The Maui Effect (Man-Made Trilogy #1)

The Longest Plateau

‘Iwa

When things got to be too much, ‘Iwa began escaping to the loop trail at the end of the road, which was crowded with oaks and conifers. She blamed it on Isla needing another walk, when really it was her who did. Being among the trees and walking on the rich soil soothed her. She began asking her mother for guidance on what to do, and how to handle these muddy waters.

The answers never came immediately, but small signs would appear to make her feel less alone. A blue jay leading her down the path. Two bushy-tailed squirrels scampering through the brush. An old log covered in familiar lime-green moss. And then, deeper in the woods, something large and dark fluttering between two tall trees. At first ‘Iwa thought it was a bat, but when she got closer, she saw it more clearly. Some kind of silk moth with spots that resembled eyes. It reminded her of home.

It was a good thing Isla was small, since she was terrible on a leash. She darted this way and that, straining against her harness, trying to smell every blade of grass and every tree and shrub. But if she let her off, there were cougars and poison ivy to be concerned about. Isla also had more pee in her per square inch than seemed possible, and squatted every ten feet. Her cuteness was infectious, though, and she pranced along with her tiny, furry feet. She was a lot more pleasant to be around than Dane. Not that anyone could blame him for hurting, but the meanness she hadn’t seen coming.

In the first couple of days, he had seemed so grateful to have her there, talking about places he wanted to take her—trekking in New Zealand, snowboarding in the Canadian Rockies, sailing in Tahiti, surfing in Bali, hiking in the rainforest of Costa Rica. But those moments had trailed off, and last night when she had rested her head on his chest he said, “When you touch me, it hurts.”

No emotion. No touching her back. For the first time she started rethinking being here. The idea made her panicky and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. She had met Kama and Yeti for coffee this morning, and finally come out with her concerns.

“Dane is strung out on meds. He’s becoming nasty if I suggest holding them back, and I wonder how much is because of pain and how much is wanting to numb reality.”

“I’m sure it’s both. We need to get him outside more,” Kama said.

“It would be nice, but it’s hard to get him into the wheelchair by myself, and he refuses to let me call on the neighbors.”

Kama or Yeti had been trading off coming by to help get Dane up, but this week Kama had had to travel down the coast for work and Yeti had been nursing a cold.

“I’m feeling better. I’ll come by and help more,” Yeti said.

“Can you please talk to him about the medicine, too? It’s tweaking him, and he won’t listen to me.”

‘Iwa wanted the old Dane back and felt guilty about it. None of this was his fault, and she had promised to stand by his side, but it was growing harder by the day. Maybe a short break would do them good.

“Will do. How much longer are you planning on staying?”

She had already been gone twenty-two days. “I have to go home next week, at least for a little while. The eco resort is still steamrolling ahead, and we are running out of time to stop them.”

“I can stay with Dane while you’re gone,” Kama offered.

“Hope said she would.”

Hope had been by a lot, which was a big help. Early that evening, as promised, she came over again, wearing flowy pants and a white crop top. She’d been growing out her hair, and now loose waves layered below her cheekbones, softening her look.

“Dude, you are never going to guess who I ran into,” she said, dropping a basketful of Surfer’s Journal s on the table and then walking over to the couch where Dane lay.

“No clue,” he said.

“Makua Rothman, in the flesh.”

Makua had won the XXL ten years or so ago when he was only eighteen. A monster wave at Pe’ahi that had made him look like an ant. ‘Iwa remembered the photo, and thinking it was the biggest wave she had ever seen at the time.

Dane sat up. “Did you ask him to marry you already?”

Hope smacked him on the head with a magazine. “Not this time. We talked mostly about you and how you’re doing, but I’m still holding out hope.”

“Hope springs eternal,” Dane said.

“Yeah, well, most of the good ones are taken, so maybe not.”

“Keep the faith,” he said.

She smiled and slid in next to him. “Wise words, my friend. How are you today?”

“Same as I was yesterday and last week and probably next week,” he said in a flat voice.

Hope squeezed his leg, hard. “How about we get your butt off the couch and do some standing practice? You’ll feel better, I promise.”

“Not now, I’m feeling pretty tired.”

“I won’t leave until you say yes. Remember what Yeti used to tell me when I hurt my shoulder, motion is lotion . That means you can’t lie around all day and expect to get better, you need to do the work. The same way we train for waves.”

Dane groaned but held his hand out. Hope helped him up and talked to him while he stood in place.

“Yes! Give me one more minute, Dane, you got this! I can see those muscles developing one fiber at a time.” And on and on.

Hope was a natural-born motivator, cheerleader and preacher all in one. ‘Iwa could see why the kids on the surf team worshipped her.

