~ KAILA ~
Unable to rise from the decadent duvet beneath me, I’m stretched out on the bed when I hear Fen shut the front door downstairs.
I should stay right here, fully clothed, and fall asleep right now. My body is exhausted, but my brain is on overdrive. So I pull myself off the bed and peruse my surroundings.
The refrigerator downstairs is stocked with the basics, and the freezer has a generous selection of frozen dinners—not the boring kind I buy at home when they’re on sale. They’re the kind emblazoned with words like “organic” and “gourmet” on their labels. I don’t even think we’ve got these brands on the island, and I’m tempted to try one. But on the way here, I had seen a donut shop a block away, and it intrigued me with its long line out the door at this late hour.
Any donut shop with that dedicated of a following is definitely worth a try. So I step outside to retrieve my shoes. Fen told me it’s unnecessary to take my shoes off before entering, I’m Hawaiian and that’s what we do.
I head toward Anders Street, the road that Fen’s dad said is pretty much this town’s main street and has anything I’d need. He wasn’t kidding. I venture into a place called Henderson’s Five-and-Dime, searching for a hairbrush since I seem to have forgotten mine. The place has everything from birdseed and tampons to taffy-by-the-yard and collectible plates.
And condoms, I can’t help noticing as I walk down the wrong aisle. Not that I’ll be needing those.
Because really, I won’t.
But I won’t deny I’m tempted to grab some, just in case. After spending seventeen hours next to Fen traveling, I haven’t even gotten tired of his company. For a guy who actually boasts that he’s shallow and lacking any kind of introspection, I find him to be a hell of an engaging conversationalist. When he’s not asleep, anyway.
I pick up my pace, passing the condoms and lube and take my new brush to the cashier.
A little further down the road, I see a boutique pet store and my eyes widen at the price on the homemade frosted dog treats displayed in the window. I thought things were supposed to be cheaper here on the mainland. But apparently Sally Sweet’s Pet Boutique didn’t get that memo.
Inhaling deeply, the air is scented with a mix of corn, freshly mowed grass, and something else I can’t quite identify. There’s that lack of saltiness in the air here that’s taken my lungs by surprise, and I relish the change. It gives me a surge of energy before I find Pop’s Donuts just a couple doors further down the road.
The place is packed, and I feel awkward as I stand in line, as if everyone knows I’m not from here.
“Happy Monday to you,” a silver-haired man greets me when I’m at the head of the line.
I laugh a little, taken aback by the greeting and the friendly demeanor. This guy reeks of the spirit of aloha and yet looks like he’s never worn a lei in his life. “Happy Monday to you, too. What’s your best donut?”
He pulls his chin toward his chest in mock offense. “My best? You must not be from around here. They’re all my best.” A chuckle escapes him. “What do you like, chocolate, vanilla bean, coffee? We’ve even got cherry and pineapple.”
“I’m from Hawai‘i, so I’ve had my fill of pineapple. What’s the most Midwestern thing you’ve got?”
“Oh, that would be our buckeye donuts. First one’s on the house since you’re from out of town,” he says, reaching for one and putting it in a bag. “You must be Kaila then.”
My eyes widen. “How do you know that?”
“Heard it from Thomas at the hardware shop across the street. He heard it from Sally who owns the pet store and she heard it from Allie. She’s Logan Sheridan’s wife.”
“Word sure gets around here.”
“Small town. Big mouths.” He laughs heartily again. “Heard you came with Fen. What a kid he was, growing up. He worked here for a year when he was in high school, you know.”
“Really?” I can’t help the image I’m drawing up in my mind. Fen as a kid—a high school heartbreaker, I’d wager, with cheerleaders lining up to date him.
“That’s right. Plenty of the Sheridans did. Even the rich ones,” he adds with a wink. “So you and Fen getting hitched?”
“Nuh-no,” I sputter my reply. “We’re just friends. We have a meeting with his cousins about something.”
He nods. “The helicopter nonprofit. I know about that, too.”
I smile. “Is there anything you don’t know, Pops?”
“I don’t know why Fen wouldn’t want to settle down with a girl like you.”
I laugh. “Then you don’t know him as well as you think. He’s definitely not the settling down type.”
He shakes his head, stuffing a napkin into my bag with the donut. “Never would have figured that. I would have bet money he’d be married with a couple kids by now. Fen—he was the most committed kid I’d ever known. Used to close the shop for me, even on school nights, so that he could take the leftover donuts to the assisted living home about a mile away from here.”
“Really?” I take my bag in my hands, not anxious to end this conversation. “Are you sure you’re not thinking of Dodger?”
“Plenty sure. You tell that boy to come by while he’s here. I can put him to work for a few hours for some more free donuts.”
“For these donuts, I’d be willing to work for free, too.” I haven’t even taken my first bite, but I say it with confidence just based on the smells I’m savoring in here.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Nice to meet you, Kaila. Come by again.”
“I will.”
The door jingles behind me when I leave, holding my bag in my grip.
I walk about five blocks out of my way to a gas station I spotted on the way here. It’s worth the extra steps to get a selfie in front of it—gas prices this low simply need to be shared with my ‘ohana back home. Then I head back to the townhouse.
When I step through the door, I pause for a moment and just savor the silence. Back home, I rent a room in the basement of a house. The family is nice, but they’ve got three teens, and that brings a special brand of chaos along with it.
This townhome’s foyer alone could fit my room back home, even when I include the Pullman-style kitchen that is definitely not up to code or the bathroom with all its questionable odors that I like to call the Ghosts of Renters Past.
I’ve always liked my place back home—it’s cheap and safe and I even get to use their backyard to grow my own dwarf avocado tree. But after seeing this place, I’m not sure I’ll be able to go back.
Upstairs, I strip down and step into a bathtub big enough for a party, eating my donut as I play with the stream of water with my toe while it fills.
I try very, very hard not to picture Fen in here with me.
And I fail miserably.