Falling Forward (6 page)

“Hey, um…” she paused, forgetting his name, then looking to me for guidance. “Kalani?” I yelled. We jogged over to Kalani’s van. He stopped and waited for us. “Hey, can we see that woman who doesn’t feel well? If it’s alright, we’d like to talk with her for a moment,” I said authoritatively, putting my proverbial physicians face on. Kalani looked confused. I worried that he thought she was in some kind of legal trouble, so I quickly thought I should clarify myself. “When we hear symptoms like that, we just like to make sure everything is alright.”

Kalani’s thick black eyebrows turned to a serious frown as he was taken aback. “She doesn’t look well. Are you… are you a nurse or a doctor or something?” he asked. I looked at him and nodded as we walked on to his bus. Kalani spoke softly, as if I wasn’t supposed to hear him, but I heard him. “I didn’t think doctors were so beautiful. Well, maybe only the ones on TV.” I blushed.

Although Michelle thrived on them, I hated compliments. They always seemed so shallow and fake; as a means to an end for someone who wants something I wasn’t ever going to provide or allow. Richard never complimented anything, and I was completely okay with that. But this time, for some reason, I believed Kalani’s compliment was genuine, and I honestly appreciated it. I suddenly began to feel guilty for being as content as I was, considering my own personal situation. I was supposed to be emotionally drained and completely miserable. Almost in mourning. After all, my relationship of nearly 17 years had just died. I lost what I thought was my best friend and companion forever. But I wasn’t upset. I felt needed. I was actually energized. And this situation had just caused an adrenaline spike.

I approached the older woman sitting quietly in her seat. She appeared to be sleeping. Her mouth was open and her breath seemed shallow. As I put my hand on here forehead, her companion told me she wasn’t hungry and wanted to wait on the bus.

Kalani attempted to wake her gently. “Miss Carol… Miss Carol… are you OK?” She closed her mouth a bit, but didn’t wake. That was a good sign. “Miss Carol, can you look at me?” She still didn’t respond. Michelle waited towards the front of the bus. I glanced at her and nodded. She got out of the van, pulled out her phone, and called 911.

I turned to Carol’s companion and addressed her, “Hi, my name is Dr. Olivia…” I blanked for a second, remembering I had killed
Dr. Garvin
a few days ago, and that my pretend suicide was an important step in my self-imposed therapy. So I decided to go with plain old Dr. Olivia. I asked Carol’s companion how long she had been sleeping.

She looked very concerned. “I’m not sure. Carol told me she didn’t feel well this morning. She usually has lots of energy, eh. She suddenly kind of got wide-eyed, and sort of fell asleep. It was just before we got here.” I felt for a pulse in her neck, and although I’m not a cardiologist, I guessed she may be in cardiac arrest. Better be safe than sorry. I asked Kalani to help me carry her out of the van. He squeezed into the small seat area, faced her, and managed to pull her out of her seat and over his shoulder. She didn’t budge. Kalani carefully carried her out of the van and through the dirt parking lot. He gently laid her on the ground in an area by the tables with pavement. I asked her companion if she was aware of any heart troubles. “I understand she had some pain. Can you show me where that is?” She said she wasn’t aware of anything, and mentioned they never spoke about medical things. The woman then started crying uncontrollably. I surely didn’t need that, because I was already nervous. I had never needed to perform CPR in the real world, but I knew what I had to do. I immediately began administering CPR to Carol. A huge crowd gathered around, as if they were watching some sort of carnival show.

Moments later, I could hear the siren of an emergency vehicle. Please be an ambulance, I thought to myself. Fortunately, Hawaii didn’t seem to be as back-woods as I had imagined, so this poor woman’s chances were pretty good. Carol was still unconscious. Her companion began bawling inconsolably. 

As I was pushing Carol’s chest down, there was an audible crack. That was normal, as ribs on older patients typically crack when exerting enough pressure to affect pumping of the heart. Carol’s panicked companion heard it too. She hovered over me and began to yell at me. “Do you know what you’re doing, Miss? It looks like you’re killing her!” Michelle grabbed the woman by her shoulders and pulled her backwards as she defended my medical credentials, telling her how many thousands of lives I had saved at home. She finally shut up when Michelle told her we could have ignored this entire situation and Carol’s death would have been entirely her fault because she didn’t know the signs of a heart attack, and she didn’t administer CPR.

