“I should get back on the road.” Halia drained the last of her lemonade, relishing the sweet-tart taste of the lilikoi.
“Wait.” Oakley’s hand shot out to grab her arm. “Is Laurie in trouble?”
Halia met her eyes in silence, wondering how to answer that question. Finally she said, “She’s not happy.”
Oakley withdrew her hand, looking thoughtful. In a rare moment of solemn vulnerability, she said, “Is anyone?”
The question surprised her, coming from her sunniest sister. But she had a point. How many people were truly happy, even half the time?
Halia herself didn’t feeljoyon a regular basis.
She liked her life. It was fulfilling, meaningful, comfortable, connected, satisfying. Buthappy? That was a fleeting feeling, not the end goal.
“Maybe not,” she answered. “I don’t think that’s the right thing to chase, anyhow.”
Oakley made a noncommittal sound, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
“Areyouokay?” Halia asked.
Her usual smile reappeared, more mask than joy. “Of course. I’m just worried about Laurie.”
Now it was Halia’s turn to make a small, noncommittal noise.
Oakley got up from the table. “I have to go get Harper.”
“And I should be getting up to Hawi.” Halia stood and gave her sister a strong hug. “See you tomorrow?”
“Of course. We’ll be there bright and early.”
Driving up to Hawi, a niggling sense of unease crept up and down Halia’s arms. Was it wrong of her not to worry more about Laurie? Not to ask more questions, offer more help? She did what she thought was most practical… but sometimes she wondered whether she hadn’t hardened her heart too much over the years.
Halia had been softhearted once. Young and vulnerable.
A very long time ago now.
She could remember hiding when her father raged, taking refuge beneath the bed or in the back of a closet.
Occasionally she ran to a neighbor’s house… but the pity in their eyes was worse than the dark of her hiding spots, and wondering if her mother was alive or dead was far more excruciating than hearing the muffled sound of blows.
If she was home, she could crawl out of hiding as soon as the door slammed behind her father. She could tend to her mother’s wounds and–
Halia shook her head, forcing herself to actuallyseethe road in front of her. She had been lost in her memories for a moment, blind to the world around her. That didn’t happen much anymore. She didn’t let it.
Such a very long time ago now.
So yes, she had grown a thick shell around her heart. It was the only way to survive the pain of those years, the horrible fear of seeing her mother loaded into an ambulance, the repeated stints in foster care.
She had seen what happened to the softhearted children. The things that they did to cope. And she refused to go down that road.
If she hadn’t hardened her heart somewhat, she wouldn’t have survived. If she hadn’t maintained that wall, she wouldn’t be able to function now. Because shedidhave that armor, she was able to be a rock for people who needed one.
But still. The armor that protected her sometimes kept the people closest to her at arm’s length. She didn’t know how to change that – was often unsure of whether or not she even wanted to – but it did make it harder to reach people sometimes.
Laurie was one of millions of women caught in a slowly tightening vice of domestic abuse and coercive control.
She had no bruises to point to, no evidence to sway a judge.
Just a world that got smaller and smaller every year.
