problem." Donna gathered up her purse,
glaring at me and left the shop. I think maybe she was looking
for a fight that morning, but I wasn't going to rise to her bait.
As soon as her car was out of sight, I slumped down on a stool,
trying to catch my breath. I hadn't wanted to show Donna how
weak I was. I went through the motions of selling donuts that
morning, mopping the back area, cleaning out the soda fridge and
restocking it. But it all seemed so dream-like. I would catch my
hands moving and I couldn't remember what impulse had started
their action. It was creepy. I was trying so hard not to think
about this tubal pregnancy thing, that that's all I could think
of.
"Hey, Jess," a familiar voice said. I turned to see Lester
coming through the door. I nearly bowled him over, hugging him.
"Am I glad to see you!"
"I admit, I was pretty good last night..."
"Les, I need to talk to you." The serious expression on my
face stopped him from going on with his teasing. "It's about the
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pregnancy," I started. I went on and told him the whole story,
at least what little I knew about the dangers. When I finished
pouring out my fears to him. Les came around the counter and
hugged me tightly.
"If anything happened to you, Jess..." he began, getting a
choked sound in his voice.
"Nothing's going to happen. The doctor wasn't sure about it
at all, he just said it was a possibility."
"Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"
"Well, so much was going on, and I mean, the whole thing was
so overwhelming... I don't know. I guess I just wanted to spare
you that part of it."
"Well, don't spare me anything else, you hear? I want to
know what the doctor says. He's supposed to call this afternoon,
right?" I nodded, touched by Lester's concern. It almost made
being scared and sick worthwhile. Almost.
I got off work at noon and went home. Robin was still over
at school and I had nothing to do but wait for the phone call
from my doctor. I tried watching TV for a while, but there was
nothing on except soap opera. I had a real life opera going on -
who needed to watch other people's problems? I cleaned my room,
finally, and bathed Max on the back porch and then sat braiding
some coconut fiber into a rope. Finally, the phone rang.
"Hello, Jessica Adams?"
"Yeah, this is her."
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"This is Mirna Peters from Kahuku clinic. The doctor asked
me to call and let you know he would be calling you and he wants
you to stay by your phone."
"Well, can't you tell me anything?"
"No, I'm afraid not. The doctor wants to speak to you
himself." If I thought I was filled with trepidation before, it
was nothing compared to the rush of anxiety that filled me then.
If the doctor wanted to talk with me himself, there must be
something terribly wrong.
"All right. I'll wait here."
Robin showed up around four and, boy, was I glad to see her.
See, for all my puttering and activity, I hadn't been able to
stop thinking about that damn tubal thing. And the more I
thought about it, the more scared I got. I was never very good
at keeping secrets, especially not the kind that could hurt me.
I followed after Robin as she put her books away, grilling her on
her day, hoping she would notice something was up and ask me. I
didn't have to wait long.
"Okay, Jess, what's on your mind?"
"Mind? Nothing, why?"
"Oh, come on, Jess. I haven't known you that long, but it's
obvious you want something. You want to borrow Sister Anderson's
car, right?" I shook my head, but she didn't see, storming into
the kitchen. "Well, no way. I was given explicit instructions
not to let anyone use that car but myself."
"Robin..."
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"No way, Jess, I can't let you..."
"Robin, I'm pregnant." There was a pause as she stared at
me.
"What?"
"You heard me. I'm pregnant."
"Lester, I presume." I nodded.
"I found out yesterday," I said, finding my voice cracking.
I didn't mean to start crying, really I didn't, but there it is,
I started blubbering out the whole story to Robin. About how I'd
gone to get pills and found out the cramps were from being
pregnant, and how Lester had asked me to marry him.
"Well, at least he did that much," Robin mused, sitting
stock still on the couch.
"What else was he supposed to do? It's his kid, isn't it?"
Robin laughed, low and sarcastic.
"There's no telling how a guy will act when he's told he's
gotten a girl pregnant. You're pretty lucky he wants to marry
you. "
"Yeah, but I don't want to marry him. I mean, not under
these circumstances, anyway. That's a bad way to start a
marriage. I mean, what if something happened to the baby? Like
it was still-born or something. There goes your whole reason for
being together in the first place."
"I agree totally. All I'm saying is that you're lucky he
didn't just blow you off or something." I nodded slowly, thinking
about that for the first time. I had taken Lester's reaction for
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granted, not questioning whether he would take responsibility or
not. "So you have to decide whether you want to marry him or
not, is that it?"
"No, actually, I needed to tell you for a completely
different reason." I went on and told her about the tubal scare
and what would happen if the tube ruptured. Robin sat quietly
through my explanation.
"So, what time is the doctor going to call?" she asked. I
shrugged.
"I don't know, the nurse just said stay by the phone. I'm
trying not to think about it too much," I said.
"I guess that's pretty impossible," Robin said lightly. I
could have hugged her for not launching into a tirade about how
God was punishing me for my sins and all that. I was doing
enough suffering as it was. The doctor's call came at eight
that night. Lester was still working, but Robin sat close as I
spoke with Dr. Branch. My voice was steady, and I was calm as I
turned to her after hanging up the phone.
"He wants me to go to the hospital. Tonight. He said the
results were positive, whatever that means, but they still don't
know if it's tubal or not." I glanced at Robin, trying to be
brave. She smiled.
"Come on, Jessica. Buck up. At least you'll be somewhere
safe if the worst should happen. Did the doctor say anything
else?"
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"Just that they would run tests on me in the morning. He's
just being cautious, I guess." I was fighting to hold back the
tears as I gathered up a few things and shoved them into my
backpack. The worst part was that I couldn't get hold of Les to
tell him.
Robin drove me down to Kahuku General. It was frightening,
to say the least, going to check myself into a hospital. But it
was funny too. I mean, it was all so absurd that it was funny.
The day before I had been working in the donut shop, not a care
in the world except the discomfort I felt, and 36 hours later I
was checking into a hospital.
"This is great, you got a view and everything," Robin said,
going to the French windows in the private room. She opened them
onto a minuscule balcony. "I think you'll be able to see the
ocean in the morning." I dropped my backpack into a corner of
the closet and changed into the gown and boxers the floor nurse
had given me.
"These are the most obnoxious things I have ever seen in my
life," I hollered, laughing at my reflection in the full-length
mirror. Robin started laughing with me as I modeled the
ridiculous outfit for her.
"No, I think they're sexy, Jess," Robin commented. It was
all very amusing and light for a while, as we explored the room
and fiddled with each contraption from the bed to the TV.
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"This isn't so bad," I said, dialing Lester's house once
again. Robin flipped through the channels as I slammed the phone
down, a busy signal stinging my ears.
"All right, young lady, we need to set you up on an I.V.
now," the nurse said as she entered the room with a tray full of
needles. The fun stopped abruptly as she began poking my arm
with very little tenderness. "Gracious, I've never seen such
small veins. I can't seem to get a needle to stick in anywhere."
After five tries, she managed to get a large enough vein to make
the needle thing work. I was ashen by then, lying back on the
bed.
"You'll be okay, Jess," Robin said.
"Thanks. Could you try Lester again?" I said when the nurse
had left. Robin dialed the phone for me.
"Hello, Lester? Jess wants to talk with you." Robin put
the phone to my ear and I held it with my left hand.
"Les, you'll never guess where I am... That's right, I
remember.... Can you come down? I'm in room 311."
I handed the phone back to Robin. "He's on his way. You don't
have to wait, if you don't want to."
"I'm staying right here until he shows up." I smiled.
"Thanks, you're a pal."
By the time Lester showed up, he was in a state of panic.
It took both Robin and me to assure him that I was okay, that the
doctor just wanted to run some tests on me in the morning. I
didn't feel nearly as calm as I made out to be in front of him.
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Robin left soon after and Les and I were alone. He held my hand
and I started crying.
"Les, I'm not gonna be able to pay for this..."
"It's all right, Jess. Can't you call your parents? You
have to sooner or later anyway."
"Are you kidding? They're gonna freak! My mom will never
forgive me. And my dad... I don't even want to think about what
he's gonna say."
"You don't have much choice anymore. I'll be there with
you, if you want." I shook my head and wiped some of the tears
away.
"That's not very fair to you. They're my parents after all.
I wonder what they're doing right now." My mom and dad had
always had this separate life from me. Or maybe it was the other
way around. I received a letter a few days later that answered
that very question for me. They were at their friends' house, a
couple from the Long Beach Ward, playing pick-up-sticks at a
birthday party. I laughed when I read the letter, thinking back
on that long, dreary night I spent alone in the hospital and
about how very far apart our lives really were.
"I gotta go now. You gonna be all right?" I nodded, tears
glistening in my eyes. "Be brave. Island girl. I love you."
"I love you too. Les." I watched him leave with a tug at my
heart. I really did love that man.
After a long, nearly sleepless night, morning came. The
nurse appeared with a huge glass of Seven-Up and told me to drink
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it as fast as I could. I did so and waited for her to tell me
what was next. She came back with yet another glass of Seven-Up
and ordered me to drink it as well. Two large glasses of soda
with nothing else in my stomach started to make me nauseous, I
needed to use the bathroom, but the nurse said I wasn't allowed.
That I needed a full bladder for the sonar scan. I didn't know
what a sonar scan was. I didn't care at that point. My bladder
was pressing against everything down there.
"I don't see why I need a full bladder..." I started.
"Oh, so now the patient is the doctor, hm?" the nurse
retorted, setting up the wheelchair next to the bed,
"I just want to understand..."
"The doctor will explain the procedure. Hurry up, dear,
there are others who need attention, too." I was glad of the
wheelchair, to be quite honest. This full bladder thing was
aching and I thought I would lose it if I tried to walk even a
step. They wheeled me into a cold, brightly-lit examining room
where the nurse got me situated on a table.
"This won't take long, will it?" I asked. The nurse just
looked at me and kind of smiled.
"Not long at all," she lied. By the time the doctor showed
up, I was almost in tears from the pressure on my abdomen.
"Good Morning, Jessica, how do you feel today?" What a lame
question! I was in pain, you moron.
"Fine, just need to use the bathroom real bad," I said as
nicely as possible.
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"Well, let me explain..."
"Dr. Branch, I don't care what you do, so long as you do it
quickly." He smiled gently and got out a little hand-held
thingamajig and rubbed jelly all over my stomach. The nurse had
said it wouldn't take long, but I should have known better. A
half hour later the doctor was still going over the images on the
monitor next to the table.
"I just can't seem to pinpoint anything." I had broken out
in a sweat. It was everything I could do to hold back the tears.
"Please, Dr. Branch, haven't you seen enough?" He looked at
me and my obvious distress and nodded.
"We'll have to extract some blood from the uterus, but I
think I'm done here. There's a bathroom just over there." He
indicated a door. He had taken too long, though. I couldn't
move. He helped me up and I sort of hobbled across to the room,
losing a few drops on the way. I was completely embarrassed, but
the doctor didn't even notice, being absorbed by some new setup.
Nothing compares to the relief of letting go. I thought I would
never stop. And even after I did, I sat there for several
minutes just enjoying the relief I felt. I cleaned up a bit and
emerged from the bathroom to find him waiting by another table.
I walked to the metal table and climbed on top. It wasn't just
cold in the room, it was icy. I hadn't noticed the room tempera
ture before, as I was so concentrated on the pain of my abdomen.
Now, I shivered.
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"Well, that's over. This next test may hurt just a
little..." What could possibly hurt more than having to hold my
bladder full for over an hour? I wondered.
"You didn't find anything conclusive then?" I asked,
wanting to put off more possible pain.
"It's tough to tell with just a scan. I think I saw a
gestation sack, but I can't be sure. I'll need a blood sample."
I remember lying back, an x-ray viewer on the wall in front
of me, storage cupboards all around. Dr. Branch got a speculum
that must have been sitting in a freezer for about a year. He
inserted it and there was a rush of shuddering through my lower
back, the cold stinging me.
"What's this for?" I asked, feeling more ignorant than ever.
"Just a blood sample. Now relax, Jessica. You're going to
feel a slight prick as I insert a needle to extract some blood."
The flash of hurt I'd felt when he'd inserted the instrument was
nothing, a mere pat on the shoulder, compared to what came next.
Dr. Branch took a thick, four inch needle - I could see it from
where I lay - and started to insert it in the opening.
"You're not using that thing..." I started. I never got the
sentence out because at that moment the razor sharp needle
pierced the wall of my uterus. I screamed, the sound forced out
of me by the pain, the searing shock of being physically violated
by this man. Hate coursed through my mind, branding me with its
inarticulate violence. I started trembling, shaking all over,
unable to control myself. He finally pulled that needle out.
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"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" I rolled off the
table, stumbling, my legs pure rubber. I made it as far as the
sink near the cupboards before I threw up. I couldn't focus on
anything. Dr. Branch called to a nurse who appeared at my side,
seating me back in the wheel chair. "Well, there's no reason for
you to stay in the hospital any longer. Just stay home in Laie
and call me if anything happens." He left with the blood sample
and I closed my eyes.
Lester was in the room when I returned. I was still dazed
and didn't respond with much enthusiasm to his presence. He
gathered up my things and drove me home. There was no joking
between us, no light-hearted fantasies. I had gone past that
ability in a blast of fury, that needle ushering me into a world
I didn't know existed. I spent the rest of that morning and part
of the afternoon sleeping, only to be plagued by nightmares of
needles.
A knock at the door that afternoon produced an older man in
a white shirt and tie.
"Jessica Adams?"
"Yeah," I answered.
"I'm Bishop LaMonde. May I come in?" he asked. I let him in
and we walked to the living room. Robin got this strange look on
her face, then excused herself and went for a walk. I didn't
know who this guy was, except that the name sounded vaguely
familiar.
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"Jessica, I have some pretty hard things to discuss with
you. I want us to be frank with each other." I sat stiff,
hating him already for no discernable reason except a gut level
feeling I had.
"What's this about?" I asked. He cleared his throat.
"I'm talking about your relationship with Lester Wong. I'm
his bishop." He waited for some kind of reaction from me, but I
had none to give. The events of the past three days had taken
their toll on my emotions. "I need to know if you and Lester
have been involved in any sexual activities..." Ha! What a
grand joke this was. Bishop LaMonde was on a scalping party,
looking for the bad little boys and girls of his ward. I
couldn't believe my ears.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said. He looked
at me sadly, pity in his eyes. That infuriated me more than
anything. I won't be pitied.
"Now, Jess, we've got it on good report that Lester has
spent several nights away from his own living arrangements. His
roommates have already come to us with evidence that he is indeed
spending his nights elsewhere." Just what the hell was going on
here?
"So?" I challenged. "What do you want from me?"
"Now, there's no need to be hostile, Jessica. We only want
to do what's best for you, and for Lester." Best? I sat there
pregnant with Lester's child, having just undergone one of the
most painful experiences of my life and they were worried that we
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might be having sex together? "Did Lester in fact spend any
nights here?" he asked quietly. I decided in a split second of
anger that it didn't really matter if I told him or not. He was
bound to find out sooner or later, when I started showing.
"Yeah, he's been here. Several times," I spit out. Bishop
LaMonde had that benevolent look of a man "who knew best," the
kind of look I'd gotten my whole life from the authorities of my
church. I hated that look, that condescending, above-it-all look.
"Then, I take it you two have been sexually involved with
each other?" I nodded, not trusting my voice. See, for all my
bravado and nonchalant attitude, I was still susceptible to their
hold on me, their authority over my actions and thoughts. "Well,
Jessica, we knew this already, but I wanted to hear it from you.
Lester is going to be taken to a church court and excommunicated.
Now, it's worse for him because he's been through the Temple and
taken out certain covenants with the Lord which he knew better
than to break. With you, I don't know which way they will try
the case, but you stand a chance of not being excommunicated
because of your age." My jaw dropped open. Excommunicated? Me?
From the church? There was no way in the world this was happen
ing to me. No way. Nothing whatsoever had been mentioned of
excommunication when I had gone to Bishop Diamond during
Christmas. I guess if you went to them first, it wasn't so bad.
How's that for a double standard? I sat there, staring at that
man, a fury boiling up inside me that had started back when Marty
had told me her story.
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"Well, you can do what you like, mister. I'm not going to
any church court. You can't make me and I'm not going. Yeah, I
had sex with Lester and it was great. I'd do it again in a
heartbeat. If you want to excommunicate me for that then do it
on your own time, 'cause I've got more important things to worry
about then you and your silly morality."
I stormed off to the kitchen, getting some water for lack of
something more profound, like a shot of whiskey or something. I
must have stayed there five minutes, but Bishop LaMonde hadn't
moved an inch when I returned. I stood there, near the couch,
sullenly looking at him, wanting to scream out that I was not
just a naughty girl who fooled around with the boys, but that I
was pregnant, with child, knocked up - and that God was already
punishing me in his own way. I didn't need a church to compound
that. But I didn't say anything. I just stood there. He
finally got up and came to me, putting his hand over mine. I
snatched my hand away, but he spoke calmly, directly at me
anyway,
"I know you know that what you're doing is wrong. I know
that Lester feels remorse for his actions and shortcomings. I
can only hope and pray that you will come to see the light," he
said, turning to go. The sheer presumptuousness of his words
left me speechless. What a total dick that man was being. What
did he know of me or my situation? I'd seen the light all right,
the one that was right above the examining table where the doctor
told me about tubal pregnancies.