An ambulance showed up. I was impressed at their timing. The paramedic asked me a few questions, and then thankfully took over CPR. I was exhausted. After pausing for a few seconds to take her pulse with a stethoscope, they pulled an automatic defibrillator from the back of the ambulance, and pulled up her shirt to attach the pads. Carol’s eyes opened widely as the machine delivered two shocks of varying voltage. After the second shock, we heard her wheeze and could see her chest rise as she attempted to breathe. They quickly pulled her up and put her on a stretcher, and raced off to the hospital, leaving a large cloud of dust and rocks behind them as diners scrambled for cover.

Kalani was in awe as he watched the ambulance pull away. He turned to look at me. His yellow-brown eyes captured me once again. “You just saved that woman’s life. That was impressive,” he said smiling. I nodded, still watching the ambulance ride down the road. “You know, I feel kind of stupid. I would have never guessed she was in some sort of trouble. I’ve taken CPR courses, you know, for drowning and life guard kind of stuff, but I have never had to do it. As a matter of fact, I’ve never even seen it done until now. Nice job, Doc!” He smiled, as he gently patted me on the back.

I took a deep breath as he grabbed my hand and helped me get up off my knees. I brushed the dirt and gravel from my legs, and looked at my hands which were now dirty. I hated dirty hands. “Liv, right? Sounds like
live
. You help people
live
. I like it. Hey, mahalo.” Our eyes met again as that smile lit up my whole world. There was something happening between us. Something magically unfamiliar. Although it’s a metaphor, I could feel my heart skip a beat, and for a brief moment, I was breathless. I had heard of such things happening to other people, and in the movies, but I had never experienced that phenomenon personally. My face became warm and flushed. I had goose bumps on my arms. My fingers slightly tingled. Maybe it was the effects of adrenaline, but this was different. In all my years of medical training and experience, I failed to come up with any reasonable explanation for what was happening to me at that moment. I managed a slight grin.

“Listen, call me tonight, I’ll follow up and let you know what happened, if they’ll tell me.” he said, with a genuine look of concern I don’t ever remember seeing in Richard’s eyes. Kalani gave me the warmest hug I had in years -- maybe even decades. I won’t lie – it felt incredible to be appreciated. Honestly, it felt wonderful to be wanted. I don’t remember ever feeling that good in a man’s arms. I hugged him back. I smiled. I didn’t want to let him go, but my common sense issued the release command in a reasonable amount of hug time. Kalani jogged back towards his van. I watched as his curly hair bounced up and down as he ran.

We returned to our table. The Canadian boys and our driver stared at us blankly. I assumed they wanted a rundown. Michelle delivered a brief synopsis, followed by a hearty knuckle bump, complete with the explosion and shrapnel. We proudly invented that gesture ourselves, flaring our fingers out after the bump, then wiggling them subtly. As the boys returned to devouring what was left of that awful lunch, which was undoubtedly cold by now, Michelle leaned into me. “You like him, don’t you?” I didn’t answer, as I struggled to find a piece of my cold mystery catfish without a spinal column attached to it. She got closer to my face and asked again. “OMG! You like him! You know, he is pretty cute. Hmmm. But – let me play devil’s advocate. He’s young, maybe thirty-ish. Shit, girlfriend, you might be old enough to be his mother. I laughed. “And he’s what? A
surf instructor
? With those lifeguard looks, there is no doubt in my mind he’s probably buck-wild. That’s like the male equivalent of a Hooters girl. Lots of ladies ogling all over him. Maybe even older Canadian ladies,
ewwwww
.” said Michelle in the sassiest delivery possible.

Michelle was probably right. In her several marriages, she had much more experience in profiling womanizers, and I sure as hell didn’t want to go through that a second time. But despite my apparently limited knowledge of love and life, there was something about Kalani that struck me as safe. I know that’s quite a dangerous assumption for someone in my position – still recovering from a broken heart. But my heart was telling me he was
different
. Kind of an earthy thing. He seemed genuine. Real. It’s difficult to explain. Regardless, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to be
friends
.

