12 Hours In Paradise (8 page)

“How often did you see your parents?”

“My mother came to see me every two months and my father at least twice a year. Summers we spent together for the most part.”

“I don’t get it, Arash. What do you see in me? I’ve never done anything like that. Our lives are so different. The farthest from home I’ve ever been is right here in Hawaii.”

“I told you,” he said softly. “I like to talk to you. I felt a connection in the cookie store even though you only had eyes for Harrison. The way you took Chester by the hand when you exited. That impressed me. I knew you were embarrassed, but you didn’t abandon him. You protected him. You’re a loyal person; I could tell that right away. You’re strong. But you’re vulnerable to others, which I like as well. You’re a real person.”

I let the blush of the scented tropical night cover my silence. But there it lay between the two of us, waiting to be revealed. Waiting to be named.

I let it lie.

“So how did you go from a private boarding school in Switzerland to a public school in San Francisco?”

“My father grew up in San Francisco, so that’s his home. He had…a massive stroke that left him completely disabled. Alive only in the most basic sense of the word. He’s in a home where my grandmother and aunt can visit regularly. My mother spends most of her time with him, and I came back to help her.”

“Wow, that’s really sad. I’m sorry.”

“It’s my life, so I prefer not to think of it as sad.”

“Okay. I didn’t mean…”

“Americans have unreal expectations about life from watching too much TV. They think they’re owed happiness, and that’s not the way it is.”

“That’s a pretty dark outlook. And, by the way, aren’t you American?”

“Technically I’m American. But I don’t feel that way. I’ve never really felt it, I suppose because I didn’t grow up here.”

“Don’t you expect any happiness in your future?”

“Expect? No. Hope for it? Yes. But those are two different things. And I also expect a certain degree of unhappiness. Life isn’t fair, you know?”

“Maybe life isn’t. But I think you can live your life in a way that makes it more possible to find happiness. What about the free will you’re so grateful for? Free will is what allows you to determine the course of your life. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Of course. But, Dorothy, sometimes things happen that you can’t influence. All I’m saying is that you should embrace that aspect of life as well. Nobody should expect things will always go their way and then run screaming and crying when things go wrong.”

“And I realize that, but—”

“For instance, tonight. We’re both out here in violation of rules that have been set down for us. We both wanted something badly enough to accept the fact that there may be negative repercussions for us. So we’re using our free will to determine the course of our lives. But there may be negative consequences as a result. If we were characters in a book, or a movie or TV show, everything would work out perfectly and we’d live happily ever after.”

“And how do you know we won’t?”

He smiled and put his arm around me and pulled me close to him, his nose against the top of my head. I hoped I didn’t smell as sweaty as I felt. I hoped some of the scent of my lavender shampoo still lingered.

“I
don’t
know, that’s just it,” he said, releasing me from his embrace. “But whatever happens, I’ll treasure this time. For now I should get you back to your hotel.”

“We have to finish set one,” I said. “We can do it here, c’mon.”

I sat on one of the pool lounge chairs and pulled him down next to me. He glanced at the now very crumpled paper.

“Question twelve. ‘If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?’ You go first.”

“I’d like to be able to be invisible or to read people’s minds.”

At that point I was thinking I’d like to read Arash’s mind.

“This isn’t about superhero powers. This is about a quality or an ability. Regular human stuff.”

“Regular humans are so boring. Okay…regular human stuff. I guess I’d like to be able to play a musical instrument really well.”

“Truly?” Arash looked at me, surprised. “That’s easy enough if that’s what you really want.”

“No way. I have no musical ability at all. I took school band in fourth and fifth grades, but halfway through fifth grade it was clear I had no talent, so my mom let me drop it. Honestly, my band instructor was thrilled when I took the release form for him to sign. I was, like, fifth chair out of five.”

“What instrument did you play?”

“Flute.”

“So maybe that’s not your instrument. What instrument would you
like
to play?”

“Probably piano.”

“Percussion, like me.”

“Piano is percussion?”

“Yes, it is. Percussion is one thing striking another to produce a musical note. A piano uses hammers to strike against the strings. I play piano myself. I could teach you if only we lived closer.”

“I think I’m hopeless.”

“Please don’t say that, Dorothy. Nobody’s hopeless. Anyone who longs for music can learn to play.” He got down on one knee and took one of my hands in his own as if he was going to propose marriage. “Promise me that when you get back home, you’ll sign up for piano lessons.
Promise
me.”

I laughed and looked away.

“Dorothy, promise me or I’ll never rise from this position or release your hand.”

I looked back, and he seemed so sincere, looking up at me with those beautiful, dark eyes, made even bigger by the prism of his glasses.

“Maybe I don’t want you to. Have you ever thought about that?”

“I’ll strip off all my clothes and swim across the ocean until I reach Japan.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing that either.”

“There could be sharks.”

“But there might not be.”

“I most likely would never make it.”

“Okay, okay. I promise I’ll look into piano lessons when I get home.”

“Thank you, Dorothy. Truthfully, kneeling on the cement was very painful. I don’t think I could have stood it a minute longer.”

“And yet you were going to swim across the ocean? Your turn. Quality or ability.”