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When Lester came over that night, I got yet another surprise
when he was upset instead of furious after I told him of the
Bishop's visit.
"I thought maybe John was talking with the Bishop, but I
didn't know they would move so quickly." Lester said. I stared
at him.
"You're kidding, right? You're not actually buying any of
this bullshit, are you?" I asked.
"You don't understand, Jess. You haven't been through the
Temple."
"Are you saying you're better than me 'cause you have?"
"No, not at all. It's just that he's right when he told you
that I should know better. I took a vow to keep the Lord's
commandments and I've broken them."
"There is no commandment that deals with premarital sex.
Bozo. The seventh commandment talks about adultery and adultery
is only between married people."
"You're missing the point here, Jess. You and I both know
that premarital sex is wrong. Look where it's gotten us..."
"I thought I was right where you wanted me. Now I can't
possibly leave you and go to my island."
"That's not it either. I don't want to be excommunicated - "
"Well, neither do I, but I sure don't want them nosing
around where it's none of their business either."
"But it is their business. They care about our immortal
souls, Jess."
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"Jesus, Lester, now you sound like a fucking Bishop. What's
with you?"
"I guess you getting pregnant has made me sit up and realize
what I've been doing. Maybe God really is punishing me," Les
said as he sat heavily on my bed.
"Punishing you? You're not the one that's pregnant. You're
not the one that got a four inch needle shoved up you."
"Yeah, but it's still my problem. Look, you've had the
church your whole life. You grew up going to Primary and then
Mutual and then Young Adults - your family was totally involved
in church activities. You don't know how lucky you were. I had
to find the church on my own. And even then, it was a war
between my asshole dad and me 'cause he didn't want me to join.
But I did anyway because I believed. I had to fight for my
beliefs - you never did."
"That doesn't mean I believe it any less than you do," I
countered, not sure of that myself.
"You don't act like you believe it," he said.
"I'll admit. I've got my doubts, but at heart I believe the
teachings. And you, sir, don't have a lot of room to talk with
all your pot smoking, not to mention the sex." Lester started
laughing then, breaking the tension.
"You got me there. I was so good for so many years. I
really didn't even sleep around that much, just a couple of slips
with old girlfriends, but when I met you...well, you are da kine
and I can't seem to help myself." He smiled that sheepish grin
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of his and I found my anger melting away. I was confused by his
outburst of religious feeling, and even more so when he wanted to
spend the night and make love. What a crazy, mixed up nature to
feel guilt on one hand, lust and desire on the other, believe in
both and commit to neither. I had a flashback of Darren, except
the circumstances made everything bizarre. I was carrying
Lester's baby and that made all the difference.
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CALLING HOME
I woke to bright sunlight and Les's arms. He woke soon
after, kissing me gently. It was already midmorning but as
neither of us had to work that day, we just stayed in bed. It
was a sweet feeling, loving someone, being loved in return.
Perhaps the greatest sensation there is. We made love again, not
having to be quiet as Robin had gone to class. Les could be
quite loud I discovered, but I didn't mind, liking to hear him
achieving satisfaction with me. After, as we lay there in the
increasing heat of the day, we talked about marriage.
"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not going to marry
you. Les?" I asked emphatically. He smiled, kissing my neck.
"About a thousand more and I'll still keep asking you," he
replied. I beamed, flattered as all get out.
"Do you suppose we would live in Honolulu?" He traced a
path along my bare back, making me shiver with delight.
"Either that or Kaneohe. I know a lot of people in Kaneohe
and my family
"Yeah, what about your family? How are they going to handle
this?" I interrupted.
"They are going to love you. Almost as much as I do," was
his reply.
"A two-bedroom apartment?" I asked. He propped himself up
on one elbow and looked at me.
"I'll rent a house if you like. As long as we're together."
I smiled and kissed him. In my deepest thoughts I knew* I could
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never marry him. Lester lacked ambition, drive, direction - of
course, those were all things I had been brought up to expect in
a husband. I never thought about them when I became interested
in a guy - who does? But when I thought about "marriage," well,
all those terms came bubbling up. I guess I didn't really know
what any of that meant, but I did know that Les's laid back
attitude drove me crazy. Like he would never clean his car,
inside or out, because he said it would just get dirty again. Or
like his talking about going into politics - he didn't really
want to work in government ; he just liked the glamour of election
time. And so he didn't bother getting involved in school govern
ment. I don't know. They sound like pretty dumb things to judge
a person on, but there were a ton more just like them and I knew
Lester would never amount to much in terms of a career. He would
always get by, but he would never push to excel. I knew I could
never live with that. I had been taught a different standard of
goals, and this was one area my parents and I were in total
agreement on. I mean, I wanted to finish college and go on to
grad school so I could get into a research lab that studied
communication with dolphins. I knew if I stayed in Hawaii and
married Lester that would never happen. Not because I wasn't
capable or anything, but because I would put my family's needs
above my own. It wouldn't be fair to try to raise a child, and go
to school and work, and be a wife. Not fair to anyone.
But, leery as I was about marrying Lester, I kept on asking
questions, talking about jobs and apartments. * Was I
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subconsciously considering it? Really marrying him? If our
love-making was any indication of how good our marriage could be,
then I was in for bliss. After the hardship of the day before,
it was nice to just drift along on this sea of dreaming.
We hung around the house all day, not doing much of any
thing. I still had those cramps that had originally sent me to
the doctor's for pills, but other than that I felt okay.
Robin came in and out and didn't really say much. Not since
that visit from the Bishop did she enter into the conversations.
I couldn't tell if she resented Lester for being around all the
time, or was condemning us for still having sex even though I was
pregnant. Robin left to study with a friend, so I figured it was
as good a time as any to call home.
"Hi, Mom," I said.
"Jess! I didn't expect to hear from you tonight. Do you
want to hang up and have me call you?" she said, her voice light
and airy.
"No, that's okay. I can afford one phone call."
"Are you sure? You're at the new place now, aren't you?"
she asked.
"Yeah, yeah. That's where I'm calling from." There was a
hesitation on the line.
"So, what's the big occasion? You never call during the
week," Mom prompted.
Well, Mom...you're not gonna like what I have to say." I
could hear the pause; I felt her mind twirl into high gear. She
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was going over all the possibilities there could be. Weird thing
about my mom; we have this connection between us. I'd read the
book, A Wind in the Door by L'Engle and in it two characters
communicated with each other by kything, a process of sending
messages through their minds. Mom and I used to laugh about it,
pretending we could kyth to each other. Sometimes I knew exactly
what she was thinking and vice versa, but maybe that just came
from living with another person.
"You're pregnant." I started laughing, not because it was
funny, but because it was just so weird the way she knew. If I'd
thought about it, I should have known that a mother's greatest
fear was her daughter getting knocked up. She knew about my sex
with Darren so it wasn't like she thought I was a virgin or
anything.
"Yeah, yeah, I am."
"Who's the father?"
"Lester. The Hawaiian guy I wrote you about." She started
crying then. My mom never cried. She didn't weep at sad movies,
not at spiritual talks, never when she was upset by something.
She just wasn't a demonstrative, emotional woman. She felt
things deeply, she just never cried. The only time I had ever
seen her break down was when I was fifteen. She and I were in a
fight about something, I don't even remember what, and I screamed
at her, "You're not even my mother. You're not my real mother
and I hate you." She sat down heavily on one of the living room
chairs and tears started flowing. It burned me right to the core
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and I immediately regretted what I'd said, feeling ashamed at
having made my mom cry. Well, I'd done it again, made her cry,
only this time I didn't mean to. I wasn't deliberately setting
about to hurt her.
I quickly launched into the story of the tubal scare, having
been in the hospital, the tests they'd run. I think the overdose
of factual information I was giving her calmed her down, 'cause
she stopped crying, and strangely enough, acted like a real
trooper. I mean, she didn't get hysterical on me; she didn't
start screaming at me or anything.
"What are you going to do, Jessica?" she asked. "Are you
going to come home?" I shook my head, but realized she couldn't
see that.
"No, Mom. I don't know what I'm going to do. Les has asked
me to marry him..." There was silence for a moment.
"Is he The One, Jessica?" "The One." I had been hearing
about "The One" since I was a child. The right companion, the
man to spend the eternities with. With each successive boyfriend
my mom had always asked, is he the one. I had told her once that
Darren was The One, but she just looked at me with a crooked
eyebrow, as if she knew better. I sighed.
"No. But I am pregnant with his child," I said firmly. I
could picture her in the kitchen, standing near the oven at the
phone nook. I wondered how she would break the news to my dad.
I thanked my lucky stars it was she who answered the phone, not
him.
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"Jess, I really think you should come home," she stated.
"I know you do, but I don't want to go home."
"I'll have to tell your father, you know. I don't know what
to say to him," she worried.
"Well, I got to go. Mom. This is costing me money."
"We'll call you tomorrow night, dear."
"Okay," I said, dreading the thought of talking to my dad.
"I love you, Jessica." I hung up without returning the
affection. It's not that I didn't love my mom, I just had a hard
time saying that kind of thing to either of my parents.
The whole day Les and I had been fantasizing about the baby,
imagining what she'd look like, how I'd fix up a baby room in
pastel greens and yellows. We had talked about moving to Kaneohe
where Les thought he'd have a better chance of getting a good job
and also to be closer to his family. It had been wonderful,
dreaming and planning, but now all I wanted to do was cry. Which
I did for a long time, sitting with Max out on the porch.
"It's like she didn't even care. Max. No, not care, but
like she wasn't upset. I would have been upset. I almost wished
she had yelled and ranted and raved and gone a little crazy. She
was so calm, so icy. I mean, on the one hand, she took that
pretty well, but on the other hand, that's really weird. I mean,
she'd just been told that her one and only daughter is pregnant
by a twenty-five year old Hawaiian boy, and she didn't get upset.
And what's my dad gonna say? I hate this."
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I didn't know the words to express the growing hurt inside,
the guilt I felt over betraying their confidence in me. I had
made my mom cry and there was nothing I could do about it. So I
cried with her, three thousand miles away, alone on my back porch
in Laie. I realized I had forgotten to tell her about the church
trial thing, but then I was happy it had slipped my mind. I'm
sure that news would have sent her over the edge.
The next day I was puttering around, waiting for Lester to
come over so we could go through the classified ads to find some
apartments and jobs. We wanted ammunition for when my parents
called that night. But my mind wasn't on jobs, or apartments, or
babies, or even Les. All I could think about was Darren. I kept
hearing my mom ask, is he The One. Les wasn't, I knew that.
Darren was the one for me. I wondered, if he knew, if he would
want to marry me, help me raise the baby, even though someone
else was the father. I became overwhelmed with the need to hear
his voice. I went to the phone.
"Hello," I heard the familiar voice say. My heart starting
beating quicker, my palms sweating.
"Darren...it's me, Jess." There was a pause on the other
end of the line.
"Jessica. Are you home?"
"No, I'm still in Hawaii." I suddenly felt cold, even in
the soaring heat of the morning.
"So, what's up?" he asked casually.
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"Nothing, really. I just thought I'd call, see how you're
doin'," I replied back, equally casual.
"I'm fine. Things are goin' great. I got a truck in March,
and I tricked her out. Looks awesome. And I'm working for this
guy doing lawn care - we might become partners, depending on how
the summer goes. Everything's great." Great? Wasn't he
supposed to say he was miserable? That he missed me, wanted me
back?
"Good, glad to hear it," I said. There was another long
pause on the line. I had wanted so much for Darren to be who he
used to be, for all these problems to disappear with the sound of
his voice. But that didn't happen. I knew I could never tell
Darren about the baby. Not about Lester, or the pain, or any of
it. I could hear it in his voice, that polite coldness that said
he'd rather be doing anything other than talking with me on the
phone.
"So, you comin' home this summer?"
"I don't know. Things are kinda up in the air right now."
The conversation went on like this for a few more minutes: inane,
useless talk. I kept touching my belly, rubbing it like the
Genie's Lamp.
"Listen, Jess, I got someone waiting for me - " he said
abruptly. I guess, in the end, we simply had nothing more to say
to each other. We muttered goodbyes, hung up. I gave in then,
to the tears that had been threatening to fall all day. There
was nothing left of Darren and me. Not even friendship. He
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didn't want me back. Not me, and certainly not a baby. I had to
let him go, do like that song says; "Love the one you're with."
I dried my tears, and waited for Lester.
"I'll tell him I asked you to marry me before you got
knocked up," Les said.
"He's not gonna buy that," I said as I lay sprawled across
the floor with the classified ad section in front of me.
"So, I'll just tell him the truth. That I want to marry you
and do right by you."
"You could stand up to my father? I don't think so, you
don't even know him," I said.
"What's to know? He can't be worse than my old man. He's
the biggest asshole I know." I looked up in interest as Les
never talked much about his family.
"How's that?"
"He's just a jerk. He's been having affairs since I was a
kid. I caught him the first time when I was eight, coming out of
a bowling alley at Windward Mall with this chick that looked like
a whore. I asked him about it a couple days later. He just
smacked me and told me to shut up."
"Did your mom know?"
"Yeah, she knew. But she wouldn't leave him 'cause a good
little Catholic girl doesn't leave her husband no matter what
kind of an animal he is. She just kept having babies instead,
which only made him madder."
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"Is he still that way?"
"Nah, he's an old fart now and no one would have him, but he
still tries, I guess. Your dad can't be worse than that."
"No, he's nothing like that. Except that he's hard to talk
to. "
"It'll be a piece of cake, you watch. We'll have some jobs
to tell him about and some apartments - they'll be happy, I
promise." Lester was gung ho about the idea of going mano a mano
with my dad, thrashing it out and letting him know just how much
he loved me, how he wanted to marry me. It made me feel good.
Made me even think more about the possibility of actually marry
ing him.
The phone rang at eight and I nearly jumped off the couch. I
picked up the phone and all my bravado, all my plans and studied
responses melted away. I fell to pieces. My dad was the final
authority in our house. His low gruff voice could penetrate me
like nothing else.
"I'm very disappointed in you, Jessica. I thought you were
a stronger person than that."
"Well, Dad, I'm sorry. I'm only human."
"That doesn't excuse you from this kind of behavior. And
now you're going to have to pay the consequences."
"I know that. Dad. I'm the one that's pregnant. I'm the
one that was in the hospital," I whimpered into the receiver.
Les squeezed my hand in reassurance.
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"I know, and I'm sorry; I wish you didn't have to hurt like
this. But I can't take the hurt away. This is your doing - you
knew when you got involved with that young man that this could
happen."
"I know, Dad"
"You've got two options, as I see it. You can either come
home and give the baby up for adoption. Or you can stay in
Hawaii and marry this Lester," he stated. Tears were running
freely down my face. Les handed me a tissue. His voice was
cutting through me, I could hear how angry and upset he was by
the way he was holding back from yelling. And that made it
worse. It hurt so much, you know, to know how much he dis
approved of me, of my life. But my reaction, even though there
were tears, was not a reflection of the hurt I felt, but rather
of anger at being backed into a corner and being told what to do.
I hate being told what to do. For him it was so black and white,
there was no room in his life for shades of gray. To him, there
was only logic, and logic dictated one of two courses of action :
A, either I go home, or B, I stay and get married. Well, knowing
me I'd pick C, just out of defiance. Just to assert that
independence I felt was my God-given right.
Les took the phone from me. I could only hear his side of
the conversation. "Yes, sir...Yes, I love your daughter very
much...Yes, sir, I know it wasn't right...No, sir, I have been on
a mission. I went to Colorado... Yes, sir, I know I've broken
sacred covenants and I deeply regret that, but since the damage
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is already done, I want to do right by her...I want to rectify my
mistakes... Yes, I've talked with my Bishop, he knows the situa
tion." I looked curiously at Les, that information being news to
me. He shook his head to indicate he was lying. "Yes, sir, I do
want to marry your daughter. I wanted to marry her before this
whole thing happened... I'm twenty-five...Yeah, I'm majoring in
Poly Sci. I hope to work for the Republican Party here in the
Islands...Republican to the core, sir... no, we'd live in Kaneohe.
That's the biggest town on the windward side of the island. My
family is there and they would help us...Yes, ma'am, Jess is
fine...I know you want her to go home, but I think she'd be
better off here, with me...Yes, I understand that, but it is my
child she'd carrying..." I was so proud of Lester, standing up
to my parents, not buckling under their demands. He finally
handed the phone back to me.
"Mom?"
"Yes, Jess, your dad's on the other line with me."
"Jessica, you need to make up your mind about what you're
going to do," my dad said.
"I know, I will."
"You're not still sleeping with this Lester, are you?" he
asked. I didn't say anything.
"Now, honey, you let us know if there's any more about that
tubal pregnancy, all right?" said my mom, jumping in.
"Look, I'm sorry. That's all I can say."
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"We know you are, honey. Just think carefully about what
you're doing. We love you."
