Page 130 of Between Hello and Goodbye

Chapter Twenty-Six

The storm arrived.

Dark, thick clouds rolled in, and the rain was constant. Late that afternoon, after my shift, I checked-in with Momi to make sure she and the live-in nurse I’d hired were going to be safe. I drove to Momi’s little house in Hanalei, not far from where Morgan and Nalani lived.

Had lived. Past tense.

I had to remind myself of that often. My brain was hardwired to expect my brother’s goofy smile, hear his voice on the phone, his laugh and his dumb jokes, and his hugs that I pretended I didn’t like but actually needed more than I could have known.

“Stop it.”

The grief was circling close today, like a hungry wolf. Always shadowing me, ready to sink its teeth in and tear me to shreds.

Not yet…

I pulled onto the drive that led to Momi’s bungalow. The house was pure old Hawaii—wood interiors and filled with island art—koa wood sculptures, woven rugs, beads, and old photographs of Momi’s family. All dead now. Including her daughter, Nalani’s mother, who’d raised Nalani alone until cancer took her. Momi had outlived her daughter and her granddaughter and was still here. She hadn’t given up.

The nurse—Maryanne—met me at the door and we walked through her emergency supplies and procedures. Then she told me that Momi was in her room, about to nap, but wanted to see me.

“Aloha, Asher,” she said as I walked in, though her eyes were on the window where rain smattered the glass. Don Ho was singing aboutBeautiful Kauaion an old turntable. Momi turned to me, thinner and even more frail since the broken hip. Her long hair, that recently had a little bit of black in it, was now completely white.

Grief will do that to you. It sucks a piece of your soul away.

“Come. Sit.”

I pulled a chair up to her bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Old,” she said. “And running out of time.”

“Jesus, don’t say that.”

She scoffed weakly. “I’m not dying this minute, child, but I’m going to say what I need to say to make sure it’s said.” She fixed me with a pointed look. “Where is Faith?”

“You know where she is,” I said in a low voice. “I can’t bring her back here, Momi. I can’t make her live a life she doesn’t want.”

“How do you know what she wants? Have you asked her? Or did you push her away because you assumed that was best for her?”

“She thrives in the city. She told me a hundred times the island is too small…” I waved my hands. “Doesn’t matter. Chloe offered to move in, and I said yes.”

Momi’s eyes flared. “Ai, ke akua e kokua mai ia’u,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“I need help with Kal and maybe…”

“Maybe you’ll fall in love with her the way you love Faith?” Momi snorted. “And you’re supposed to be the smart one.”

I scrubbed my eyes. “The other day, I had a meeting with my business manager.Island Memorieshas to shut down. I can’t run it and even if I hired someone, it was all Morgan. His photos…” I cleared my throat. “And their house is going to be torn down and I had to tell that to Kal and it’s all just…”

“Too much? Oh, my boy.” Momi patted my hand. “I wish I were strong enough to help carry your burdens, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t let me. The only thing I can do is give you our words and I want you to listen.”

“Ourwords?”

“Mine and Morgan’s.”

“What do you mean?”

Momi turned to the rain on the window. The rivulets that streamed in random patterns.

“When you are as old as me, you notice things. Signs. Serendipities. And when there is great loss, you notice them then too. The little gifts that let you know you’re not as alone as you think you are.”