12 Hours In Paradise (4 page)

“Oh. Oh, I see.” Arash mimicked me with his finger and thumb. “Hello. Who’s there, please?”

“It’s me, Mrs. Coburn. Can’t you just feel my gray hair and mean-librarian glasses over the phone?”

“Oh not all, Mrs. Coburn. Because you’re actually quite attractive.”

“What?” I swung around to give him a dirty look.

“For an older woman, that is.”

“So where the hell are you, Arash? Someone reported you missing, and everyone’s out looking for you. You’re in big trouble. And I’m not attractive, especially when I’m mad. Which I am right now.” How was I actually jealous of this phantom Mrs. Coburn?

“Mrs. Coburn, there’s something I have to explain. I’ve met this girl, you see. A young lady. And she’s everything I’ve ever dreamed…what I’m trying to say is that she has all the qualifications for a fellow adventurer and I’m currently on an adventure with her. It’s too late to turn back now.”

“Oh yeah, I get it. In for a penny, in for a pound.”

“That’s it exactly. Thank you, Mrs. Coburn, I knew you’d understand.”

“Okay, well, you take care, Arash. Talk to you later.” I swung my hand down, and Arash did the same thing.

“That went well, didn’t it?” he said.

“Better than I expected.”

We passed another
opala
can. “Should I take a look?” Arash asked. “You never know what someone might have left for us.”

“No, that’s okay.” I laughed.

There was a young guy sitting on the sidewalk next to the trash can. He had long, greasy hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing grimy-looking clothes, but otherwise he looked pretty normal. He had a spark in his eyes and a smile on his face. He held a hand-scrawled cardboard sign on his lap.

2 Ugly 2 Prostitute.

Arash came to a sudden stop, placing his hand on my shoulder and swiveling me to face the young man.

“My friend,” he said very seriously, “do not sell yourself short. You are not too ugly at all to prostitute yourself. In fact, my friend here was just saying she wouldn’t mind—”

I jabbed my elbow into his ribs.

“Are you guys twins?” The guy snickered at our matching outfits.

“As a matter of fact, no, we’re not twins. Are you telling me you don’t recognize the uniform of the Order of Time Travel Adventurers?”

“Oh yeah. I recognized them. I was just messing with you. Hey, you got some spare change?”

Arash dug deep into his pockets and pulled out a few crumpled bills. “I probably have more, but would you be satisfied with this? I’d like to keep the rest.”

“That’ll do,” the guy said. “Thanks, man.”

“Next question.” I tugged on Arash’s arm, pulling us back onto the virtual people-mover. “We’re wasting time.”

“We’re time travelers.” Arash turned to wave good-bye to the
2 Ugly
guy, who waved back gratefully. “How can we waste time?”

“Next question.” I retrieved the article from the pocket of his aloha shirt. “‘What would constitute a perfect day for you?’ You go first this time.”

“A perfect day.” He hung his head and rubbed his temples as though coaxing the perfect day from his brain. “A perfect day would be less about what I was doing and more about my state of mind. I mean…it wouldn’t matter where I was.”

We were walking through the ground level of a huge parking lot that serviced some of the beachside luxury hotels. It smelled like day-old garbage and diesel fuel. An oversized, canary-yellow bus was idling at a cement island where a huge group of Japanese tourists stood in line waiting to board.

“Where do you suppose they’re going at this hour?” Arash mused, but I could tell he didn’t expect an answer.

“What’s your perfect state of mind, then?” I asked. “Let’s sit here for a second and watch them get on. Maybe we’ll get a clue from something someone says. Maybe even a secret message about our adventure.”

In reality my feet were hurting. I was wearing new sandals with hard soles, and I could feel a blister rising on the ball of my foot. I’d worn them that night because they were cute. I thought Arash would prefer them to the other more broken-in pair that was packed in my suitcase right next to them. Big mistake. Arash wasn’t the kind of guy who noticed cute sandals. We sat on the bench and watched the orderly progression of the line, the bus seeming to swallow the people as fast as the cement island expelled them.

“I would be calm, naturally. Peaceful. Or maybe not, I take that back. On the contrary, my senses would be fully engaged and heightened to their maximum potential. I’d see everything and hear everything all around me, no matter where I was. I’d recognize it as the art and music of life. I’d taste the sweetness of a piece of fruit as if for the first time. A soft breeze would caress me and ruffle my hair like someone’s fingers massaging my scalp…like this.”

He gently placed his fingertips on the top of my head and moved them in a slight circular motion. It felt amazing. He withdrew his hand.

“I’d be with someone,” he continued. “Someone I love, most likely.”

“Anything else?” I asked when a few seconds went by without any more information.

“That’s all I can see in my crystal ball,” he answered. “Do you think they’re still in love?” An older man was helping his wife onto the first step of the bus. His head was as gray as hers, and his hand shook, but she accepted it as if it were a lifeline. “Or do you think they’re just accustomed to each other? Just a habit.”

“Definitely still in love,” I said. “Look at the way he’s eyeing her butt. He still thinks she’s a babe.”

“You know, you’re right. I think I just saw him cop a feel. What’s your perfect day, Dorothy?”

“My perfect day would be riding my horse on a white, sandy beach where nobody else is in sight.”

“Homo sapiens would just ruin everything, I suppose?”

“And I’d stop underneath a palm tree and lie on a blanket and read a great book until I fell asleep with the sound of waves in the background.”

“
Little House on the Prairie
?”

“No, something more…well yes, maybe.
Little House on the Prairie
just for that one perfect day.”

“Have you ever experienced this perfect day?”