"I love you, too," I mumbled back. My dad hung up without
saying anything more. I turned to Les and started bawling. He
held me, but I know he didn't understand why I was crying.
"Hey, Island Girl, what's up? I thought that went great."
"They hate me," I sobbed.
"They don't hate you; you're their little girl."
"Not any more." I cried till I was weak, Lester cooing into
my ear to calm me down. I wanted to explain to him that it was
more than just my dad's anger. I mean, that's totally under
standable, I guess. I'd betrayed my parents, their trust their
love. I'd disappointed them. Even though I didn't get along
with my parents while I lived at home, they were still my mom and
dad, and it hurt, it really hurt to know that I was hurting them.
I didn't mean to. I didn't want to be pregnant. But since I
was, since it couldn't be helped, I guess I'd kinda hoped, maybe,
I don't know, that maybe they wouldn't condemn me or blame me or
I don't know, something.
It wasn't enough that I was pregnant, or that I was in fear
of a tubal pregnancy, or that I was about to be excommunicated
from my religion, or that Les was pressuring me to marry him, now
I had to face the recriminations of my own shortcomings in the
eyes of my parents. Why was my dad so adamant about my choices?
Why couldn't he have been more gentle, more understanding? Why
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were they just concerned about my future plans instead of just
asking me how I felt?
Lester stayed that night and we made love as usual. He
never got tired of it. I suppose I never got tired of it either,
except maybe after an emotional bashing like that night. I had
wanted to just cuddle with him, but I wasn't going to deny him
the sex he so enjoyed. I never understood the hypocrisy of him -
saying things like he was going to rectify the error of his ways
and then jumping into bed with me an hour later. For myself, I
had to have the brutal honesty of my actions, not hide behind a
lie and commit the "sin" anyway. If I was going to sin, I was
going to sin at the top of my lungs. A music teacher once told
me that if you're going to sing a wrong note, don't be timid or
shy; sing it wrong at the top of your lungs. I'd connected with
that and carried it with me like a banner. If what Les and I
were doing was wrong, fine, but I wasn't going to lie about
wanting or needing it and I had trouble with Les's attitude about
hiding. Nevertheless, we made love that night and I got the
biggest scare yet.
When he finished climaxing and had moved over I noticed
blood on the sheets.
"Les, there's blood!"
"Where, what?" He saw the tiny spot near me.
"Oh my God, what if the tube just ruptured," I said, scram
bling out of bed and racing to the bathroom. Sure enough, I was
bleeding. It wasn't much, mind you, less than a light flow, but
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I panicked none the less. I ran downstairs and called my doctor
even though it was ten at night.
"Calm down, Jessica, you haven't ruptured anything. You
would know it if you did." That did little to relieve me.
"Then why am I bleeding. Dr. Branch? Have I had a mis
carriage?"
"No, I don't think so. There's usually a lot more blood
involved. Listen, it's natural for women to bleed a little
during their pregnancy, especially after having sex. Why don't
you come on in the morning and we'll make sure everything is
okay. "
Lester had stayed upstairs, since Robin was home, and he
didn't want to make an issue of his spending the night. I hung
up and went out back for a few minutes to be alone. My nerves
were frazzled, my mind bending under the pressure and stress.
Even with the doctor's reassurances, it was just getting to be
all too much. A cramp gripped me and I doubled over. I'm sure
it was as much due to the mental stress as to the actual
pregnancy, but all I could think about was the pain. I was so
tired of being in pain all the time.
I went back up and told Les what the doctor had said, and
just blurted out without even thinking about it, "I should just
get an abortion." Les's reaction was emphatic and to the point.
"No I What the hell you sayin'? I can't believe you would
even suggest that." But I had suggested it, and even though I
didn't mean it, the idea was suddenly lodged in my brain and
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wouldn't go away. Les stayed the night and fell asleep soon
after I'd returned to the room. I lay awake for many hours,
thinking about a plan, a simple plan that would free everyone
from the burden of this child.
It's difficult to say just where the idea came from. I
mean, growing up in the church, we had never discussed abortion
as a viable option. It was murder, plain and simple. So when I
blurted it out to Lester, it was nearly as much of a surprise to
me as it was to him. I had never even thought about the idea of
it at all since I'd been diagnosed, but once those words were in
the air, it suddenly made sense. My parents didn't want me to be
pregnant. Lester, although he was willing to marry me, hadn't
been expecting to become a father, and I certainly didn't want a
child, either to keep or give away. What better solution than to
just make the problem disappear? I didn't think about the
ramifications of my plan - I just thought about the fact that all
of it, the thumbscrews from my parents, the marriage talk with
Les, the pain, especially the pain - would all just go away. The
plan was so simple; go to the doctor’s in the morning and fake a
miscarriage. Not to the doctor, of course, but to everyone else,
my parents, Robin, Lester. Then I would simply schedule an
abortion and pay in cash. No one would ever have to know. No
one's conscience would be afflicted with the knowledge, no one
would have to blame themselves - I alone would bear the weight of
the decision. Funny, once I'd made up my mind, I felt at peace.
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THE WOULD-BE MISCARRIAGE
Lester left early that next morning, before Robin got up,
and when she'd left for school, I called down to the clinic to
find out how much an abortion would cost. The nurse told me the
procedure was called a dilation curettage or D & C for short.
"What's that mean?" I asked.
"Dilation just mean they enlarge the opening to the uterus
size, and curettage means they scrape the lining of the uterus,"
she said matter of factly.
"Well, how much does it cost?"
"Two hundred and forty-seven fifty." Yicksl $247.50, that
was a lot of money. All my cash was tied up in the plane ticket
I'd already purchased. I knew I would have to borrow the money.
I thanked the nurse and hung up.
Where was I gonna find that kind of money? The only person
I knew in town who was sort of rich was Val. I wasn't sure I
wanted to go through the whole story with her about being preg
nant, but I knew I had little choice. So I showered and rode up
to the Point to ask her.
"So, there it is. Can you help me?" I asked, when I had
finished the story. Val curled her toes up under her even
tighter.
"Are you sure this is what you want to do?"
"Look, Val, no one wants this baby."
"Sounds like Lester wants it," she said. I lowered my eyes,
not wanting to think about it.
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"I don't know if we could make a marriage work, you know, I
think we'd be asking for a divorce before we even started..."
"Why? He sounds like he's totally in love with you."
"I know, it's just an instinct of mine, really. Les isn't a
hard worker. He only does the minimum to get by and he's got no
direction - jeez, he's twenty-five and still working at PCC."
"You're being awfully judgmental, Jess,"
"I know, but he's asking me to marry him. How would he
support us? I would have to work, and that's not fair to a baby,
to just put it in a day-care center. I don't want to raise a
child like that,"
"Well, why don't you talk to him about it?"
"Val, I came here as a friend. I don't want to discuss this
anymore. I've made up my mind and I'm the one that's going to
have to live with myself. Now, will you lend me the money?" Val
squinted her eyes a moment and then nodded.
"All right, Jess. I'll get the money out this afternoon."
"Great. Val, please don't say anything to anyone. This is
very private."
"I won't."
"Swear you won't tell - "
"I swear already. Jess, you're getting really paranoid." I
decided not to argue that and left for my doctor's appointment.
I got on my bike and rode the three miles to the Kahuku clinic.
It's not a bad ride, there are no hills or anything, and other
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than feeling sick and nauseous, I was fine. I sat with Dr.
Branch and told him my idea.
"So why don't you want me to write the truth on the medical
charts?" he asked.
"Well, when I just mentioned the word abortion to my boy
friend, he went crazy. He's kinda religious, and so are my
parents. So I think it would be best if they didn't have to
know. "
"And you don't have a problem with this? Getting an
abortion..." It was the first time I was confronted on the issue
directly. I squirmed a bit, but then retreated to the safety of
science.
"I learned in biology that the embryo is not fully function
ing and couldn't sustain life outside the womb. It's not a
living, breathing human yet." With my scientific background, I
couldn't dispute the fact that this was only a teaspoon full of
tissue, nothing human even distinguishable in it. But I had been
raised to think of abortion as murder. I don't know if I thought
of myself in quite that term, a murderer, yet I knew that accord
ing to everything I believed in, everything I'd been taught, I
was doing something very wrong. "No, I don't have a problem with
it," I said, feigning a calm I didn't feel.
The doctor nodded his agreement and wrote on the chart. As I
left his office I felt good, really, honestly good for the first
time in a week that the whole episode was going to be over soon.
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I mean, it was a relief to not have to deal with making life-
altering decisions anymore, like getting married.
As I stood at the front desk, waiting to schedule a time for
my D & C the next day, I got a phone call. It was Lester.
"Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for
you," he shouted.
"Lester, you knew I had a doctor's appointment this morn
ing . "
"Well, I'll come down and pick you up," he said.
"Les, there's no need. I'm fine - " The phone clicked off
and the dial tone rang in my ear. I went ahead and made an
appointment for 8:45 the next morning. I sat outside the clinic
and waited for Lester to show up, my spirits soaring. I felt so
alive, so relieved that the nightmare was coming to an end. He
drove up and got out of the car. Before he had a chance to say
anything, I flew into his arms.
"It's over Les, there's no baby." He pushed me back to look
at me.
"What happened?" he asked suspiciously.
"The bleeding last night... it was a spontaneous abortion. A
miscarriage," I said jubilantly. "I'm trying to feel bad about
it, but I can't, it's such a relief."
"I've been all over lookin' for you, you know. I went up to
Val's house and do you know what she told me? 'Don't let Jessica
get the abortion'," he said in a nasty tone. When I heard the
words, I froze. Val, whom I had trusted, whom I had gone to with
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this most delicate proposal, had betrayed me. She had promised.
It wasn't even three hours later and she had broken it. I was
angry, so angry I wanted to scream, I wanted to hit somebody, I
wanted to bite something. I wanted to scratch and claw and spit.
But I didn't. I held it all in.
"Les, I know it looks bad, but I only considered it as an
option. I wanted to know all the options. But there's no need.
The doctor took a urine sample and I'm not pregnant anymore."
"You sure?"
"Positive. It's over. Les." He never even suspected. I
guess I was a better actress than I thought.
"God, what a relief! Jeez all this talk about babies and
marriage..." I lowered my eyes. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I mean, it feels like I should be sad, but
I'm not. I don't think I was ready for a baby."
"Still, you thought about having an abortion..."
"Just a passing thought. I shouldn't have even gone to Val.
It was just an option, a thought," I explained. He put the bike
on the back of his car and drove me to Laie. I had to work so we
dropped my bike off at the townhouse and he took me to the donut
shop.
I worked all that afternoon, vacillating between anger at
Val's betrayal, worry about where I was going to get the money,
and relief that the whole thing was nearly over. Lester hadn't
really said much on the drive, and had left quickly after he
dropped me off, I guess I was too caught up in my own thoughts
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to notice anything strange about his behavior. I decided to call
my parents and tell them during one of the "relief" moments.
"Yeah, that's what the doctor called it, a spontaneous
abortion," I said.
"Oh, Jessica, you don't know how relieved I am. And your
father, he'll be so relieved to hear this, too,"
"Yeah, me too. Mom."
"You just don't know how difficult it was, and your father
and I talked - we didn't know how we were going to handle it with
the ward members and all. Such a scandal." I bit back a nasty
retort.
"I know. I'm more relieved than anyone. I mean, it was me
that was in pain."
"How is Lester taking it? Does he still want to marry you?"
"No, I don't think so."
"That's good, Jess. I was never sure about how stable he
was. Have you arranged to have a D & C yet?" My face drained of
color. I didn't know that it was normal for women to have one
after they'd miscarried naturally.
"No, not yet. But I could arrange one," I said tentatively.
"Yes, that would be a good idea. It's covered under our
insurance," she said. What utter irony. Now, I wouldn't even
have to pay for the abortion.
"I'll call my doctor tomorrow."
"I just can't tell you what a relief it is that this
happened. You don't know what a lucky girl you really are." It
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echoed dully in my head, lucky girl, lucky girl. How very lucky I
was. I got off the phone with her, glad that I'd restored some
of the happiness and balance to her life. I didn't want to hurt
my mom, not ever. I was feeling pretty good about everything
when I got the phone call from Robin.
"Jess, Lester was just here and he dropped your Walkman off
along with a note. He was acting really weird. Is something
going on with you two?" My heart sank with dread.
"What's the note say, Robin?" I whispered into the phone.
"It says: 'Jess, I've been hurt too many times and I'm tired
of it. Like you say, "time heals all wounds". Take care and
have fun in Tahiti. Tell your parents I think they're a swell
bunch of folks. Love you always, Lester Wong.'," Robin finished.
Tears flowed down my face and wouldn't stop. I couldn't believe
he actually left me. Lester had deserted me not hours after I'd
had a miscarriage - at least a miscarriage to his knowledge.
What kind of a guy would do that to a girl?
It was a long, gut-wrenching afternoon and evening. I got
over being hurt and became angry with Lester's actions. I mean,
even though I was planning something he would disapprove of and
try to prevent, he didn't know anything about it. So, why would
did he leave me? Just because I had considered abortion - not
even done it, but just considered it, he had packed up and left
me. What a jerk. What an ass. But then I would think about the
fact that I was really doing the very thing he left me for and
then I would feel bad all over again, like I deserved this new
363
ache because of my impending actions. Anyway, by the time Robin
came to pick me up at ten that night, all my barriers were down.
I wasn't ready for what she asked me so I answered in truth. And
the nightmare began again.
"Was your abortion spontaneous, Jessica?" Robin asked.
"No," I said numbly. "In fact, I haven't even had it yet."
"Val said you asked her for money," Robin challenged. There
is was again, Val telling people things.
"Yeah, I did. But the operation is set for tomorrow."
Robin gripped the steering wheel and narrowed her eyes, fury
building behind them.
"How can you even think about that, Jess? How can you
commit murder?" Robin accused, spacing each word to reverberate
throughout the car.
"None of your business," I said feebly back.
"You don't have the right to kill another human being. What
about the rights that baby has..."
"It's not a human being," I spat out. I had never given
much thought to it before and I was flailing around for anything
to grasp onto.
"It's a potential life and has certain inalienable rights,"
Robin said. I didn't mean to laugh, I wasn't trying to make
light of the situation, but she sounded so much like my 11th
grade American history teacher, Mrs, I-want-to-get-laid Stonely,
that I couldn't help myself. Inalienable rights, indeed. "It's
not funny, Jess. You're so selfish."
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"Selfish? How? Because I want to have an abortion? That
makes me selfish?"
"Yes. You're thinking about yourself and how you feel.
What about Lester? Does he know you're doing this?" I bowed my
head.
"No. I told him it was a miscarriage and he believed me."
"That's why he left you the note?"
"No, I guess that was because I had mentioned the idea, the
remote possibility of maybe getting an abortion and that flipped
him out. That and having gone to Val for help which she so
kindly felt the need to tell everyone about, the bitch."
"Val is not a bitch. She was only trying to help you do the
right thing. She cares about you."
"If she cares so much, why is she telling everyone what she
swore she would never breath a word of? Huh? Can you answer
that. Miss know-it-all? How can Val say she cares when she
breaks her promises?"
"How can. you accuse her of anything when it's you who wants
to have an abortion? You've got a lot of room to talk," Robin
snapped back sarcastically. "You didn't answer my question."
"What question," I sighed wearily.
"About Lester. Don't you care about how he feels? I don't
think he would want you to have an abortion..."
"Robin, not that it's any of your business, but you don't
understand. Lester doesn't want this baby. He doesn't want to
get married. He was so Goddamned relieved when I told him there
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was a miscarriage." I started crying although I didn't mean to.
I didn't want Robin to see that and thank God we were pulling
into the driveway of the townhouse. I quickly jumped from the
car, but Robin followed me relentlessly.
"Okay, that's a normal response. I mean, he would still
marry you if he knew the truth -" I whirled on her.
"I'm not going to marry someone who doesn't want to marry me
for me - who's just doing it out of duty. How long do you think
a marriage would last that started out like that? And another
thing, it's not even so much the marriage that concerns me. It
was his reaction to the baby being gone. He didn't care, Robin.
How much more clear can I make that to you? He didn't feel a bit
of sadness or remorse. Is that who you want to be a father?" I
slammed through the house to the kitchen, getting some water.
"Okay, I admit, Lester may not be perfect, but that doesn't
give you the right to kill his child." Those words, those
particular words, 'kill his child' sent shivers down my spine. I
had never thought of it in those terms. In truth, I hadn't
thought about the abortion at all, I had focused in on the other
factors, the set-up of a miscarriage, being free from the
situation, finding money. I grew still, but Robin went on
relentlessly. "And what about your soul, Jessica? Your eternal
salvation?"
"My what?" I tried breathing, but found it difficult.
"You grew up in the church. Do I have to tell you the
church's stance on abortion? And it's not even a Mormon thing
366
I’m talking about here. Every Christian religion is against it.
You’ll be submitting yourself to eternal damnation if you go
through with it," Robin said in a low dramatic voice. "It's in
the Ten commandments, you know. Thou shall not commit
"Murder, I know. But Robin..."