Progress was slow, but there had been progress. Dane could hold himself up indefinitely, and move his leg forward at the hip, but the fine muscles of his foot were not working, and he couldn’t lift and turn it over to take a step. The top of his foot would just drag across the floor.

Doc had said to expect long plateaus and then a leap. It could go on like this for months or even a year. Physical therapy was the hardest part of the week, and Dane would leave the building spent and red in the face. Once home, he would take more pills and pass out on the bed. He kept saying he was going to stop them soon or next week .

One day, when ‘Iwa was coming back from her walk, she saw an unfamiliar car parked out front of Dane’s house. There had been plenty of visitors, so she thought nothing of it. Then, his front door opened and a long-haired woman with an arm full of bangles stepped out. ‘Iwa recognized her right away. The black lab at her side darted down the stairs and came right up to Isla, sniffing and snorting. Isla bared her teeth.

“Sorry about that. Wingnut, get over here,” Sunny said, coming to where ‘Iwa stood in the grass.

“Isla can hold her own, no worries,” ‘Iwa answered coolly.

Sunny smiled and held up both her hands, a peace offering of sorts. “I was hoping to meet you, so I’m glad you came back before I left. I’m Sunny.”

“‘Iwa. Nice to meet you.” What else could she say? Sunny being here felt wrong, but maybe she was being overly sensitive.

“I hope you don’t mind, I brought a little care package and thought seeing Wingnut might cheer Dane up. I didn’t realize you have a dog, too.”

“Isla is Dane’s dog. He found her in Mexico.”

Sunny shifted on her heels. “It’s hard to see him like that.”

“Yes.” ‘Iwa simply did not have the energy to engage, or pretend that they might somehow commiserate together. “It was nice of you to stop by, but excuse me, I need to get inside.”

“Sure, of course.”

‘Iwa wrangled Isla and headed in. Dane lay on the couch staring at the TV when she walked in. There was a basket on the coffee table in front of him, with a few things scattered around it, and the faint smell of lemon balm in the air.

“Hey,” he said, not looking her way.

“I met Sunny.”

He groaned. “Yeah, she brought a bunch of random stuff.”

From what ‘Iwa could see there was a bag of coffee, a tin of dark chocolates and several pouches of herbal tea.

“That was nice of her,” she said, trying to sound unbothered.

“Don’t worry, ‘Iwa, it was an innocent visit.”

“I never said anything to the contrary.”

“Yeah but you’re thinking it. I know how girls are.”

‘Iwa stood in the middle of the room for a few moments, wishing she had something to hold her up. Something or someone to lean on.

“What is wrong with you, Dane? It’s not fair to take your anger out on me,” she yelled, throwing the leash on the floor and walking back toward the front door, sick of tiptoeing around his mood swings.

“I’m not angry—you’re angry,” he said flatly.

‘Iwa slammed the door, then realized her phone was in there. Shit. She went back in and grabbed it. He ignored her. Once outside again, she called Eddie. Told him everything. Until now, she had been withholding information because she didn’t want him to worry about her. Lord knew he had enough to worry about, but she didn’t know who else to turn to.

“Dad, I don’t know what to do,” she cried softly into her phone as she walked toward the short trail at the end of the road. “I want to just take the bottle away and flush the pills down the toilet, but I know you can’t stop them cold turkey,” she said.

“It’s not your kuleana . If you do that, he’s going to resent you.”

“He already resents me.”

“For what?”

“For being alive? I don’t know.”

“Men aren’t good at hurting, ‘Iwa girl. It goes against our nature to show weakness. You’re going to have to wait this one out. This is his fight, his life, not yours.”

A blue jay swooped past, startling her.

“He’s getting worse, not better. At least in how he’s coping with it all.”

“Come home then, take a break. Dane will still be there when you get back. With you gone, he’ll remember to appreciate you.”

“I need to, anyway. For work. Winston and the others need me there. I need to be there.”

He had already been more than accommodating, and picking up the slack. Fortunately, he now had Kawika working on the legal end of things.

“There’s your answer. Koa misses you, and so do I.”

“I miss you too, Dad.”

Dane had been checking the surf forecast like a maniac, a form of self-torture in ‘Iwa’s mind, and announced that he wanted to go see the big, late season northwest swell slated to hit Santa Cruz this weekend. Saturday came and the trees wore their finest greens. Parties of golden poppies and purple hound’s-tongue populated the hillsides. Kama and Yeti came to the house early, helped Dane down the steps and into the car, and they were off, picking up coffee and breakfast burritos first, en route to Steamer Lane.

The parking lot was packed with cars, but Kama pulled into a handicapped stall front and center. The wave broke just off the point, and outside the car they could see a paved walkway and railings that led right up to the edge of the cliff. Dane grew quiet as he stared out at it. A weighty kind of quiet that spread out and coated everything around him. Isla was the only one who seemed unaffected by his mood, and was trying to climb out the window to get to a grassy area.

