The dark lava rocks that formed the tall encasement around the Waimanalo Beach appeared treacherous as Laurie and I stood on the edge looking over the side at the famous “Eternity Beach.”
“It looked so different in the movie,” Laurie said wistfully. “So majestic.”
“I imagine it is more majestic when you’re down there on the beach, tucked in by those protective cliffs.”
“How did they ever get the film crew down there fifty years ago? The lighting would have been tricky, don’t you think? And the sound would have been a challenge, too, because of the echo of the waves.”
I studied Laurie. “You are just a little cinema-head, aren’t you?”
“Why do you say that?” Laurie looked at me over the top of her sunglasses.
“Who else would come to a place like this and evaluate lighting and sound?”
“I guess you’re right. So? Do you want to chance it, or should we drive on?”
“Why don’t you go on down,” I said, motioning to the From Here to Eternity beach. “I’ll wait in the car. I wanted to have another look at the tour book, so take your time.”
Laurie tossed me the car keys and reached into the open car for her camera. “I won’t be long.”
I made myself busy organizing the stuff in the trunk and covering my exposed skin with sunscreen. The sun felt intense. We had raided our little refrigerator in the hotel room and brought several bottles of water and juice with us. They were ice cold when we had stuck them in the trunk that morning. Now they were so hot I could have managed to make a respectable cup of tea out of one of them.
Fortunately, Laurie wasn’t gone long, so I didn’t get fried while sitting in the car reading through the tour book and snacking on a bag of trail mix.
“It was much more appealing in the movie,” she said. “I mean, it’s a nice little spot, but those film guys definitely found just the right angle.”
I offered her a bottle of warm water, and we were back on the narrow highway, heading around the perimeter of Oahu.
“The tour book says that one of the beaches we passed a little ways back is good for snorkeling. Are you interested?” I asked.
“Sure. That sounds fun. They probably have a place to rent masks and snorkels, right?”
“Yep. And they even have public rest rooms.”
Laurie flashed me a wry grin. “Then we definitely should stop, right?”
I nodded. “One bottle of water, and I’m a goner.”
The parking was a challenge on this busy Sunday afternoon, as was the hike down to the ocean. We were rewarded with pristine waters, a sandy beach, and a grove of graceful palm trees—every amenity the tour book had promised. Laurie and I found the rest rooms and changed into our bathing suits.
Clambering toward the water with all our gear, we agreed on a nice, open spot in the hot sand and settled in like two birds feathering their spring nest. Laurie got a call from Gabe, so I moseyed over to the rental shack to see about acquiring two masks and snorkels.
“Ready?” I asked Laurie, holding up the masks and snorkels.
“Ready for what?”
“Ready to jump in the water and spy on the fish.”
By the scowl on Laurie’s face, I could tell she already had jumped. But it was into a deep blue funk instead of the deep blue sea.
“You’ve been thinking about the move, haven’t you?”
“How could you tell?”
“Your Southern accent is gone. I’m guessing you’re not playing the role of Scarlett anymore.”
“Not when I get a call like that.”
“What did Gabe say?”
“He’s really excited about the house. He’s already asked an architect friend of ours to draw up plans for a new studio.”
“Did you tell him how you’re feeling about the move?”
“I mostly listened to him, but then I told him some of the reasons I’m hesitant.”
“What did he say?”
“He said a lot of things, including how he would walk away from the whole deal if I don’t have peace about it.”
“I knew I always liked that guy.”
“But Hope, don’t you see the pressure that puts on me? It’s all up to me to make the decision now. As far as he’s concerned, it’s all green lights.”
I pulled a bottle of extremely warm water from my beach bag and sipped it slowly, contemplating Laurie’s dilemma.
“You know what I think?” I said after a minute.
“What?”
“I think you should put on this mask and snorkel and go out there and soak your head.”
Laurie didn’t laugh the way I’d hoped she would.
“I’m serious, Laurie. Go for a swim. Wash this stuff right outa your hair. Get your mind off it. Pray about it. Relax. Enjoy the day.”
“Go soak my head, huh?”
“I meant that in the nicest, sweetest way, you understand.”
“Of course.” I saw the hint of a grin as she reached for the mask and snorkel.
Turning to an older couple settled on the beach a few feet from our towels, I said, “Would you mind keeping an eye on our stuff while we’re in the water?”
“Sure. No worries. You can bring us back some sushi.”
“That sounds like a great idea for dinner,” Laurie said.
I gave her a long glare to see if she was joking. She wasn’t.
“What? You’re not a sushi fan yet?”
“No.”
“Well, now I have a challenge before me.”
“No you don’t,” I said. “I’m not going to try sushi on this trip.”
“Try sushi? You mean you’ve never tried it?”
We were at the water now, ankle deep, swishing out our masks and adjusting the straps.