After our eventful lunch, we continued our drive along Oahu’s windward coast. Our next stop was at a supposed Macadamia Nut Farm. This was another well-oiled tourist trap, with the same kind of art, spices, candy, nuts, jewelry, t-shirts, and other silliness we had seen at every other store we had visited thus far. We quickly surmised the trick and waited on the bus as we watched free-roaming chickens dance between cars in the parking lot.

I have to admit, I was disappointed in what I had seen in Hawaii so far. Granted, I wasn’t in the best frame of mind. But when you think of Hawaii, you think of beautiful beaches, luaus, volcanos, rainforests, native Hawaiian art, and especially the language. Hawaiians have some beautiful words and phrases native only to these islands. But to my dismay, no one on Oahu speaks Hawaiian pidgin anymore. Other than “aloha” and “mahalo,” most Hawaiian people either don’t know or won’t say much else in Hawaiian. Come to think of it, Honolulu is a lot like LA – only with a suspicious shortage of Mexicans.

In a way, that was a good thing. I felt safer now because I now realized there were real hospitals and real ambulances rather than what I had naively imagined – medicine men wearing skirts dancing wildly under grass tiki huts. I longed to see more. There had to be a way to immerse myself into the native culture. I made it my mission to delve underneath all the tourism glitz and glamour to see if there was anything resembling what I had in mind. I still had hope. Maybe I had already met my undercover tour guide, and he’d show me what I was really looking for.

David returned to the bus with the four Canadians. Fortunately, most of their cologne had worn off by then. David remarked that this was the most exciting tour he had ever given. Michelle and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes.

SIX: SLEEPING ALONE

We returned to the hotel right at about five o’clock. I was exhausted from our crazy day, still affected by the five hour time change. I wanted to take a nap, but Michelle reminded me we still needed to go shopping for clothes. I didn’t even have underwear for the following day. We went to our room to freshen up; then headed back down to the strip. We purposefully walked through the tour lobby to see if maybe Kalani was speeding through, but to no avail. I suppose that may have been juvenile, but whatever. I thought about calling him to invite him to dinner with us, but I didn’t think that was a good idea. I didn’t want to actually admit that in the deepest recesses of my mind, I might actually be a bit desperate. My dating skills were rusty after being married for so long, but I did remember that it’s never a good thing to call a boy too quickly.

I was angry at myself for even thinking about dating so soon. For goodness sakes, I still wasn’t sure what the deal was with Richard. Deep down in my consciousness, I was actually entertaining the possibility of forgiving him. After all, we were comfortable together. Despite the lack of sex and affection, we seemed to coexist well. Like friends. Like roommates. Isn’t that what typically happens in all marriages? After the honeymoon is over, a year or two into any relationship, don’t most people transition into a friend-type thing? I mean, who stays in love forever anyway? Maybe this is the way things were supposed to be. And if Richard can hook up with other women, then why couldn’t I do a little
cougaring
myself? I didn’t know what to think. For someone who was supposed to be so sure about herself, I found myself becoming increasingly lost and disillusioned.

We were still starving from our voluntary fast during what was supposed to be lunch at that awful shrimp stand. Our hotel was directly on the ocean strip, Kalakaua Avenue, but about four or five blocks from the main part of the drag where all the good stores and restaurants were. I hadn’t had my run that day, so at least this was some sort of physical activity. Michelle and I walked briskly. “Eat first?” I asked.

“Oh, definitely. I’m going to need some liquid refreshment too,” said Michelle with her man on a mission face.

I had heard there was a PF Chang’s somewhere downtown, so I mapped it on my phone, and we headed towards there. It was about a mile or so away.

