Ray visited his brother more often after his death than he had for a decade. On Saturdays, he’d pick up a bouquet along with a week’s groceries and after lunch, carry it on the five-mile run that took him past the cemetery. He’d kneel before the grave, clear away last week’s flowers, pinch weeds slithering up the headstone. The fresh engraving was almost sharp to the touch. Simon Fisher, beloved husband. Ray hadn’t seen anyone else here since the funeral—not even her. The adjacent plot waited, a his and hers package Simon had talked about a few Christmases back. The next one over was reserved. Even in death, he’d have her.
Not that Simon had known. They’d both promised never to tell him. What good would it had done, him knowing? If it had ruined the wedding, Ray would’ve taken the blame, and telling him after was too late. He’d thought about revealing it during one of those holidays when he’d drag himself through their front door, when Simon would take him aside and say you look lonely, isn’t there anyone?
Ray knelt in the graveyard in a whisper of late summer rain that evaporated as it touched the ground. He’d snapped and called her during the night, left a rambling voicemail. At first light he’d put on his running shoes. His feet had brought him here, and shame, and guilt. He flattened his palm against the granite headstone.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
He stopped in a diner to wait, leaving the phone on the counter while he drank burned coffee. She didn’t call or text.
I’m going to die if I stay here, he thought.
Hawai’i, then. They used to say they’d go.
A pretty girl with brown, wavy hair slipped a delicate string of spotted seashells around his neck as he deplaned in Maui.
“Aloha,” she said.
In his embarrassment, Ray nodded, the shells swinging over a wrinkled dress shirt. Her smile didn’t change as she looked at the next person off of the plane and offered the same greeting. He hurried away from the production line toward the terminal.
The hop from Oahu had been short, but his back was stiff after the four-hour flight from the mainland, and now he had to bother with baggage claim and a rental car. It took an hour between the shuttle and signing, but once he was on the road, window down and hot wind blowing through the car, the tension he wore like a shell cracked. This was absurd—the sudden trip, his work clothes. He’d grabbed the spare toothbrush from his office but not his laptop. Jo probably thought Ray was crazy for walking out during the meeting, getting a cab for the airport. No luggage, just his briefcase. He’d buy what he needed at the hotel.
Jo’s ringtone played inside his bag, but rather than answer, Ray did something he hadn’t in a long time. He laughed. The wind off of the Pacific was fresh, warm and fragrant. He loosened his tie and turned onto the road that took him along the southern coast of the island. Though his assistant had emailed the name of a hotel and directions, Ray navigated by road signs. The island was green. The only thing that color in his apartment was food labels.
He turned the car over to a valet and strode into a stone-lined hotel lobby. Not what he’d expected. No flowers. He gave his name and a pleasantly bored man with a name tag that said ‘Nicolas’ tapped on a computer for a while, then gave him a room key.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call the front desk,” he said with the same smile as the girl at the airport.
“Does the hotel have a gift shop?”
Nicolas sketched directions to a nearby shopping center, ten minutes away by foot.
“Restaurant?” Ray asked and Nicolas motioned across the lobby.
“It serves all day.”
Ray thanked him and took a seat on the patio. He ordered a Manhattan before exchanging it for pineapple and rum. The combination was too sweet but better than something familiar, and the juice was fresh. He charged the drink to his room and asked for a menu. It had been years since he’d had a decent burger. No matter what anyone said, turkey wasn’t the same. He asked for it medium and glanced as his phone. An email from Jo: Take the month. Don’t come back before the sixth. He didn’t write back.
He was the only one on the patio. The food came out quickly, arranged like a sculpture on a square plate. He left behind a fringe of bitter lettuce and a hefty tip.
It took eight minutes to reach the shopping center. He bought a pair of linen shorts and swim trunks, two patterned shirts, and leather sandals. As the cashier totaled his purchase, he added a pair of wood-frame sunglasses and $19 sunblock. Back at the hotel, he got lost twice finding his building and changed into lighter clothes. He set his suit out for dry cleaning and walked off of the lanai across the hotel property to the ocean. Nearer the water, the winds were strong enough to knock him over. Umbrellas were lashed closed. He held his sandals in one hand and waded in to his calves. A smaller island loomed in the distance.
