Halia
Halia enjoyed the long, peaceful drive up to Hawi.
She rarely made time to visit the rest of the island – so when she did get the chance to take a longer drive, she relished it. She took the coastal route, driving up through the green hills with their soaring ocean views.
Meet me for lunch?she texted Oakley as she neared Waimea.I’m fifteen minutes out.
She tossed her phone back onto the passenger seat and drove the remaining distance without checking it. Whether her sister was free or not, Halia’s plans were the same. There was only one place she ever ate in Waimea; it was too good to skip on the rare occasion that she drove that way.
When Halia parked near the barn-red food truck, she was happy to see Oakley’s car parked in the shade.
She spotted her sister at one of the picnic tables, typing away on her phone. Oakley wore her usual pricy workout clothes,and her yellow hair was pulled up into a tight bun. Her face looked like it was trying to scowl, but the expression didn’t quite translate to her botox-smooth forehead.
How was it possible that women with the most picture-perfect lives were often the most stressed? Halia shook her head in wonder. She supposed that maintaining that veneer of perfection took its toll.
“I already ordered,” Oakley said when she saw her. “I have to pick Harper up in half an hour. What are you doing in Waimea?”
Halia cocked an eyebrow. “Hello to you too.”
“Sorry.” Oakley’s habitual smile softened into something true and bright. “Hi. It’s good to see you. I’d hug you, but I just taught three classes in a row and I stink.”
Halia rolled her eyes and hugged her anyway.
“I got the spicy one and the truffle one,” Oakley told her. “And they have lilikoi lemonade today, so two of those.”
“Sounds perfect.”
When the sandwiches came up, they swapped so that they both had half of each. They were gourmet grilled cheese, some of the most delicious food on the whole island. Halia bit into the spicy one first, gooey cheese studded with bacon and bits of serrano peppers. They were quiet for a moment, eating – but it wasn’t in Oakley’s nature to stay silent for long.
“Whatareyou doing in Waimea?” she asked again.
“Laurie and Mia are going to spend the weekend at Mom’s house. I’m driving to pick them up.”
Oakley’s face crumpled with guilt. “I could have done that.”
“You’re not driving down until tomorrow. This gives them an extra day.”
“That’s… what, four hours round trip?”
Four and a half, maybe five, but Halia didn’t correct her. “I don’t mind.”
Oakley just shook her head. “I don’t understand why they don’t buy a second car.”
“That would give her too much freedom.”
“What are you talking about?”
Halia gave her a long, level look.
“Chris wouldn’t… he’s not like that,” she protested.
Halia took another bite of her sandwich.
“Not every man is–” Oakley started, but she bit off her half-formed protest and stared off into the middle distance, like things were starting to click into place in her mind.
Maybe she was remembering the way that Chris had charmed them all at the beginning and then turned cold. Or his early attempts to learn sign language, long since abandoned. Then there was the gradual isolation of Laurie from the rest of the family, long absences that she tried to cover with a growing pile of excuses.
When Oakley looked at Halia again, her blue eyes were worried.
