“They’re safe enough for a few days.” My tone holds no doubt. I wait, hoping that he will swallow the lie.
“Jesus.” He drops his face into his hands and holds it there. When he looks up, it’s a less obstinate Olly staring back at me. Even his voice softens. “You could have told me this five minutes ago.”
I make my best effort to lighten the mood. “We were kissing! And then you were getting angry with me.” I’m blushing from the talk of kissing and from my easy lying. “I was going to tell you. I am telling you. I just did.”
He’s much too smart to fall for this, but he wants it to be true. He wants it to be true more than he wants the truth. The smile that breaks across his face is cautious, but so beautiful that I can’t look away. I would lie to him again for that smile.
“Now,” I say. “What’s under that thing?”
He hands me a corner of the tarp and I pull it aside.
At first I’m not sure what I’m looking at. It’s like reading a seemingly random collection of words before the sentence becomes clear.
“It’s beautiful,” I say.
“It’s called an orrery.”
“This is what you’ve been doing up here? Making universes?”
He shrugs.
A small wind blows and the planets spin slowly. We both watch their motion without speaking.
“Are you sure about this?” Doubt has crept back into his voice.
“Please help me, Olly. Please.” I point to the orrery. “I need to escape, too, just for a little while.”
He nods. “Where do you want to go?”
ALOHA MEANS HELLO AND GOOD-BYE, PART TWO
HAPPY ALREADY
“MADS, BE SERIOUS. We can’t go to Hawaii.”
“Why not? I got us plane tickets. I booked us a hotel.”
We’re sitting in Olly’s car in the driveway. He puts the key in the ignition, but doesn’t turn it.
“Are you kidding?” he asks, scrutinizing my face for evidence that I’m kidding. He doesn’t find any and begins shaking his head slowly. “Hawaii is three thousand miles away.”
“Hence the airplane.”
He ignores my attempt at levity. “You’re serious? When did you do this? How? Why?”
“One more question and you’ll have a Fast Five,” I say.
He leans forward, presses his forehead into the steering wheel.
“Last night, with a credit card, because I want to see the world.”
“You have a credit card?”
“I got my own a few weeks ago. There are perks to hanging out with an older woman.”
He pulls his forehead off the wheel, but still stares straight ahead not meeting my eyes. “What if something happens to you?”
“Nothing will.”
“But what if it does?”
“I have the pills, Olly. They’re going to work.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and puts his hand on the key. “You know, we have plenty of world right here in southern California.”
“But no humuhumunukunukuapuaa.”
A small half smile forms at the corner of his lips. I need to make it spread across his entire face.
He turns to face me. “What are you talking about?”
“The humuhumunukunukuapuaa.”
“What is a humu-whatever?”
“The state fish of Hawaii.”
His smile broadens. “Of course it is.” He turns the key in the ignition. His eyes linger on his house and his smile fades, just slightly. “How long?”
“Two nights.”
“OK.” He grabs my hand and gives it a quick kiss. “Let’s go see this fish.”
Olly’s mood gets better, lighter somehow, the farther away from his house that we get. This trip gives him the perfect excuse to let go of the burden of his family for a little while, at least. Also, an old friend of his from New York, Zach, lives in Maui.
“You’ll love him,” he tells me.
“I’ll love everything,” I respond.
Our flight’s not until 7 A.M. and I have a detour I want to make.