“I’ll choose a quality since you chose an ability. I’d have to say that I’d like to possess the quality of empathy. Or at least an expanded version of what I currently possess. My school counselor who’s also my chaperone on this trip seems to have unlimited empathy. She’s helped me through a lot this past year, and I know I’m not the only person who feels that way. She listens to problems all day long and never once gives the impression that it’s a nuisance or a distraction from her work. I owe her a great deal, and I wish I could be more like that. I strive to be. I’m learning to be a better listener.”

“Is this the hot one? Mrs. Coburn?”

How did I manage to turn this poignant confession into a jealous tantrum? Maybe I needed to strive for more empathy too.

“Yes, Dorothy my dear. But she’s not hot. Like I said, she’s attractive for an older woman. There’s a difference.
You’re
hot.”

I blushed furiously.

“I guess empathy is a quality everyone should strive for,” I said stupidly.

“Without it, you’re a sociopath.”

“Well at least we know Mrs. Coburn is not a sociopath.”

“You know what, Dorothy?” Arash went on, mercifully ignoring my last comment. “I would like to change my answer. Is that okay with you?”

“Well, there is the no-do-over rule, isn’t there?”

“Even if there is, we’re making the rules tonight. Remember, this is
our
adventure. Nobody else’s.”

“So what’s your new answer?”

“The quality I wish I had…would be to
expect
good things to happen. Not just to hope for them. I think that would be nice, Dorothy. I think it would make all the difference in the world.”

“And what if something bad happened when you were expecting good things?”

“Then I’d accept it and move on, expecting the next thing would be good.”

“Optimist versus pessimist?”

“I suppose that’s a good way of condensing it. I think you’re an optimist.”

“Are you a pessimist?”

“Maybe I am. I hope not. I never wanted to think of myself that way, but maybe I am.”

“Arash, the way you think so highly of Mrs. Coburn, does it bother you…I mean, does it worry you that you might be letting her down right now by sneaking out while she has responsibility for you?”

“I don’t think so. But I hadn’t really thought of it until you mentioned it right now. And you? Are you worried that if your father knew what you were doing, he’d be
disappointed
in you?”

“Oh, I
know
he’d be disappointed.”

“And that doesn’t concern you?”

“Not really. Because I know he won’t find out.”

“So it’s just a matter of what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him?”

“No. I know there’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing. If I was doing something bad, then it would be different. Sometimes my parents think something’s wrong for me, but I know
they’re
the ones who are wrong. And this is one of those times.”

“Fair enough, then. But I still feel I should take you back to your hotel.”

I stared straight ahead at the pool that was now empty. We were the only ones sitting on the pool deck. The music had stopped, so I could hear the drumbeat of the surf behind us. I hadn’t gone to the beach with Arash yet. How had we not done that?

“Dorothy?”

“Yes.”

“There’s an elephant in this room, and we need to do something about him.”

“We’re not in a room and I don’t see an elephant.”

“The proverbial elephant. The proverbial room.”

“What are you saying, Arash?”

“Are either of us going back to our hotels tonight, or are we going to wait until the last possible minute just before everyone wakes up? If we’re not going back, let’s make that decision now so we can enjoy what time we have together. If we’re going back, then let’s do it and get it over with. Your decision, Dorothy.”

“What do
you
want?”

“I think you know what I want.” He placed his hand over mine. “But I want your decision to be completely independent of mine.”

“I want to stay with you.” I squeezed his hand. “I want to finish our adventure. I want to answer the questions.”

***

Suddenly everything changed. We’d made a commitment to each other, a big commitment. I didn’t know where it would lead, but I was giddy. I felt both brave and scared. I felt more grown-up than I’d ever felt before, but at the same time I felt like a naughty little girl.

“In for a penny, in for a pound,”
Arash had said earlier. We were in for a pound. And if my father found out, or Arash’s chaperone, well, then we were in for about a hundred pounds. A thousand maybe.

“We finished set one,” I announced triumphantly. “What do we get? A prize?”

Arash furrowed his brow and looked down at the clipping. “More
difficult
questions,” he announced.

“
More
difficult? The ones we answered were supposed to be easy?”

“I’m afraid so. Think you’re up to the challenge?”

“What do
you
think? Of course I am. Let me see that.”

I held out my hand for the article, our treasure map, the questions we were relying on to guide us through the night. But just at that moment, a breeze sneaked up from behind, flirting with the hem of my dress, toying with my hair, distracting us while it made its move for the thirty-six questions of love. The paper flew from Arash’s hand, or was it mine? It fluttered like a hummingbird just beyond the reach of our grasping hands until the impish wind, tiring of its game, deposited the questions rudely in the middle of the pool. Exactly in the same spot where the bubble goddess had performed only minutes earlier.

“Oh no!” I cried out to match the
O
Arash’s mouth had silently formed.

It all happened so quickly.

“No problem,” Arash said. “We can handle this.”

“We can?”

“Hold this, please.” He unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. I was treated once again to a view of his percussionist’s upper body. I took the shirt and draped it across my arm.

“And this.”

He removed his shorts, folded them once, and passed them to me. In his boxer briefs he looked kind of awesome. His thighs were as muscular as his arms. Probably all that skiing in Switzerland growing up. He stepped out of his sandals.

“And this.”

He took off his glasses and carefully placed them in my hand.