“No, I have never tried sushi, and I think it would be just fine with me if I never did.” Then, to further make my point, I added, “On such a perfect afternoon as this, when we are about to pay a friendly visit to the fish in this bay, I’d prefer we didn’t talk about eating them. Raw.”
“Hope?”
“What?”
“Go soak your head.” Laurie grinned. “I mean that in the sweetest way possible, of course.”
“Of course.”
What I didn’t expect when I eased into the warm water and soaked my head was that I was about to be introduced to an entire world of spectacular fish. The variety, shapes, and colors astounded me. Dozens and dozens of amazing little creatures darted about the coral, seemingly unbothered by our intrusion in their watery ecosystem.
Laurie tapped me on the leg. We surfaced and removed our snorkels.
“This is amazing!” she said. “Did you see those bright yellow ones with the tall fin and the black stripes?”
“They’re beautiful! All I can hope is that they didn’t hear you talking about you-know-what before we got in the water.”
Laurie laughed, and we went back under.
The gentle rhythm of the tide in this large lagoon rocked me as I easily floated along. I was captured, drawn into this liquid fairyland where fronds of green seaweed rose in forestlike clumps and swayed back and forth to music my mortal ear couldn’t hear.
In and out of the dancing forest, the eager fish swam. My favorites were the schools of iridescent silver and blue fish that were about the size of a large safety pin, only more narrow and sleek. They zipped to and fro as a group. Each time they banked to the right or left, my eye caught a glimmer of the luminous rainbow colors hidden in their silvery scales.
A young girl came up beside us in our gigantic aquarium and released a handful of green peas into the water. From every direction the fish came toward her, gobbling the peas in one bite.
I let out a squeal through the snorkel. The girl released another handful, and the fish rushed toward her again.
“Did you see that?” I asked, as Laurie and I simultaneously surfaced.
She said something unintelligible because she hadn’t taken the snorkel out of her mouth. She laughed, took it out, and repeated, “Feeding frenzy! Did you see how they came from all directions? And for green peas, too. My kids never came running for peas.”
“You didn’t have boys,” I said. “All I have to do is say food, and they come storming in, just like those fish.”
“Do you miss them?” Laurie asked, as we treaded water.
“A little.”
“I miss mine a little, too.”
We looked at each other, looked at the shore where the elderly couple sat watching our gear, and looked at the water as if we had choreographed the move.
“But I don’t wish they were here,” Laurie said.
“Me, neither.”
“This would be a different trip with husbands or children.”
“Definitely.”
“I like it just the way it is.”
“Me, too. A little head soaking is good for the soul.”
Laurie laughed before saying one simple word, “More.” With that, we went back under into the alternate universe of motion and color and calm.
For a long time, Laurie and I paddled side by side just below the surface of the water, taking steady breaths in and out of our snorkels on our journey into the submerged universe of tiny miracles. My dearest objective was to get one of the little fish to come to me, but every tactic I tried with my outstretched hand failed. If we went snorkeling again, I’d definitely bring some peas.
The sun on my back felt hot. Too hot. I knew it would be wise to go back and apply more sunscreen on my pale skin. But I didn’t want to ever leave this other world. I didn’t want the gentle, rocking sensation that was soothing something deep within me to cease. I was sure Laurie was experiencing the same comfort.
As we stretched out across the saltwater sky of this sequestered universe, I told God I thought He was amazing. From His imagination came all this intriguing variety. Such color and graceful movement. Such exotic terrain.
You spoke and all this came to be.
When we finally floated our way to shore, we couldn’t stop effusing about the world we had just peeked into. The older couple beside us seemed entertained by our descriptions.
“Where’s our sushi, then?” the man teased.
“They were too small,” Laurie said.
“No, they were too amazing,” I said. “If you go out there and meet them face-to-face, you’ll see what I’m talking about. You could never find it in your being to eat one of those little creatures.”
“What do you think, Rosie?” the man asked his wife.
“Should we rent some of those masks and visit the fish?”
“Why not?”
“Here.” Laurie held out her mask. “You can borrow ours. I’m sure they have a way of sanitizing the snorkels at the rental shack.”
“Oh, I don’t think I could manage that gizmo,” the woman said. “I’ll just try the goggles.”
As the white-haired couple tottered to the water, I patted my face and arms dry and lowered my dripping body onto my towel. I couldn’t stop talking about the fish.
“I loved the ones that were about the size of my hand.”
“Which ones?” Laurie asked.
“The really bright ones that looked like they were painted by a group of Brownies who were trying to outdo each other for their fun-with-color merit badge.”
“Hope.”
“What? What are you smiling about?”
“You, Hope. You are so full of life. Everything is amazing to you. I love it. I love being around you.”
“The feeling is mutual, you know.”