"You'll burn in hell for that."
"Stop it! I'm not committing murder. This isn't a real
person..." I trailed off weakly, bending before the righteous
anger of Robin.
"It's selfish, brutal and wrong, Jessica. You're a Mormon,
you say you believe in God... I just don't see how you can even
consider it."
"I haven't done anything yet," I stammered out, searching
for an escape.
"But you will. Why can't you just give the baby up for
adoption?" I hadn't told Robin of my past, of my own adoption.
How could I begin to explain the pain of growing up not knowing
my real parents, not knowing what they looked like, or anything.
I just shook my head. "If you don't want to marry Lester I can
understand that, but why not give the child a chance to live with
two people that really want a baby and can't have one?" I
started walking blindly from the kitchen making for the stairs.
"I can't, I can't go through it..."
"You could if you loved your baby."
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"You don't know a Goddamned thing about it, Robin. Leave me
alone," I said, quietly, shallowly. Robin wouldn't. She
followed me up the stairs, making her last bid.
"It's not right, Jessica, and you know it. It's against
everything you were brought up to believe. Please, just think
about it, for the baby's sake. We could help you, Val and I, we
could help you get through it..." I shut the door to my bedroom
and leaned heavily against it. Robin pounded on it for a minute.
"Jess, don't be selfish, don't be so selfish!"
Finally, when I didn't open the door, she turned and walked
away. I could hear her as she went into her room and picked up
the phone. In my numbness I tried to listen in on the call, but
the sound of her voice was muffled. I stayed against the door as
I heard her go downstairs, leave, and drive away in the car. I
finally went to my stereo, popped in The Wall and turned it up.
I lay on my bed, trying like hell not to think. It didn't
work. Robin's words echoed around the room. I couldn't get away
from it. I finally started thinking about my mom and our conver
sation just to block out Robin. But that only made it worse. I
could still hear the relief in my mother's voice and I thought,
"She really didn't want me to marry Les, even though they said it
was that or go home, and they didn't want me at home, not preg
nant anyway." I wondered why my dad even proposed the idea,
seeing how difficult it would have been with their friends in the
church and having to explain my condition. Fact of the matter
was, they couldn't have been happier about the turn of events.
368
As long as she never knew, as long as my mom never found out
about the abortion, well, then she would never be disappointed in
me - there it was again, me disappointing my parents.
The tape clicked off. I had betrayed my parents, I had
betrayed Lester, I had been betrayed in turn by Val and now
seemingly Robin with her condemnation and judgement. God, I just
wanted it all to be over, to be away, to not exist. I felt lost
without Lester, without his presence, his support. I couldn't
figure out what had triggered him, especially since he believed
me, I know he did, about the miscarriage. I knew that because of
things that would happen later, but even that night I was sure
there was no question in his mind like Robin had had. So what
ever it was, it didn't have to do with recriminations about real
abortions. As far as Les was concerned, he had gotten me preg
nant and then I miscarried - so why would he be such a jerk? Why
would he break up with me once the episode, as far as he knew,
was over? I just couldn't figure it out, not even a little.
The radio alarm clock by my bed read one-thirty when the phone
rang. I woke instantly and waited for Robin to pick up the
phone. When she didn't, I reached for it. It was Lester.
"Jess? It's me," he said softly, sounding like he'd been
crying. Or maybe he was just drunk, I couldn't tell.
"Lester, what's wrong?" I asked, immediately concerned.
"I don't know what got into me. I'm sorry..." he trailed
off.
"Les, where are you?"
369
"I'm at a friend's house. Listen, I just wanted to say that
I love you and I want to be with you." I sat up, ecstatic and
cautious in the same breath.
"What was all that about the note?"
"Oh that, yeah, well, I was just upset, you know, about what
Val told me about you going to her for money and all. But I
thought about it and I guess it was just human, checking out
different possibilities. I don't blame you for looking into
them."
"So why did you break up with me then. Les?"
"I just thought, well, Jess, I don't think I could ever be
with someone who would consider abortion, I mean, who could
actually get one. I was pissed you even thought about it and I
overreacted. But, hey, it's over. I mean, there's no baby,
right?" I swallowed deeply. Robin hadn't told him then.
"No, Les, there's no baby."
"Well, there you go. It's kinda a relief it's over, huh? I
love you, girl." Tears came again, unbidden, and I sat there in
the empty house, lying through my teeth. It was a strange
conversation. I mean, I was glad beyond the point of joy that Les
had called and that he wanted to get back together because I knew
I still loved him and wanted to be with him. Needed him. Not in
marriage or anything. We weren't cut out to be man and wife, but
still I wanted to be held safe in his arms, and just feel loved
for a while. I didn't think about it at the time, about the
conversation Robin and I had had earlier that night, but I knew
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in the course of that phone call that I couldn't go through with
an abortion. I couldn't destroy Lester's child, not even a
potential one.
"Did you hear me?" he asked.
"No, what?"
"I said can I come over?"
"Uh, Les, I don't know. I mean. It's been a long day for
both of us and Robin is..." I didn't know where Robin was except
a vision of her and Val huddled together popped into my mind.
Lester started rambling on about how much he loved me and how he
wanted to make love to me. I was chock full of conflicting
thoughts, the most dominant one being that I was still pregnant
and he didn't know. A part of me wanted to just blurt that out,
just tell him I lied and that I was still carrying his baby. But
something held me back. An instinct, for lack of a better term.
We finally hung up, promising to see each other the next
day. I got up, dizzy with mixed-up feelings. Oh, I was happy
all right, knowing Les wanted me back, but in the same flash, I
was sickened by the thought that I'd betrayed him. Knowing he
wouldn't want to be with me if he knew the truth. I assumed if
he knew, he would still take care of me, make me the best home he
could, and yet I couldn't tell him. I had started a lie and I
didn't know how to stop it. And on top of that, I still had the
actual abortion to go through. Forget all the arguments about or
rather against abortion. They are meaningless in the face of
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such pressure. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't go through with
it. And I couldn't take back the lie.
I went to the kitchen, gulping down two glasses of water
before I felt the dizziness fade. I still felt a suffocation,
being in that house, so I left. Max followed me as we walked far
away from the housing complex. I looked at the stars, and
remembered Star Child, that peaceful feeling I'd had. I knew I'd
never feel that way again. Not for the rest of my life. Because
no matter what happened in the outcome, there was no way to win,
no way to come out unscarred, untainted. Robin's words of my
selfishness rattled around louder than anything else. Lester's
accusations and his hurt over my looking into "options" and his
relief at not having to deal with a baby was also heavy on my
mind.
I can't say exactly which of the forces pushing against me
played the biggest influence on my decision, but a tumbler
clicked into place and I knew I would never let anyone control my
emotions so radically again. Not a person, not a church. Not
even God. I would make up my own mind, and deal with my own
consequences despite all the factors surrounding me. An idea was
born out there. The inbred guilt I had from being raised a
Christian was eating away at me, but it was actually my pride, my
feeling of utter superiority to those around me that was the real
motivating factor. I'd show them, all of them with their morals
and their reliefs, and their accusations. I wouldn't have the
abortion - I would go through with the pregnancy. The moment I
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conceived the actual thought, a wave bf despondency swept through
me. I shrugged it off and went on thinking about how I could
accomplish that without the knowledge of anyone involved so far.
My immediate thought rested on Liz. She had always been
there for me in the past, had taken care of me when the going got
rough. She would know what to do. I could just go to San
Francisco, live with her, work somewhere, anywhere, and then give
the baby up for adoption. With the emotions of the day still
fresh in my mind, the extremes that I had been sent through, I
found a release in finally knowing what I was going to do. I
thought about Robin and her words of my selfishness and laughed
aloud. How little she knew of selfishness and responsibilities.
I would let her and Val go on thinking I had an abortion. They
had broken my trust and deserved nothing better.
I didn't feel particularly happy with the decision to have
the baby. In fact, it depressed the hell out of me, but at least
I was in control of my life. And no one would ever take that
from me. I walked back to the house quietly. It was a terrify
ing sensation to be suddenly and really all alone in the big
world. I had always said to Lester that this whole thing would
show how independent and strong I was. Well, I was getting a
chance to prove it.
373
ISOLATION
It seemed only minutes after I'd closed my eyes that my
alarm clock was ringing. Five-thirty. I went through the
motions of showering, brushing my teeth, and combing my hair all
with my eyes closed. I was so tired. I got to Country Donuts
and started making coffee. The smell revived me a little, and I
picked up the phone.
"Hello, this is Jessica Adams calling. I had an appointment
for this morning... yes, 8:45. Uh, I'm not going to be able to
make it...no, I don't want to reschedule right now...it's not
that, I just can't make it down there...Okay, thanks very much."
I hung up feeling despondent. I was glad the clerk hadn't
pressed too hard. I dialed Liz's number, but there was no
answer. I wandered through the morning, trying my best not to
show how tired and sick I felt. Around ten, Lester showed up.
"Hey, Island Girl..." he started as he came around the
counter to give me a big hug. Seeing him, hearing his voice
after all that had happened the day before nearly sent me into
tears, and if he had just stopped right then and really looked at
me, looked into my eyes, I know the truth would have come out.
But he didn't stop. He kissed me quickly and reached in for an
apple turnover. "Donna won't mind, will she?" he wanted to know.
I shook my head.
"Are you working today?" I asked blandly. He nodded.
"Got a new job bussing tables down at Pat's Bar and Grill.
Now we can eat there for free," he boasted.
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It was bizarre, standing there, watching him take huge
mouthfuls of this pastry. I wanted to take my fist and ram it
into his nose. I wanted to scream, "Hey, can't you see? I'm
still pregnant," I wanted anything to be happening that was
real, that would connect us, but nothing did. We stood there
talking about his new job, about how he wanted to get more hours
at PCC, about nothing really. I remembered that scene from the
play "Our Town," the one where Emily has come back from the dead
and spends a day with her family and realizes that no one ever
really looks at each other, honestly talks to each other. They
just drift through the motions of being alive. That's what I
felt like that morning.
"So, you want to go, or what?" I looked at him.
"Go where?" I asked.
"To my sister Noe Noe's graduation party. My whole family
will be there and I can introduce you."
"Why do I need to meet your family?"
"I never had a haole girlfriend before, and they want to
check you out."
"Oh. Sounds like fun."
"Well, I gotta get some stuff done. I'll come by the house
later." Lester left and I stared after him. The house. I had
completely forgotten about Robin and the house until that minute.
I imagined Les sitting there watching TV and Robin casually
mentioning something about the abortion. Or what she thought had
been the abortion. That would be more than disastrous. There
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was only two weeks left before Sister Anderson returned, but I
knew I couldn't live with Robin even that long.
The phone in Liz's apartment rang constantly that morning.
I knew she was at work, but I called anyway. I finally got off
work at noon and went to the little bulletin board outside
Foodland in hopes of finding a new place to live. People were
forever listing things for sale or rooms for rent. I struck gold
and found a house on losepa Street that listed two rooms for rent
to females only. I walked down the block, just around the corner
from the shopping center, and found the address on the listing.
I went to a drab yellow house, knocked on the front door. A
woman, short, fat with a pile of thick black hair pinned up,
answered my knock.
"Yes?"
"I'm Jessica. I'm interested in the room you have for rent."
Her name was Fafita and she was a Tongan. God, I hated Tongans,
but as I was anxious to be away from Robin and that house, I
didn't stop to think much about it. She showed me the room and
said it would be no problem if I paid from week to week. She
said the other girls who lived there were all Tongan and had to
struggle to make rent, too. I didn't tell her I needed that
arrangement because I would be leaving soon. I figured she was
lucky to be getting any rent and left it at that.
I went back to the townhouse that afternoon and started
packing. I didn't have much, but it was a couple of piles of
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clothes and boxes of junk. Robin came home from school as I was
bringing an armload of books downstairs.
"What are you doing?" she asked icily.
"What's it look like?"
"So you're leaving..."
"You're a regular Einstein, Robin. I want the last two
weeks of rent back."
"You can't have it."
"I need it..."
"Why? To commit murder?"
"Compassionate and understanding to the end. You're a real
pal, Robin." I brushed past her and dropped the suitcase near
the door.
"Running away again, Jess?"
"As if you know a damn about me...what a joke."
"Well, I wish you luck with your future. You're sure gonna
need it," Robin did an about face and left the townhouse. I
watched her rigid back as she left and sighed.
Les came into my room a while later as I was smashing
clothes tightly into a suitcase.
"You goin' somewhere? " I handed him a box and took another
load downstairs.
"I'm moving. To losepa Street. I'm sick of this place."
Les looked around at the comfortable setting, the TV and stereo
and dishwasher.
"You and Robin had a fight,"
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"Sort of. She doesn't want us sleeping together and made a
big stink about it so I told her to go to hell."
"You didn't need to do that, Jess."
"You want to not sleep with me any more before I leave?"
Les followed me back upstairs.
"I see your point. Well, speaking of moving out, I packed
up my things too."
"Really? Why?"
"I thought about what you said about the whole church thing
and it started pissing me off. I still think I should probably
go through a trial and all because, you know, things aren't as
great as they should be, but it pissed me off that John went to
the Bishop anyway. I had it out with him this afternoon and he
kicked me out."
"So, where you gonna live?"
"I don't know. I should just move back to Kaneohe and try
to get a real job in town, but I can't stand my dad, so I don't
know if that would work out. I've pitched my tent down at the
beach camping ground just south of here."
"You're kidding me."
"No, it's great. Right down by the water, you can hear the
surf. We should spend the night there tonight," he said,
pressing himself into me. I wasn't very enthusiastic about the
idea, but at the same time I didn't want to face losing Lester
like I had the day before.
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We took a car load of junk over to the new house, but no one
was home so I left everything in the garage. He took me to
dinner at A & W Hamburgers and we chattered on about nothing. I
was exhausted from the lack of sleep and was grateful when he
suggested we hit it early.
"I need you, Jess," Lester whispered in my ear as we
snuggled down in his sleeping bag. I could hear the ocean
pounding not fifty feet away, but it wasn't all that romantic.
It was chilly in the night air and there was a rock under my left
shoulder.
"I'm pooped. Les, can't we just..." I started, wiggling
around to dislodge the rock.
"I thought you wanted to move so we could be together."
"I did. I do, but I thought maybe we could just snuggle."
"I want you. Island Girl."
It had been two days since we'd slept together, and although
sex was the farthest thing from my mind, I gave in. On one hand,
I was paranoid that if I didn't have sex with him he would get
suspicious and start questioning the miscarriage. But there was
also a part of me that needed to know he still cared. Even in the
face of the lies I'd told him, even though I was still pregnant
and wasn't about to tell him, I needed to feel his need for me.
I started to bleed again, but I didn't care. I knew it was
normal and Les didn't even notice, falling right to sleep. I lay
awake in the aftermath, watching Les sleep. Was he really as
ignorant of biology as he acted or was he just ignoring me? See,
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I knew from Bio 101 that after a woman miscarries she bleeds for
several weeks. Like an elongated period where the uterus sloughs
off all the build up. But Lester didn't even question the fact
that I wasn't having any sort of period. What a dumb islander.
Ignorance in its lowest form. I would have been suspicious.
But even as I thought that, I began to feel sorry for
Lester, pity him really. There he lay, not minutes after telling
me how much he loved me, and he knew nothing of the truth. I
felt like a criminal, stealing some great treasure from him. In
his heart, I wondered if he mourned the loss of the child. I
hadn't asked him, wanting to establish the credibility of my
miscarriage. I kept playing the role of the relieved girlfriend,
and so I never gave him a chance to air his feelings about the
loss, if he even had any. Les hadn't said word one about the
baby. Not since he met me at the clinic the morning before. And
the term "marriage" stayed equally in the dark. Did Les's non
chalant attitude indicate a deeper feeling of injury? It was so
hard to tell with him. I mean, didn't he feel any kind of
remorse that there was no child now? And if he did, why wouldn't
he talk about it?
Rain started falling and the ground became soaked. What
small measure of comfort I had found in the reassurance of his
arms was quickly washed away in the growing cold and discomfort
of the night. I removed myself from the tent, from the man
snoring next to me, from the stickiness I felt between my legs.
I took myself to San Francisco, walked around Pier 39 with Liz,
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ate sourdough bread and clam chowder. The rain intruded on all
these pleasant thoughts, waking Les and sending in bugs looking
for shelter from the downpour. Lester and I finally retreated to
his car. It wasn't much better in there, cramped up and crawling
with cockroaches, but at least it wasn't wet. Not my idea of
fun, especially when I had to be at work by six the next morning.
Another sleepless night for me. Max had wandered off while Les
and I had eaten dinner, and I had no idea where he was. Probably
back at the townhouse. I almost wished I was back in the town
house with Robin, snug in a warm, dry bed. Almost.
The next morning I washed up as best I could in the bathroom
at Country Donuts. My hair hung limp and dirty, the stench of
old sex still clung to me. I was repulsed by myself. I tried
calling Liz again wanting, no needing, to talk to someone. The
aching in my abdomen was so painful - worse than ever before. I
don't know if it had to do with sex from the night before or not,
but it was awful not being able to just tell someone how crummy I
felt.
