Sisterchicks Do the Hula (5 page)

Through every pore of my weary body, I drank in the glorious view. A warm, welcoming breeze lifted the ends of my short, feathered hair and cooled the back of my neck. Far below lay a strip of caramel-colored sand dotted with hundreds of scantily dressed bodies. Bright beach umbrellas popped up at random intervals like wild toadstools.

Merrily rolling up to the edge of the sand came the gigantic Pacific Ocean, broader and bluer and more jovial than it had ever looked when I lived in Santa Barbara. A thin line of lacy foam, as white as the snow I’d left back in Connecticut, ran along the edge of the slowly uncurling waves. I stood for a long time, leaning on the railing, watching the ocean play tag with the tourists who traipsed along the shoreline and dared the wild, white wetness to touch them.

I held up my arm as shade from the lowering sun and scanned the endless stretch of blue sea, marveling at the mix of surfers and catamarans that skimmed across the water with elegant ease. I wanted to be out there with them.

That thought surprised me because it was a thought I would have had twenty years ago. The past few summers I’d become more of an umbrella lounger and shore stroller whenever we camped at the lake back home. I didn’t want to be that
sedate person on this trip. I realized that watching from the balcony wasn’t satisfying enough. If all I wanted to do was observe such beauty, I could have stayed home and rented
South Pacific
.

South Pacific!
Ha! Now I’m starting to sound like Laurie, comparing life to cinema. I hope she comes before sunset so we can go down to the beach
.

I made myself comfy on the lanai with my cell phone beside me in anticipation of Laurie’s call. The waves’ rhythmic sound had a hypnotic effect. I easily could have fallen into a deep sleep had it not been for room service arriving with my snack.

The fruit salad was served inside half a pineapple with the spiky green leaves still attached to the top. I had no idea what the soft orange chunks of fruit were in the mixed salad. Mango, perhaps. Or papaya. I couldn’t remember ever trying either of them. While I was growing up, our family never had extra money for exotic foods. Now I probably could buy mangoes or papayas at any well-stocked grocery store, but I never had been curious enough to spend money on something no one else in my household would be likely to try.

I loved being here, nestled in my little perch, savoring every bite of the fresh fruit. Breaking off a large chunk of cookie, I dunked it into the glass of milk and deposited the soggy sweetie into my mouth.

Oh, Laurie, you’re missing all the good stuff. I can’t wait for you to get here!

Looking up, I saw the beginning of a sunset that made me pray. That’s the only way I can describe it. I felt so awed by what was happening before me that I put down the rest of my cookie and stood reverently with my hands pressed against my heart.

Wispy layers of orange and pink clouds trailed across the sky like silk ribbons edged with creamy white lace. The clouds appeared to be wrapping up the ocean as if it were a special gift. Fragrant winds soothed the hushed surface of the sea, covering the waters with what looked like lavender blue tissue paper.

My mouth opened as if trying to help my other senses take it all in. Two eyes alone weren’t adequate portals for receiving such an ethereal sight.

I breathed in deeply as the sun, huge and round like a perfect orange, sank lower and lower until it was sliced in half at the edge of the world. Silently it slid—juice, rind, and all—over the side, into the unknown tomorrow.

A breeze came, different from the one I’d felt spinning around me when I first stepped out on the lanai. This twilight breeze seemed to come directly from the heavens. With invisible fingers the wind playfully tousled my hair once more and gently stroked my cheek. God was tucking in this pleasant isle for the night. I lifted my chin to receive His good-night caress.

I thought of something I’d read yesterday and went inside the room to find the book I had bought especially for this trip. It was a small copy of the book of Psalms in a contemporary
version. I thought it would fit more easily in my suitcase than my large Bible and would give me a fresh look at familiar verses. At the moment I felt very close to the Creator. After all, He had just tucked me in for the night along with the rest of His exquisite creation.

Like any child who knows the morning will bring exciting surprises and long-anticipated gifts, I couldn’t sleep. I flipped through the book until I found chapter 32 and read the part that had been rolling around in my memory:

Reaching for a pen I underlined the words
garlands of hosannas
. Oh, I loved that phrase! It made me think of the fragrant leis I had longed for at the airport.

Laurie should have a lei to wear around her neck for her birthday tomorrow. Every woman who turns forty needs a garland of hosannas! I wonder if I can get one tonight in the gift shop? I could hide it in our little refrigerator and surprise her in the morning
.

Feeling sneaky, I slipped out of the room and took the elevator. I was joined on the next floor down by a young Japanese couple who looked as if they were ready to go out on the town. I’m not sure if I imagined it, but they seemed to be taking turns staring at my belly and then staring at my white legs. I couldn’t do much about the belly, but starting tomorrow morning, the
goal was to toast my legs a nice shade of golden brown.

That reminded me. I needed to buy some suntan lotion at the gift shop. Funny thing, the grocery store at home in Connecticut seemed to be out of suntan products last week when I was shopping for my trip. However, they were having a special on snow shovels.

Snow shovels. Imagine
.

I stepped out of the elevator with a grin so smug I felt positively snooty.

B
efore I made it all the way through the lobby to the hotel gift shop, I had to go to the bathroom. I was convinced there was something scientific about elevation and compression and the effect gravity had on a pregnant woman’s bladder. In the hotel rest room, I overheard two women talking.

“It’s a wonderful luau,” one of them said. “We went two nights ago and loved the show. They give you lots of food, but look out for the tiki punch. My husband had more than he should have, and when they asked for volunteers to do the hula, he was a little too eager to get up onstage.”

The other woman laughed and said, “Been there, done that, lit the tiki torch.”