“No, there aren’t any beaches in Reno.”

“Not even in the casinos?”

“Not even in the casinos, which, by the way, I never go to. And even if there was a beach and a palm tree inside the casino, it would be fake, and I don’t think they’d let me bring my horse inside.”

Did I just say that part about being alone on my perfect day because he didn’t mention my name in
his
perfect day? The bus was filled, and no one was left on the sidewalk. The door closed with a whoosh, and the idling engine quieted as the bus inched away. I felt a ridiculous sense of sadness to see these people go. I would never see them again.

“Let’s go walk around this hotel lobby,” I said suddenly, determined to ignore the blister on my foot. “I think it’s the nicest hotel in Honolulu, and I always beg my parents to stay here whenever we come.”

“They don’t agree with you?”

“It’s not that they don’t agree with me. T
hey like our hotel better because of the suites where you can fit more people, and the free breakfasts and all.”

“And Chester loves the happy hour.”

“And Chester loves the happy hour.”

“Practicality. We lose our impracticality when we become adults, although I think we regain it when we’re very old.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Impracticality. It can be both good and bad, but it’s a more pure form of living. My father used to yell at my grandmother for spending too much. He’d say—” Arash tucked his chin to lower his voice into a mumbling, menacing tone, “—‘You’re going through all your savings, and if you keep it up at this rate, I’m going to have to support you one day.’”

“Why? What was she spending on?”

“Travel, clothes, jewelry, condos all over the world.”

“And what would she say to your dad, who I guess is her…?”

“Her son. She’d say—” Arash raised his voice in a silly imitation of a woman, “—‘If I don’t have fun now, when am I ever going to have fun? In the grave? Put me in the poorhouse if I spend all my money.’”

“Does he still yell at her about it?”

“No, he doesn’t yell at anyone anymore.”

“Well that’s a good thing, at least.”

He didn’t answer, so I filled in the silence.

“My dad doesn’t yell, but when he’s mad, you really know it.”

“Like this?” He lowered his voice again. I guess he only had two adult voices, and they both sounded equally funny. “‘Dorothy, I came home expecting that you’d have one hundred and fifty hand-sewn and embroidered silken elf shoes completed, and I see you only have one hundred and forty-eight. I’m very disappointed in you.’”

“How do you even know what embroidery
is
?” I laughed. “Most guys wouldn’t know that. Oh my God…one hundred and fifty hand-sewn and embroidered silken elf shoes? You’re crazy!”

“Well, am I right? I mean, without the silken-elf-shoe part.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s like that. No yelling but just this heavy disappointment.”

“That’s the worst, right? Just yell at me and get it over with.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “My parents don’t yell at me. I don’t think I’d like it.”

“I guess either way it’s not much fun. Is this where we enter?”

***

The lobby of the hotel wasn’t really a lobby in the traditional sense. It was like the hub of a wheel, and the spokes radiating from the hub were open-air, upscale, custom mini malls that connected to bigger malls that led to other hotels. Whatever you wanted to do or buy or eat, you could do without ever leaving a building. But even when you were
in
a building, somehow you weren’t in it.

Somehow there were trade winds that blew floral scents through the glass canyons.

Somehow the beat of the waves followed you even into the souvenir shops.

Somehow the soft, velvety night crept into the corners of the brightly lit corridors.

“Karaoke.” Arash stopped in front of a bustling bar where hopeful patrons stood in line to be admitted. Through the enormous plate-glass windows, the video screen with song lyrics glowed like a beacon in the smoky darkness of the room. Shadowy silhouettes bent toward each other in the noise we couldn’t hear through that heavy glass partition.

Arash and I burst out singing in unison and then looked at each other and laughed. He continued for a few more lines, but I just listened. His voice was beautiful.

Smooth and sexy.

Musical with perfect inflection.

“Wow! You sing like a professional.”

He just smiled and turned away like he was a little embarrassed. “Look, a ukulele store.”

“Can you play?” I asked.

But of course he could. Even the store owner was impressed.

“We need to sit down and look at the next question,” he said after playing a few tunes. “Let’s find a bench.”

But when we found one not too far from the ukulele store, a young couple wheeling a baby stroller claimed it before we could sit down. They looked like they needed it more than we did, so we didn’t complain.

Arash leaned up against the building behind the bench and pulled out our rumpled “treasure map” from his shirt pocket. The shirt was beginning to look pretty rumpled itself. And I imagined my dress probably didn’t look a whole lot better after being doused in sweat and humidity.

“Did I tell you the very last thing we have to do in order to test this theory of contrived love?”

“Contrived love? How romantic.”

“I only meant it was unspontaneous. Something we’re planning and testing for.”

“This sounds like a science experiment. I thought we were on an adventure.”

“We are. Without us, the adventure is nothing, and without the adventure—”

“We’re
not
nothing. We’re a science experiment.” Arash looked so sad I almost believed he was. “I was only kidding,” I said. “So what’s the last thing we have to do to test the theory?”

“Stare into each other’s eyes for a full four minutes.”

“Can we just do that now and get it over with?”

“Absolutely not. We have to answer thirty-two more questions first.”

“Are we allowed to blink while we’re staring?”

“It’s not a staring contest, so…yes, you’re allowed to blink. I believe it would be impossible to go four minutes without blinking, anyway.”

“Arash.” I hung on to his arm, and he supported my weight. I surprised myself with my boldness. The strength of his arm surprised me as well. I’d heard about drummers having powerful upper bodies. Guess it was true.

“Yes, Dorothy,” he murmured in a caring but comical way.