After work, I went back to the townhouse to get the last of
my things and while I was there my mom called.
"Well, Jessica, how do you feel today?"
"Fine. Just fine."
"I can't tell you how relieved I am that this episode is
over. These past few days have been very hard for your father
and me," she said,
. "They've been hard for me too. Mom."
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"Jess, I've been thinking a lot since yesterday and I still
feel like you should come home."
"Well, I plan to - for a little while. I've decided to join
you guys on your trip to Cramp's house."
"I'm glad to hear that, but are you going to stay?"
"No, it'll just be a visit. I'm planning on moving to San
Francisco and live with Liz. I'm gonna take a year off school
and just work." There was long silence.
"What about your Tahiti plan?"
"I don't have enough money to do it right, and so I want to
wait for a while. That's another reason I want to work. And I
need money if I'm going to continue my education."
"Well, it all sounds reasonable, but I don't think Liz is
the best person for you to be around right now." I wanted to
scream at her then, scream that Liz was my only friend in the
world, that she would stick by me, no matter what happened. But
I hadn't talked with Liz yet, and so I stayed quiet and just
chatted about moving out of the townhouse instead. I didn't tell
her any of the reasons, concentrating on the fact that I would
save money by moving to this new place. I don't know what she
must have been thinking about all the changes, but I knew she
suspected something. I could feel it in her voice.
"Are you and Lester still seeing each other?" she asked.
"Yeah, but who knows how long it will last. I mean. I'm
leaving Hawaii and long distant romances are pretty tough."
"I thought you were in love with him."
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"I am, sort of, but you know, it's time to move on and all."
I thought again about our kything connection. I suppose she was
just being a mom, concerned about her daughter, but I was pretty
spooked by the conversation. She kept repeating how much she
wanted me to go home, how she just felt like I needed to be
there.
A part of me wanted to start crying and tell her everything,
but I knew I couldn't. Not ever. I never wanted her to know,
never the whole story, because I knew it would hurt her beyond
any nasty words I'd thrown at her when I was young, and that was
the last thing I wanted to do. So I kept my mouth shut and told
her nothing of the truth.
I went over to Fafita's house that afternoon and moved all
my stuff into a room that, thankfully, no one else was living in
at the time. I had come to hate roommates, all roommates, but
especially Tongans. The memories of the Tongan girls on Kam
Highway were still vivid in my mind: all those awful smells of
boiled green bananas and the girls' cackling voices reverberating
throughout the house. I had lost so many little things at the
house on Kam that I decided to keep all my tapes and what little
jewelry I owned locked up in my suitcase. The other girls in the
house seemed nice enough, but I had no intention of trusting
anyone. I even refused to learn their names, just on principle.
Les showed up around six dressed in long pants and a polo-
type shirt. This was quite dressed up, compared to his usual
shorts, tee-shirts, and thongs. .
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"Aren't you ready yet?" he demanded.
"Ready for what?"
"To go to my sister's graduation party. I told you about it
yesterday." Shit. I'd forgotten all about that stupid party and
had to rush around finding something suitable to wear. I didn't
want to meet Lester's entire family. Not in the condition I was
in, but I put on my white gauze dress anyway, using heavy makeup
to hide the black circles that were still under my eyes.
We drove the forty-five minutes to Kaneohe in near silence.
Les talked a little about Pat's Bar and Grill and the manager
there, but still didn't say anything about the baby or marriage.
I was beginning to think the whole thing didn't exist, like it
was just a bad dream I would wake from at any second. But the
cramps told me differently.
We finally got to his parents' house out in one of the less
affluent neighborhoods. Their house was typical of the area -
cinder block walls, wood siding badly in need of paint, dirt
driveway with a corrugated metal overhang for a garage. The
insides of that was all clutter, filled to capacity with things
like a fridge that they had always meant to fix for ten years, a
washer, tires, old engines - just junk really. It was in nearly
every yard on the island: cars that wouldn't work, rusting away,
appliances, rotting lumber, piles of God knows what. It was one
of the things that spoiled the atmosphere of the whole place.
Inside the house was more of the same: clutter everywhere.
I've never seen such a people to collect things, leaving them all
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over. Like in the kitchen, the food was out on the counter along
with dishes, utensils, condiments, and pans. So messy. I tried
not to stare as Lester guided me in through the back door, but I
wasn't good at concealing my disappointment in the surroundings.
"Dad, this is Jessica, my girlfriend from BYU," Les said to
the gruff, unshaven, pot-bellied man who sat in a corner in a
worn-out leather chair, drinking his canned beer and glowering at
everyone who passed by. He made a slight grunt at me.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wong," I mumbled back. I had
almost gotten nervous coming up the litter-strewn driveway, about
to meet Lester's parents, my would-be in-laws. What a
disillusionment to see his roots, although Lester's mom almost
made up for the dad with her sweetness. She was smallish woman,
a mixed heritage of Filipino and Chinese giving her her
diminutive appearance as she bustled into the room. Her greying
black hair was pulled back in a bun, and she looked ten years
older than her fifty-five years of age.
"Lester has told us so much about you. I'm glad we're
finally getting the chance to meet you," Mrs. Wong said, pulling
me in to meet her other six children and their various friends.
The faces all blurred in one rapid motion and I understood only
one of the names she rattled off. Noe Noe. Lester's little
sister, the one graduating from high school. I wondered briefly
how she would take the news that she was going to be an aunt, but
the thought passed quickly, as I knew she would never know.
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"She's great, isn't she?" Lester demanded of his siblings.
I blushed, feeling like a prize cow on show.
"What are you studying in school, Jessica?" Mrs. Wong asked.
"Marine Biology. I want to study communication with
dolphins."
"How very nice. And you met Lester at PCC?"
"Yes."
She kept on asking all these polite questions like where I
was from and all, and I wanted to warm up to her and really talk,
I honestly did, but I couldn't. It was just so weird to sit
there in that room, looking at the people who were the grand
parents and aunts and uncles of the baby I had growing in me.
Having stuck pretty much with my own kind, the white kids on
campus, I had never been exposed to "real" Hawaiians. They
started jabbering on in Hawaiian or Filipino or whatever the hell
language it was. I sat there smiling, trying not to look too
stupid. But there was no way to avoid that when they starting
bringing out the dishes of food. I had never been to an
authentic luau. The closest I'd gotten to the real thing was a
school-sponsored one at the beginning of the year where they'd
served Kalua pig, teriyaki chicken, rice and potatoes. Normal,
recognizable food.
At the luau at Lester's house they served the genuine island
stuff, and, boy, was it strange. I've never been one to be brave
with new foods anyway; I mean, I was nauseous in the first
place, but when they brought out giant bowls of raw octopus -
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calamari - I thought I would really lose it. Now, I've had
calamari in restaurants where they pound it out to thin strips,
then bread it and deep fry it, then serve it with a cocktail
sauce. But these people ate it raw, its suckers still in place,
with just a little lemon juice poured over it. Sick! They had
salmon, still raw, chopped up with some tomatoes and onions
called lomi lomi and that was equally gross. They used dried
seaweed, limu, as a relish; poi as a major side dish, and baked
breadfruit. The lau lau was all right, some pork wrapped in ti
leaves and baked with the pig, but the dessert, haupia, made of
coconut meat ground up and cooked into a pudding, was heavy and
tasted like paste.
Mrs. Wong kept plying me with more and more food, saying
that a healthy appetite was an attractive feature in a woman. I
sat there, having to try everything, as I was a guest and they
were all curious about the only haole girl Lester had ever
brought home. There had been a time when I thought this kind of
food would become my staple diet when I went to live on my island
in the South Pacific, but gagging down the raw fish and so-
called island delicacies, I thought there was no way I could have
ever gotten used to real island food.
Noe Noe kept saying things to me in Hawaiian, and then she'd
giggle with her younger sisters. I felt ridiculous, out of
place. A part of me was glad that I would never have to become
part of that family. It hit me just how different our back
grounds really were. I could never eat that food on a regular
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basis, and watching Lester wolf it all down turned my stomach.
We had such radically different upbringings - I mean, when my
family had a dinner party/get-together we sat down at the big
dining room table with the best china. In Lester's home, we all
sat around on the floor eating off paper plates with our fingers.
I don't know - it's not that I was judging them as being inferior
or bad...it's just that I wasn't used to that kind of life and I
wasn't too thrilled about becoming used to it.
Mr. Wong stayed pretty much silent the whole night. And
there was Mrs. Wong, chatting away, trying to keep the conversa
tion light and airy with lame topics like California weather. It
was insane. I started to feel claustrophobic. I couldn't get a
full breath of air. I wanted to stand up and scream at them, at
all of them. I wanted to take Mr. Wong by his greasy collar and
yell, "Hello! I'm pregnant and you haven't got a clue!" I
wanted to see the look on Mrs. Wong's face as I told her I
carried Lester's child. It was all so hideous, just sitting
there smiling, pretending the world was a bowl full of jello. I
sat next to Les, holding his hand a little too tightly. What a
farce. I felt like I was watching myself from a great distance,
acting out a drawing room comedy, except it wasn't very funny.
I begged Les to take me home early. I couldn't tell him it
was because I was exhausted and sick, and he took it that I
wanted to go fool around. He was majorly disappointed when I
wouldn't let him come into Fafita's house, using the excuse that
it was my first night and I didn't want to get in trouble or
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anything. He left, pouting, but I didn't care. For the first
time in several days I got some sleep.
During the next three days I walked around with my secret
buried inside. It was killing me not to be able to share it with
anyone. At work, I would talk with people all day long, but no
one had a clue that anything traumatic was going on. Les was
around, being lovey dovey and all, but it was all so unreal. I
couldn't get a hold of Liz. I found myself sitting in my room,
curled up in a ball, crying uncontrollably.
"This is crazy. I've got to talk to someone," I said to
the air. Everyone I'd known during the year had already gone
home for the summer. Then, I thought about a teacher I knew, a
young woman named Becky who taught the dance classes. I didn't
know her well, but I knew she wasn't hyper-religious or anything.
She liked to hang out with some of the students, so none of us
really thought of her as a "teacher" - more like an older
student. I mean, she was only twenty-four at the time. I had
been to her house once with two other girls from class when we
had been working on a routine together. I was so distraught I
didn't even give it a thought; how strange it must have seemed
from her side, a kid coming to her with this incredible story of
pregnancy and faked miscarriage and whatnot. All I knew was that
I needed to talk to someone.
389
OF FLESH AND BLOOD
Becky lived in a ramshackle house near the beach. It was a
rental place, but she had it fixed up great with lots of throw
pillows and overstuffed furniture. Becky was on the short side,
only five-five, and somewhat plump; this was unusual since she
taught dance. She could move great, though. She had strawberry
blonde hair, and pale, blotchy skin. She sat there in the middle
of her cluttered living room, sipping at guava juice as I told
her my tale. She nodded at all the right spots and didn't yawn
once - I took that as a sign she wasn't upset that I had barged
into her life like that. When I'd finished, she leaned back and
stared at me for a minute.
"Why don't you just tell Lester you're still pregnant?" she
asked.
"I don't know. I mean, it's been nearly a week and he
hasn’t said anything about the baby or marriage. It's crazy. He
just acts like the whole thing didn't happen. We have sex and
hang out - I don't get him."
"Don't you think he has a right to know?"
"I guess, in a way. And there have been several times that
I wanted to tell him, like when I've been feeling really sick, or
depressed, but then, something holds me back."
"Sounds like you're scared of him."
"Not really scared, just...wary. I wish I knew how he
felt."
"Ask him."
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"I've tried to bring up the subject in a round-about way,
like asking him what he's gonna do now and all, but he just talks
like nothing ever happened."
"Well, I don't know how right or wrong keeping the truth
from him is, but that's your deal so I won't say anything."
"It's not like I think he'd try to keep me here if I wanted
to go to San Francisco and give the baby up...I don't know," I
ended, not understanding my own reluctance to stop the lie with
Lester. Becky got up and went into her kitchen, returning with
two more juices for us.
"So your plans as of now are to go live with Liz?"
"Yeah, if I can ever get a hold of her. I'm sure she'll go
along with the plans once she hears what's happened."
"What about staying in Hawaii?"
"And have the baby here? I wouldn't mind, I feel at home in
the islands, but I don't know how I'd support myself."
"I know some people in Honolulu that might be able to help.
I could look into finding an agency here, if you want." I looked
at Becky with curiosity.
"You do? That's an interesting option. I hadn't thought
about it. "
"Let me do some checking around and see what I can come up
with."
"Thanks, Becky. I appreciate you helping me like this."
"Hey, I've been there myself and I know how it can be." I
looked at her and thought maybe she would go. into it, but she
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didn't. I didn't want to intrude any more than I had, so I
didn't ask what she meant. It was great just having someone to
talk to again.
I left Becky's house feeling more than a little relieved.
Not because she was going to help me with the adoption thing,
which I wasn't sure I was too happy about, but simply because she
had listened to me and really talked with me without saying I was
a bad person. God, how I needed that!
I tried calling Liz again, every few hours, but I could
never get her at home. I was getting mad, not knowing what I was
going to do if I couldn't go live with her. I finally called her
parents and got her work number from them.
"Bartwe11 and Associates."
"Gizzy Liz? Is that you?"
"Princess? Good morning. Princess," Liz said, imitating the
Myna bird. Tuna, that had been in our courtyard that first
semester.
"Good morning. Tuna," I chirped in reply. I think it was
the first time I genuinely smiled in days. "Liz, you're not
going to believe what I've got to tell you."
"What?" her voice deep and serious in a heartbeat.
"Well, remember that guy I wrote you about... Lester?"
"You're getting married. Oh God, not to a Hawaiian - " she
wailed.
"No, no. Not that..." 1 teased, having fun despite myself.
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"What then? Don't tell me you're pregnant," she said half
seriously.
"It's amazing. Why is that always the first question people
ask? That's what my mother said when I called her - "
"Are you?" Liz insisted. I took a deep breath, coming down
off my initial high of hearing her voice.
"Yeah, I am." It wasn't the easiest thing to admit to Liz,
not when she was the one who'd harped at me about always being
protected if I slept with a man. How it was the woman's respon
sibility.
"What happened?" she asked quietly. I told her the whole
story, starting with the diagnosis and the hospital and my
parents. "You did what?" she cried incredulously.
"I staged a miscarriage. I didn't mean to, it just worked
out to be that in the end." There was a long pause. I heard Liz
suck in her breath.
"Why?"
"Well, I was going to just get an abortion, but when it came
down to it, I couldn't go through with it." I didn't want to get
into the whole thing about Robin and Les's note and all. There
was just too much to condense into a phone call.
"And everyone believes you?"
"Yeah. Les doesn't suspect a thing. Which is actually
kinda weird, I mean. I'm still pregnant and he doesn't even know.
It's kinda like being at my own funeral and seeing who shows up."
"What? I don't get that..."
393
"You know, I can now see how people really feel about the
baby, like my parents and Les. You should have heard how relieved
they were when I told them there was no baby."
"I can imagine. So, why'd you wait so long to call me?" I
thought about that for the first time and had to admit that it
hadn't dawned on me to call her until after the would-be
miscarriage. I had been so swamped with input from Les, my
parents, Val and Robin that Liz got shoved to the back of the
line. I felt pretty bad then, like I'd let her down somehow for
not turning to her first.
"I don't know. It's just been such a nightmare with the
pressure and all, and the pain. I just..." I stopped, not
knowing what else to say. I caught my breath and launched into
the idea about San Francisco before she could grill me any more.
"So what do you think? It'd be a blast, wouldn't it?"
"Well, you know as long as I have a roof over my head then
you've got one," Liz said cautiously. "But I don't want you to
get the idea that it would be all fun and games..."
"Oh, Giz, you don't know how good that sounds to me. I
needed to hear you say that," I blabbered on.
"Jess, it's not going to be easy. I mean, you'll have to
get a job and we'll have to find a family or an agency that can
help out..."
"I know all that. At least. I'm learning about it."
"I wish I could be there to give you a great big hug right
now." I was relieved that she hadn't condemned me or said the
394
dreaded words, "I told you so," or "Why weren't you more
careful?" Nothing like that. Only understanding and sympathy.
"My parents want me to come home and go on a family trip to
Utah with them. I think my mom may be suspicious, so I'm gonna
do that and convince them that I'm all right. Then I could go up
to San Francisco."
"Don't you think your mom will know if she sees you?"
"No, not if I'm careful. No one has said a word to me about
being pregnant - well, I guess no one really knows here, but Les
doesn't suspect anything, so I must be good at hiding pain."
We talked about money. I told her I didn't have much, but
she reassured me that she'd been working and could tide us over
until I got a job. She even knew about a place where a girl was
going to have a baby and would be quitting around the time I
arrived in July.
What comfort it was to know that other people in the world
cared about my problems and were willing to help. Not that Val
or Robin or Les or my parents didn't want to help me; I mean,
they had all wanted to help me, but not help me do what I wanted,
only help me to do what they wanted. I didn't know exactly what
I wanted, but I knew I didn't want someone telling me I had only
specific choices. I got off the phone thrilled with how easily
things were working out. Looking out the window of the donut
shop at the coconut trees swaying in the sunshine, I thought, "I
hate this place and I can't wait to leave it. I can't wait to
get to San Francisco and be with Liz."