I decided I would gather a bunch of event brochures in the lobby before going back to the room so Laurie and I could chart out our week. Originally she had a long list of activities
that started with horseback riding on the beach. After Emilee joined the party, Laurie crossed that activity off as well as parasailing. Whenever we talked about specifics after that, Laurie said we would figure it out when we got here. She also said she would be content with a hammock strung between a couple of swaying palm trees, but I knew she was pulling back on my account. There was no reason she couldn’t go parasailing or whatever she wanted without me. I wasn’t going to let my condition hinder Laurie’s adventure. Especially on her birthday.

The hotel gift shop had a nice selection of leis. They hung in a row beside the soft drinks in the refrigerated case. I chose one made from purple orchids and white tuberose because it seemed to shout, “Hosanna!” The others merely peeped a subdued, “Cheers.”

Finding my way to the back of the store where the personal items were stocked, I scanned the choices of sun care products. As I reached for a tube of suntan lotion, I knocked over a bottle of coconut oil. Several boxes on the lower shelf became drenched with the fragrant, sticky stuff.

Tightening the lid on the coconut oil, I gathered up the ruined boxes and took them to the register, placing them on the counter along with the lei and the suntan lotion. Emilee did a little flutter, and I instinctively placed my hand on my rounded belly.

Just then I heard my name.

I turned to see Laurie, my Laurie, approaching the register
holding an orchid lei, fresh from the gift shop refrigerator.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she squealed, as we threw our arms around each other. I’m afraid I squashed her when our middles collided.

Pulling back with an expression of unabashed surprise, she said, “Hope, look at you! I can’t believe it! Look at you!”

The irony was that she wasn’t actually looking at “me.” She was gawking at Emilee’s bunker.

“I told you I was big.”

“No, no, you’re not big at all.” She quickly looked up at my face. “You’re just …”

“All out front?” I suggested.

“Yes. Just, all … right there.” Laurie started to move her hand toward me and then pulled back and used her itching fingers to tuck her professionally lightened blond hair behind her ear.

“It’s okay.” I grinned. “Go ahead. You can pat the baby, if you want.”

Laurie cautiously pressed her palm across my tummy. “Hello, little Emilee Rose. It’s your Auntie Laurie. How are you, sweet baby girl?”

Looking up at my smiling face, Laurie said, “You look great, Hope! Seriously, you look glowy.”

“You look great, too.”

“Oh, my hair came out way too light this time.” Laurie brushed a few silky strands away from her face. “And I’m about ready to pop these contacts out. My eyes are so—”

“You ready to pay for this stuff?” The young man at the register obviously didn’t understand how important it was for women to first do an inventory and evaluation of each other before they can turn their attention to spending money.

“Just this.” Laurie held up the lei.

“You can put it back,” I said. “I came down here to buy one for you.”

“Are you kidding? Hope, I was buying this one for you. When I got off the plane and the greeters were there with all those beautiful leis looped over their arms, I—”

“I know! I wished we had ordered the lei greeting, too. I wanted to surprise you with this one for your birthday tomorrow.”

“Hope, you’re so good to me.”

“Here.” I reached for the garland of hosannas and tossed it over Laurie’s neck. “Happy birthday, my friend.”

Laurie teared up and started to leak and squeak as she placed the other lei over my neck and kissed me on the cheek. We acted like we were experts on Hawaiian greetings.
“Aloha
, my friend,” she squeaked out.

“Aloha!
Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday to you, too!” Laurie dabbed at her eyes and reached for her wallet. “Here, we better pay for these now. I’ve got it covered.”

“No, I’m buying them. Both of them.”

“You don’t have to. Save your money, Hope.”

“No, I’m getting some other stuff, so I’ll buy the leis.” I
pushed the money back into her wallet and turned to the young salesclerk. “You take Visa, don’t you?”

He nodded.

“Don’t use your Visa,” Laurie said. “I have enough cash. Here.”

“You know,” the clerk said in a low voice, “it’s none of my business, but I’m thinking you might be wasting your money.”

“Excuse me?” we said in tandem.

“I’m just saying that if you want to save some money, I’m pretty sure all of these will come out positive. At least for you.” He nodded toward my belly.

Laurie turned the three coconut-soaked boxes so we could read the packaging. “Hope, why are you buying three home pregnancy tests?”

I laughed so hard I had to go to the bathroom again.

“I spilled a bottle of suntan oil,” I managed to finally say. “I was going to offer to pay for the damage.”

Laurie cracked up.

“Oh, gotcha. Okay.” The young man reached for the boxes and slid them under the counter. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to pay for these. And, hey, what I said earlier was just, you know, a little joke.” He was turning red from the neck up.

“Don’t worry. That’s exactly how I took it.” I handed him my Visa and tried very hard to keep my legs together and not look at Laurie’s face. I knew if I started to laugh again my bladder wasn’t going to cooperate any longer.

Bedecked with the chilled purple leis, Laurie and I trotted to the rest room and laughed some more.

“How’s our room?” Laurie asked. “The bellman is probably up there waiting with my luggage.”

“I like it. But you might want to think
Beach Blanket Bingo
when you walk in the door.”

“Annette and Frankie.” Laurie slipped into her movie trivia mode as we headed for the elevator. “Remember when they showed that one on the outdoor screen during orientation week our freshman year?”

I had forgotten.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I ate already, but I didn’t know if you were waiting for me before you got something.”

“No, I’m fine.” I told her about the fruit salad and cookies and the incredible sunset. “Do you want to walk on the beach or unpack or what?”

“Part of me would love to go out on the beach, but part of me wants to flop. It’s been a long day.”