‘Iwa did her best to remain upbeat. “What a gorgeous day! Let’s get out there and soak up the sun.”

They walked and Dane wheeled along the meandering pathway, through spectators and surfers and people walking dogs. Isla stopped to greet everyone, spinning in circles when they came upon a Newfoundland fourteen times her size. Then she rolled over, belly up, right in front of him, rubbing her back in the grass.

“What a flirt,” ‘Iwa said, laughing.

Dane didn’t even notice—he was staring at the surf. “Here comes a bomb. Middle Peak,” he announced.

They went to the edge and looked out on the bay, where line after line of swell pumped in. The surf was well overhead, and clusters of surfers filled the water. Red boards, yellow boards, white boards, green boards. Shortboards, guns and even a few longboards.

“And I thought Honolua was crowded,” ‘Iwa said.

Kama stood by her side. “Welcome to Steamer Lane. Inside here is the Slot. Middle Peak is that A-frame outside, and that long right is Indicators. You can actually go both ways, but the current can get pretty serious over there. Do you know the history here?”

“Should I?”

“Hawaiians were the first to surf this place in the late 1800s. Nephews of Queen Kapi‘olani—Prince Kūhiō and his brothers. They went to school here and made boards out of redwood planks. So this is really the birthplace of surfing on the mainland.”

“I had no idea.”

“Not many people do.”

A peanut gallery of surfers, with wetsuits peeled off their burnished shoulders, were leaning on the railing nearby, with a running commentary on every wave. Goooooo! Look at this kook, who does he think he is? No way you’re gonna make this, bro. How was that right? Sick! They were in their own world, until at some point, one of them noticed Dane.

“Yo, Parsons. Sorry to hear about your accident. How you doing, man?” he said, coming over.

Dane held up a hand and they did some kind of fancy Santa Cruz handshake.

“Hanging in there,” Dane said.

The others all came over, stood around Dane a little awkwardly. They talked surf for a while, asking about Nazaré, and Dane lit up. Then the guys moved on, just like the rest of the world. ‘Iwa had seen it with her mom, and she was seeing it now. People were there for a little while, mobilizing and helping and holding your hand, but there came a time when you were on your own. No one else lived in your skin.

Yeti and ‘Iwa helped Dane up, and the railing turned out to be perfect for standing practice. Dane braced himself against the cool steel with ‘Iwa on one side, hand on his lower back, just in case. Breathing in the salty air had to be good for him. Lord knew it was good for her.

“What’s that saying? The cure for anything is salt water,” she said. “Think about all those negative ions we’re breathing in right now.”

“You got that right,” Yeti said.

Dane didn’t respond. ‘Iwa followed his gaze to where a guy on a red board hung at the top of a wave at the Slot, right below them. Though not as big as the waves outside, this one had some heft to it. In a very late takeoff, he dropped onto a pitching face. From the physics of it all, you could tell he wasn’t going to make it. Sure enough, at the bottom, he lost his balance and skidded off the board. The wave then pulled him back up and over the falls, slamming him into the shallow water at the base of the cliff. The guy took two strokes toward his board, then went face down in the water, limp as kelp.

Yeti started yelling and waving his hands at the closest surfer in the water. “Help! He needs help.”

Kama was already sprinting down the path toward a set of stairs, pulling his shirt off. ‘Iwa felt Dane sway, and she guided him back into the wheelchair. His face had gone milk white.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

His breathing picked up and she could tell by the way his chest heaved up and down, and the distant look in his eye, that he was having some kind of flashback. Isla sensed something wrong and stood on her hind legs, paws on Dane’s thigh. With her little nose, she nudged his hand.

“Get me out of here,” he said.

‘Iwa knelt down, eye level. “Dane, you’re on dry land. You’re with me and Isla. Take some deep breaths.” Even though the sun melted down on them, he was shivering. She rubbed his back and took a few deep breaths herself. “This will pass.”

All around, the crowd, which had gone silent, began cheering and ‘Iwa turned to see another surfer with the downed one, who was now conscious and hanging onto his board.

Yeti appeared back at their side. “Looks like the dude’s going to be fine.”

“Dane wants to leave,” ‘Iwa told him.

Dane pulled his beanie down over his eyes, which ‘Iwa noticed were watering. “I can’t watch this shit. It’s making me crazy.”

Yeti tensed. “What are you talking about? This shit is your life. This shit is real. You can’t just hole up and stare at waves on your computer all day with everyone tiptoeing around you. Healing means joining the living. Going back to what you love.”

Dane’s eyes blazed. “I can’t do what I love. Haven’t you noticed that?”

“Maybe not now. But you will. And on the off chance that you can’t, you’ll find something else to love. It’s called being human, mate.”

Dane wheeled himself away, leaving ‘Iwa and Yeti behind.