395
That thought stayed with me only briefly. Not long after I
had talked with Becky and then Liz, it dawned on me that by
starting down this road, I was going to have to face the
actuality of giving my child away. This was my flesh and blood,
the only other flesh and blood relative I would know in the whole
world. I knew that somewhere out there I had half brothers or
maybe even a sister who shared my genes, my blood, but I didn't
know them; they didn't know me. What was growing inside me was a
part of me. How could I separate myself from that? I had grown
up thinking my parents weren't my real parents. I loved them;
they were the only people I knew, and I treated them as any child
would treat her mom and dad, but still there was a distance that
could never be breached.
Maybe it was my innate dissatisfaction with such an arduous
religious upbringing, and maybe I just used my adoptive state as
an excuse to be rebellious. But, I don't know, I just didn't
feel connected to them. In the church, I was raised to believe
that as spirits you choose your family long before you go to
earth, and that you're a family in Heaven, then a family on
earth, and reunited after death to be a family in Heaven once
again. There is a Temple ceremony where church authorities seal
parents and children together spiritually, to be a family
forever. You're connected by more than just genetics; you're
connected spiritually. So, when I thought about the reality of
having to give up my own child, a spirit that, if I was to
believe the Mormon way, belonged with me in a religious sense,
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then I was sending that child to another place that she hadn't
necessarily chosen.
Saturday's Warrior did it to me. This church musical came
out when I was about fourteen and the whole thing just blew me
away. One of the side stories was about a little girl, the 8th
child in a family in heaven, who, because of the circumstances on
earth, was going to be sent to a different family. And I
thought, "That's it. I'm one of those spirits that didn't get to
go to my real family. That's why I've never felt like I
belonged."
I told this whole spiel about not being with my chosen
family to my mom, but she readily refuted the idea. She said that
I was where I belonged regardless of how I got there, because I
chose to be there. No if, ands, or buts about it. I didn't
argue the point with her, not wanting her to feel like I didn't
love her or something. It's such a fine line, you know, between
loving the people that raised me, who were for all intents and
purposes my real and only mom and dad, and the feeling that I
just didn't fit. I don't know, the whole thing got so confused
in my mind, going back and forth between spirits and babies and
adoption and all, that I didn't know which way to turn. One
thing that kept coming up time and time again was childbirth.
Every time that image came to my mind, this wave of black
ness would wash over me and I couldn't breathe. The pain I was
already suffering was nothing compared to what I would go through
during labor. I had heard horror stories from friends whose
397
older sisters had had babies. I just couldn't imagine going
through all that pain and then not be able to see the life that
was created from the suffering. I couldn't understand how my
mother had given me up. I was her same age; I was in the same
position and I couldn't envision going through all the pain and
then just have to let my wailing infant go. How did she do it?
And in the very same minute, I thought to myself, "How can
I, as an eighteen year old, uneducated, unskilled suburban girl
manage to raise a child by myself? What kind of life could I
offer her? What advantages outside my own love? When you get
beyond "love," what kind of life would she lead? What kind of
life did it leave for me?" The questions poured in and no
answers were coming out. And on top of that, I was still dealing
with Lester.
A few days passed, but I was no closer to any solutions than
I had been before. Liz had called once to say she was working on
some agencies and she would let me know of any advancements. I
still saw Lester everyday, and it was as strange as ever. Then,
something happened that answered at least part of the equation -
just how Lester felt about me and the baby.
I have said a hundred times by now that I was sick. I was
tired, I was grouchy, my hormones were way out of whack. I guess
I was in a bad mood to begin with when Lester came into the donut
shop that day. I gave him a Bearclaw and a cup of Kona coffee,
as usual. I wasn't being particularly lovey dovey with him that
morning, having been rolling through the emotions of having to
398
give my child away. I was busy thinking about how sad I was,
already, at the thought of losing the baby. I mentioned this to
Lester, putting it into the past tense, of course.
"Don't you ever get sad about losing it?" I asked, wanting
to share some of the grief I already felt. He looked up at me
and around a mouthful of donut answered.
"No. I'm glad it didn't happen."
"You are?" I asked.
"Yeah. I didn't want no baby."
"But you said you were happy. You wanted to marry me..." I
started, stopping just as soon as the words were out, dreading to
hear what he'd say about that.
"That was a game. I was rolling with the dice." My mind
reeled with craziness. He hadn't wanted the baby? Hadn't wanted
the marriage at all?
"And all that stuff you said to my parents about loving me,
and wanting to take care of the baby, all that white-knighted-
ness..." He took a swig of coffee before answering.
"I would have kept the baby and done right by it, but I
wasn't too happy about the whole thing, if you want to know the
truth." My jaw dropped.
"So you don't love me?" I asked.
"Yeah, I guess I do. I can't seem to keep my hands off you.
But, I don't know if I want to marry you right now. I would have
if there was a baby - don't get me wrong - you know, it was my
kid and I woulda done right by it. But you got some problems,
399
girl. I don't mean that bad, I just think you should change your
attitude. See, you got this idea that the world revolves around
you and your life. You're wrong. I mean, that whole thing about
getting an abortion - you gotta see my side. I thought we had
something special and you go and try to kill my baby. What kind
of attitude is that? So, yeah, when it turned out to be a
miscarriage, I was relieved."
Here was this stupid Hawaiian boy telling me about my
attitude, my faults when he was the one who had played this whole
game with marriage and setting us both up for a lifetime of
misery. I wasn't sure if I was a terrible person for not telling
him the truth about the miscarriage, but I knew for sure that
what I was hearing was the godawful truth from him at last. He
said he loved me, but he couldn't - not really. This love didn't
extend beyond the great sex we had together. But there's more to
life than being good in bed, being compatible lovers. I guess I
had mistaken that physical intimacy for love. In a flash of
insight, I knew if he and I ever stopped having sex, there would
be nothing left between us.
"My attitude - " I stammered out.
"Yeah, like with Val. She was just trying to help and here
you won't even talk to her anymore. And moving out of Robin's
place... and your hang up about telling your parents about the
baby - I mean, it's pretty immature on your part," he finished
smugly.
"Val betrayed a trust..."
400
"Look, Jess, you should just take life for what it is. We
were dealt a bum deal - you got pregnant. I didn't want you to
get knocked up, but since you did, it had to be dealt with. It's
that simple."
"Oh, so all that talk about love and being together, and
what a perfect excuse you suddenly had to marry me - that was all
just 'dealing with it'?" I nearly shouted.
"There you go with that attitude again. I was dealing with
the situation. I might have exaggerated how I felt, but I would
have married you and taken care of the kid."
"And that makes a marriage?"
"Hey, you were the one that got pregnant, not me. I'm just
trying to deal with life. I mean, look at you. Everything is
fine now and you're still acting like a bitch. You won't talk to
Val, you mope around like the world is coming to an end. Why
can't you just relax and we could go back to the way things were
between us? We were having a good time..." I shrank back as he
rose to hug me, not wanting to be touched by this man. One clear
thought kept repeating itself over and over in my mind.
"Thank God, thank God, thank God, I lied to him about the
baby."
I looked at Les, who was checking the clock, itching to be
gone now that he'd had his fill, and I knew I was truly alone. I
didn't want anything to do with him, yet I couldn't risk his
suspecting something because I knew he would call my parents, and
that was the last thing in the world I wanted to happen. I had
401
made a reservation to Los Angeles on a flight that left in two
weeks. I could handle two weeks. I wasn't going to let anything
stand in the way of my plans. After he'd left, and my anger had
cooled down, a deep sadness welled up inside. I was angry with
Les, but I had been in love with him, too, and I felt like I'd
really lost him that morning.
The hypocrisy that flourished in my life was extensive - me
with my staged miscarriage. Les with his "games", Val with her
betrayal of caring, my parents with their concern over their
reputations - I thought I would drown in it. I couldn't keep
straight who or what was real and sincere. I had always known
some aspect of hypocrisy growing up in the church. I'm sure it
is in every religion, the young people breaking the rules then
showing up on Sunday and being touted as good little boys and
girls. The women gossiping wildly, then condemning another's
frailties; men who preached about love and forgiveness, only to
terrorize children into submission in a Sunday School class. It
was a fact of life and one that I hated. I had never hidden the
fact from my parents that I didn't agree with the morality of the
church, and I wasn't about to start hiding my feelings just
because I was out on my own. So when Brother Nelson called me at
the donut shop to set up an interview about the church court
thing, I didn't refuse to see him.
I had no intention of taking back any of my earlier state
ments I had made to Bishop La Monde, and I was angry enough to
402
want to lash out at the church, even to someone as authoritative
as the Stake President, which Brother Nelson was. That made him
the highest authority in the whole district. I went in prepared
to defend my feelings. What I was unprepared for was his
kindness.
His office was on campus, as he was an administrator for
BYU. I sat still and stiff before him. Brother Nelson was a
haole, having come from Utah five years earlier. He wore a
typical Aloha Friday dress Hawaiian shirt, which made him look
less threatening.
"Jessica, do you know why I've called you here today?"
"Yeah."
"Brother La Monde spoke with me last week, and we've been
discussing your situation." There it was again, people discuss
ing my life as if they had a say in it. I straightened up.
"I told him and I'll tell you...I'm not going to any church
court. I don't care if you excommunicate me..." Brother Nelson
put up his hand to stop me.
"I know that already, Jessica." He folded his hands and
leaned forward.
"So, what do you want then?"
"Just to talk with you. I know this age can be confusing
and scary. And we're not here to punish you." Even with his
kind words, I didn't want to give up my anger.
"So what was all that about being ex'd?"
403
"The church court system is set up for the benefit of the
members who need strong guidance and support. It's an exter-
nalization of an internal journey they must travel on their way
back to the path of righteousness."
"You kick people out of the church..."
"It's their choice. No one is forced to go through one
unless there is murder involved or something of that nature. We
don't want to hurt you, Jessica." I couldn't help myself then;
tears came. I looked down, trying to hide them. "It's apparent
that you are in no spiritual condition to go through a church
trial. It wouldn't help you at this point, and that's all we're
really interested in. You're a good person, Jessica; I only want
what's best for you."
I had been so ready to fight him off, and here he was
offering only kindness and love. We talked for a half hour and
not once did he question me about Lester, or about any of my
other sins. He just asked me how I felt about things in general,
like the church as a whole. I answered with an honesty that
hadn't come out in a long time. I told him I believed a lot of
things, but that there was too much hypocrisy, too many petty
rules and not enough love and understanding for me to accept
everything. He told me I shouldn't blame the church for the
shortcomings of the members. I knew that was true, to a point,
but I still had even more basic doubts about some of the
doctrine. I didn't know how to talk with him about that, so I
kept it to myself, speaking mostly about people in the church.
404
I wanted so badly to be able to open up and tell him every
thing, tell him how much I hurt. But I couldn't. He wanted to
give me a blessing, but I shook my head no. I wasn't worthy of
any blessing with the state my life was in. I didn't want to be
part of the hypocrisy that ran so deep. It was the one thing I
wanted to control in my life. I didn't deserve God's help, not
with my doubts, my sins in His church. I knew what I'd gotten
myself into and I wasn't going to shirk my part of it by pawning
it off on God's shoulders.
405
DECISIONS
The days started to melt into each other as June wore itself
down. I worked each day at six, leaving at noon. The new house
was a pit, no little extras like a dishwasher or airconditioning.
I scarcely noticed, as my whole life was consumed by thinking and
worrying. Liz called the donut shop every few days to report on
her progress.
"I think I've found a family that is willing to take care of
everything. I mean, they said they'd put you up in an apartment,
and pay for the doctor and the hospital and even give you a small
allowance. Sounds great, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, sounds fine."
"You don't sound very enthusiastic," she muttered.
"Well, it's just that..." I didn't finish, not knowing what
to say about my growing uneasiness with the whole idea.
"Dan and I have gone to a lot of trouble finding this
family. The least you could do is show a little interest."
"You're right. I'm sorry." There was a pause.
"I've been looking into other options for you, too. You
don't have to give it to a family in San Francisco if you don't
want to."
"Oh," I said dully. My sides were aching and my breasts
felt like someone had spent an hour pinching them as hard as they
could. I sat heavily on the stool behind the counter.
"I'll call you when I find out more."
406
I know I was probably being insensitive, but I really didn't
care. All I could concentrate on was the pain, the daily grind
of just getting through without anyone knowing I was pregnant.
Lester was the hardest aspect of the whole thing. I still wasn't
over that fight we'd had, although he never mentioned it and
acted as if nothing had ever been said. He would come around the
shop every day, but I always had a great excuse not to sleep with
him at night.
"Jesus, Jessica, what's with you these days?" he asked one
night when he'd shown up at Fafita's house, surprising me. I
looked at his red-rimmed eyes and smelled the pot smoke clinging
to his clothes.
"Lester, Lester, Lester, what are you doin'?"
"I come to sleep with my best girl," he stammered. I caught
him as he fell into me, capturing me in a hug. "Yeah, this is
how it's supposed to feel," he said, grabbing my ass.
"Lighten up. Les, there's people here asleep."
"I don't care. I don't give a flying fuck," he yelled. "I
want to be with you..." I didn't have much choice unless I
wanted to create a scene. I led Lester to my room, hoping I
could get him to just fall asleep before anything happened.
"Why do you smoke so much pot. Les?"
"Being high makes sex more bettah," he slurred, roughly
grabbing me and forcing his tongue into my mouth. I wrestled
away from him and saw the anger in his eyes. In that moment I
407
was afraid, really afraid of Lester. He lunged for me and
laughed. "Playing hard to get, eh?"
I knew better than to resist too much, so I let him have his
way with me. It didn't last long, thank God, and he left the
house soon after. I went into the bathroom and took a long, hot
shower.
I finally turned in my ticket for Tahiti and got the ticket
I had reserved earlier that went to Los Angeles instead. I had
put off doing it as I liked to just look at the destination on
the ticket and fantasize. But I had to get the money back, had
to get a flight home. Even if I was to stay in Hawaii to have
the baby, I would at least have to go home for that family
vacation and show my mom I was all right. I took all the
brochures and information I'd been sent about the Marquesas,
along with my "paper farm," and put it into a large manila
envelope, sealing it shut. I wrote a short letter to Auntie Aka,
thanking her for her kind offer of letting me live with her, but
explaining I didn't have the money at present. I told her maybe
someday I would get to the Cook Islands, and that I would look
her up then. I took my pandanus leaf mat and the rope I'd
braided and threw them away. What did I need sennit rope for
now?
I got a phone call from Liz the next day. The family that
was interested wanted to start making concrete plans. They
wanted to know when I would be moving to San Francisco for good
408
and where I would be. An instant headache erupted while Liz was
talking to me. She was speaking at such a fast rate I could
barely keep up with her words.
"...and my sister, you know the one who lives in Chicago,
well, I talked with her about what's going on and she talked with
her husband and even though they already have four kids she said
that she would be willing to take you in and keep your baby if
you wanted to go there. Or you could just live with her and give
the baby up for adoption in Chicago if you thought it was too
weird for her to have your baby knowing how close of friends we
are and all..."
"Liz, wait, I don't know about all this," I stammered out.
"Well, Jess, I know it's a lot, but you need to start think
ing seriously about what's going on."
"I am thinking seriously, Liz. I just can't decide what's
best. "
"Well, are you going to come to San Francisco, or what?" I
sighed and knew how pissed she would be if I told her about Becky
and the possibility I might stay in Hawaii, I told her anyway
and sure enough, she was pissed. "I don't mean to get down on
you, Jess, I really don't, but you can't have people running all
over doing this stuff for you if you're not going to follow
through yourself."
Options. I was beginning to hate that word. I couldn't
believe how serious Liz was being. It was the way she put
everything, like into a life or death kind of tone. I wanted to
409
say, "lighten up," but I knew she wouldn't understand what I
meant. I wanted her to be gentle, the way she'd been at first,
and I didn't know how to ask that. I didn't want her to think I
wasn't pulling my end of it and I knew she was doing it all for
me, but that didn't stop me from getting horribly depressed about
the whole thing. I mean, aside from the depression of not
wanting to give up the baby in the first place, and Lester being
what he was, and my parents with their constant reinforcement of
how lucky I was there was no baby, and all of that, I had thought
there would be a little joy in the reuniting with Liz. But the
way she was carrying on, going to San Francisco was looking even
more bleak than staying with Lester in Hawaii.
For the next couple of days it was just one heavy phone call
after another. Dan was getting involved in it and doing some
checking around. Once that happened, Liz began talking about how
obligated I was to her and him to really see this thing through,
and how grateful I should be that Dan was helping. I was grate
ful and all, but I just hate being told I should be grateful.
There's a difference in that kind of help. It's help with a
price tag.