“The trade winds,” said an employee in a brightly printed shirt. “They’re always strong this time of the year. Can I bring you a cocktail, sir?”
“Rum and pineapple.”
Ray sat on the sand to drink it. The waves rolled in and out, in and out.
For breakfast, he ordered room service on the lanai. Other guests strolled past but his eyes didn’t track them. He watched the world like a watercolor, slightly out of focus. Sometimes a couple walked past holding hands. He drank black coffee with one of his, the other dangling a piece of sweet bread.
After eating he took a walk, going past the shopping village, past other resorts like his. After a while they all looked the same and the beaches spread in front of them looked the same. He kept a steady pace but his mind was in a graveyard. No amount of fresh air could clear it. Even behind his sunglasses, his eyes watered from the wind.
He walked for over an hour and ended up in Lahaina, according to the signs. He followed a family to an enormous banyan tree that spanned an acre park and dripped with moss. It reminded him of the American south, like something he’d see in Savannah. Standing under the branches sent a strange feeling through him that settled in his stomach like greasy food.
A couple of blocks inland he found cafes and picked one for lunch, sitting outside at a two-top with a beer and a fish sandwich. He sent a photo to Jo. She sent back a middle finger. Ray ignored the dessert menu the server presented and paid with a credit card. He tipped cash and browsed art galleries as his food settled. He side-stepped a man smoking outside of a glass blower’s studio. The man smiled with the corner of his mouth. Ray nodded and went inside. He ordered a blue flower vase to be shipped back to the mainland for his step-mother’s birthday. It had been so long since he’d visited, he had to look up the address. He wasn’t even sure the vase would match the house.
“Would you like to fill out a gift card?” asked the artist.
“Thank you.”
He wrote, From Ray.
It had warmed a degree by the time he left the shop. The man standing outside had nearly finished his cigarette. Ray looked right and left along the sidewalk.
“You lost?” the man said. He had a deep voice but not rough, and unlike the people Ray had interacted with here so far, sounded genuine. Ray shook his head.
“Just deciding where to go next.”
“When did you get here?”
“Yesterday.”
Ray turned toward him to be polite. The man appeared mid-thirties at the oldest, wearing all black with a yellow silk scarf around his throat and oversized sunglasses. His dark hair was pulled back; a few strands had escaped and curled in the humidity.
“And you?” Ray asked.
“Four years ago.” The man took a drag and blew smoke from between pale lips. “I’m on a day trip.”
“You live nearby?”
“I work in Wailea.”
Ray must have given off a look of confusion because the man pointed toward the water. “It’s that way. I figured that’s where you’d be staying.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Your sandals.”
Ray glanced at his feet. “Is something wrong with them?”
“They probably cost, what, one fifty? You’ve hardly worn them. I’m guessing you bought them for the trip like some people buy a magazine.”
Ray gave the name of his hotel and the man nodded, crushing the cigarette stub into the gravel with the toe of a worn sneaker.
“I used to hook up with a guy who works there. Are you traveling alone?”
“I am.”
The man watched Ray for a few seconds and pushed off of the wall. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”
Ray hesitated and the man shook his head.
“Sorry—this is coming out of nowhere. You probably think I’m a creep, right? The thing is I got dumped. Walked in on the guy I’d been seeing . . . anyway, I don’t really feel like being by myself, you know? I was waiting for a friend to finish up work but he’s taking forever.”
The man nodded to the artist inside the shop. His hands jittered around the package of cigarettes as he pulled out another. Ray gently took the lighter from his hands before he dropped it, and lit the cigarette.
“Thanks,” the man said and took a fresh drag.
“How long ago?”
“How long what?”
“That you found him cheating.”
“This morning. Today’s my birthday, can you believe it? What an asshole. Who does something like that? I couldn’t stand being in the apartment so I got on a bus. I’m supposed to work tonight but I was thinking of calling out.” He laughed around the trembling cigarette. “Want to celebrate my birthday?”