As we walked down the strip, Michelle and I chatted about the day’s events. We wondered how Carol was doing. “You know, some 30 year-old Canadian kid is probably cursing you right now because you delayed his inheritance. Carol will probably get better and spend even more of her money.” You’d think Michelle was an awful person with a comment like that, but that was just Michelle. She really didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Always first to pay a compliment and the first to offer a shoulder when needed. She was as smart as she was sassy. She knew what I was thinking before I thought it. And I hated that… sometimes. She agreed her sarcasm was her own form of therapy for all the failed relationships she had before Joe. I always thought her dialogue was kind of fun. Fortunately, even her victims seemed to genuinely enjoy it. Michelle is beautiful though, and I always wondered if the same sort of verbal abuse from someone not as good looking would elicit the same type of response.

We finally arrived at Chang’s. There was a line out the door. We were famished, and this line just wouldn’t do. Michelle half-jokingly tried to bribe the hostess to bump us up, but apparently a picture of Alexander Hamilton wasn’t quite enough of an incentive. The hostess told us we were welcome to sit at the bar, if we could find a seat. We walked over to the bar and even that was three people deep. An older couple was waiting for their receipt. They waved us over. We looked at each other, then approached them. The man spoke.

“Hey, you kids need a seat? We’re leaving, take ours. Too much testosterone around here. Enjoy!” We thanked him and his wife, and took their seats. Another couple who was waiting behind them gave us a dirty look. Michelle gave them a smile.

Our trio of bartenders must have been starving models. I had never seen a crew of girls that were so good looking. Normally, you’d see them waiting tables or hostessing. We were served fairly quickly.

“Aloha! What’ll it be, ladies?” the bartender said as she casually flinged a couple of bar napkins in front of us – to my amazement, both landing perfectly where they were supposed to land, like in a magic show. I was impressed. She rattled off all their happy hour specials, but we were starved and ready to order. “Is this the same menu as all the other Chang’s?” I asked. It was. We both ordered our usual, which was always way too much food. But this time, we might actually finish it.

Dinner was wonderful. We laughed for an hour, talking about the day’s events, laughing at the silly Canadians, and chatting about old times. I really needed that. I thanked Michelle from the bottom of my heart and told her how lucky I was to have her in my life. I don’t know how I would have survived this without her. Of course, Michelle agreed that I was indeed lucky to have her in my life. She then thanked me for being there for her during her darkest days. I don’t think I was nearly as helpful to she was to me, although she never seemed to need much more than a sympathetic ear.

We often joked about the male inability to simply listen. Richard would always interrupt me and try to offer a black and white solution to a gray problem. But he never realized his fixes never remedied any real issue. Most of the time, there was no tangible fix needed. There often was no possible fix. Richard never took the time to hear me out. That was a fundamental problem in our relationship – and I had never discovered that fact until right then and there.

Michelle’s phone rang. She answered. “Hello? Hello? Hang on, I can’t hear you.” She pointed towards outside as she walked to the outdoor patio. I pulled out my phone, just like all people do when they sit alone at restaurants and bars and checked my e-mail. All junk. I’m not sure what I was looking for – or what I was hoping for. Part of me wanted to call Paul and see what was going on. But I couldn’t do that – that was part of the old Olivia’s life. This is “Olivia 2.0” I thought, and 2.0 will not be backwards compatible. A few minutes later, Michelle returned.

“You’re not going to believe this. My father fell again. Broke his hip bad this time. Joe can’t get off work this week to help him, and my brother is completely useless. I guess I’m going to have to fly back tomorrow.”

Michelle was very upset. I hadn’t seen her so disheveled since her last break up. I consoled her, and told her I was ready to head back too. I had seen a bit of Hawaii now, and I was so thankful for her gesture and the trip. We’d surely make it back here one day.

“No. No fucking way,” she said. “You need to stay. You can’t go back home yet – you need to
heal
, girlfriend. You’re not going to heal at home. Your mind won’t set right. All broken bones and broken hearts need time to set.”

I sat there and swirled my wine. I wasn’t sure what to do. I wasn’t too concerned about being in this strange place alone – I was more concerned about not being there for Michelle.

“Listen to me, I’m a physician!” she said, in her most wine-affected convincing gravelly tone possible, nearly choking from the awkward self-imposed configuration of her diaphragm. We both laughed. “Tomorrow, we’re scheduled to fly to the Big Island for a volcano tour. I’m going to call them to confirm it’ll only be one. You’d better take pictures for me. I’ll be right back.” Michelle went back outside the restaurant.

