He nods, but his nostrils are flaring and he’s still staring at his phone. I already know what he’s thinking. I can see it in his face.
Don’t do this to your mom, I think. Beth has been so eager to see him, to have this time with him.
“I could just fly back for the day,” he suggests. “I’d be back the next night.”
“But you’ve already missed half the trip,” says Beth. “You would miss out on backpacking.”
He laughs. “Sorry, Mom, but I wouldn’t consider missing backpacking a big sacrifice.”
His glance toward me is pleading. He wants me to back him up and I just won’t do it.
“Going to LA would be a lot of effort for something you can accomplish by Zoom,” I say, a trifle coolly. “I promise you’ll still be quoted.”
He nods, discontent with my answer, and I have a feeling this isn’t over.
Josh turns down a long road, passing a golf course, and we arrive at the St. Regis. Six calls Brian the second we’re out of the car, arguing volubly, while I follow the Baileys inside.
The hotel isn’t open-air the way the last two were, but it has the most magnificent view of all through the floor-to-ceiling windows along its back half: a coastline of green cliffs jutting out toward the deep blue sea. In all my travels, I’ve never seen anything like it.
I don’t have to turn to know it’s Josh standing beside me a moment later. “Every time we arrive at a hotel, I think it can’t be topped,” I say quietly.
He glances at me with something affectionate in his gaze, a way I’ve never seen him look at anyone else. “You’re thinking of living off the land again, aren’t you?”
I laugh. “I’m gonna see how backpacking goes before I commit.”
He bites his lip. “Thanks for stepping in back there,” he says. “In the car. My mom will be devastated if Joel leaves.”
“I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he leaves,” I reply. “Probably not the kind of thing I should say aloud but my mom is good at her job. She’ll make you look like an unreliable witness.”
Beth approaches, waving keys. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she asks.
“It’s breathtaking,” I tell her. “Thank you so much for doing all this. You’ve picked out the most amazing hotels and I’m so glad I got to see it all.”
She smiles and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m so glad you came. You have no idea how happy it makes me to have you here. Just wait ‘til you see the views tomorrow.”
Josh raises a brow at her. “That reminds me. We’re going to check out the trail, aren’t we?”
He gives me a grin over her head as she sighs loudly and starts toward the front doors. He’s a good son. A good man. If his brother was just a little more like him, I might be able to make this work.
24
JOSH
My mother is almost impossible to irritate, and yet I’ve managed.
She doesn’t want to look at the trail. She doesn’t want to face her limitations. Clinging blindly to bad plans has worked for her thus far, if anyone would consider her marriage working. I’ve allowed her to do it. I’ve lived with her shitty choices and I’ve done what I can to keep her happy in spite of them.
But this is different. I read about this hike on the plane. Even if she isn’t doing the dangerous part, it will still be steep and slippery, and while I want this trip to be everything she dreamed of, I can’t let her get badly injured in a reckless last bid to see the world.
We arrive at the parking lot, and she’s tired simply from the quarter-mile walk to the start of the trail. She marches forward anyway, into the dense woods, reminding me a little of stubborn Drew on our first hike.
I laugh quietly at the memory of her that day, so tired and thirsty because she refused to bring water.
My mother looks at me over her shoulder and her expression softens. She’s unable to stay mad at me or Joel for long, which is a big part of the problem. If she’d ever been able to stay mad at my brother, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out to be such an asshole. “What’s funny?” she asks, with a hint of a smile. “I know you’re not already laughing at me.”
“I was thinking about Drew, the day we hiked Pillboxes,” I tell her. I’m still grinning. “She’s so goddamn stubborn she wouldn’t admit she was exhausted. She wouldn’t even admit she needed water. All I had to do was tell her not to jump off one of the bunkers and she’d have done a swan dive just to prove me wrong.”
My mother laughs. Already, not five minutes into this hike, her breath is labored. “I really love that girl,” she says. “I hope your brother doesn’t mess things up.”
My chest is tight. My mother is too blind to Joel’s faults to see just how terrible he is for Drew. “I suspect he already has.”
My mother waves a dismissive hand. “They’ll still end up together,” she says. “Mark my words. She’s good for him.”
But he isn’t good for her. I think of her in Lanai yesterday, saying I’m not looking for that when I suggested she should be able to lean on someone. Whatever happened to her growing up, being with him will only continue the cycle, and I want it to stop.
My mother continues to plow forward, though the path is muddy and it’s going to be a beast to come back down, part of what makes this hike so treacherous.
Her pace is slowing. We have to step off the trail to let other people pass us. I can see in her eyes that she’s mostly given up. I hate it, though it’s for the best.
“I know it’s hard,” she says, “and I know you’re very different people, but please make an effort with your brother. He’s going to need you when I’m not here.”
I close my eyes in frustration. He’s the last person I want to help, he’s the last person I want to support, but there is so little I can do for my mom, other than this. Other than being civil to my father when he doesn’t even try to hide that he’s cheating, or being pleasant to my brother when I want to punch him in the face. “I know, Mom,” I tell her. “I’m doing my best.”
We make it to the first lookout point. From here, there’s a clear view of the cliffs stretching out for miles and miles, the waves crashing hundreds of feet below us. My mom looks at it and swallows. Her eyes fill with tears.
I wrap my arm around her. I knew the day I arrived in Honolulu that her cancer had spread. She was frail but also jaundiced, so it’s probably in her liver. She wants us to have this one last trip together without the weight of what’s coming. I’m trying to give it to her.
“It’s a really good view,” she whispers.
I swallow hard. “It is.”
“Let’s get a photo,” she says, brushing away her tears. I hold the camera far enough to get the two of us and the coastline behind us. We both smile.
I hope I can look at this later on and convince myself we were happy.
25
DREW
Six and I sit out on the small beach overlooking Hanalei Bay and the cliffs of the Na Pali coast.
I want to kayak down this little river that winds toward Hanalei, but Six is scared to be away from his phone and more scared of losing it if we go in.