Ray shrugged. “I’m thirsty. What’s good around here?”
The man stared at him for a few seconds. Leaving the cigarette in his mouth, he shouted into the store that he was leaving. Ray followed him for a block and a half to a dimly lit bar with a cracked tile floor. Rope lights ran the outline of the overhang. The paneled walls reminded him of the kind of places where he and Jo went drinking back in college. They grabbed the last two open bar stools. The bartender looked at them and raised an eyebrow. Ray took out his wallet and ordered a whiskey. The man did the same and unwound the yellow scarf from around his neck. Even in the low light, Ray could see bruises. He hid a cough in his fist.
The man laughed. “It’s not what you think. That was consensual. I’m Thorn. And before you ask, yes, that’s my actual name. I can show you my driver’s license.”
“Raymond Fisher. Ray.”
Thorn touched their glasses together. “What brings you to Maui, Ray?”
“Overdue vacation.”
“Ah, a workaholic. I meet a lot of your type. What do you do?”
“I used to be a writer.”
“What now?”
“Accountant.”
Thorn nodded. “I used to keep books for my old man.”
“What line of work are you in?”
“Bartending. Out here the money’s good. Smile right, treat ‘em nicely, most people take care of you. Everyone’s in a good mood on vacation, and if they’re not, they are once I’m done with them.” Thorn winked and took another drink. The corner of his mouth was raised, but the smile stopped on his lips. “I should burn his clothes.”
Ray had no decent advice to offer, but being at least a decade older, he felt obligated to say something. “I’m sure he’s not worth your time.”
“I should’ve known he’d do this. He was kinda seeing someone else when we met.”
Ray kept his head bent over the bar. The surface felt tacky, like it had only been cleaned with water. He spun the whiskey around and around between his hands. “Relationships are hard.”
“You in one?”
Ray shook his head.
“But you were,” Thorn said, pointing with a ringer raised from his glass. “I can see it in your eyes. What happened?”
“She married my brother.”
“Oh, shit. You need another.” Thorn drained his first glass and signaled the bartender for a second round. “Is that why you flew out?”
Ray frowned. “No, that was a long time ago. My brother recently died.”
“Sorry for your loss.”
“We weren’t on good terms. I never really forgave them after . . . It wasn’t like your situation. She and I were done. It’s just that there are some people who should be off limits. That’s what I believed at the time, anyway. The thing is, they were a good fit. She was happier with him.”
“Why don’t you pursue her now?”
“I thought about it. She and I used to talk about coming here.”
“But you came alone.”
Ray nodded and finished his first glass as the bartender slid him a replacement. “I’ve been drinking rum since yesterday.”
“Would you rather have rum?” Thorn said.
“Not necessarily.”
Laughing, Thorn smiled. “What are you doing this afternoon?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t taken a day off in so long, I forget how I used to spend them. I might read by the pool.”
“I haven’t been to your hotel in a while.”
The bar’s air conditioning kicked on. Ray shivered. “What’s the best way back?”
“Car. Or did you walk here?”
“I didn’t mean to walk so far.”
“There’s a bus, though I don’t mind the walk.”
Ray took a sip from his second drink. “Does that mean you’re coming with me?”
Thorn shrugged. “It’s that or arson.”
The walk back was slower in pace but seemed to pass faster with someone walking next to him. Most of the time they didn’t talk, though Thorn pointed out places he’d worked or where a friend worked. He had ex-lovers sprinkled along the waterfront.
“How many people have you dated in four years?” Ray asked.
“It’s not really dating. More like trial runs. I don’t want to waste my time on something that’s not going to work out.”
They stopped by Ray’s room to change and Thorn sat on the lanai to smoke. “A weekend here probably equals my rent for the month,” he called through the sliding glass door. “You should’ve gotten an AirBNB.”
“My assistant booked the room,” Ray said from the bathroom. He removed the tags from the new swimsuit and put it on.
“Aren’t you worried about me stealing your shit while you’re in there?”
“You wouldn’t get much. I’d freeze my credit cards.” Ray shut off the bathroom lights and pocketed his wallet. “Will they have towels at the pool or do I need to bring a couple?”