I settled the check, and gave our seats to a smiling young couple who looked like a couple of spooky deer caught in headlights. They seemed very grateful. I debated staying for a few minutes to give them a lecture about marriage and respect, but that would have been awkward and probably unwelcome. Probably better to let them figure out on their own that they’ll be nothing more than friends in about five or six years. That is, if they can make it
that
long.

The restaurant complex was even more crowded now. Apparently, this was Waikiki’s latest hot spot. I squeezed through a bunch of people as I walked outside and approached Michelle from behind. She didn’t see me. She was still on the phone. I overheard her conversation.

“Six o’clock, right? The plane from the Big Island could be late, they tell me, so I don’t want to take any chances setting it earlier. Great. We’ll see you then. Bye.” Michelle clicked her phone off.

She turned around and jumped a bit when she saw me. “Hey, didn’t see you there. Just making dinner reservations for tomorrow night, so you won’t have to wait through this mess again. There’s a sweet little restaurant down the strip a bit. I booked a table for you there at 6. I’ll set up the rest of the week before I go. See? Nothing to worry about. Now let’s go get you some dirty ho clothes. Baby needs a vacation!”

We walked back to the strip and shopped at a bunch of high-end stores. Three hours and about twenty-five hundred dollars later, I had a weeklong wardrobe to die for. I deliberately used our joint debit account to pay for it all so Richard would know exactly what I was up to. I’m typically not a spiteful person, but this was definitely spiteful. I justified it to myself, thinking if that SOB could afford to hire some hit man and pay his dirty little secretary several thousand dollars a year in hush money, he could surely afford to pick up a new life for me. The card was approved for all my purchases. I was surprised he hadn’t cancelled it yet. I was sure he had made bail by now. I was even more amazed – or maybe sad – that he hadn’t yet called. The later it got, the less I cared.

We caught a cab and loaded our bags in the trunk. I then began to fall into a self-deprecating train of thought. I wondered if the
hit man’s next target might have been me. I did – but I didn’t want to know the truth. I thought I should probably find out more. Not only for my own safety, but perhaps for my own amusement. It was definitely over for us. There was no way I could ever go back to him now, and I’m sure Richard’s entire faux pas would make one hell of a story. I actually entertained calling that sick little bitch to get her side of the story. I fumbled through my purse and found Richard’s business card with the number written on the back of it. Michelle was watching me.

“Now, honey… you know, once you learn the truth, everything changes. It will probably hurt a lot more than it hurts right now. If there was even a remote chance of reconciliation, not that I’d ever let you do such a stupid thing, but that too may evaporate. Poof. Just make sure you want to hear it, and that you’re ready for the truth, no matter what it is. You understand?” She playfully slapped me on the arm. I responded with a crooked smile.

She was right. Michelle was always right about these things. I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. What would I say to Richard’s mistress? She probably wouldn’t talk to me. I was going to leave the card in the cab to be cleaned out and lost forever. But for some reason, I decided to put it back into my purse. I wasn’t done with it yet. Michelle didn’t say a word. Apparently, she was all too familiar with these sorts of demons.

We headed back to our hotel room. Michelle turned on the television. I brushed my teeth, then stretched out on the fluffy queen bed for what was supposed to be a moment. I remembered thinking it was nice to have the whole bed to myself. Richard wouldn’t always come to bed when I did, but I was always considerate enough to leave him some room. I didn’t usually sleep on my back, but for some reason, it felt more comfortable – no, more
natural
– here. I thought I might try to become a permanent back sleeper. I passed out quickly.

That night, I dreamt I was flying through the air. I was calmly passing through pure white fluffy clouds and seeing the bluest skies I had ever seen. Until that night, I wasn’t sure if I dreamt in color. Now I was sure. I had never felt so free. I could feel changes happening, with much of it out of my control. For the first time in my life, I decided not to fight it. I relinquished control to the universe. It was time for someone else to sort out the details, because I hadn’t done so well.