Heat Wave

I wake up the next morning to the sound of the choppers. Logan is already up, gathering our stuff. If he’s acting any different toward me because of last night, he doesn’t show it. And why should he? Nothing happened. It was just a fight that never got resolved. In the end, he’s still my boss, still my sister’s widower.

In the light of day everything looks better. Your big problems of the night before are condensed until you see them for what they really are. In our case, it’s nothing. Logan is my boss. I like my job. Everything that’s going right in my life doesn’t hinge on my relationship with him. We don’t owe each other anything other than service and a paycheck.

With that new resolve, I’m more than happy to start heading back home. Of course, nothing comes easy, and the helicopter rescue proves to be just as scary as crossing the water the day before. The water is still high and roaring, so the helicopters take each stranded hiker one by one and physically deposits them on the other side of the stream. Which means everyone is getting in a tiny half-cage, kind of like one of those wicker swing-chairs from the 70’s, and being flown across the stream.

Everyone except for me. I’m known as the girl who went down the river and nearly died. All the hikers are praising Logan as a hero, and when I hear them describe the event to some of the rescue crew, I feel deeply ashamed of even fighting with him last night. Apparently when I was swept downstream, Logan immediately went into the water after me. I was under the impression that he ran down the shore and then cut in, but thinking back, there’s no way he would have been able to reach me so fast if he’d done that.

No, instead he jumped in the water and let it carry him down the same path. The only difference was when he hit the final pool, the water deposited him more to the side, which gave him just enough time and strength to reach in and get me.

Before I can even say anything to him though, I’m bundled into a helicopter by myself and flown all the way to the hospital in Lihue. The last thing I see is Logan’s stern face as I rise into the sky.

Lucky for me, I don’t have to stay that long in the hospital. I have some bruises and a large gash on my hip that I hadn’t noticed that needed some stitches, but other than that I’m unscathed.

And incredibly lucky. The doctors and nurses go on to tell me how many hikers are killed by that stream alone each year, as if I haven’t heard all the stories of fucking killer island already.

When I’m released from the hospital Kate is there to pick me up, loitering in the waiting room. The minute she sees me, she runs forward and gives me a big hug then gasps, apologizing for possibly hurting me.

To be honest, I didn’t feel a thing. This is the first I’ve seen Kate act like more than just a roommate and I have to admit, I’m pretty touched that I managed to make an impression on her so far.

She’s got her new car that she bought a few weeks ago (“I don’t want to be at the mercy of the shuttle or Charlie anymore”), a used but still slick Honda Civic hatchback that she can shove her short board in the back of.

We stop in Kapa’a to get some coffees from Java Kai. They didn’t exactly serve the stuff in the hospital and I can barely remember the last time I had a cup. Everything seems like such a blur.

I’ve been to the coffee shop a few times since that day I arrived when I was with Charlie and the redhead behind the counter has been increasingly nice to me, though I still think she gives me a bit of the stink-eye.

But that’s been nothing compared to what I see with Kate.

I’m first in line, ordering a shot of noni (which a horrible tasting fruit elixir that does wonders for your insides) and my usual banana coconut mocha iced drink and the redhead gives me the head nod—no smile—while she takes my order.

When Kate steps up to place her order though, the redhead's eyes narrow into little blue slits, the line deepening between her penciled brows. I could feel Kate stiffening up a bit as we made our way through the line, moving her weight from one foot to the other, but I didn't think anything of it until now.

These two obviously know each other.

And the redhead seems to be the one with the grudge. She just stares at Kate, not saying a single word. Kate clears her throat. “Uh, I'd like an iced macadamia nut latte with coconut milk. Please.”

The barista's eyes linger on her for another moment in that death stare until she starts punching in numbers on the register.

“Five dollars and twenty-five cents,” she says in a clipped voice.

Kate can't pay her fast enough and quickly moves on down to where I am, picking up my noni shot from the end of the bar. Kate's eyes are wide, the first time I've probably seen her look anything more than blasé.