“They’ll have them.”
Thorn looked out of place in all black, like he was headed for a funeral.
“Are you sure you’re fine dressed like that?” Ray said.
Thorn smiled around a cigarette. “Why, you want to buy me board shorts for my birthday?” He tapped ashes on the ground. “If you get any nicer, I’ll assume you’re up to something.”
Ray went out through the slider and took a breath of warm air.
“You can’t lock it if we go out this way,” Thorn said.
“Like I said, there’s nothing to steal.”
“What about your suitcase?”
“I didn’t pack one. I guess they could take my briefcase, but it’s empty.”
Behind his sunglasses, Thorn’s eyes narrowed and his forehead creased in confusion. “What did you come here for?” he said.
“I don’t know.”
Ray shut the sliding door and strode across the lawn. The smell of cigarettes told him that Thorn was following.
They found two empty lounge chairs beside the pool, next to a faux rock landscaped to look like had burst from the island. When Ray came back with towels, Thorn had already stripped down to his shorts and had his feet in the blue water. His back was tan and he’d pulled his hair back with the scarf. A flock of birds were inked in permanent flight from the base of his neck to his right shoulder. Ray stretched out on a lounge chair and watched them, and closed his eyes. He thought about the wind, the faint music in the background, the sound of water. Birds. Eventually Thorn climbed onto the adjacent chair. When Ray glanced at him, he thought he was asleep until his lips curved.
“Do I look like her or something?” Thorn said.
“Nothing like.”
“Why are you so stuck on her, anyway?”
Ray looked at the sky. He wasn’t sure he’d ever put it into words. “She saw me. I always felt like most people didn’t.”
“How’d she end up with your brother?”
“They had a class together. After she and I called it off, they started dating. Simon and I didn’t look much alike, and I’d never introduced her. This was long before social media. Anyway, by the time she and I realized, they were already serious. We agreed not to tell him.”
“So your brother never know?”
Ray shook his head. “I wasn’t sure how he’d react. And, to be honest, I was hoping it wouldn’t work out between them, that she’d . . . eventually so many years passed, I didn’t know how to bring it up.”
“Well, I don’t have any trouble seeing you.”
Uncertain how to respond, Ray opened the thriller he’d bought at the Seattle-Tacoma airport. He finished it while Thorn slept.
Their faces and shoulders were sunburned when they retired to the pool bar for dinner.
“Thanks for today,” Thorn said. With his sunglasses off, Ray could see the dark circles beneath his eyes.
“How are you getting home?” he asked.
“I’ll walk back to Whaler’s Cove and catch a bus.”
“In that case, I’ll drive you.”
“If you have a car, why’d you go on foot earlier?”
“To clear my head.”
Thorn smiled. “You should hire me to be your tour guide while you’re here. I know all the good spots.”
“What’s your going rate?”
“Dessert.”
“It’s your birthday. We’d get that anyway.”
“What if I lied and my birthday’s really in February?”
Ray shook his head. “You said it’s your birthday, so it is. Which dessert do you want?”
They split two kinds of sponge cake and walked along the water, stained red by the fading sun. A gust of wind off the ocean whipped the scarf from Thorn’s head. It flapped away down the beach, but rather than run after it, he stretched his arms overhead and yawned.
“Wasn’t really my color,” he said, black hair scattering across his face.
In Ray’s pocket, his phone started to ring. He recognized the tone, one he hadn’t imagined he’d hear again. Simon was the only one who’d ever called from the landline. What would he say if he picked up, tell her where he was? Would she remember the significance? Did it matter?
Thorn had waded into the water and stood silhouetted against the sunset. “What’s the matter, Raymond Fisher?” he called, laughing. “Aren’t you gonna answer that?”
Notes: This story was inspired by two pieces of media. In both, a man watched the person he loved marry his sibling. Ray took a while to introduce himself to me and first appeared in this story, but Thorn crashed into my head fully formed.
Location details are from my hazy memories of a windy wedding when I was in college, updated with thanks to YouTube and various travel websites.
A slightly edited version of this story appears in press volume one.
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