I know it was incredibly difficult for me handle because of
the changes going on in my body, all the hormones and stuff being
out of whack. I know that now, after reading up on it, but at
that point all I knew was that I was sick, I was in pain, and Liz
was depressing the hell out of me. Bleak nausea all day long,
with food in my stomach or without, it didn't matter. And I was
410
so tired. I was exhausted getting up at five in the morning to
be at Country Donuts by six. It was murder trying to keep a
smile on my face for six hours, pouring coffee and serving donuts
to people. And the smell of the donuts...I never want to see
another donut as long as I live. I could barely rally enough
energy to fend off Lester and his continual interest in sex. The
fatigue drew me down on a continuing spiral, towards what I
couldn't tell. But I knew something had to give.
My mom had called Liz after she'd found out that I was going
to move up there and, although she told Liz not to tell me, Liz
had done exactly that, repeating to me what my mom had said to
her. They had talked a lot about how my mom didn't think it was
such a good idea that I move up there, or that I drop out of
school just to work, etc. But the thing that I remember most
from all that was something strange for my mom to say to anyone,
especially to Liz, whom she vaguely disapproved of. She was
trying to get Liz to talk me into going home and said, "Jessica's
a lost girl. She doesn't know what she wants." When Liz told me
that on the phone I started to cry soundlessly. I mean, it
really hit hard that my mom had pegged it on the head and she
didn't even know what was going on. Liz was telling me as if it
were some great joke, and what did my mom know anyway, but I knew
it was true. I knew I was drifting around in an abyss of
confusion and pain, frustration and anger, bitterness and sad
ness. I knew all that and yet still resented that my mom was the
411
one that made a point of it. I didn't need to hear it. More
accurately, I didn't want to hear it.
My mom called twice during the week to tell me again how
much she thought I needed to go home. And you know, as more and
more "options** opened up for me, as it came to be a situation
where I could go anywhere I wanted, California, Chicago, stay in
Hawaii - and be taken care of hook, line, and sinker by anybody I
wanted - the less I wanted any of it. No place sounded good to
me. Except home. And I don't mean the home that I would have
returned to being pregnant, but rather that home I knew in high
school when things were much simpler and easier to handle. I
wasn't longing for the house or the trees, I was longing for my
innocence.
During one of our last conversations, Liz was being her
usual serious self and I finally snapped. I had to say some
thing .
"You know, none of this would be happening if I'd just had
the courage to go through with that abortion." There was silence
on the other end for a moment.
"I didn't know that was even still on your mind."
"Well, it's not. I mean, sometimes it is when I feel so
sick I just want to lay down and die."
"You know, my sister had three of them. I wasn't with her
during the time, but she said it was the hardest thing she's ever
gone through."
"Yeah, but she had three of them..."
412
"I know. And after the first, she went to the bishop and he
told her she would never have children." I gulped involuntarily.
"She doesn't have any, does she," I said, more of a state
ment than a question. I could almost see Liz shaking her head.
"But that's not the point. I'm not saying that to scare
you, Jess. I just wanted you to know that because I didn't want
you to think I was judging you or anything. But, I mean, I could
never go through with one, especially if it were Dan's," she
said.
"Yeah, well, I don't have a Dan, I have a Lester. And
Lester's not interested in a baby.
"I know, I know. But you're not seriously thinking about
having one at this point..."
"It's only been six weeks," I countered.
"That's not what I mean. The family..." she started.
"Liz, I know how much you've done for me and I won't let you
down. Don't worry about it."
"Yeah. I won't. I don't know, abortion is such a weird
thing, private's the word I'm looking for. It's so one-on-one
with God, I guess."
I kind of recoiled inside at that. It's easy to think about
abortion, but when you put God and abortion into the same sen
tence, it makes the whole thing very ugly, very violent, very
wrong....
Liz was my best friend in the whole world and she wasn't
judging me, but even so, she added to the stress and pressure in
413
a big way. She didn't mean to, I know, but all of her talks were
just too much. I didn't want to go to San Francisco anymore and
endure another eight months of that on a daily basis. It dawned
on me that I really was selfish, being angry with all those
people for just wanting to help me. But I didn't want their
help. Any of it.
With only a week left, I went to talk with Becky again. I
had been over to her house a couple of times when she'd gotten
information about some families in Hawaii that would be willing
to take care of me. I still hadn't given anyone solid plans, and
at that point I figured I'd better do some decision making. We
sat in her kitchen which was done up in red and black, drinking
coffee. I alternated between looking at her, watching the ocean
that was right out her back window, and fiddling with the clutter
on the counter. She just finished telling me about another
family that lived in the Hawaii Kai area, an affluent suburb east
of Diamond Head. I sighed and looked out through the Hala trees
to the impossibly blue water.
"What's wrong, Jess, I thought you were into staying in
Hawaii."
"It's not that. I mean, I wouldn't mind staying, but I just
don't know that I want to stay with this whole circumstance."
"I don't want to come off rude, but have you really thought
through this whole thing?" I looked at her, her brown eyes full
of concern and sympathy.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
414
"Well, just that you're taking on a big responsibility. By
committing yourself to a family and getting their support, you
have to understand that you can't back out at the last minute."
"How could I back out of having a baby at the last minute?"
"No, not that, just in giving the baby up for adoption. I
know how torn up you are about the whole thing with your bio
logical mother and all. It wouldn't be fair for you to commit to
any of these families if you have reservations about giving the
baby up." I sighed again. Seemed like I was doing a lot of
that.
"No, that wouldn't happen. My parents went through that -
they already had my oldest brother and were given another boy
about a year later. They had him for two months when the mother
returned and demanded the baby back. Can you imagine having a
baby for two months and considering him your own only to have to
give him up? I don't think my mom ever got over that. I mean,
even though they got another little boy within ten months, it was
still like losing a child. So, I wouldn't ever do that to
someone." Becky nodded.
"Well, at least you know what you're in for," she said. I
shifted on the stool, my abdomen a mass of ache and burning.
Becky watched me for a minute without saying anything. I could
feel her eyes staring at me as I fiddled with anything that came
under my hands; phone book, pencils, scraps of paper. She
finally cleared her throat. "Jessica, can I be real honest with
415
you for a second?" I nodded without looking up. "I don't think
you really want to give this baby up for adoption."
"You're right, I don't. But that's the best possible
alternative I have right now," I said.
"What about keeping it?"
"No, it wouldn't be fair to the child, being raised by
another kid." Becky cleared her throat.
"Well, have you thought any more about getting an abortion?"
I glanced up at her and saw nothing but concern. I nodded.
"Yeah, but every time I do think about it, I keep hearing
Robin's voice, and then I picture my parents' faces, how they'd
look if they ever found out. And then Liz told me about her
sister that had an abortion and this bishop said she'd never have
kids and she hasn't," I said, my voice quivering.
"Wait a minute, that's a load of crap. Bishops say that to
everyone." I looked at Becky with interest. "My sister got
pregnant while she was going to school in Utah about five years
ago. By a Samoan, no less. He wanted nothing to do with her and
denied the whole thing. I went with her to a clinic in Salt Lake
and she got an abortion. But afterwards, she was so racked by
guilt that she went to her bishop and confessed. He laid such an
incredible trip on her - it was unbelievable. Told her she would
never have kids, that she'd blown it and would never be blessed
with children - you know the lingo they use - and just really cut
her to pieces emotionally. This was all while his daughter was
getting married in the Temple even though she was five months
416
pregnant. What an asshole! Anyway, the moral of the story is
that she got married about three years ago and has a healthy,
bouncing baby boy and is pregnant again. So, if that's what's
holding you back, don't let it spook you."
I sat there amazed, hearing irrefutable evidence that the
curses of bishops didn't hold water. Something clicked inside
me, but I didn't take time to examine it just then, wanting to
know all the details of her sister's experience. Becky told me
and a flood of relief went through me although I didn't say
anything to Becky about it.
"So you don't think it's murder?" I asked. She shook her
head no.
"I think that life doesn't begin at conception but after the
baby's born. I don't think we come into our bodies until just
that moment." I nodded, thinking how much sense that made to me.
How much I agreed with her. I left her house and went with Max
down to Hokilau beach.
I started thinking again about my biological mother. I
thought to myself, "I wonder, if back then she decided to go
through with the pregnancy because that's just what you did in
the sixties or because she really wanted to have the baby." I
mean, abortions were illegal back then, very rare and usually
done in some back street kind of place where you paid some quack
doctor and had a good chance of being hurt or even killed during
it. I started making swirls in the sand with a stick I'd picked
up. I wondered, suddenly, if my mother were me, if she were here
417
now and faced with the same thing, would she get an abortion?
Would she just stay at school, not tell her parents, and go with
her girlfriend down to some free clinic and have it done? Or
would she have done exactly what she did? Gone home and faced
the wrath of her father? I almost felt sorry for her, living
through the exact same thing I was living through in a different
time. In a time when a girl didn't have a choice.
I suppose there are those who would argue that if my mother
had had an abortion, I wouldn't exist. Except that something
inside me said that wasn't true, that whatever it is I am, had
always existed. According to the Mormon faith that I'd been
brought up to understand, we were all spirits in Heaven who go
down to earth for two reasons; to gain a body of flesh and blood,
and to be tested for our righteousness so that someday, when we
died, we would be worthy to live in Heaven with Jesus Christ.
And since it was your spirit that came down, then your spirit
exists before life and would go on existing after life. So,
whatever I was, that spirit would have come down to earth anyway,
if not in the particular body I was in at the moment, then
another one. So the argument that I wouldn't have existed if my
mother had had an abortion didn't hold much sway over me. I knew
that the spirit I was inside, that thing that made me human and
unique, had lived before and would live again, beyond what I
could comprehend in this world. And that my body was only a
temporary thing. My spirit wasn't created when my mother got
pregnant,.nor would it die when this body of mine died. Whether
418
the body died shortly after birth or at eighty years old, the
spirit lived on.
Like Becky, I didn't believe that spirits entered the body
until just before it was delivered into the world. Oh sure, the
baby was "live" and living, but it was not human, not the way I
understand human life to exist. There was no spirit in it yet.
I honestly believe that whatever spirit could enter the baby at
birth wasn't being killed by me if I chose to have an abortion
and not allow the fetus to develop. Whatever potential spirit
was waiting for the particular body I was growing inside me, it
would still have the chance to live a life on earth, if not from
my seed at that time, then from somebody else's.
I remembered that vicious fight I'd had with Robin when
she'd yelled at me all night, calling me selfish, calling me a
murderer. It was because of that guilt she laid on me (which had
its foundations in the church, of course) that had stopped me
from having the D & C the following day like I'd planned. Oh
sure, the phone call from Lester that night had sealed the
decision, but I was already halfway down that road by then. It
was Robin's voice that kept reverberating through my brain, and I
finally realized that it wasn't because I believed all her
condemnations that had stopped me. It was my pride. Pride in
being able to say to myself, "Hey, look at me, they think they're
so high and mighty. I'll show them. I'll defy the whole world
and do it all on my own. Well, hot damn, aren't I neat?" I
mean, that's really what I was doing. You know, all my plans to
419
go off to San Francisco and save my parents the burden, and save
Lester from the lifetime responsibility of a child - that was all
bullshit. I was the one being high and mighty. I was the one
who was condemning and judging. And when I really thought about
it and faced the bottom line, I realized I wasn't doing anyone a
favor by staying pregnant, least of all myself.
I thought about my parents and their reputations. I thought
about Lester and his "rolling with the dice" attitude and knew I
had been right to separate him from the situation. I thought
about going through eight more months of hell, of the pain, the
sickness, of being alone, of dealing with the giving up of my
flesh and blood - I don't know. I hurt so much, I just wanted it
all to go away. I wanted Liz to go away with her plans and her
options. I wanted Lester to disappear. I wanted never to think
of Val or especially of Robin ever again. I just wanted to go
home. Maybe that was the ultimate selfishness. Maybe that's all
I really am. But I couldn't handle it any more. I couldn't
handle any of it.
Max was jumping around, racing to the water's edge only to
retreat before the surf. I kept looking at him and thinking,
"You know, I want to be able to just play with my dog, just run
and laugh in the sunshine instead of being so damned serious all
the time about everything." I wanted to do what's right, but I
didn't know anymore what was right and what wasn't. I didn't
know that staying pregnant and tiaving a baby would be right. I
didn't know that I could live though a lifetime, knowing that
420
somewhere in the world a child was growing up that didn't know
me, didn't know its mother. I didn't want to force that
existence on another person, the kind of existence that I had
lived through. My mom was too right - I didn't know what I
wanted. Except that I wanted to not be who I was, not be
pregnant.
I was so sick and so tired all the time. It was at last the
pain that won out over ethics: real, horrible, constant physical
pain that made the final decision one that I could bear. I
scratched Max's ears and talked to him, saying, "This is it, pal.
It's over." And it was. The confusion was over. I would have
the abortion. A sensation filled me. It wasn't like peace, or
relief, or anguish, or happiness. It was more like an impression
of clarity, of dust settling. I was able to open my eyes again.
421
GOODBYES
I had to wait until the next day to call the clinic for an
appointment. The only time they could fit me in was the day
before my flight was due out. I knew I would have to call Liz
and tell her about the change in plans. I had a sinking feeling
about that, after all the trouble and work she'd gone through for
me. I couldn't tell her that she had become part of the pain - I
loved her too much to make her feel bad when she was only trying
to help. I knew it was going to be a difficult thing to explain,
any way I tried.
"Are fucking kidding me?" Liz exclaimed.
"No," I replied numbly. I had worked myself up to a dull
copper sheen to get through the phone call.
"Why?"
"I don't know. I mean, I do know, but it's too hard to
explain over the phone," I said.
"Try," was all she said. I sighed.
"Giz, I know I'm blowing it, I know you made a lot of plans
and stuff, and I'm sorry. That's all I can say. I'm sorry. I
just can't go through with it."
"What can't you go through with? You're not going to have
to work. I found another family that is willing to pay you even
more of an allowance along with everything else..."
"No, Liz. It's over, okay? Can't you understand it has
nothing to do with being taken care of, nothing to do with
finding the right family - I can't give up my baby; I can't take
422
care of it myself. I will not marry Lester. My parents don't
even know and if they did, it would ruin their life. They don't
care, I don't care - I don't want any options. I'm choosing the
only thing that makes sense to me." Liz was silent for a moment.
"Can you live with yourself, afterwards?" she asked.
"I don't know. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."
"Have you thought about the impact of what you're doing?"
"I thought you said you couldn't judge someone getting an
abortion because of your sister's..."
"I'm not judging you, Jess. I would never do that." I
closed my eyes, feeling somewhat dislocated in that tiny donut
shop.
"Liz, either way, whether I go through eight more months of
pregnancy and have to give up my baby, or whether I have an
abortion, there is going to be pain. And guilt." It was Liz's
turn to sigh.
"Well, Dan's gonna be pissed."
"I figured he would. Apologize to him for me, will ya? I
I
don't know what else to say except to keep apologizin."
"I wish I could be there to go through it with you. To hold
your hand," Liz said quietly. A tear fell then, and I felt a
surge of love for my friend.
"I wish you could too, Giz."
That conversation was the only feeling I had during those
last few days. After I'd made the appointment at the clinic, I
423
hadn't felt any joy, any sadness, just a numbness, a bleakness.
Like novocaine at the dentist's office. I went through the
motions of living, giving notice at the donut shop. I had told
Donna I would be leaving for the South Pacific anyway, so it was
no big deal. She wasn't particularly upset to see me go, and I
can't say I had any remorse about not seeing donuts anymore. I
had two days with nothing to do, so I spent a lot of time pack
ing, unpacking and repacking again. I gave the girls in the
house all the stupid things I'd lugged with me through all the
moves like my mixing bowl, my measuring spoons. I bought a big
cage and paid for Max to be shipped home with me. After all we'd
been through together, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him
behind in Hawaii. Lester moved back home and got a new job
selling cars in Kaneohe. That was good, because I don't know if
I could have stood him being around, knowing what was going to
happen. The days were bright and sunny, but it didn't seem that
way to me. I thought maybe I was enduring the darkest days of
the whole episode, waiting around like that.
The day arrived. It was a Thursday, near the end of June.
I took my bike out and rode the three miles to Kahuku clinic.
The sun was shining bright; the mountains were a lush green; the
air smelled fresh and ever so faintly of salt. It was all so
beautiful, so vibrant with color and life. I remember concen
trating on the road, the cars whizzing by, narrowly missing me as
I tried to stay on the dirt shoulder. I got to the clinic with
424
half an hour to spare. The doctors were in a staff meeting and
the nurse told me there would be an hour delay.
That hour stretched out forever. I've never seen a second
hand move so slowly on a clock. I'd so psyched myself out for
getting the D & C that I wanted it to be over already. Be done.
Get on with life. Get on to that light at the end of the tunnel,
if light there was. I was still reading Foundation - I couldn't
seem to concentrate long enough to finish it. I thought some
thing so abstract and far out as a story about psychohistory
would distract me from what was happening in reality, but I
couldn't even focus on the words. I must have read the same page
four times before I finally gave up, sitting and staring at the
brillant red Torch Ginger plant in the middle of the open cour
tyard .
