“Do I need to call Aloiki and get him over here?” I demanded. Honestly, I had no idea if that was a bluff or not. We hadn’t spoken in three weeks, and I had no idea if he even knew or cared that I’d been staying with his sister.
But if Kalea was in trouble and I kept it from him,thatwas a betrayal he would never forgive. Three strikes, and I’d be out. In the middle of the ocean with a thousand hooks buried in my body.
Her eyes went even wider, and I swore she stopped breathing for a minute. “You wouldn’t!” she accused.
“Tell me what’s going on first and then I’ll decide.” She didn’t need to know that Aloiki and I weren’t talking right now.
Her mouth opened and closed, but she continued to look down, ashamed. “I can’t!” she shouted, and with a great shove, pushed against my chest.
I was taken by surprise that I almost toppled over, and had to remove my hands from her shoulders to regain my balance. It gave her the opportunity to slip under my body and scurry away. Her water glass spilled in her haste, the liquid on the tile causing her foot to slide out from under her.
Like it was a movie, I saw her collision with the table coming in slow-motion. I pushed off from the cabinet, breaking the small wood door in my haste to propel myself across several feet in time. I wasn’t Superman, nor did I have super speed, but I was able to knock the table to the side just in time so her head did not collide with the corner.
We both went down hard. My back slammed into one of the kitchen chairs, my shoulder struck heavily against the tilefloor, and Kalea’s head landed in the center of my stomach. My beer and non-existent dinner almost made a reappearance.
My breath flew out of me at the impact, and I wondered if there were several cartoon stars floating around my head. Fucking hell, that hurt!
But I pushed past the pain. I had to check on Kalea. I knew where her head had landed, but not the rest of her.
“Shit, fuck! Are you okay?”
Kalea nodded, shook her head, and nodded again in quick succession. I had no idea what that meant. I tried to get up as carefully as I could without jostling her. From what I could see, there was no blood on the floor. That was something, at least.
As I lifted myself, Kalea rolled off me, and for the second time today, I saw a woman I cared about roll over into the fetal position to get away from me. I flinched at the implication that I had harmed both women. Not physically, I would never raise a hand against a woman, but mentally and emotionally.
Tears shook her entire body, but from the way she was curved around herself, I couldn’t tell if it was from an injury. I doubted it though.
Feeling defeated and not knowing what else to do, I got myself to my feet. Kalea might not be as small as Caroline, but she was still small compared to me. I lifted her with ease into my arms. I’d take care of the open beer, the empty glass, the spilled water, and the broken cabinet door later.
Kalea did not fight me as I pulled her to my chest, reminding me all too familiarly of the numerous times in our shared past when she would fall asleep on the couch and I would carry her to bed. I walked around the first floor, turning off lights, locking doors, and setting the alarm. All while she was balanced between my arms and her tears soaked my chest. I still wore just my swim trunks from my intended beach trip at the start of the day.
Up the stairs we went, somewhere I hadn’t beensince that first morning when I took a shower in Pualani’s bathroom. I flipped off the hall light, and entered my old bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was the same and yet different. The bedframe, comforter, dressers, and nightstands were the same ones we’d bought years ago, just before getting married. The his-and-her dressers were still in the same spot, though I didn’t know what was now in mine. The nightstand that was on the side of the bed that used to be mine now held a lamp, tissue box, and lotion bottle that had not been there when I last walked out of this room. Kalea’s nightstand still had the crystal nightlamp and alarm clock it had had for the past decade, and now held a small, white baby monitor.
I laid Kalea on the bed, shifting the covers over her. After running into the bathroom to take a quick piss, turning off the overhead light, and checking the monitor to make sure Pualani was sound asleep in her crib and the volume was turned up, I crawled into bed behind Kalea and held her as she sobbed.
I knewtwo things for certain upon the sun rising the next morning. The first was that Kalea’s tears broke me now just as much as they had ten years ago. It had taken her hours before she cried herself out, her arms wrapped around her pillow and me wrapped around her. Even in her sleep, the occasional tear still fell. The second, I wasn’t going anywhere. At least, not until I figured out what the hell was going on. Who was blackmailing her out of money and why? Did it have to do with Pualani or had she done something I wasn’t aware of over the past two years that someone was using against her?
I would have my answers.
Kalea slept through Pualani waking up. Didn’t even rouse at the sounds of baby babble and rustling coming over the monitor. Ibarely slept a wink last night, but still I rose to get Pua. I turned off the monitor, so the cursing that would follow when I saw what surprise Pualani left in her diaper for me did not wake Kalea.
We were downstairs having an argument about putting cerealinher mouth instead of down the inside of her shirt when Kalea finally got up. I heard her footsteps above us before the echo of the shower. I still hadn’t done that yet, but after learning how messy a two year old could be while eating her breakfast, I supposed that was a smart decision.
Kalea came down the stairs with her hair still wet and wearing a pajama short set. I knew that habit; she would do anything and everything to avoid leaving the house today. She would even go as far as to ask a food delivery driver to grab the mail from her mailbox when they delivered her meal instead of making the journey down the drive.
It had been a long time since I had seen her have a day like this. I used to think it was adorable, my little mopey Kalea. I would even inform my people that I wasn’t going to come into work that day and spend my time trying to bribe Kalea outside with her favorite snacks, activities, or events. Sometimes it had worked, sometimes it hadn’t.
She didn’t look at me as she headed over to the coffee pot that I had had a hell of a time setting up while holding Pualani on my hip. I was pretty sure moms had an invisible arm that helped them multitask with a kid. It was the only way I could explain how Kalea managed to seamlessly do so many things at once.
I also cleaned up the mess we had left in the kitchen the night before. The cabinet was shot, so we’d have to be careful with Pua being loose in the kitchen for a bit.
“Call someone to come take Pualani for the day,” I told Kalea’s back. “You and I are going to have some hard talks, and I don’t want her around for the shouting.”
Kalea poured her coffee. “Or you could leave like you promised you would and keep out of my business.”
“You’ve been my business since I was eight years old, Kalea.” I didn’t add that the last two years were not withstanding. “I would prefer Pualani not hear what is said between us today, but the choice is yours.”
Pua threw some cereal while mumbling, “Mamamamamamama,” in protest when Kalea did not greet her.
