I accepted the challenge. Here's my short story.
Hawaii
by
Diane Burton
I walked down the jetway with a jaunty step. I’d never been to Hawaii.
I’d never even flown by myself. And here I was. Honolulu, Hawaii. The
excitement of this trip had me nearly dancing out of my skin. I was probably
grinning like a fool.
A smiling Polynesian girl held out a lei and said, “Aloha, wahini nani.”
“Ooh. What does that mean?”
“Welcome, beautiful girl.” She slipped the lei over my head.
“Thank you. Wait. I mean, mahalo.” I grinned, pleased that I knew that
phrase. I held the flowers of the lei close to my nose. “Mmm. What a lovely
smell.”
“Plumeria,” she said then moved on to the next passenger.
Standing on tiptoe, I scanned the area for Zoe, certain my friend would
be close by. I couldn’t see her. Cries of “welcome” and “aloha” surrounded me. But
they weren’t for me. When someone’s carry-on bag bumped into me, followed by a
quick “sorry” in a male voice, I realized I’d been blocking traffic. Stepping
to the side and dragging my own carry-on with me, I continued to look for my friend.
Zoe had flown out four weeks ahead of me, staying with friends until I could
get away from my tutoring job. We both taught at the same elementary school.
Every year as soon as school was out, she headed to Hawaii and spent all summer
there. I could only take off two weeks. Still, two weeks on Hawaii was better
than staying home in boring, old, Michigan.
She’d said she would meet me at the gate. I wished she’d hurry up. After
that long trip, I needed a restroom. About to say the heck with it and beat it
into the nearest lavatory, I saw a man running toward me carrying a mangled
sign, with “Mannington” in black Magic Marker.
While that was my last name, I hesitated. The man, tall, well-tanned and
fit, wore neon yellow board shorts, flip-flops, and a tight tank top. His blond
hair, bleached from the sun and longer than most men I knew wore theirs, hung
over his forehead. He looked like a surfer dude.
Coming to an abrupt halt in front of me, he shoved his hair back then
grinned. “Sally Mannington? You’re Sally, right?” He had a pleasant voice with
a cadence I recognized from TV shows, like Hawaii
5-0.
The waiting area had emptied, except for me and the flight attendants
exiting the plane. I still hesitated. Who was this guy? How did he know me? And
where was Zoe?
“Hang on.” He dropped the white cardboard sign on a nearby seat and dug
into his shorts pocket. He pulled out a crumpled snapshot and showed it to me—Zoe
had her arm around my shoulders. “You are
Sally Mannington, right? Zoe Turner’s friend. Hi. I’m Jack.” He held out his
hand.
“Jack?” Reluctantly, I shook hands with him. He did mention my friend’s
name. Still, I looked at him askance.
“Oh, boy. Didn’t you didn’t get Zoe’s text yet?” He shoved his hair back
again. “Better read it. She explains. Sorry I’m late. Let’s go get your
luggage.” He grabbed the handle of my carry-on bag. Before I knew it, he was striding
down the corridor, his flip-flops slapping the floor.
“Hey, wait.” I raced after him while trying to dig my cell phone out of
my pocket. By the time we reached baggage claim, I’d read and reread Zoe’s
text. Maybe if I read it again the message would change.
Hey, kiddo. Rico wanted
to go to Tahiti, so I’m off to Tahiti. Jack will take care of you. Have fun.
My friend deserted me. We’d planned this trip for months. All
winter—while slogging through snow and slush—she’d regaled me with tales of the
islands. How beautiful they were, how much there was to do, how much fun we’d
have. Huh. Now, I was all alone, regretting I’d ever succumbed to her enticing
view of our adventure. What should I do? I’d never been on vacation by myself
before. Why, oh, why had I listened to her?
“Hey, sweetheart. Tell me what your luggage looks like.” Jack, whoever he
was, glanced at my cell still in my hands. “You got her text. Great.”
I walked over to a row of seats and sank into the closest. With a puzzled
expression, Jack followed me. “Problem?”
“I don’t know. Who are you?” I looked up into warm brown eyes, with laugh
wrinkles fanning out from squinting at the sun, I assumed.
“I told you. Jack. Jack Turner. I’m Zoe’s brother, here to give you the
grand tour of Oahu and anywhere else you’d like to go.”
Zoe never said she had a brother or that he lived in Hawaii. All she ever
talked about was her boyfriend Rico. The same Rico who took her to Tahiti and
left me here alone. Ditched by my friend. Alone in paradise. Scared out of my
mind. With no idea what to do.
Okay, I had a choice. Go to a ticket counter, get back on a plane, and
return to Detroit. Or stay and let some man I’d never even heard of show me the
islands.
If I turned around and went home, I’d always regret not staying. I didn’t
know this man. He seemed friendly enough. Should I ask to see his I.D.? What
should I do?
Make a decision, I told my scared
self.
I stood on shaky legs and held out my hand. “Hi, Jack. I’m Sally. My bag
is that blue one with bright green tape on the sides.”
The next challenge is October.