Finally the doctors' meeting broke up and the nurse came for
me. Dr. Branch was waiting in his office, his mouth taut against
his skin, his eyes two steady orbs. I sat down stiffly.
"What made you change your mind?" Dr. Branch asked quietly.
I was so calm, so numb. I wanted to say 'cause I hurt. Because
no one loved me the way I needed to be loved. Mom, Dad, Lester,
even Liz all loved me in their own ways, but not with the kind of
love I needed to see me through eight months of pain and a
lifetime of wondering about my first-born.
"Because I'm in pain and I'm fed up with the situation," I
replied as casually as possible.
425
"Okay, that's fair," he accepted, as I knew he would. He
got up and led the way down the short, open-air corridor to the
room, the same room he always examined me in. I thought maybe it
would happen somewhere else, somewhere reserved for such
operations, but that wasn't the case.
"Okay, Jessica, I'm going to explain the procedure to you so
you won't be alarmed by anything that happens. First, we're
going to give you a painless anesthesia locally to the vagina
wall. You won't even feel it, I promise. We'll take a tube that
is connected to a suction apparatus and insert it. In about five
minutes, after it's taken effect, we'll perform the D & C.
There'll be about two minutes of suction, a pressure you'll
hardly feel. That's it. When it's over the uterus walls will
begin contracting and there will be mild to severe cramps depend
ing on your body's reaction to it. That's all there is to it,"
he ended, speaking in a voice that sounded as if it were no more
than him drawing a blood sample or something. I guess in reality
it wasn't much more than that - it's just the mental stuff that
goes along with it that makes an abortion seem like a tremendous
affair. I nodded at him, not knowing what to say. He left for a
moment while I undressed. I was shaking so badly I could barely
undo the buttons on my shorts, but I managed somehow and put the
paper gown over my legs.
Dr. Branch came back in just as I was laying back on the
cold, plastic-covered table. I didn't remember the examining
table being that cold before. I took a deep breath and tried to
426
stop the shaking. Dr. Branch had a nurse helping him as he
inserted the tube and applied the anesthesia which, true to his
word, was painless. Then both he and the nurse left to wait for
the numbness to take effect. If I hadn't been connected to that
suction tube already, I would have gotten down on my knees, but
as it was, I could only pray while laying on my back, facing the
tiled ceiling. I put my hands together and spoke.
"Dear God, I know that what I'm doing right now is against
Your teachings. But I hurt so much. Lester doesn't really love
me, and I know I don't love him, not the way two people should
love each other who would raise a baby together. Maybe it was
wrong to have sex with him. I mean, if this is the consequence,
then maybe sex really should only be between people that love
each other enough to raise a child. I don't know, all I know is
that I hurt. I know You can never forgive me, but I wanted to
try to explain it to You anyway. In Jesus name. Amen."
The tears rolled freely down my face. I put my hands on my
stomach, bowed my head and spoke to that spirit that I knew was
somewhere, waiting for a body.
"Dear little one. I'm so sorry I'm not strong enough, not
brave enough to go through with this for you. You deserve better
than me...."
A moment later, the doctor and nurse returned. I clenched
my hands, forcing the shaking to stop.
"How do you feel?" Dr. Branch asked. What a hilarious joke,
I thought. What's he mean, how do I feel? I feel like hell,
427
what's he think? He poked around inside me. "Feel that?" he
asked. Oh, so he wanted to know if the anesthesia was working.
"No," I said.
"Good. We're ready to go then."
What was I thinking about when the doctor sucked the embryo
out of me? I've struggled to remember just what it was, but all
that comes back clearly is that I wasn't thinking of anything, or
rather, that I was desperately trying to think of anything but
what was going on. The nurse held my hand and I was squeezing
back so tightly I thought she would cry out from the pressure. I
wanted to feel some sort of pain, some physical anguish to match
what was happening in my heart. Something that would mark the
passing of the moment. But I didn't. Not during the actual
operation anyway. It didn't hurt, just like the doctor had said.
It just felt like someone gently tugging at my insides. Dr.
Branch kept up a steady stream of chatter going, but, for the
life of me, I don't know what he said. I could see the nurse's
eyes, brown and rimmed with heavy black lashes, looking at me,
offering silent encouragement. I could feel the warmth of her
brown-skinned hand pressing back on mine. Maybe because she was
another woman, maybe because she knew what was in my mind, I
don't know, except that in those two minutes I formed a bond with
her that went beyond words. I don't even know her name.
While the actual D & C was happening, I was wanting to feel
pain, but when the real pain began, when the wall of my uterus
began contracting, I wanted nothing more than for the pain to
428
stop. The mild to severe crams were definitely on the severe
side. They began about three minutes after it was over, after
he'd pulled out the suction apparatus. The sheer intensity of
the spasm that gripped my abdomen was unlike even that four inch
needle - all emotion was swept from my mind, replaced by one
pinpoint of focus, that of the never-ending pain. My God, I
wanted to die.
"So this is how God punishes sinners," I thought. The nurse
kept holding my hand, saying soothing words I could barely hear.
The room spun around, the table rocked underneath me. I saw the
doctor from a distance, teetering on the wave of the room,
looking at me, saying something I couldn't understand. I didn't
cry out, though. I wanted to keep the pain for myself, keep it
as a reminder of what I'd done that day. There was a streak, a
flash of bright energy that rushed through me, and then,
miraculously it seemed, the contractions began to subside.
It was maybe five minutes later that I came back fully into
myself, came back enough that the nurse could help me up and take
me to another room where I could lay down for a while. We
walked, (I could actually walk!) down the corridor and she put me
on a cot in a semi-dark room. I lay there for twenty minutes
feeling nothing and everything. No one thought stayed in my mind
for more than a few seconds; images jumped here and there,
frantic in their search for somewhere to land, somewhere that
didn't hold an ache. The nurse returned and I realized that the
429
cramps were nearly controllable. They felt only like a bad day
during a heavy period.
"Are you all right now, Jessica?" I got an overwhelming
urge to be gone from that place, to leave as quickly as possible
even if I did still hurt.
"Yes, I'm okay," I said, sitting up.
"Do you have someone to drive you home?" She must have
assumed I had a car, let alone someone to drive me.
"No, but I can manage myself." I wonder if she would have
let me go if she knew I was riding a bike three miles to home.
Probably not. I decided not to mention the bike and followed her
to the front desk where I paid the last of my money, $247.50 in
cash, to the receptionist. The nurse gave my shoulder a squeeze
and went back to her routine. I turned to see her disappear
around the corner and wondered briefly who she was. The
receptionist handed me a receipt and I walked away.
My uterus was still on fire; the cramps still gripped me,
but I managed to guide my bike down the long hill and onto Kam
Highway anyway. It was like a roller coaster: the cramps were
sometimes so fierce that I had to stop; sometimes not there at
all. I kept peddling along, rolling one foot over, then the
other. The sun was still shining brightly, the mountains still
an unbelievable green, the air still fresh and heavy with the
scent of flowers and sea, and the ocean was still a deep glorious
blue.
430
When I reached the house on losepa Street, I looked around
at the barren room, at all my belongings packed in two suitcases
and a bulging backpack. Although I was in pain, I couldn't sit
still, couldn't stay in that room. I left the house and walked
towards BYU campus, up Kulanui Street to the long entrance,
taking it all in one last time.
I walked around to the library, seeing images of Liz skating
through the hallway, hearing the voice of Kari calling out to me
to wait up so we could walk together. It faded in the din of a
power lawn mower as one of the custodians swept by me. I looked
again and the images were gone. There was no one around, even
though it was a Thursday and summer school was still in session.
I made my way to the dorms, to Hale Five. The Banyan tree
stood sentinel as I passed. I climbed the stairs to Liz's and my
old unit. I went to the door thinking maybe I could go inside,
recapture some of the joy and happiness that had pervaded the
room. But the door was locked, and all I could do was stand in
the hallway amidst all the closed doors and try to remember.
There was laughter that came faintly to me sounding very like
Liz's, but then I realized it was another girl, down in the
courtyard, having fun with a companion. There was nothing left
for me there.
I went over to the Seasider Cafe and bought myself a soft
vanilla ice cream. I took two bites, the taste cold and sour in
my mouth. I threw it into the trash as I entered into the main
mall of the Aloha Center. A few students milled about, checking
431
their mail at the small post office, coming out of the student
store with their supply of pens and paper or whatever it was they
needed to see them through their classes. Part of me wanted to
be one of those students, dashing off to some new class, eager to
learn things. That wasn't going to happen at BYU-Hawaii. I left
the school, heading south towards the back entrance to PCC.
I remembered the night Max and I had braved the hurricane,
trying to get home in one piece. But it was hard to envision the
bitter cold rain when the sun was shining so brightly. Luckily,
the guard recognized me and let me into the grounds. I walked
through the villages trying to remember how I felt when I had
started my whole island adventure scheme. I looked at the huts
and saw only cockroaches. I looked at the gardens planted over
by the Tahitian villages and saw only the strange food I'd eaten
at Lester's parents' house.
I walked to the Hawaii village and sat near the poi
demonstration hut. The tourists were milling around, laughing
together and taking pictures of themselves by coconut trees and
native students. I tried to picture Lester there instead of the
new guy that stood in his place, dressed exactly the same in the
bright yellow wrap. But, there were too many conflicting images
of Lester to allow me to clearly remember him as just the hand
some Hawaiian I met at PCC, so I shook the thought away.
I left PCC by the front entrance, walking across the long
parking lot. I strolled by Lhe house on Kam highway feeling no
inclination to revisit that house, not liking the memories I had
432
of that place and time. I kept walking up the highway till I was
across from the Laie Shopping Center. I could see Sonia working
behind the counter at Country Donuts, big as ever, passing a cup
of coffee over the counter. I had no desire to enter the shop
and say any last goodbyes to her. Just the idea of the smell of
donuts revolted me.
I walked on up to Hokilau Beach and went to sit near the
edge of the naupaka on a grassy knoll. There were several
families on the beach, the children playing in the surf. I
thought that maybe once it was over, I would feel some sort of
peace, some sort of resolution. But I didn't feel that.
Although in my mind I had come to the conclusion that I wasn't
committing a murder by having an abortion, there was still that
part of me, that little girl, who wasn't convinced. I wanted to
cry but no tears would come. I sat and looked out at the ocean
for a long time, trying to reconcile the two people I was - the
young, energetic, idealistic girl who had arrived in Hawaii not a
year before, and the sad, confused, lonely girl who was leaving.
I guess both of them had always existed, and they both existed
then, but I didn't feel young or enthusiastic about anything
anymore. I became still, like one of those redwood trees I'd
seen on a family vacation we'd taken up the northern coast of
California. Hard, still, silent. A voice was crushed out inside
me and there was no longer anything - just that eerie, bleak
stillness. There was no more battling back and forth - right or
433
wrong, good or bad. There was nothing. Just the numb, weary
ache of living with it.
In the end, I came to a very private conclusion that no
matter how long I sat there, no matter how hard I thought, or how
deeply I felt, I wasn't going to get any answers. I knew I
wasn't going to find any answers down at the beach, or at BYU or
at the Polynesian Cultural Center. I knew Becky didn't have any
answers, nor did Liz, nor Brother Walker, nor my mom and dad.
And the reason I wasn't going to find any answers was pain
stakingly simple - there weren't any answers to be had. I had
done what I'd done and that was the end of it.
"You'll write to me?" Lester asked.
"Every week, faithfully," I lied to him.
"I wish I could take you to the airport, but this new
job..."
"You already explained twice. Les. Really, it's okay. You
have to take opportunities when they come along."
"I just don't want you to go off thinking anything bad."
"I don't think badly of you. Les."
"I'm gonna miss you. Island Girl."
"I'll miss you too."
"You'll be back in two months then, for school?"
"Yeah', Lester, I'll be back," I lied again, for the last
time. It had been a big relief to hear that he couldn't come
back to Laie that night because of his work, and that he wouldn't
434
be able to drive me to the airport the next afternoon. I don't
know what I would have said to him anyway.
That night, the night before I left Hawaii, I slept without
dreaming. Straight through without waking once: a dull, somber
rest. I had to scramble to get a ride the next day and that took
some time in the morning. The BYU shuttle bus service was
picking up a few students, and with some negotiating, they agreed
to take me and Max with them. It was a short ride around the Ewa
side of the island. It wasn't as green as the other way around,
through Kaneohe, but I wasn't in a position to quibble.
It was strange, standing in the airport, alone, waiting to
check in. There was noise all around me - loudspeakers blaring,
passengers arriving, others waiting to leave - but it all sounded
muffled. Max lay in the cage at my feet, asleep from the pills
the vet had given him for the trip. I knew he would be comfort
able for the flight back to California, oblivious to everything.
I watched his cage being taken away and then surrendered my bags.
I walked down the open corridor to my gate, smelling the
pluraeria from the trees that lined the walk. It was a glorious
scent, those flowers, my last connection with Hawaii. The
loudspeaker announced that passengers would be allowed to board
my flight. I waited until nearly everyone was on the plane, the
last call ringing in my ears. I entered the plane, taking a
window seat, and sat looking out at the island that had given me
so much and taken so much away. I closed my eyes against the
sight and wept.
435
EPILOGUE
Christmas is right around the corner now. It's supposed to
be a time of love and charity. It's taken me a long time, all
these months since I returned from Hawaii, to really start to
feel again. And I do feel. I didn't lay down and die the way I
thought I would when I left. Life went on.
At first, I thought my mom would figure out what I'd done,
confront me about it. But as the weeks wore on neither of us
talked about it, so I stopped worrying. My dad spoke about
Hawaii once, and that was in reference to a volcano eruption. I
think they both just want to pretend the whole thing never
happened. Lester wrote a few times, then lost interest like I
knew he would. Liz and I are talking again. She's forgiven me
for making her go through all that work for nothing. I knew she
would eventually. I heard from Kari the other day. Seems that
she and Jack are having problems and she doesn't know how long
the marriage will last. That's not a big surprise. And Angela
wrote too, finally, assuring me that we are still friends. I saw
Darren once during the summer, but I had nothing to say to him.
And about the abortion, well, it's over.
Through all this, one event keeps sticking out in my mind.
Alan and I were in biology together that first semester and we
teamed up to perform a three-week experiment in which we would
record and analyze the movements of a piece of driftwood. He and
I went down to the isolated area of Malaekahana State Park Beach
where few people go. We found a good sized piece of wood near
436
the shore being lapped at by the water. We took it, dried it out
then painted it with a phosphorescent and water proof color, like
the kind divers use to mark their gear. We put the driftwood
back in the exact spot and left.
The next day we went back and discovered the wood about five
yards down the beach. Apparently, the wood had been taken out to
sea only to float back up again. We recorded this and left it
again. The next day was much the same, the wood having moved
another few feet, northward, towards the point farthest out. The
experiment went on like this for several days. Once, we found
footprints and we hypothesized that a beachcomber had found the
wood, picked it up to examine it, then dropped it again a few
feet later. Another day, the wood was bobbing in the ocean
nearby, and by the next day had become beached again. The
direction was steady, ever toward the open sea. Then, one day
the wood had disappeared. We figured it was just too far out for
us to see and so we showed up the next day with high hopes. But
the wood wasn't there. We went again the next day and the day
after that, but the wood never showed up. We were 7 days shy of
our target, but our teacher thought the experiment intriguing
enough to give us an A anyway.
I've often thought about that driftwood. Wondered where it
had gone to. Did it wash up just north of us in Turtle Bay, not
ten miles away, or did it get caught up in the currents to be
carried to Lanai or Molokai? Was it on its way to the South
Pacific, to wash up on Tahiti and be found by a curious native
437
not comprehending the bright luminous paint? Was it headed for
California to become part of the landscape, or maybe be dashed to
bits on the rocky coastline up North? I wondered if the piece of
driftwood had simply floated out to sea, never to beach again. I
wondered when, or where, or even if the radiant driftwood would
ever find its way into a house, to become a prized possession, a
curiosity to sit on a shelf and collect dust. I guess I'll never
know just where that driftwood will end up, for if it lives up to
its name, it will never stop anywhere, but just keep going, going
into the endless possibility that life is.
438
Abstract (if available)
Linked assets
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
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Asset Metadata
Creator
Drott, JoLynn
(author)
Core Title
Driftwood
Degree
Master of Professional Writing
Publisher
University of Southern California
(original),
University of Southern California. Libraries
(digital)
Tag
language, literature and linguistics,OAI-PMH Harvest
Format
application/pdf
(imt)
Language
English
Contributor
Digitized by ProQuest
(provenance)
Permanent Link (DOI)
https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c38-156619
Unique identifier
UC11283754
Identifier
EP60746.pdf (filename),usctheses-c38-156619 (legacy record id)
Legacy Identifier
EP60746.pdf
Dmrecord
156619
Document Type
Thesis
Format
application/pdf (imt)
Rights
Drott, JoLynn
Type
texts
Source
University of Southern California
(contributing entity),
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
(collection)
Access Conditions
The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the au...
Repository Name
University of Southern California Digital Library
Repository Location
USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus, Los Angeles, California 90089, USA
Tags
language, literature and linguistics